‘But does—er—does she wish to go with you?’ she asked presently.
‘No, I do not,’ said Barbara sharply.
‘I am sorry,’ said Giles. ‘But the lady’s wishes on that point cannot be considered.’
‘And why not, pray?’ the Abbess demanded quickly. ‘What authority have you to take her about the country against her will?’
‘The King’s authority,’ said Giles. ‘I am an officer in His Majesty’s Household. I carry with me letters of Royal Warrant, should you wish to see them. If need be, I can command you to render me aid in the King’s service. But this, I am sure, knowing the loyalty of your Order, will not be necessary. I want a coach with a good team of horses, a driver, and a woman to act as maid to this lady. All with the greatest possible speed, Madame, if you please.’
The larger abbeys and nunneries in those days were very important places, often almost like small townships within themselves, with farms, many servants, workers and everything needful for the upkeep of life. And Giles knew well that the Abbess of Saint Bridget’s could, just by a word of command, provide him with all he had asked for. It would be very awkward, however, on account of time, if she should refuse him. The heads of big religious houses were sometimes very independent and had more than once in history shown defiance to the Crown. He was, therefore, watching her with eager impatience while she thought a moment before answering.
‘What is your name?’ she asked at length.
‘Sir Giles Waggonwright, the King’s Finder,’ said he.
Again the Abbess glanced at Barbara; then her sharp but kindly eyes searched this young man’s face in the lantern’s wavering glow. Through many years she had grown skilful in judging people by their looks.
‘Reverend Mother,’ said Giles earnestly, ‘I beg of you, do not deny me. It will only mean I must seek help at the nearest military post and take this young lady away from you under armed guard. She must be at the palace by sunset tomorrow. I pledge you my word no harm shall come to her.’