"A declaration, Sire, of the validity of the marriage between
Christopher Harflete and Cicely Foterell, which without doubt is good
and lawful although the Abbot disputes it for his own ends; and an
indemnity for the deaths of certain men who fell when the said Abbot
attacked and burnt the house of the said Christopher Harflete."

"It should have been granted the more readily if Maldon had fallen also,
but let that pass. What more?"

"The promise, your Grace, of the lands of the Abbey of Blossholme and of
the Priory of Blossholme in consideration of the loan of L1000 advanced
to your Grace by the agent of Cicely Harflete, Jacob Smith."

"A large demand, my Lord. Have these lands been valued?"

"Aye, Sire, by your Commissioner, who reports it doubtful if with all
their tenements and timber they would fetch L1000 in gold."

"Our Commissioner? A fig for his valuing, doubtless he has been bribed.
Still, if we repay the money we can hold the land, and since this Dame
Harflete and her husband have suffered sorely at the hands of Maldon and
his armed ruffians, why, let it pass also. Now, is that all? I weary of
so much talk."

"But one thing more, your Grace," put in Cromwell hastily, for Henry was
already rising from his chair. "Dame Cicely Harflete, her servant, Emlyn
Stower, and a certain crazed old nun were condemned of sorcery by a
Court Ecclesiastic whereof the Abbot Maldon was a member, the said Abbot
alleging that they had bewitched him and his goods."

"Then he was pleader and judge in one?"

"That is so, your Grace. Already without the royal warrant they were
bound to the stake for burning, the said Maldon having usurped the
prerogative of the Crown, when your Commissioner, Legh, arrived and
loosed them, but not without fighting, for certain men were killed and
wounded. Now they humbly crave your Majesty's royal pardon for their
share in this man-slaying, if any, as also does Thomas Bolle yonder, who
seems to have done the slaying----"

"Well can I believe it," muttered the King.

"And a declaration of the invalidity of their trial and condemning, and
of their innocence of the foul charge laid against them."

"Innocence!" exclaimed Henry, growing impatient and fixing on the last
point. "How do we know they were innocent, though it is true that if
Dame Harflete is a witch she is the prettiest that ever we have heard of
or seen. You ask too much, after your fashion, Cromwell."

"I crave your Grace's pat