"Well, I will try," she said, with a deep sigh, as Marjory stroked her hair. "In the first place, the year ended all very well. My fair father had been created Justiciary of Ireland for life, and Constable of the Tower, and various favours had been granted to him. That he should be on the brink of trouble--and such trouble!--was the very last thing thought of by any one of us. And then that Bishop of Winchester came back, and before a soul knew anything about it, he was high in the Lord King's favour, and on the twenty-ninth of July--(I am not likely to forget _that_ date!)--the blow fell." "He was dismissed, then, was he not, from all his offices, without a word of warning?" "Dismissed and degraded, without a shadow of it!--and a string of the most cruel, wicked accusations brought against him--things that he never did nor dreamed of doing--Aunt Marjory, it makes my blood boil, only to remember them! I am not going to tell you all: there was one too horrid to mention." "I know, my maiden." Marjory interposed rather hastily. She had heard already of King Henry's delicate and affectionate assault upon the fair name of Margaret's mother, and she did not wish for a repetition of it. "But beyond that, of what do you think he was accused?" "I have not heard the other articles, Magot." "Then I will tell you. First, of preventing the Lord King's marriage with the Duke of Austria's daughter, by telling the Duke that the King was lame, and blind, and deaf, and a leper, and--" "Gently, Magot, gently!" said Marjory, laughing. "I am not making a syllable of it, fair Aunt!--And that he was a wicked, treacherous man, not worthy of the love or alliance of any noble lady. _Pure foy_!--but I know what I should say, if I said just what I think." "It is sometimes quite as well not to do that, Magot." "Ha! Perhaps it is, when one may get into prison by it. It is a comfort one can always think. Neither Pope nor King can stop that." "Magot, my dear child!" "Oh yes, I know! You think I am horribly imprudent, Aunt Marjory. But nobody hears me except you and Eva de Braose--she is the only person in the wardrobe, and there is no one in the ante-chamber. And as I have heard her say more than I did just now, I don't suppose there is much harm done.--Then, secondly,--they charged my fair father with stealing-- only think, _stealing_!--a magical gem from the royal treasury which made the wearer victorious in battle, and sending it to the Prince of Wales." [Llywelyn the Great, with whom King Henry was at war.] "Why should they suppose he would do that?" "_Pure foy_, Aunt Marjory, don't ask me! Then, thirdly, they said it was--" Margaret sprang from her footstool suddenly, and disappeared for a second through the door of the wardrobe. Marjory heard her say--