The Miracle at St. Bruno's

A hush was on the land on that terrible day. Five Queens: two divorced, one died in childbirth (and who knew what her fate would have been had she lived?) and two beheaded.

The people were beginning to wonder what monster this was who sat on their throne; and when they saw him, as they did occasionally on public occasions, and in place of the handsome golden boy who thirty years before had been romantically in love with his Spanish wife, was a portly bloated figure-purple of complexion, tight-mouthed, eyes peering through slits in that unsightly countenance, a suppurating ulcer on his leg, they lowered their eyes but they dared do no other than shout "Long live the King.”

They remembered that whatever else he was, he was their allpowerful ruler.

My baby was due in June. The larger I grew the more impatient I became. One of the men who had come to the Abbey and who I suspected used to help Brother Ambrose in the old days had made a little garden for me at the back of the Abbot's Lodging.

My mother had advised and sent me plants and I grew quite fond of it. Here I would sit with my sewing and watch Honey at play. Now over two years old, she was a lively child; I had told her that she would soon have a companion and she used to ask every day how much longer it would be before it arrived.

My mother had advice to offer every time we met. She had become a frequent visitor to the Abbey. I wondered whether she would notice that some of the workers were onetime monks, and mention this to Simon. I remembered the book I had seen in my mother's room. If Simon was flirting with the new religion he might do us some harm. Besides, I had a feeling that he would not forgive me for refusing him and for taking the Abbey and Bruno. But as he too was acting outside the King's law, he would have to walk very warily himself.

My mother, however, noticed nothing strange; she would only comment on the manner in which I was carrying the child and impress upon me that the moment I felt the first signs I was to send a messenger to Caseman Court. She would at once send for the midwife and come herself. That was only if we should have miscalculated the time.

If we had been right then the midwife would be in residence days before the expected event.

It was April-two months before my child was due-when I became aware of a change in Bruno. He was often absentminded. Sometimes when I spoke to him he did not answer.

I said to him: "Bruno, all this rebuilding must be very costly. Are you perchance anxious about the expense?”

He looked at me in a startled fashion.

"What gave you that notion?”

"You seem preoccupied.”

He frowned. "Mayhap I am anxious about you.”

"About me? But I am well.”

"Having a child is a trying time.”

"You must not fear. Everything will be all right.”

"I shall be glad when our son is born.”

"I'm afraid when you say 'our son' in that way. What if we should have a daughter?”

"My firstborn must be a son," he said, and what I thought of as his prophet's face was very apparent. "It will be so," he continued firmly.

He convinced me then, as he could at times, that he had special powers.

I smiled complacently. Son or daughter I should love either. But if Bruno cared so intensely that it should be a son then I hoped so too.

"I am glad there is no need to worry about money. You must be exceedingly rich. I know this place cannot be producing much so far.”

"I beg you, Damask, leave these matters to me.”

"I would not have you worried. Mayhap we could postpone some of this building until the farm and the mill begin to show a profit.”

He laughed and the fanatical gleam was in his eyes.

"Doubt not that I can do all that I set out to do.”

He came over to me and kissed my brow. 'As for you, Damask, all I ask of you is to give me my son.”

"It cannot be too soon for me," I assured him.

It was a few nights later. I awoke suddenly and found that Bruno was not beside me.

It was well past midnight and I wondered whether he had gone over to the scriptorium.

He was often there with Valerian and it occurred to me that he might be going over accounts. Deep in my mind the thought persisted that he was concerned about money.

I rose from my bed and went quietly into Honey's room; she was sleeping peacefully.

Then I went to the bedchamber I shared with Bruno and going to the window looked out. There was no light in the scriptorium, so Bruno could not be there.

I sat down on the window seat looking out at those buildings the cloisters, the gray walls, all that I could see of the Abbey. I wondered whether the old Abbot had ever sat on this very window seat, sleepless perhaps, looking out on his domain. I looked across to the tall tower of the Abbey church and beyond it I could see the first of the fishponds; moonlight touched its waters with a silver light.

My child moved within me and happily I placed my hand reassuringly on it.

"Soon now, my little one," I murmured, "and never was a child awaited with such joy.”