But there was a breath of better news later on, when tidings came in the early summer that Anne was in disgrace. It was well known that it was her influence that egged the King on, and that there was none so fierce against the old ways. Was it not possible that Henry might even yet repent himself, if she were out of the way? Then the tidings were confirmed, and for a while there was hope. * * * * * Sir Nicholas Maxwell rode over to see Chris, and was admitted into one of the parlours to talk with him. He seemed furiously excited, and hardly saluted his brother-in-law. “Chris,” he said, “I have come straight from London with great news. The King’s harlot is fallen.” Chris stared. “Dead?” he said. “Dead in a day or two, thank God!” He spat furiously. “God strike her!” he cried. “She has wrought all the mischief, I believe. They told me so a year back, but I did not believe it.” “And where is she?” Then Nicholas told his story, his ruddy comely face bright with exultation, for he had no room for pity left. The rumours that had come to Lewes were true. Anne had been arrested suddenly at Greenwich during the sports, and had been sent straight to the Tower. The King was weary of her, though she had borne him a child; and did not scruple to bring the most odious charges against her. She had denied, and denied; but it was useless. She had wept and laughed in prison, and called on God to vindicate her; but the process went on none the less. The marriage had been declared null and void by Dr. Cranmer who had blessed it; and now she was condemned for sinning against it. “But she is either his wife,” said Chris amazed, “or else she is not guilty of adultery.” Nicholas chuckled. “God save us, Chris; do you think Henry can’t manage it?” Then he grew white with passion, and beat the table and damned the King and Anne and Cranmer to hell together. Chris glanced up, drumming his fingers softly on the table. “Nick,” he said, “there is no use in that. When is she to die?” The knight’s face flushed again with pleasure, and he showed his teeth set together. “Two days,” he said, “please God, or three at the most. And she will not meet those she has sent before her, or John Fisher whose head she had brought to her--the bloody Herodias!” “Pray God that she will!” said Chris softly. “They will pray for her at least.” “Pah!” shouted Nicholas, “an eye for an eye for me!” Chris said nothing. He was thinking of all that this might mean. Who could know what might not happen? Nicholas broke in again presently. “I heard a fine tale,” he said, “do you know that the woman is in the very room where she slept the night before the crowning? Last time it was for the crown to be put on; now it is for the head to be taken off. And it is true that she weeps and laughs. They can hear her laugh two storeys away, I hear.” “Nick,” said Chris suddenly, “I am weary of that. Let her alone. Pray God she may turn!”