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Chapters (69)
  1. Cover
  2. Biographical Notes
  3. Title Page
  4. INTRODUCTION
  5. MARGERY KEMPE
  6. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  7. Dedication
  8. Front
  9. PART ONE
  10. 1
  11. 2
  12. 3
  13. 4
  14. 5
  15. 6
  16. 7
  17. 8
  18. 9
  19. 10
  20. 11
  21. 12
  22. 13
  23. 14
  24. 15
  25. 16
  26. PART TWO
  27. 17
  28. 18
  29. 19
  30. 20
  31. 21
  32. 22
  33. 23
  34. 24
  35. 25
  36. 26
  37. 27
  38. 28
  39. 29
  40. 30
  41. 31
  42. PART THREE
  43. 32
  44. 33
  45. 34
  46. 35
  47. 36
  48. 37
  49. 38
  50. 39
  51. 40
  52. 41
  53. 42
  54. 43
  55. 44
  56. 45
  57. 46
  58. PART FOUR
  59. 47
  60. 48
  61. 49
  62. 50
  63. 51
  64. 52
  65. 53
  66. 54
  67. 55
  68. 56
  69. MY MARGERY, MARGERY’S BOB

Two ladies of quality love each other entirely. One of them falls sick with plague and desires to see the other, who will not come, fearing catching it. The afflicted at last dies, and has not been buried very long when she appears at the other’s house dressed in mourning (for her own life). She asks for her friend, who is at cards, but sends down her maid to know her business, who tells her, I must impart it to none but your lady, who, receiving this answer, bids her maid to show her guest into a room, and asks her to wait till the game is done. Downstairs the lady comes to the apparition to know her business. Madame, says the ghost, turning up her veil (her face appearing full of craters), you know very well, you and I loved entirely, and your not coming to see me, I took it so hard, at your hands, that I could never rest, till I had seen you, and now I am come, to tell you, that you have not long, to live, therefore, prepare to die, and when you are at a feast, and make the thirteenth person, in number, remember my words.

33

Margery sent for John to meet her in Norwich. While waiting for him, she visited the Vicar of St. Stephen’s. He had two years left to live as she had foretold nine years earlier. Still, Margery was shocked to find him wasting, his face small and dark, bony as a monkey’s. He couldn’t get warm; blue lids hooded his eyes. He thought, Wisdom is just subtraction. Her mirth filled him with longing for a world he was shrinking away from, and he could not reconcile her stamina with the sanctity of his death, his weighty marble sarcophagus.

He haunted his memories and hopes, rushing through them in a whisper. But sometimes his body gave him a moment of peace that could also be described as a whiff of sweet decay, like a dead mouse found in a trap. Then the world was artificial and his physical being seemed a less precious part of a richer and more compelling adventure. Sometimes he saw the spirit of a little boy jumping up and down on the bed. No sound, but shadows.

Margery said, “Jesus told me to buy a white mantle and robe.”

The Vicar breathed, “Told you . . . ?” The conversation ended as he climbed onto wobbly legs.

So Margery said, “Jesus, send me a sign for white clothes.” She could not recognize herself apart from simple cues, the golden headdress of her youth or the mantle of lightning, thunder, and rain.