The Miracle at St. Bruno's

"I wish to have a word with you before you leave, Damask." I followed him into the room which had been my father's study. Many times had we sat there looking out over the lawns to the river. Many subjects had we discussed. I felt a pang of nostalgia for the old days and a longing to be able to talk to him again. I would have discussed my misgivings with him; I could even have talked with him of Bruno.

"I want to know what is happening at the Abbey," Simon Caseman said. "I heard strange rumors.”

"What rumors are these?" I hoped my voice did not betray the alarm I felt.

"That some of the monks have returned.”

I said cautiously, "Clement and Eugene, who worked for my father, have places in our household.”

"Monks!" he said, his eyes narrowing. "And others too. All monks.”

"The lands are extensive," I said. "There is the farm which of course must be productive.

If there are one or two monks there it is because there are many seeking work.”

"I trust," he said, "that you are not becoming involved in lawlessness.”

"I do not understand you.”

"St. Bruno's was disbanded. It would be unwise to found it again even if it is under the name of Kingsman.”

"Many abbeys have become as manor houses since the King and his ministers have bestowed them, I take it you have no objection to that?”

"Providing those on whom they have been bestowed do not break the law.”

I felt certain in that moment that he had betrayed my father and I hated him.

I blatantly tormented him. "Owners of such abbeys as ours must of course make full use of all they have to offer. I had no idea how large it was and how much was contained in it. We have our farm, our mill, and fishponds in which are hundreds of fish. There is great wealth in the Abbey. We must make sure that full use is made of it.”

I could see the lights of envy in his eyes. His lips tightened. "Take care, Damask.

There is so much that is strange going on, I fear. You may be walking into danger.”

"You fear! Nay, you hope.”

"Now I understand you not.”

"You wanted to add the Abbey to your possessions. You told me so. You were too late.

It is ours.”

"You misunderstand me. Have I not always been good to you? Did I not allow you to make your home here?”

"My home was already made.”

"You are determined to plague me. You always have. Desist, Damask. It is better so.

If you had been my friend...”

"I don't understand what that term implies.”

"I offered you marriage.”

"And quickly consoled yourself with my mother.”

"I did it to keep a roof over your heads.”

"You are so considerate.”

"Do not goad me too much-you and that husband of yours. If it is true that you are gathering the monks together there, you should beware. I know that Clement and Eugene are not the only ones you have there.”

"Those two came from this house, remember. You accuse us of harboring monks, what of yourself? Did they not work for you? Take care that you are not proved guilty of that of which you accuse us. My husband has good friends at Court. He has even been honored by the King.”

With that I bowed and left him. I knew that he was staring after me with that look of mingled anger and desire which I knew so well. He would never forgive me for refusing him and marrying Bruno, any more than he would forgive Bruno for gaining the Abbey which he had so desired.

His words kept ringing in my ears: "Beware.”

Without consulting Bruno I engaged two serving girls. They were sisters of two of the servants at Caseman Court who had been reckoning on going to my mother, but when I asked them to come to the Abbey they readily accepted.

I explained to Bruno that it made us seem a more normal household, which amused him.

A few weeks after their arrival one of them-Mary-came to me, her eyes round with awe. She had been to Mother Salter's in the woods; she blushed a little, so I guessed it was for a love potion-and Mother Salter had sent a message for me. She wished to see me without delay.

That morning I called at the old woman's cottage. The fire was burning as I had seen it before; the blackened pot was simmering. The black cat sprang up on the seat beside her and watched me with its yellow eyes.

"Be seated," said Mother Salter, and I sat in the fireside alcove opposite her. She stirred what was in the pot and said: "The time has come, Mistress, for you to keep your promise. You have a fine house now. An Abbey no less. You are ready to take the child.”

She rose and drew aside a curtain-lying on a pallet was a child asleep. I calculated that she must be almost two years old for she was the daughter of Keziah and Rolf Weaver whom I had promised to care for.

So much had happened since I had made that promise that I had forgotten it. Now it gave me a few qualms of uneasiness. When I had promised to take the child my father had been alive; he had agreed that she might come to our house.

Mother Salter sensed my uneasiness. "You cannot go back on your pledge to a dying woman," she said.

"Circumstances have changed since I made that pledge.”

"But your pledge remains.”