I go to call my clerks and you must go to the stable.

Lady Harflete and you, Cousin Emlyn, get you to bed." On the following morning Cicely rose with the dawn, nor was she sorry to do so, who had spent but a troubled night.

For long sleep would not come to her, and when it did at length, she was tossed upon a sea of dreams, dreams of the King, who threatened her with his great voice; of Cromwell, who took everything she had down to her cloak; of Commissioner Legh, who dragged her back to the stake because he had lost his bribe.
But most of all she dreamed of Christopher, her beloved husband, who was so near and yet as far away as he had ever been, a prisoner in the hands of the rebels; her husband who deemed her dead.
From all these phantasies she awoke weeping and oppressed by fears.
Could it be that when at length the cup of joy was so near her lips fate waited to dash it down again?
She knew not, who had naught but faith to lean on, that faith which in the past had served her well.

Meanwhile, she was sure that if Christopher lived he would make his way to Cranwell or to Blossholme, and, whatever the risk, thither she would go also as fast as horses could carry her.
Hurry as they would, midday was an hour gone ere they rode out of Cheapside.

There was so much to do, and even then things were left undone.