The Miracle at St. Bruno's

In a few days he had left.

One day during Bruno's absence, Rupert came riding over to the Abbey. I called a groom to take his horse and then conducted him to the solar and sent for wine. Honey came in and Rupert picked her up and swung her in his arms. There was immediate friendship between them.

"Is everything well?" he asked me anxiously.

I told him I was very well. He savored Eugene's wine and said it was good.

I told him Eugene had come to us when he left Caseman Court.

"Why, it is as though the Abbey is reborn," he commented.

"It is very different," I contradicted quickly. "This is merely a manor house, but as we have so many buildings and the land so we must needs make use of them. We plan to develop the farm. Indeed we must for it is necessary for us to make the place profitable.”

Rupert said he would like to ride around our farmlands before he left and I said I would accompany him.

I asked how he was faring and he told me he was pleased with his land. He had a pleasant though small manor house and his benevolent brother-in-law had given him the place, which was very likely due to the importuning of Kate.

"It is of course not as grand as Remus Castle nor St. Bruno's Abbey, but it serves me well.”

He looked at me wistfully and I said briskly: "Rupert, you should take a wife.”

"I am in no mind to," he answered.

"Do you have good servants?”

"Indeed, yes. They serve me well.”

"Then perhaps the need is not so urgent. But you would like to have children. You would make a good father... and a good husband too I doubt not.”

"I think," he answered looking at me steadily, "that I shall remain a bachelor all the days of my life.”

I could not meet his eye then. I knew that he was telling me that since I had declined to take him no one else would do.

He will change, I promised myself. When he grows older he will marry. I wanted him to, because I was fond of him and when I contemplated the joys of having children I wanted him to know that too.

After he had eaten of Clement's tansy cake I mounted my horse and together we rode out to the farmlands. He examined them carefully. Abbey land was invariably good land, he said. We would have a very prosperous farm there in a few years.

I had told him that Bruno was on the Continent studying the new edible roots which were being brought into England. He knew of them and said that he hoped to grow them too. The English were now delighted in what was known as the salad and which had been popular on the Continent for some years. Queen Katharine of Aragon had been very partial to a salad, but she had always had to send to Holland for it. Now we should grow them here and if the King's next Queen fancied a salad she could have one from an English garden.

When it was clear that we could not possibly be overheard he brought his horse close to mine and said quietly: "I have been a little concerned, Damask.”

"Why so?" I asked.

"It was something Simon Caseman said.”

"I have always distrusted that man. What did he say?”

"He referred to your husband as the Abbot and said that there was little difference in the Abbey as it is now and as it was ten years ago.”

"What did he mean by that?”

"I understand that several of the monks have returned.”

"They work on the farm at the mill and about the place.”

"It could be dangerous, Damask.”

"We are doing nothing against the law.”

"I am sure you are not, but there are these rumors because several of the monks who were here have come back and are working as before.”

"But we are doing nothing wrong," I insisted.

"You must not only keep within the King's law but appear to do so. I do not like it that Simon Caseman should be talking.”

"He is malicious because he wanted the Abbey for himself.”

"Damask, if you should need me at any time, you know I shall be there.”

"Thank you, Rupert. You have always been good to me.”

After he had gone I continued to think of him. If I could have loved him instead of Bruno, life would have been less complicated. But one cannot love where it would be wise to do so, for love and wisdom do not go hand in hand.

I had no regrets, I assured myself. But I liked to remember that Rupert was my staunch friend.

At last the month of June was with us. Bruno had recently returned from the Continent.

He had little to say about his visit and I found myself scarcely curious because the baby's arrival was imminent.

My mother came almost every day. When she had satisfied herself that my condition could give no cause for alarm she turned her attention to the state of the little garden James had made for me. James was a man of about thirty. Whether he had been a monk, or a lay brother, I had never asked. I felt it was wiser to know nothing.

In any case his knowledge of plants was good and my roses almost rivaled those of my mother.