“I know it,” answered Countess with a low laugh.
“But you were at Reading!” exclaimed Ermine.
“I was at Oxford, though you knew it not. I had arrived on a visit to my father, the morning of that very day. I was in the crowd around when you went down to the prison, though I saw none of you save Gerhardt. But I saw the sumner call his lad, and deliver the book to him, bidding him bear it to the Castle, there to be laid up for the examination of the Bishops. Finding that I could not get the child, I followed the book. Rubi was about, and I begged him to challenge the lad to a trial of strength, which he was ready enough to accept. He laid down the book on the window-ledge of a house, and—I do not think he picked it up again.”
“You stole it, sinner!” laughed Stephen.
“Why not?” inquired Countess with a smile. “I took it for its lawful owner, from one that had no right to it. You do not call that theft?”
“Could you read it?”
“I could learn to do anything for Rudolph.”
“But how did you ever find him?”
“We were living at Dorchester. Regina came to stay with me in the winter, and she told me that you were to be examined before the King and the bishops, and on what day. All that day I watched to see you pass through the town, and having prepared myself to save the child if I possibly could, when I caught a glimpse of Guelph, who was among the foremost, I followed in the rabble, with a bottle of broth, which I kept warm in my bosom, to revive such as I might be able to reach. Ermine, I looked in vain for you, for Gerhardt or Agnes. But I saw Rudolph, whom Adelheid was leading. The crowd kept pressing before me, and I could not keep him in sight; but as they went out of Dorchester, I ran forward, and came up with them again a little further, when I missed Rudolph. Then I turned back, searching all the way—until I found him.”
“And your husband let you keep him?” asked Ermine in a slightly surprised tone.