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depicting the Five Wounds of Christ.
     
    They had occupied the city of York and, by doing so, had seriously frightened the king. In response, he had sent the Duke of Norfolk to treat on his behalf, arming that hardened old soldier with no more than soft words and fine promises of free pardons if only they would disperse, give up and go home. Naturally, it had all been a feint, but the rebels obligingly took the bait and disbanded, trusting in the word of their king. It did not take long for their trust to be betrayed. The fair words turned to dust and, once they did, another rising had ensued. This time the king moved against them with fatal swiftness. Noblemen such as Lord Darcy and Lord Hussey died by the axe, and Sir Francis Bigod was hanged at Tyburn. The worst punishment however had been reserved for Robert Aske.
     
    They had hanged Aske in chains, just this last July, in York outside Clifford’s Tower. It had taken several days for him to die. The abbess and Sister Margaret had both wept pitifully when the news of his demise was brought to them. They both had known Aske and had sympathised with the Pilgrimage, although only from afar. Sir Richard had been adamant that they stay out of it, especially his sister, and had made sure that they were kept safely in London for the duration of the uprising. He was, in no wise, a rebel.
     
    “I adhere to the faith of your noble father, madam, the Catholic faith. That is the faith I was brought up with and have followed all my life” Bridget replied. Although her words still represented her true opinion, just, Bridget hated having to utter them. They sounded slippery somehow, rehearsed, like she was just another courtier who made certain to conform his or herself to reflect the views of whomsoever they happened to be speaking to. The Lady Mary was staunchly committed to following the old ways, having been steeped from girlhood in the intense Roman Catholicism of her mother, Katherine of Aragon. She was famous for it. It would not do to tell her that, while Bridget still heard Mass and prayed to the saints, she did not believe with the same unquestioning fervency that she had as a girl. She acknowledged that the reformers, the heretics as the Lady Mary would call them, had a point: the church was, in some cases, corrupt. It was venal. It was decadent. It needed to change. In addition to that, she also did not feel any great sadness that, as a country, England no longer owed any allegiance to the pope, a foreign potentate and a byword for dissoluteness. Although she did concede, privately of course, that the king was a debatable replacement.
     
    “Excuse me, Your Grace, I hate to disturb, but Her Majesty wishes to speak with you,” said Jane Boleyn, Lady Rochford. She had sidled up quietly to them, without being noticed by any except Bridget, who had watched her progress across the chamber with a sinking heart. As a consequence, the Lady Mary jumped when she delivered her message and seemed momentarily flustered by it.
    “ By the Virgin, Lady Rochford, you startled me! I did not see you standing there. You possess a most silent tread. But ’tis no matter, your interruption is aptly timed and has caused no undue disturbance to us. Lady de Brett and I have finished our conversation. For the time being, at least.” With that, she bid her a farewell and moved off in the direction of the queen, the Marchioness of Exeter following along behind.
    Once they was safely departed, Lady Rochford turned to Bridget and her demeanour instantly changed. Her blue eyes, which she kept so placid and mild for the Lady Mary’s benefit, became stormy and suffused with anger. “Well madam, I congratulate you. It is not often I am wrong but it would appear I am proven so in your case. I thought never to see you again. In fact, the last time I did see you you were just returned from the Tower, covered in Anne’s blood, scrambling about for your few meagre possessions in her apartments, without