Neither did you bury him as you put about, but shipped him hence to Spain, whence it prophesied he will return again to be revenged upon you.

It told me that he was captured by the infidel Moors, and with him Jeffrey Stokes, my father's servant, and the priest Martin, your secretary.

Then it looked up and vanished, or seemed to vanish, though perhaps it is among us now." "Aye," answered the Abbot, "Satan, with whom you hold converse, is always among us.

Cicely Foterell and Emlyn Stower, you are foul witches, self-confessed.

The world has borne your sorceries too long, and you shall answer for them before God and man, as I, the Lord Abbot of Blossholme, have right and authority to make you do.