“Yes,” I said. “Robert has rebelled and may do so again.” Together we faced the truth of it. Our son had chosen a different path than ours. I had often blamed Thomas for filling Robert’s head with high religious ideals, but Thomas had never advocated violence to achieve them.

“Robert is not worthy to be the custodian of the Knights,” Thomas said. He sounded regretful. “I wished it for him, but I saw that it would not serve. There is no one.” He opened his eyes. “Therefore it is my wish that the Order be laid to rest amongst the hollow hills of Knightstone, Nan. You must take the mantle and conceal it there. Promise me—do this for me.”

I released a long breath. It was a man’s dying wish, Thomas’s dying wish, and to him it was so important, the symbol of all he had tried to achieve in his life, the fight for religious toleration by peaceful means. I knew that the Order was finished and finally he had accepted it too.

“I will do it,” I promised, and I saw the rigidity leave his body and his breath came a little more easily.

“I will leave you to rest now,” I murmured. Muriel, I knew, would feel I had been long enough. Quickly I rewrapped the prior’s cope in its linen covering and tied the ribbons, straightened the pile in the chest and closed the lid. The mantle was weightier than I had noticed when I had taken it out and I realized that there must be a jeweled clasp or something similar to fasten it. No matter; I would not look at it again. I would seal it up safely and take it to Knightstone. I already knew the place of safety where I would put it to rest.

I paused by the bed to clasp Thomas’s hand one last time. It was impossible to equate this withered man with the handsome and vibrant youth I had known in my childhood, the man who had briefly swept me off my feet when I had been so lonely and lost in the aftermath of my first son’s death. All that power and passion for living was banked down now and almost extinguished. I pressed a kiss on his brow and felt my heart crack a little.

“Anne...” Thomas’s lips barely moved. I had to bend close to hear. “You should try to stop Robert, for little Robbie’s sake. He has a plan. He has gunpowder.”

I stared at him in consternation. What could he mean?

“Thomas!” I shook his shoulder. He did not move; his breathing was shallow and peaceful.

“Thomas!” I raised my voice. I wanted to shake his entire body, wake him and force him to tell me what Robert planned. My hands itched to slap him. I wanted to drag him back from the gates of death if need be but he did not stir. I could not reach him.

The door burst open; the manservant, disturbed by my shouting, had gone to fetch Muriel. Pale-faced, she tumbled into the room and rushed across to the bed. It was only then that I realized that I was on my feet and the chair was overturned.