“God forgive me,” he whispered as he walked, surrounded by young men praising God, confident in the world that they would enter, certain that they would restore it to the true faith. “God forgive me, God forgive me, God forgive me my sins.”

He seemed to pray with true penitence throughout the service, murmuring the familiar responses, singing the psalms. But he knew that he was not penitent, he knew that he was at war with himself. He had failed in his mission, he had failed his king and he had failed his vows. He would not list Alinor among his sins. With her, he had been truly himself, as he had never been since childhood. With her, he had a glimpse of a godly life in the world, not one in the cloister. He thought he might be a better husband than a priest; he knew at any rate that he despaired of his vocation. His passion for her gave his life meaning, where otherwise he was lost. It was a revolutionary thought for a young man who had been dedicated to the Church from childhood, but he could not help himself. He had a conviction that he had never felt before: that he did not want to be here, hiding behind high walls in northern France; that he did not want to keep faith with a king who was unable to rule; that he did not even want to restore the true religion to England. The only thing he truly wanted was to go to his family home in Yorkshire, take the woman that he loved to his house, and live there as an Englishman, at peace on his own fields.

As soon as the liturgy was over, the brothers went to the dining hall to break their fast in a silence emphasized by the quiet reading in Latin of the gospel for the day. Then one of the senior brothers rose to his feet and announced the duties of the day, the work expected of the novices, the names of those who would study, garden, farm, clean and cook, or serve in the church workshops. James was ordered to attend the senior professor in his chambers. A few of the young seminarians glanced enviously at James, wishing that they too might be sent to England, to go into hiding to spy and serve the hidden Roman Catholic faithful. He did not acknowledge them. He thought they were fools to long for martyrdom. They would not wish for it if they knew what it was like to stand on a darkened quayside and watch for a light and not know if it were a friend or an enemy. They would not wish for it if they had ever got within a second of the most triumphant victory of the war, only to see it thrown away for a whim. But he avoided their glances, bowed his head in obedience, and went on his own to the professor’s rooms.