The Miracle at St. Bruno's

Then one day two months before my time my child was born - a stillborn boy.

I did not know of this until a week later. I myself had come near to death.

Bruno wrote to Kate asking her to nurse me. Lord Remus was now in Calais with the forces there who were protecting the town for the King. Kate came without delay.

She was shocked to see me. "Why, you've changed, Damask," she said. "You've grown thinner and sharper of face. You have grown up. You look as though you have passed through experiences which have changed the Damask I used to know.”

"I have lost two children," I said.

"Many women lose children," she said.

"Perhaps it changes them all.”

"If they are as you. You are the eternal mother. Damask, has it struck you how different we all are, and how each of us has distinct characteristics?”

"You mean all people?”

"I mean us... the four of us... those of us on that branch I told you of before.

There were four of us... you, myself, Rupert and Bruno... all children together.”

"Bruno was not one of us.”

"Oh, yes, he was. Not under our roof but he was part of our quartet. You are the eternal mother; I the wanton; Rupert the good steady influence."

 She paused. "And Bruno?”

"Bruno is the mystery. What do you know of Bruno? I should love to discover.”

"I seem to know him less and less.”

"That is how it is with mysteries. The deeper one penetrates the maze the more lost one becomes. You should not have become involved in this particular mystery. You feel too keenly. You should have married Rupert. Did I not always tell you so?”

"How could you know what I should do?”

"Because in some things I am more learned than you, Damask. I lack your knowledge of Greek and Latin but I know of other things which are more important. You have been very ill. When I heard I was distraught as never before. There! What do you think of that?”

"Dear Kate.”

"No, I am not your dear Kate. I am a designing woman, as you well know. Nothing changes me. Now I shall cheer you... not with possets and herb drinks. I leave that to your mother. I shall enliven you with my incessant chatter.”

"I am glad to see you. Lying here I have been passing through the strangest fantasies.

I have imagined that I am trapped in a monastery.”

Kate grimaced. "That is easy to understand. Whatever made you choose this place for your lying-in?”

"We had to move out of the Lodging for the rebuilding.”

"But you have such a vast estate. Why not choose something more fitting than these dreary cells? They give me the creeps.”

"I have dreamed that I have been a prisoner here... that Rolf Weaver's men were here... that someone was trying to kill me.”

"Now that I am here you will get well.”

"Bruno is so strange.”

"Does he not love you?”

"He does not love as other people do.”

"Bruno loves passionately... himself.”

"How should you know?”

"I know that he has great spiritual pride. So he will build a great castle; he will have a son to follow him. He will be lord of his enclosed world. He will restore the Abbey.”

"No!”

"Not yet. In time perhaps.”

"It would be treason.”

"Kings do not live forever. But our conversation grows dangerous and speaking of Kings, before Remus set out for Calais he was most graciously received by the Queen.”

"Tell me of her.”

"A kind and calm lady, with a different sort of beauty from that of the English ladies who had previously caught the King's fancy. Such an excellent nurse she is. I have heard that none can dress his leg as she can. She has a deft and gentle touch and if any other do it he will scream with pain and throw the nearest stool at them ere they have time to retreat. But she dabbles with the Reformed religion.”

"Kate, how many people are dabbling with it, think you?”

"More and more each day. And I will tell you that the King's sixth wife has recently been in danger of losing her head through it.”

"But I thought she was such a good nurse to him.”

"Doubtless that saved her. Bishop Gardiner has been working against her. You have heard of Anne Askew?”

I had assuredly heard of Anne Askew who had declared herself publicly in favor of the Reformed ideas and for this had been sent to the Tower. She had been racked cruelly and finally consigned to the flames.

"It is known," went on Kate, "that while Anne Askew lay in prison the Queen sent her food and warm clothing.”

"An act of mercy," I said.

"To be construed by those who upheld the old faith as an act of treason. It is said that the King's wife has come within hours of losing her head.”

I often wondered how Kate was so conversant with Court gossip. But she told her stories of the Court with such verisimilitude that one completely believed her.