HOT-THPUR’TH THITHTER

1268 Balliol College founded at Oxford by Balliol family, as penance imposed by the Bishop of Durham, refounded 20 years later by Devorguilla, widow of John Balliol.
***the Earls and Dukes of Kent
Began with Edmund Plantagenet, younger brother of King Edward II, who died (beheaded) March 19, 1330
His sons Edmund 1327-1333 and John 1330-1352 died childless, so sister Joan, THE FAIR MAID OF KENT inherited title of Countess and her husband Sir Thomas de Holand was summoned to Parliament as Earl of Kent in her right. Died 1360 and widow Joan married Edward of Woodstock (in later times called the Black Prince) and was mother of Richard II and an older boy who died young. These half brothers of Richard II were favored by him and Thomas 1350-1397 was made Marshal of England 1380-1385. His son Thomas 1374-1400 was beheaded by King Henry IV after he displaced Richard, but his brother Edmund 1384-1408 got the title and died in Brittany and with him the title goes extinct in that family and went to the Nevilles through Joan Beaufort, wife of Ralph of Raby.

1346 CRECY Battle of. August 26
1347
1348
1349
1350
1351
1352
1353
1354

1355 THOMAS OF WOODSTOCK, born. Seventh and youngest of Edward III’s sons, he was constable of England and made Earl of Buckingham at Richard II’s coronation. Made Duke of Gloucester by Richard II on campaign in Scotland 1385. Married Eleanor de Bohun and fell out with John of Lancaster when he married his son Bolingbroke to her sister Mary. He also opposed de Vere and Pole, favorites of King Richard. Leader of the lords appellant in the Merciless Parliament, he had to be restrained by colleagues from deposing Richard in 1388. He opposed the treaty with France and Richard’s marriage to a French child princess and they were at odds again in 1396. Arrested in 1385, he was moved to Calais and died (murdered, smothered?). One son died unmarried, four daughters, most notable Anne, married three times. Born 1380 and so young enough to be one of Isabel’s child ladies at court.
1362 LIONEL, created FIRST DUKE OF CLARENCE. (Third son of Edward III, whose wife Elizabeth de Burgh was a direct descendent of the Clares, but died without sons. The Clare family were traditionally Earls of Gloucester.
1367 RICHARD (later II) born at Bordeaux, younger son of Black Prince and Joan of Kent
HENRY IV born at Bolingbroke, Lincolnshire
1368 Lionel of Clarence’s daughter Philippa, marries EDMUND MORTIMER
1369
1370 JOANNA of Navarre born, 2nd wife of Henry IV, no children, died 1437
1371 RICHARD COMES TO ENGLAND

1376 RICHARD CREATED PRINCE OF WALES ON DEATH OF FATHER
1377 EDWARD III DIES, RICHARD II CROWNED
1383 RICHARD II MARRIES ANNE OF BOHEMIA (1366-94)
1384 JOHN WYCLIF, church reformer dies
1385 MICHAEL POLE (Poole, de la Pole, atta Pole) created first EARL OF SUFFOLK. He died in exile in Paris 1389. The family fortune founded in trade. His father (?) Sir William Pole advanced large sums of money to the government, was first mayor of Hull, made knight banneret and baron of the exchequer.
1386 ANNABEL PERCY BORN (fictional character)
1388 THOMAS, SECOND DUKE OF CLARENCE died 1421. Extinct title revived for this second son of Henry IV, but left no legitimate issue
1389 ISABELLA OF FRANCE born, married to Richard II at Calais 1396, returned to France 1401, married Charles, Duke of Orleans 1406, died 1409
1389 JOHN, 3rd son of Henry IV born
1394 ANNE OF BOHEMIA DIES, (leaves no children) MARY DE BOHUN DIES (wife of Bolingbroke) leave 4 sons, 2 daughters Richard II finishes remodeling Westminster Hall
1395
1396 TREATY OF TROYES (peace with France and Richard II marries Princess Isabel, aged 7)
ANNABEL GOES TO COURT as a lady in waiting to Isabel.
The case against Richard II—had uncle Thomas of Gloucester smothered, executed Arundel, exiled the archbishop of Canterbury, also Mowbray and Bolingbroke.

“I am Hot-thpur Perthy’s Thister. Thath who I am!” the little girl sang out and the king roared with laughter. “You marvelous devilish imp!” He cried and lifting her effortlessly in his strong arms, twirled her round about. “Heth Thuch a ferothouth tholdier!” She continued and the king put her down and said, “Enough! Your brother is a brave warrior and it will not do to poke too much fun at him!”

“Yeth Thir, Your Grathe,” the child went on. “I’m thorry.”

“You never know when to quit, do you? I said ENOUGH!”

The other child came and took Annabel by the arm. “He means it, you know. Desist.” But the king had left the room, closing the door quietly behind him, as he always did. She had never known him to slam it.
*****
1397 RICHARD BEAUCHAMP (or was it father, Henry?) treacherously imprisoned by Richard II

1398 HENRY BOLINGBROKE EXILED, SON HAL TAKEN INTO KING’S HOUSEHOLD–also Mowbray Earl of Norfolk exiled rather than allowed to fight out the

argument with Bolingbroke
1399 JOHN OF GAUNT DIES, LANCASTER ESTATE CONFISCATED, KING RICHARD ABDICATES after Bolingbroke’s return, aided by the Percies and others
1400 KING RICHARD DIES AT POMFRET, buried at King’s Langley
1401 RICHARD BEAUCHAMP succeeds father to Earldom of Warwick. Had been imprisoned by Richard II, but released by Henry IV ANNABEL MARRIES
1402
1403 HOTSPUR IS KILLED (born 1364)
1404
1405
1406
1407
1408
1409
1410
1411
1412
1413 HENRY IV DIES, (born 1367) HENRY V CROWNED He has Richard II reinterred at Westminster Abbey
1414
1415 ABORTIVE PLOT FAVORING MORTIMERS, R. CAMBRIDGE EXECUTED, His older brother, DUKE OF YORK slain at Agincourt.
1416
1417
1418
1419 TREATY OF TROYES
1420 HENRY V MARRIES CATHERINE OF FRANCE
1421 HENRY OF WINDSOR BORN (later Henry VI)
1422 HENRY V DIES AUG 3 IN FRANCE
1423Marriages of king’s brothers leads to disunity; John married into Burgundy, Hump to Holland and Hainult. John struggles to hold onto French conquests, but fails
1424
1425
1426 HENRY VI KNIGHTED
1427
1428 RICHARD NEVILLE BORN (the kingmaker) shortly before father becomes Earl Salisbury in right of wife Alice Montagu. QUEEN CATHERINE AND OWEN TUDOR LIVING TOGETHER AT LEEDS CASTLE
1429 HENRY VI CROWNED AT WESTMINSTER
JOAN OF ARC in France defeats the English, sees dauphin crowned
1430 HENRY VI CROWNED AT PARIS following death of Charles VI
1431
1432
1433
1434

1435 JOHN OF BEDFORD, brother of Henry V, dies, widow Jacquetta of St. Pol, marries Richard Woodville soon after
1436 QUEEN CATHERINE DIES at Bermondsey Abbey, (leaving 5 children by Tudor)
1437 Queen Joanna of Navarre (Henry IV) dies
1438 Duke of York and Cicely Neville marry
1439
1440
1441 JOHN POLE, EARL OF SUFFOLK, BORN (died 1491) MARRIED ELIZABETH, SISTER OF EDWARD IV. He bore the scepter at three coronations, Bess Woodville, Richard III, Elizabeth of York, wife of Henry VII.
1442
1443
1444
1445 HENRY VI MARRIES MARGARET OF ANJOU. GEORGE son of Duke of York, born.
1446
1447 HENRY BEAUCHAMP DIES (Earl of Warwick)
HUMPHREY DUKE OF GLOUCESTER dies, possibly murdered

1448
1449 HEIRESS DAUGHTER OF HENRY BEAUCHAMP DIES (sister Anne married to Richard Neville inherits and he becomes Earl Warwick in her right.) EDMUND TUDOR KNIGHTED (made Earl of Richmond 1453, married Margaret, dau. Of John Beaufort, Duke of Somerset 1455
1450
1451
1452 RICHARD (later III) born at Fotheringhay
About this time, Jacquetta Woodville marrying her eldest Elizabeth to Lord Grey of ----
1453 ANNABEL DIES, ROBERT DROWNS HIMSELF
1461 OWEN TUDOR BEHEADED BY YORKISTS (after fighting with on the Lancastrian side at Mortimer’s Cross) DUKEDOM OF CLARENCE revived again for GEORGE 1445-1478

Prologue 1499

When the news arrived so belatedly at the small abbey near Pickering as not to be new, Sister Catherine hurried to the chapel to talk to her mother, who had been dead close on a half century, and lay in a marble sarcophagus in the sanctuary, but this did not prevent the nun from having regular chats with her. She sat down near the tomb and began,

“Mother, the old century draws to a close. Soon we will enter upon a new era, a clean slate, with nothing yet written thereon. We have just learned that King Henry Tudor has executed the young pretender, Perkin Warbeck, who claimed to be Prince Richard, one of the boys supposedly done away with at the Tower seventeen years ago. Tell your martyred friend, King Richard, to make this the last of his vengeance. Enough! Let this be the end of the namesake killings! Let us begin a new century on a brighter note.”

That was all she could say for she had run out of breath. Sister Catherine was two years short of seventy years old. Her great aunt had been abbess here a hundred years ago and her mother had come here to die and be laid to rest in a place dear to her. She herself had retired here after her widowhood, desiring not to marry again, and she had dropped her first name, that of a queen, Isabel, and taken the second, that of another queen, as her new name at her dedication. She was not a religious, but a lay member of the community who used the title Sister as a courtesy. She could vaguely remember one of the queens she had been named for, Queen Catherine, who had lived with them in Kent and had died when she was five, but she had never met Queen Isabel, who had died much earlier, long before she was born.

Her mother, born a lady, had always consorted with kings and queens...and had married a commoner, and been gloriously happy with him.

Thirty two years separated Catherine from her oldest brother, the Earl of Welland, and thirty one years lay between her and her next in line brother, the Abbot of Byland Abbey. Since they had left Kent for Yorkshire years before she was born, Catherine barely had time to meet her oldest brothers , and that late in life, before they both died. She had been a newly wed bride when her mother fell ill at Leeds and her father, then eighty years old, had brought his wife to the abbey to die, and then he, too, had disappeared from her life. But she had known her mother long enough to become familiar with her obsession about the name Richard, and her belief that all men so named had doom hanging over their heads, all due to the usurpation of King Henry IV in 1399 and the murder of the man he dispossessed, King Richard II.

It was not such a far fetched idea. King Richard had been the first to die, and there followed Richard Earl of Cambridge; Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick; her own brother Richard, dead at the age of ten; and since her mother’s death in 1452, there had died Richard Neville, Earl of Salisbury; Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick; Richard Woodville, Earl Rivers; Richard Duke

of Gloucester, later King Richard III; and Prince Richard son of King Edward IV and brother of King Edward V, both supposedly murdered in the Tower of London by their uncle, another Richard.

Of those not so well placed, perhaps countless other Richards had died in that time. All because, her mother had predicted, the martyred King Richard II wanted vengeance for his own murder.

One hundred years of deaths. “Enough, enough!” Catherine cried out in the little chapel at her abbey.

1396

She was going to court!

It was far away, the whole length of England away, and she did not know anybody there. It would be strange and new. She hadn’t the proper clothes, nor the polished manners. She did not even speak the way they did in the south of the country. They would tease her and call her a savage Scot! The English court at Westminster was very stylish, she had heard, aping European models scorned by those like her own family, who prided themselves on behaving ‘like we allas done’ in Northumberland. She had heard tales that at table they ate with strange utensils called forks and that they carried bits of embroidered cloth, called handkerchiefs, to wipe their noses on. ‘Such foppery,’ complained her brother. Only it came out of his mouth, ‘Thut-th foppery!’

Her brother had never been broken of his childish lisp.

Court would be wonderful and different. It would be far from Northumberland. She was not afraid to go so far from home. Lady Annabel Percy was afraid of nothing. That trait got her into a lot of trouble. She was not afraid of her brother Henry. Everyone else was and tiptoed around him. He was years and years her elder, and yet she made fun of him behind his back. She had been warned this was dangerous, which made it even more amusing. Henry had a terrible temper. His timid wife slept with him every night he was home and had borne him children, and yet called him ‘my lord’ when she worked up the courage to speak to him at all. Lady Annabel called him Hot-thpur behind his back and sometimes to his face. He had slapped her face a few times when she did so, but she didn’t mind. It had been worth it to see his expression of outrage..

Court! And she was only ten years old! That was it, the reason she had been summoned for the honor. The king had married again, and this wife was only seven, so in addition to ladies in waiting who were adult, some few girls her own age were being brought to London to keep the new queen company, and she was among those chosen. It was something so entirely unexpected she was dizzy with excitement. It was a great honor, and yet her family had carped about her going.

She had held her breath waiting for them to consent to the order. Disobey the king? How
could they think of such an insult to royalty, how would they dare? He was THE KING.

“She’s French! And aren’t they the ancient enemy?” her father had said. Annabel had been eavesdropping, hiding behind the arras while the older people talked together. “Our girl speaks not that language. That could be reason enough to refuse to let her go. I don’t want her learning the language of our enemy. We might as soon send her to the Scots’ court!”

“She’s too young to go so far from home,” said her Aunt Maud.

“Tho are all the otherth,” said her brother Henry. “Thath the whole idea. Children for a child queen.”

“Who are the others? No one lives as far from court as we do,” replied Maud. Without waiting for an answer, she went on, “This is foolishness on the king’s part. A joke on everyone. He isn’t a boy anymore but he acts more juvenile every year. A queen of seven years, when what he needs is an heir! She won’t be old enough to bed for years and years!”

“Just what he was looking for,” said her father. “He’d rather bed a Ganymede.”

Annabel knew what he meant. She had heard such a thing discussed in disgusting detail. Surely a man as near to God as a king wouldn’t engage in such behavior, but she had also heard them talking about another king who had been murdered because of such acts. That king had a wife and had children by her and it was his wife had him murdered, for dirtying her good name, it was said, with his evil conduct..

She had been French, too.

It seemed like the English royalty often married French princesses. After all, didn’t England own most of France? This king to whose court she was going had been born in France, where his father had been stationed when he was crown prince, so the people in England called him Richard of Bordeaux. His first wife had died two years ago. They had no children. Hmmm, thought Annabel. The stories might be true.

In the end, they had to let her go. She had already planned to run away if they didn’t but no one knew that but herself, and now it would not be necessary. It would be a long journey. She had never traveled so far. But she was a good rider, she wouldn’t mind the long days on horseback. What was it like south of Northumberland? She could hardly wait to see. Much better than here. Yorkshire was the best. She had heard her father say so. But the Percies had been driven north by their rivals the Nevilles. “Once we ruled all of Yorkshire,” the earl had raged. “You were born at Spofforth, Henry! Yorkshire is ours!”

But no more. They had been pushed out. The two rival families fought. Sometimes they intermarried and still they fought. It made no sense to her. And usually, the Percies lost and had to move further north. Who were these Nevilles, anyway? She had seen a few of them, at weddings or funerals, and they looked much like everyone else. Not the devils her family made them out to be.

Old Rafe was the worst, according to her kin. ‘Rafe of Raby’ they called him, from his principal residence in the bishopric of Durham. He was not an old man, only a little older than her brother Henry, but he was fast making a name for himself and his family that outshone that of the Percies. And his mother had been Maud Percy, her grandfather’s sister! Dead now, but often referred to by her namesake niece Aunt Maud. This aunt was a gossip and Annabel had learned much of the family history from her, although Maud had no idea the child was listening so avidly. It was confusing, the men seemed to marry so many wives and the women so many husbands! But it was so important to know who was who. The French wars had taken so many of the English peers who had gone abroad to win fame and fortune for their king and found a grave instead. Or came home to die slowly of their wounds. The present monarch’s grandfather, who had been King Edward III when he lived, had a long string of sons, so it made no difference to him, but others found their great estates going to the female side and these heiresses were fair game for second sons or landless rich gentry. A whole new class of nobles was emerging, and the older families like hers didn’t like it a bit.

‘Upstarts’ her family called such men and women. And yet, they were eager to marry their own sons and daughters to these parvenu sons and daughters. Annabel knew she had been signed over years ago to the Earl of Welland’s heir, if he lived to marriageable age. They said he was sickly. She had never met him and was not eager to do so. All that could wait. Who knew what new adventures might intervene when she got to court! Who she might meet there.

Annabel asked her Aunt Maud why the king had married so young a wife. She could not ask her mother, because her mother was dead. Annabel hardly remembered her and what she did retain was unpleasant. A sickbed with everyone in the room speaking in whispers and a very bad smell. She had a younger brother. Had he been the cause of their mother’s demise? Except for occasional plague which took everyone in its path, those who had somehow offended God, perhaps, most women died of complications attending on childbirth.

Annabel had run roughshod over her younger brother, and when he was given a tutor to teach him the rudiments of reading and writing, she had forced him to impart whatever learning stuck in his head to her and her head and thereby, gained the ability to read and write at an early age. She did not bother to tell any of her elders about this and swore her little brother to secrecy, on pain of severe punishment, because she knew girls were not supposed to have this skill, which would diminish them in their husband’s eyes, so it was said.

“We want no uppity girls here,” her father had often been heard to opine.

Of course, if you chose the church as your vocation, literacy was permitted within reason, for aa a religious should read her Bible! But Annabel had felt no calling in that direction. None whatsoever. She wanted a man when she was old enough to have one, a man with all the heroic qualities the bards sung of at feast time. He must not be deformed, and while he did not have to be beautiful he must be decent looking, he had to be brave. He must own a heart true to his one love, which of course, had to be Annabel Percy.

She debated long and hard over whether he must be rich or grandly titled, and decided that other qualities outweighed these. She had overheard the servant women laughing over a saying that a large nose indicated better than usual endowment elsewhere on a man’s anatomy. She kept that bit of knowledge in mind as her years increased. Her man would have a large nose. She imagined the heir of the earl of Welland to have a short snub nose and to be fat and flabby. Perhaps he would die before she had to marry him.

As soon as the weather improved and the roads dried, she would leave for the royal court. The sempstresses were making her new clothes, and Annabel worried they would not be in the current style, although Aunt Maud had approved their cloth and cut. The problem was that Aunt Maud had the worst possible taste in anything. She had married two husbands and they both had died and she had heard the servants whisper that they did so only to get away from Maud. However, they had left the widow some money.

Annabel had another aunt who was Abbess of a small convent of nuns outside the town of Pickering, in Yorkshire, and the girl would break her journey to stay with this aunt for a few days before continuing her journey south to London. She was hoping this aunt might know some French and teach her how to say good day and good night, at the very least. Many of the religious houses were of French origin and there might be a nun living at Pickering who could teach her more than that. She giggled thinking of what that nun might teach her, because her family invariably said everything French was nasty and naughty.

Her brother Henry had taken most of the able bodied men from the Alnwick garrison to put down trouble on the border with Scotland, either on the Scots side (most likely) or on the English side (that would be embarrassing to the great warrior Hotspur who had let them take advantage.). He would not be here to forbid her leaving, as she knew he would like to do if he dared. She had been horrified to hear him say of THE KING, “And what would that lily livered panthy do about it, eh? Thake hith finger at me?”

But he was away from home and could not stop her going. Her belongings were packed in a very small trunk. She had not many belongings. Her father had said she would not have to stay long at court. She hoped he was wrong. He usually was so there was hope.


There was no one at Alnwick she minded parting with. They were all either stupid or family or both. The only thing she admired about her family was its name. She took great pride in being Lady Annabel Percy. A de Perci had come over from Normandy with the Conqueror.

It broke her heart to find out the original line had died out in the male line and the husband of one of the daughters took the name in order to inherit the estate. But that had been long ago when things were different.

It did not take long for Annabel to revise her idea of how big England was. When she thought they ought to be nearing London, they had only arrived at Pickering! The castle there was not large but looked more modern than Alnwick. Her aunt’s convent was quite small, also, but she was quite captivated by this aunt she had not met before. They did not talk much about her at home and she was never invited to attend family gatherings. Now she knew why. Or, had guessed.

Her name had been Mary at her christening, but she called herself Magdalene now and her nuns, when in irreverent mood called her Mother Mag. Otherwise, Abbess Magdalene. Her first words to her niece had been, after the usual formal greetings had been dispensed with, “How thrilling to be going to meet the king and queen! Oh, Annabel, how I envy you!”

“Everyone at home is being dismal about it. My brother wanted to keep me from going but father was afraid it might make the king angry. After all, it was Father served as Earl Marshal when this king was crowned! But Hotspur says he is not afraid of this king. He calls him a pansy. Well, when he says it, it comes out ‘panthy.’ The abbess delighted the girl by laughing merrily at this poke at Hotspur’s dignity.

“You will be a welcome addition to King Richard’s court, little one! Just don’t overdo the mischief and they will love you. Can you speak any French?”

“Not a word, but I am eager to learn, aunt. I was so hoping one of your nuns....”

“They try so hard to speak our language when they are here. The local people resent another tongue being spoken. They all see some terrible danger in strangers who talk so they cannot be understood, imagining they are plotting dire doings, no doubt. Well, of course, they can under-stand each other, it is the locals who cannot understand. It is best you let the French princess teach you. All you need now is please and thank you. ‘Bien, Merci, sil vous plei”

”That would be enough?”

“For a start.”

“I feel so gauche, so homespun, Aunt Mary.”

“All wool and a yard wide. Nothing wrong in that. If the king had more like you....but I should not say so....”

“Tell me about him, Aunt. What it will be like at his court.”

“How would I know? I’m just a backward country girl like you. But I have friends. I will let them tell you and then you tell me which of them seems most believable.” Annabel could not imagine who these friends were, possibly some of the foreign nuns. But the first one was the priest of the church in the town of Pickering. He came regularly to conduct the mass for the female inhabitants of the convent who were forbidden to do this for themselves. They were, after all, female, and Jesus had been male. After the service was completed, Abbess Magdalen invited the priest into her parlor for some cider and biscuits. “This is my niece from Alnwick, Father. The Lady Annabel Percy. She is on her way to Westminster, where she will become one of the little queen’s young ladies.” Deftly, Annabel poured the man a cup of cider and took it to him.

“Humph!” exclaimed the priest. “A den of inequity that place is. Unnatural, immoral, sinful. How could your mother let you go to such a place, my lady?”

“My mother is dead, sir,” Annabel said.

The man looked flustered, and he quickly covered up with, “A sad circumstance, my child. Your father has not married again? There is no woman in the house?”

“There is my brother’s wife. And there is Aunt Maud, my father’s sister. And we have many servants of both sexes.”

“Humph!” said the priest once more.

“When His Grace the King calls, sir, his subjects must obey!” put in the abbess with a smile.

“Perhaps your stay will be short, girl. And it might be you can teach the French girl our language. It is not good for us to learn hers.” Annabel would have made a spirited retort to these words, but her aunt was vigorously shaking her head out of the priest’s line of sight, so she clamped her lips shut and said nothing more.

“Pray to our Lord that you stay safe in the clutches of the ungodly, child,” the priest said and took a final swig of his cider cup. He had drunk three already and they were large cups. The abbey was very proud of its apple orchard, and the nuns processed enough apple juice in the autumn to make enough cider to last the year out. As the year progressed, it became tangier and tangier.

Annabel said, “So will I do, Father. Pray diligently.” He nodded, seeming pleased and when he had departed, her aunt asked Annabel what she thought of the town’s man of God. The girl replied she thought him stupid and short sighted. “Not so, niece. He is neither stupid nor ignorant. He was testing you to see if you were stupid or short sighted, and he found you to be
wise enough not to say much. God gave us ears, child. Use them. Learn. Only then, dare speak, and when you speak, do it fearlessly. Know whereof you speak and be brave with your words.”

The next test came when the abbess entertained an abbot, head of a neighboring monastery. He was a thin and angular man, not fleshy and forthright like the village priest. “My niece from Alnwick, the Lady Annabel Percy,” her Aunt Mary told the abbot. “On her way south to be at court in the train of the child queen, the princess from France,” she said.

Annabel curtsied before the stern figure. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Your Grace,” she said. “This will be your first occasion to go to the royal court?” he asked, while examining her from head to toe with dark, intelligent eyes. She nodded, flushed slightly by the realization he saw her as a country bumpkin unacquainted with the modish court of King Richard II.

“This is a novelty for England,” he said. “A court of children, to amuse a baby queen. Our royal master is a clever man.”

“It was part and parcel of his treaty with France which insures peace between our two realms,” said the abbess. “Unfortunately, the French monarch had no older daughters to offer.”

“The son of our great warrior Edward is too much a man of peace and adroit at making treaties rather than fight battles. As I said, a clever man,” the abbot remarked reflectively and rubbed his chin.

“Blessed are the peacemakers,” retorted the abbess.

“For they shall see God,” returned the other. “Perhaps sooner than they realized.” Then, looking at Annabel again, he went on, “This child is Hotspur’s sister?”

“I am,” Annabel spoke up.

“From the frying pan into the fire, Lady Mary,” the abbot said. He had not touched the cup of cider she had given him.

“I have some tracts for your library, abbess. Can the girl read?” The girl in question felt insulted by his addressing her aunt instead of herself about herself. She was about to speak when she recalled her aunt’s words, use your ears first. She remained quiet as the abbess said, “Her family would not approve of that, your grace.” The man smiled grimly and nodded to the woman.

“God preserve you on your journey south, Lady Annabel Percy,” said the abbot on leaving, and he made the sign of the cross above her head. He was no sooner gone, than Annabel turned to the abbess and hissed, “He is a horrid man!”

He aunt clucked her tongue. “And he thought you such an intelligent girl, Bel.”