“Take you heed,” was the answer, “that you bring not on yourself the curse of Christ, who is the Head and Lord of the Church, for He suffereth not lightly that His sheep be ill handled.”
“Aroint thee, sorceress!” said the abbot. “I am no sorceress,” replied Margery, quietly, “neither do I use evil arts; I speak unto you in the words of Christ—bear you the sin if you will not hear. But lo! it is even that which is written, ‘He hath blyndid her yghen (their eyes), and he hath maad hard the herte of hem; that thei see not with yghen, and undirstonde with herte, and that thei be conuertid, and I heele hem.’” (John xii. 40.)
The abbot could bear no more. He struck her furiously—a blow which stretched her senseless on the stone floor of the cell. Having by this primitive means silenced Margery’s “endless quotations,” he let himself out with a private key.
When Lord Marnell returned to the prison that evening, he found Margery in what he supposed to be a swoon. He summoned the jailer, and through him sent for a physician, who applied restoratives, but told Lord Marnell at once that Margery had fallen, and had received a heavy blow on the head. By the united care of the physician and her husband, she slowly returned to consciousness: not, however, fully so at first, for she murmured, “Mother!” When Lord Marnell bent over her and spoke to her, she suddenly recognised him as if awaking from a dream. Yes, she replied to their inquiries, she had certainly fallen, and she thought she had hurt her head; but she would not tell them that the cause of the fall was a passionate blow from the Abbot’s hand. The physician asked when her examination was to take place; and on Lord Marnell replying, “To-morrow,” he shook his head, and said she would not be able to appear.
“Oh ay, ay, let me go!” said Margery, “I would not have delay therein. I shall be better by morn, and—”
But as she spoke she fainted away, and the doctor, turning to Lord Marnell, said—
“She is no wise fit for it, poor lady! The inquiry must needs be delayed, and the blame thereof be mine own.”
“Then I pray you,” replied Lord Marnell, “to say the same unto the council; for they heed not me.”
He answered that he would go to them as soon as he thought that his patient required no further professional assistance. Margery seemed better shortly, and Master Simon, for such was the doctor’s name, repaired at once to the council charged with the examination of prisoners accused of heresy, and told them that their State prisoner, the Lady Marnell, was very ill in her dungeon, and would not be able to appear before them for at least some weeks to come. Arundel, who presided, only laughed. The doctor insisted.