The baron untied the silken cord that confined the parchment, and having hastily perused it, handed it to the Lady Isabella.
"De Boteler," said the lady, rising from her seat when her eyes had run over the writing, "this woman shall not escape justice. Go, my lord—remember your murdered child, and compromise not with those who would screen the guilty from punishment."
De Boteler moved from the illuminated bier, and entered the hall with a haughty step; and as his eye fell on Father John, the frown on his brow increased. He did not, however, appear to heed him, but, turning to the abbot's messenger, said,
"Monk!—I have read my lord abbot's letter, and it would seem that he ought to have known better than interfere in such a matter. My child has been poisoned—the evidence is clear and convincing—why, therefore, does he make such a demand?"
"My lord baron," replied the messenger, "the verdict states that a charmed potion had been administered to the young lord. This accusation precedes the charge of poisoning: therefore, the spiritual court must first decide on the fact of witchcraft, before the temporal tribunal can take cognizance of the other offence."
"And does your abbot think, when the hope of my house has perished, whether by false incantations or deadly poison, that——Depart, monk!" continued he, in a choked voice, "and tell your abbot that this woman's guilt or innocence shall be tried by the laws of the realm."
"Then, my lord, you will not comply with the mandate of my superior?"
"Mandate!" repeated the enraged baron—"ha! ha! Mandate, forsooth! From whom—from an impotent priest of a waning church—and which church, with the blessing of God and our good king, will soon cease to arrogate to itself the encroachment which it has made upon the royal prerogative."
"Note down this speech, Father John," said the messenger. "And now, Baron of Sudley, I formally demand, in the name of Simon Sudbury, the mitred abbot of Winchcombe, the body of Edith Holgrave, whom you impiously and rebelliously detain against the privileges of holy church: and—"
"Hold, minion! Cease! or you will tempt me to hang the culprit from the battlements of yonder keep, if it were only to afford news to your master. Presumptuous shaveling! know you not that the royal franchise granted to this manor empowers me to sit in judgment on my vassals, and that it is only as an act of grace that she is handed over to a jury of the county."