The Miracle at St. Bruno's

How slowly torn Skillen rowed, I thought impatiently. But it was not true that he did. Poor torn, he also had changed from the carefree young man who had crept into Keziah's bedroom by night.

We had arrived. The barge was tied to the privy stairs and I scrambled out and ran across the lawns into the hall, where I found my mother. I threw myself into her arms and she kept repeating my name. Then she said: "You shouldn't have come. He didn't wish it.”

"But I am here, Mother," I said. "No one could stop my corning.”

Simon Caseman appeared. He stood a little apart from us, a woebegone expression on his face. He looked strong and powerful so I appealed to him.

"There must be something we can do," I said.

He took both my hands in his and kissed them. "We will never give up hope," he said.

"Is there some way of getting to him?" I asked.

"I am trying to find out. It may be possible for you to see him.”

I was so grateful that I pressed his hand warmly.

He said: "You may rely on me to explore every path.”

"Oh, thank you. Thank you.”

"My dearest child," said my mother tearfully. "You will be so worn out with the journey.

Let me get something. I have heard that the juice of the pimpernel will raise the spirits when one is melancholy.”

"Oh, Mother," I said, "nothing could raise my spirits except to see him come through the door a free man.”

Simon had edged Rupert aside. Rupert had done his task in bringing me home and he could only now regard me with sorrowful eyes which told me how well he understood my pain and would willingly bear it for me. There was something very good about Rupert.

He reminded me of my father.

"What can we do?" I demanded of Simon, for he seemed more capable than any.

He said: "I am going to one of the jailors. I know him well. I did a little business for him and he owes me something. It may well be that he could let us through so that you might see your father.”

"If that could only be.”

Simon pressed my shoulder. "Rest assured," he said, "that if this cannot be brought about it will be due to no lack of effort on my part.”

"When?" I demanded.

"Stay here with your mother. Comfort her. Go into the gardens with her. Behave as though it were any day and this had not happened. Try please. It is the best. And I will get torn to row me to a tavern I know and there I may well discover something.

I’ll see if I can find my warder friend and I'll make him see that he can do no harm in allowing you and your father to see each other.”

"Thank you," I murmured.

"You know," he said quietly, "that my greatest pleasure is to please you.”

I was so grateful to him that I felt a little ashamed for not really liking him in the past. Rupert was good and kind, I knew, but he accepted disaster. Simon was ready to fight against it.

"First the pimpernel," said my mother.

Simon said: "Take it. It will do you good to do so and your mother good to prepare it. Try to sleep a little. Then go into the garden with your mother. Take the flower basket and gather roses. Rest assured I shall be back with news soon. You must get through the time till my return as best you can.”

I thought how much he understood my grief and I warmed toward him still further.

I allowed my mother to take me to her room and there she brought me the potion brewed from the juice of the pimpernel and what other ingredients I knew not.

She made me lie down and she sat by my bed and she talked of it, that terrible day when they had been at dinner-as they had so many times before and how they had been eating one of the mutton pies which Clement made so well, when the King's men came in. I could see it all so clearly. I might have been there. I could almost taste the mutton pie garnished with my mother's herbs; I could feel the terrible fear in my stomach and the dry constriction of my throat. And I saw his dear face so calm, so resigned. He would be as though he had almost known it must come. And he would have gone with them quietly, sitting there in the barge while the oars dipped in the water and they came through the Traitors' Gate.

I slept for many hours. It was the pimpernel perhaps and other herbs which my mother had given me. I suppose she thought the only way in which I could forget my misery for a short while was in sleep.

To my joy the meeting was arranged. Simon came to my room and asked to be allowed in. He stood there smiling at me and as the light which came through leaden panes was not great it threw shadows and again I saw the fox's mask and was ashamed for thinking of it in the face of all his consideration for me.

"Tomorrow I shall take you to your father," he said.

The relief was great. I felt almost happy. Yet I knew that I must be stealthily let into his cell, that the meeting would be brief. Yet somehow I felt that by seeing him I could achieve something.

"How can I thank you?" I said.

He replied, "My reward is to do everything in my power to help you.”

"You have my gratitude," I told him.

He bowed his head and taking my hand, raised it to his lips. Then he left me.