For a little while he was silent, then went on, "Well, his court is always open, and he has many shrewd and instant messengers, such as this," and he pointed to the arrow in the neck of the slain soldier.

"Yet I am a man of peace, and although you have murdered my servant, I would settle our cause more gently if I may.

Listen now, Sir Christopher; here is my offer.

Yield up to me the person of Cicely Foterell----" "Of Cicely Harflete," interrupted Christopher.
"Of Cicely Foterell, and I swear to you that no violence shall be done to her, nor shall she be given to a husband till the King or his Vicar-General, or whatever court he may appoint, has passed judgment in this matter and declared this mock marriage of yours null and void." "What!" broke in Christopher scoffingly; "does the Abbot of Blossholme announce that the powers temporal of this realm have right of divorce?
Ere now I have heard him argue differently, and so have others, when the case of Queen Catherine was in question." The Abbot bit his lip, but continued, taking no heed-- "Nor will I lay any complaint against you as to the death of my servant here, for which otherwise you should hang.

That I will write down as an accident, and, further, compensate his family.