Jacob Smith also called for ale and drank with them to the success of the Pilgrimage of Grace, as their revolt was named.
In this way they disarmed suspicion with one tale and another.
Moreover, they heard that as yet the country round Blossholme remained undisturbed, although it was said that the Abbot had fortified the Abbey and stored it with provisions.

He himself was with the leaders of the revolt in the neighbourhood of Lincoln, but he had done this that he might have a strong place to fall back on.
So in the end the men went away full of strong beer, and that danger passed by.
Next morning they started forward early, hoping to reach Blossholme by sunset though the days were shortening much.

This, however, was not to be, for as it chanced they were badly bogged in a quagmire that lay about two miles off their inn, and when at length they scrambled out had to ride many miles round to escape the swamp.

So it happened that it was already well on in the afternoon when they came to that stretch of forest in which the Abbot had murdered Sir John Foterell.

Following the woodland road, towards sunset they passed the mere where he had fallen.
Weary as she was, Cicely looked at the spot and found it familiar.
"I know this place," she said.