The prisoner bowed her head when the sentence had been pronounced, and then said as she rose, and stretched out her hand to Lord Marnell, who came forward and supported her, “I greatly fear, reverend fathers, that your day is yet to come, when you shall receive sentence from a Court whence there is no appeal, and shall be doomed to a dreader fire!”
When Lord Marnell had assisted his wife back into her dungeon, and laid her gently on the bed, he turned and shook his fist at the wall.
“If I, Ralph Marnell of Lymington, had thee here, Abbot Thomas Bilson—”
“Thou wouldst forgive him, my good Lord,” faintly said Margery.
“Who? I? Forgive him? What a woman art thou, Madge! Nay—by the bones of Saint Matthew, I would break every bone in his body! Forsooth, Madge, those knaves the Archbishop and the Abbot have played me a scurvy trick, and gone many times further than I looked for, when I called them into this business. But it is so always, as I have heard,—thy chirurgeon and thy confessor, if they once bear the hand in thy matters, will never let thee go till they have choked thee. I fear I shall have hard labour to get thee out of this scrape. I will do all I can, be thou sure, but thou wist that I am not in favour with the new King as I was with King Richard, whose soul God rest! Madge, wilt forgive me, wife?”
“With a very good will, my Lord,” said Margery. “I wis well that thou wottedst not all that thou didst.”
“Not I, by Saint James of Compostella!” exclaimed Lord Marnell. “Were the good King Richard alive and reigning, I would soon let both the Archbishop and the Abbot feel the place too hot for to hold them. But I can do nothing with Harry of Bolingbroke, looking, too, that he hateth the Lollards as he hateth the devil—and a deal more, I trow, for I count that that prince and he be old friends,” added Lord Marnell, with an air of great disgust.
Margery smiled gravely. She felt sorry for her husband, who she saw was very miserable himself at the unexpected result of his conduct; but she did not allow herself for an instant to hope that he could save her.
“Mine own good Lord,” she said, “I pray you torment not yourself in assaying my relief, neither in thinking that you be the cause of my trouble; for I forgive you as freely as Christ hath forgiven me, and I count that is free enough.”
Lord Marnell stood leaning against the wall, and looking at Margery, who lay outside the bed.