“Nay, in very deed, Custance, thou art a Lollard, else hadst thou never spoken no such a thing!”
“What, be Lollards the only men that have a care for their own souls? But be it as thou wilt—what will it matter then? Isabel, in good sooth I have sins enough to answer for, neither will I by my good-will add thereto. And if it be no sin to stand up afore God and men, and swear right solemnly unto His dread face that I did not that which I did before His sun in Heaven—good lack! I do marvel what sin may be. There is no such thing as sin, if it be no sin to swear to a lie!”
“But, Custance, the King’s Highness asketh not thee to deny that thou wert wed unto my Lord of Kent, but only to allow openly that the same were not good in law.”
“Can a law go backwards-way?”
“Fair Cousin, the priest was excommunicate afore.”
“God wot if he were!” said Custance shrewdly.
“Bishops use not to leave their letters tarry two months on the road, child. There have been riddles writ ere now; ay, and black treachery done—by shaven crowns too. Canst thou crede that story? ’Tis more than I can.”
“Custance, I do ensure thee, the King’s Grace sware into me his own self, by the holy Face of Lucca, and said, if thou didst cast any doubt of the same, my Lord Archbishop should lay to pledge his corporal oath thereon.”
“His corporal oath ensure me! nay, nor an’ he sware by Saint Beelzebub!” cried Custance in bitter scorn. “I have heard of a corporal oath ere now, child. I know of one that was taken at Conway, by an old white-haired man (Note 1), whose reverend head should have lent weight to his words: but they were words, and nought else. How many days were, ere it was broken to shivers? I tell thee, Nib, Harry of Bolingbroke may swear an’ it like him by every saint in the calendar from Aaron to Zachary; and when he is through, my faith in his oaths will go by the eye of a needle. Why, what need of oath if a man be but true? If I would know somewhat of Maude yonder, I shall never set her to swear by Saint Nicholas; I can crede her word. And if a man’s word be not trustworthy, how much more worth is his oath?”
“But, Custance! the King’s Grace and my Lord Archbishop—”