Mother Matilda set her gentle face, and answered-- “It shall not be done in this Nunnery, my Lord Abbot. I know the law, and you have no such power. Moreover, if you move them hence, who are my guests, I appeal to the King, and meanwhile raise the country on you.” “Said I not that they had accomplices?” sneered the Abbot, and went his way. But of the torture no more was heard, for that appeal to the King had an ill sound in his ears. CHAPTER XI DOOMED It was the day of trial. From dawn Cicely and Emlyn had seen people hurrying in and out of the gates of the Nunnery, and heard workmen making preparation in the guest-hall below their chamber. About eight one of the nuns brought them their breakfast. Her face was scared and white; she only spoke in whispers, looking behind her continually as though she knew she was being watched. Emlyn asked who their judges were, and she answered-- “The Abbot, a strange, black-faced Prior, and the Old Bishop. Oh! God help you, my sisters; God help us all!” and she fled away. Now for a moment Emlyn’s heart failed her, since before such a tribunal what chance had they? The Abbot was their bitter enemy and accuser; the strange Prior, no doubt, one of his friends and kindred; while the ecclesiastic spoken of as the “Old Bishop” was well known as perhaps the cruelest man in England, a scourge of heretics--that is, before heresy became the fashion--a hunter-out of witches and wizards, and a time-server to boot. But to Cicely she said nothing, for what was the use, seeing that soon she would learn all? They ate their food, knowing both of them that they would need strength. Then Cicely nursed her child, and, placing it in Emlyn’s arms, knelt down to pray. While she was still praying the door opened and a procession appeared. First came two monks, then six armed men of the Abbot’s guard, then the Prioress and three of her nuns. At the sight of the beautiful young woman kneeling at her prayers the guards, rough men though they were, stopped, as if unwilling to disturb her, but one of the monks cried brutally-- “Seize the accursed hypocrite, and if she will not come, drag her with you,” at the same time stretching out his hand as though to grasp her arm. But Cicely rose and faced him, saying-- “Do not touch me; I follow. Emlyn, give me the child, and let us go.”