Филиппа Карр: The Miracle at St. Bruno's

What are they? Just repeating what someone has said before!”

She was wonderful in the saddle and to see her there in her green riding habit and the hat with the green feather lifted the spirits like the sudden sight of bluebells misty under trees or the first call of the cuckoo. I suppose others felt the same; they always turned to look at her; and she would ignore the stares but I knew by the way she held her head and smiled secretly that she was aware of the effect she had and enjoyed it.

She loved to dance and she did so with a natural grace which delighted our dancing teacher; and she could play the lute in a strange untutored way which was somehow more effective than my pieces which were in tune and time.

She dominated the scene whether it was at Christmas when we gathered holly and ivy and decorated the great hall or at May Day when we watched the villagers dancing around the Maypole. When the Morris Dancers came to the house she danced with them and my parents, I think, were about to reprove her but she enchanted them as she did all others and soon they were applauding with the rest. She loved to dress up as Robin Hood and I would have to be Maid Marian. I must always take the lesser part.

The servants were always laughing and shaking their heads over Mistress Kate, and Keziah used to say with her throaty chuckle, "You wait... you just wait till Mistress Kate's a woman.”

I had more freedom than I had before she came. My parents seemed to realize that they could not coddle me forever; and sometimes when Kate was charming everyone, I would catch my father's eye on me and he would smile and that smile told me that I was still and always would be the darling of his heart and no one however beautiful and exciting could ever oust me from my place there.

Kate knew that the Cardinal was dead and she gave me her version of the affair.

"It is all due to the King's passion for Anne Boleyn. He is determined to have her and she says, 'No, your mistress I will not be; your wife I cannot be.' Which shows how clever she is." Kate threw up her hands as though warding off a persistent lover.

She was Anne Boleyn. I could see in that moment that she was wondering whether a Duke was good enough to be her future husband. Why not a King?

"What of the Queen?" I asked.

Kate's lips curled. "She is old and no longer beautiful. And she can't give the King a son." "Why not?”

"Why not what, idiot? Why is she not beautiful? Because she is old and it's horrid to be old. And why can't she give him a son? I can't explain that to you. You are too young to understand." Kate's favorite explanation when she did not know herself was that I was too young. I had pointed this out to her and it had the effect of making her use it more than ever.

She went on: "The Cardinal tried to stop the King. Silly man! So... he died.”

"The King killed him?”

"In a manner of speaking. Old Brother John told your father he died of a broken heart.”

"How terrible!”

I thought of that day when I had seen them in the barge together, standing close, laughing.

"He should not have annoyed the King. He was silly so his heart broke. The King is going to divorce the Queen and then he can marry Anne Boleyn and they will have a son who will be King in his turn. It's all very simple.”

I said it didn't seem simple to me.

"That's because you're too young to understand.”

What I did understand and what she failed to was the difference in our household since the death of the Cardinal. A gloom seemed to have fallen over it. My father often looked sad and when I talked to him he would smile and draw me to him as in the old days, but I fancied that his gaiety was forced. He seemed to be over-watchful; and when we were at meals I would catch him listening as though he expected some messenger who would not be very welcome.

Friends often called at the house and they would join us at table. Father had many friends both in Law and at Court. During their visits the conversation would be lively at the table and when they had drunk freely of the wine my father served them they would often talk about the affairs of the country. One thing that occupied most of the conversation was "The King's Secret Matter." I noticed how Kate's eyes glistened when it was referred to; and my father said on one occasion: "Remember, my friends, it is The King's Secret Matter, and therefore it is not for us to discuss or pass judgment.”

That sobered them; and I noticed how they almost glanced furtively over their shoulders and were very insistent that it was indeed The King's Secret Matter and none of his subjects should attempt to question royal decisions.

Yes, it was uneasy.

But Brother John and Brother James were perhaps more uneasy than anyone. They used to come often and sit and talk with my father. I was too old now to curl up on his lap and listen. Kate was not very interested in them. She wrinkled her little nose with disgust and said: "Monks. Silly old men who go and live in monasteries and kneel for hours in prayer. Their knees must be quite sore. Mine get sore in church. And they live on bread and water and are always telling God how sinful they are-as if He doesn't know without their telling Him! They wear hair shirts. Ugh. I like silk and satin and cloth of gold. When I grow up I shall always wear cloth of gold-or do you think silver tissue would suit me better?”

So I did not know of what Brother John and Brother James talked to my father, but I believed that their conversation was full of forebodings and I caught their lack of ease. But only temporarily for Kate soon dispelled it. Life for her was gay and it must be for me if I was to share it. She discovered so much. She told me that Jim, the chief stableman, who had a wife and six children and lived in a cottage on our estate, crept out into the woods to meet Bess, one of the housemaids, and she had seen them lying in the bracken.

"What would she do about it?" I asked. "Would she tell my father, or Jim's wife?”

She narrowed her eyes. "I'll tell no one but you... and you don't count. I'll remember it. It will be useful when I want to use it." Then she burst out laughing.

She liked power. She wanted to have control over us like the puppeteer had over the dolls which he had shown us at Christmastime when he had come with the mummers.

And then she became interested in the boy.

One day she came to me when I was in the orchard sitting under a tree whither I had taken my Latin exercise. It was a beautiful day and I decided that I could work more easily out of doors.

"Put down that silly old book," commanded Kate.

"It's far from silly, Kate. In fact it is very difficult to read. I need all my powers of concentration.”

"Powers of rubbish!" cried Kate. "I want to show you something.”

"What?”

"First," said Kate, "you have to swear to tell no one. Swear.”

"I swear.”

"Hold your hand up and swear by the saints and the Holy Mother of God.”

"Oh, Kate, that sounds like blasphemy.""Swear or you will be told nothing.”

So I swore.

"Now come on," she said.

I followed her out of the orchard, across our land to that stone wall which separated us from the Abbey. Tangled ivy grew thick over certain parts of this wall. At one spot she drew it aside and to my surprise disclosed the outline of a door.

"I noticed that the ivy looked as though it had been disturbed and I investigated,” she said with a laugh. "And so I found this door. It's hard to open. You have to push it. Come on. Heave with me.”

I obeyed. The door gave a protesting creak and then swung open. She stepped through onto Abbey land.

I stood on the other side of the door. "We are not supposed to. It's trespassing.”

She laughed at me. "Of course I knew you'd be a coward. I wonder I bother with you, Damask Farland.”