at this Acour alleged himself to be the lawfully married
husband of Eve Clavering, the heiress of Sir John Clavering, a point
upon which his Grace demanded information, since if this were true
he purposed to escheat the Clavering lands. With this brief and stern
announcement the letter ended.

"By God's mercy, Eve, tell me, are you this fellow's wife?" exclaimed
Hugh.

"Not so," she answered. "Can a woman who is Dunwich born be wed without
consent? And can a woman whose will is foully drugged out of her give
consent to that which she hates? Why, if so there is no justice in the
world."

"'Tis a rare jewel in these evil days, daughter," said Sir Andrew with
a sigh. "Still fret not yourself son Hugh. A full statement of the case,
drawn by skilled clerks and testified to by many witnesses, has gone
forward already to his Holiness the Pope, of which statement true
copies have been sent to the King and to the Bishops of Norwich and
of Canterbury. Yet be warned that in such matters the law ecclesiastic
moves but slowly, and then only when its wheels are greased with gold."

"Well," answered Hugh with a fierce laugh, "there remains another law
which moves more swiftly and its wheels are greased with vengeance; the
law of the sword. If you are married, Eve, I swear that before very long
you shall be widowed or I dead. I'll not let de Noyon slip a second time
even if he stands before the holiest altar in Christendom."

"I'd have killed him in the chapel yonder," muttered Grey Dick, who had
entered with his master's food and not been sent away. "Only," he added
looking reproachfully at Sir Andrew, "my hand was stayed by a certain
holy priest's command to which, alack, I listened."

"And did well to listen, man, since otherwise by now you would be
excommunicate."

"I could mock at that," said Dick sullenly, "who make confession in
my own way, and do not wish to be married, and care not the worth of
a horseshoe nail how and where I am buried, provided those I hate are
buried first."

"Richard Archer, graceless wight that you are," said Sir Andrew, "I say
you stand in danger of your soul."

"Ay, Father, and so the Frenchman, Acour, stood in danger of his body.
But you saved it, so perhaps if there is need at the last, you will do
as much for my soul. If not it must take its chance," and snatching at
the dish-cover angrily, he turned and left the chamber.

"Well," commented Sir Andrew, shaking his head sadly, "if the fell