St. Paul's, the principal church in the town, had been despoiled by the sacrilegious baron, who had carried off the stones of which it was built to repair his stronghold, and it is not clear if the Augustinian canons who continued to serve it, though they had removed many years before to the priory erected for them at Newenham by Roisia de Beauchamp, would have found just then an altar to serve. Only on certain occasions would her brutal husband permit Margaret to attend to her religious duties at the chapel of St. Thomas-at-bridge, which stood at the foot of the bridge outside the castle gate. This morning, however, taking advantage of the fit of penitence which had seized him in the night, she was craving permission to go to the retreat at Elstow.
"I like not your running after these priests and their masses," remonstrated Sir Fulke. "We have gone many years with chapel unserved here. You know I have made of it a lumber-room; and we are none the worse for it, and," he added, with a grim chuckle, "perchance none the better."
"But, and did you allow me, I would go pray for you, while you yourself get you to the shrine of St. Alban, and make reparation to the holy servants of St. Benedict there, as you promised me last night, on your honour, you would do," pleaded the wife.
Sir Fulke winced at this allusion to his weakness and terror in the hours of darkness.
"Besides, you have often exhorted me to stand well for your sake with the knights and noble families round, and you know full well how many ladies are like to be at Elstow."
Sir Fulke paused awhile. It was perfectly true, as his wife had said, that he wanted to improve his social position in the neighbourhood, and though the superstitious fears arising from his fearful dream had now vanished, he was well aware that his last raid, with its accompanying murders, was more than any decent-minded men could put up with, even in those rough and cruel days. Therefore, as religious observances counted for much in the way of expiation of crime, he came to the conclusion that no harm would be done by a little vicarious repentance.
"Go, then," he said roughly. "But take care that if aught is said to you concerning this St. Alban's turmoil, you make out the best case you can for me. Say that the bailiff was burned by my men ere I got to the abbey gate, and that I knew naught of it till afterwards. You can add that some of my men-at-arms have been hanged for it, or aught else that occurs to you. Your woman-wit will tell you what to say."
"And then," exclaimed Lady Margaret, overlooking, in her thankfulness, the condition of lying imposed on the desired permission--"and then you will go yourself to St. Alban's, and--"
"Peace, woman!" interrupted the knight; "leave me to order my own doings. I will command your palfrey to be ready. Take one of your women with you, and I will order varlets to go attend you. I would not that the wife of De Breauté should go to Elstow with any fewer train than the other dames."
So saying, Sir Fulke strode from the room, leaving his wife setting about her preparations for departure with all alacrity.