Free The Chalice by Nancy Bilyeau

one. I, who had been powerless, witnessed power being wielded on my behalf. A dark gloating pulsed in my blood. Yes, crush her, I exulted. Make her suffer.
    But hard on this excitement came another feeling: shame.
    “No, please,” I said, reaching out to touch Gertrude’s shoulder. “I am not blameless. I provoked her.”
    Gertrude shook her head. As before, she was unwilling to see any fault in my actions. I searched through my mind, frantically, for prayers that could guide us. “My lady, blessed are the merciful, for they shall have mercy shown to them. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. And blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be recognized as the children of God.”
    The storm of rage that darkened Gertrude’s soul receded. With a cry, she seized both of my hands in hers and gripped them so hard I winced.
    “Joanna, thank you for showing me the Christian spirit I must cleave to,” she said. “Through you I understand God’s grace anew.”
    She ordered that Mistress Brooke and Gregory be sent away. Geoffrey saw them to the door, speaking in a low voice to Mistress Brooke. A moment later, there was another stirring on the street. Henry Courtenay had returned, well pleased with Holy Trinity Church.
    “Father William showed me a wonderous mural painting of Saint George in one of the chapels,” he said.
    I wager he didn’t tell you that the painting would be whitewashed by order of Cromwell, I thought. So Father William was nothing but unctuous to the marquess of Exeter. It must be that way wherever Henry Courtenay went. He was fawned over by men and women who were cruel to others.
    “How did Arthur fare?” I asked. I half dreaded the reply.
    “Look for yourself,” said Henry.
    From the window, the High Street was like I had never seen it before—transformed into a place of play for Arthur. Courtenay men had cleared a long, empty space. Henry’s son, Edward, tossed him a ball and Arthur leaped after it, laughing.
    How Arthur glowed. It was as if he’d grown two inches in the last hour.
    “Joanna, are you all right?” asked Henry. “You’re crying.”
    I touched my damp cheeks. “It’s been difficult, just Arthur and me. I don’t know if I am doing the right things. I worry for his future.” I barely knew this cousin of mine, yet I was confiding in him fears I’d not shared with anyone, not even Brother Edmund.
    “Ah. Well, for a beginning, he shouldn’t be wearing a child’s gown any longer,” said Henry. “He’s ready for the clothing of a boy, a boy of a good family.”
    “Do you think so?”
    “He’s five years old. He’s also ready for a tutor and for lessons in sport,” said Henry.
    My face must have shown my disbelief.
    “Arthur is strong and quick, Joanna. He may not be ready for a hornbook in his hand. But that is no impediment to living as a respected gentleman—or even to having a career at court. Norfolk’s said often enough that it’s book learning that ruined the nobility.” He laughed, not noticing how I stiffened to hear the name Norfolk . I’d never forget how the duke hounded me in the Tower of London, even striking me in the face when I didn’t submit to his questioning.
    “My husband is the finest father in all of England,” said Gertrude, joining us on the front steps. She stroked her husband’s arm.
    “Cousin Joanna, why not bring Arthur for a visit?” asked Henry. “Stay with us for a time. We have a host of tutors. He needs to learn to ride and dance and handle himself. It would be good for Edward, too, if a younger boy were about.”
    “I’ve already invited Joanna to stay with us in London, but she said there was much for her to do here in Dartford,” said Gertrude lightly.
    Henry spread his hands. “Then come for a month. We could do much for Arthur in four weeks. In November you can return.”
    As I looked at them, my heart pumped faster than at any other time that day, even when I was trapped beneath my loom in the