Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The White Lady of Hazelwood, by Emily Sarah Holt.
________________________________________________________________________Her is another of Emily Holt's books set in the middle ages, this timeat the end of the fourteenth century. We are kept constantly aware ofthis by the quaint words and expressions the players in the drama arealways using. Many of these phrases have dropped out of the language,but sometimes the usage is very illuminating, as we can see how we gotsome modern expression or spelling.
On the whole in this story life goes on quite evenly, with not too manyof those murders that aspiring members of the noblest families ofEngland used to perpetrate in those days.
The heroine of the story is the "White Lady", the Countess of Montfort,who had fought bravely to bring her son back to power, but who was thenignored by him for many years until her death. For that reason thestory is very moving. One part of the story I liked very much was whena Mercer, a dealer in rich cloths, is trying to tempt his customers tobuy his wares. The variety of his goods, and the prices of them, makeone realise what a wealthy trade he was engaged in.
________________________________________________________________________THE WHITE LADY OF HAZELWOOD, BY EMILY SARAH HOLT.
PREFACE.
On the crowded canvas of the fourteenth century stands out as one of itsmost prominent figures that of the warrior Countess of Montfort. Noreader of Froissart's Chronicle can forget the siege of Hennebon, andthe valiant part she played in the defence of her son's dominions.Actuated by more personal motives than the peasant maid, she wasnevertheless the Joan of Arc of her day, and of Bretagne.
What became of her?
After the restoration of her son, we see no more of that brave andtender mother. She drops into oblivion. Her work was done. Those whohave thought again of her at all have accepted without question the onlyextant answer--the poor response of a contemporary romance, according towhich she dwelt in peace, and closed an honoured and cherished life in acastle in the duchy of her loving and grateful son.
It has been reserved for the present day to find the true reply--to drawback the veil from the "bitter close of all," and to show that thehardest part of her work began when she laid down her sword, and theending years of her life were the saddest and weariest portion. Neversince the days of Lear has such a tale been told of a parent's sacrificeand of a child's ingratitude. In the royal home of the Duke ofBretagne, there was no room for her but for whose love and care he wouldhave been a homeless fugitive. The discarded mother was imprisoned in aforeign land, and left to die.
Let us hope that as it is supposed in the story, the lonely, brokenheart turned to a truer love than that of her cherished and cruel son--even to His who says "My mother" of all aged women who seek to do thewill of God, and who will never forsake them that trust in Him.
CHAPTER ONE.
AT THE PATTY-MAKER'S SHOP.
"Man wishes to be loved--expects to be so: And yet how few live so as to be loved!"
Rev Horatius Bonar, D.D.
It was a warm afternoon in the beginning of July--warm everywhere; andparticularly so in the house of Master Robert Altham, the patty-maker,who lived at the corner of Saint Martin's Lane, where it runs down intothe Strand. Shall we look along the Strand? for the time is 1372, fivehundred years ago, and the Strand was then a very different place fromthe street as we know it now.
In the first place, Trafalgar Square had no being. Below where it wasto be in the far future, stood Charing Cross--the real Eleanor Cross ofCharing, a fine Gothic structure--and four streets converged upon it.That to the north-west parted almost directly into the Hay Market andHedge Lane, genuine country roads, in which both the hay and the hedgehad a real existence. Southwards ran King Street down to Westminster;and northwards stood the large building of the King's Mews, where hisMajesty's hawks were kept. Two hundred years later, bluff King Halwould turn out the hawks to make room for his horses; but as yet theword mews had its proper signification of a place where hawks were mewedor confined. At the corner of the Mews, between it and thepatty-maker's, ran up Saint Martin's Lane; its western boundary beingthe long blank wall of the Mews, and its eastern a few houses, and thenSaint Martin's Church. Along the Strand, eastwards, were statelyprivate houses on the right hand, and shops upon the left. Just belowthe cross, further to the south, was Scotland Yard, the site of theancient Palace of King David of Scotland, and still bearing traces ofits former grandeur; then came the Priory of Saint Mary Rouncival, thetown houses of six Bishops, the superb mansion of the Earl of Arundel,and the house of the Bishops of Exeter, interspersed with smallerdwellings here and there. A long row of these stretched between DurhamPlace and Worcester Place, behind which, with its face to the river,stood the magnificent Palace of the Savoy, the city habitation of Johnof Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, eldest surviving son of the reigning King.The Strand was far narrower than now, and the two churches, instead ofbeing in the middle, broke the monotony of the rows of houses on thenorth side. Let us look more especially at the long row which ranunbroken from the corner of Saint Martin's Lane to the first church,that of "our Lady and the holy Innocents atte Stronde."
What would first strike the eye was the signboards, gaily painted, andswinging in the summer breeze. Every house had one, for there were nonumbers, and these served the purpose; consequently no two similar onesmust be near each other. People directed letters to Master RobertAltham, "at the Katherine Wheel, by Saint Martin's Church, nigh theKing's Mews," when they had any to write; but letters, except to peoplein high life or in official positions, were very rare articles, andMaster Altham had not received a full dozen in all the seven-and-twentyyears that he had lived in the Strand and made patties. Next door tohim was John Arnold, the bookbinder, who displayed a Saracen's head uponhis signboard; then came in regular order Julian Walton, the mercer,with a wheelbarrow; Stephen Fronsard, the girdler, with a cardinal'shat; John Silverton, the pelter or furrier, with a star; Peter Swan, theCourt broiderer, with cross-keys; John Morstowe, the luminer, orilluminator of books, with a rose; Lionel de Ferre, the French baker,with a vine; Herman Goldsmith, the Court goldsmith, who bore a dolphin;William Alberton, the forcermonger, who kept what we should call a fancyshop for little boxes, baskets, etcetera, and exhibited a_fleur-de-lis_; Michael Ladychapman, who sported a unicorn, and soldgoloshes; Joel Garlickmonger, at the White Horse, who dealt in thefragrant vegetable whence he derived his name; and Theobald atte Home,the hatter, who being of a poetical disposition, displayed a landscapeentitled, as was well understood, the Hart's Bourne. Beyond thesestretched far away to the east other shops--those of a mealman, alapidary, a cordwainer--namely, a shoemaker; a lindraper, for they hadnot yet added the syllable which makes it linen; a lorimer, who dealt inbits and bridles; a pouchmonger, who sold bags and pockets; aparchment-maker; a treaclemonger, a spicer, a chandler, and a pepperer,all four the representatives of our modern grocer; an apothecary; ascrivener, who wrote for the numerous persons who could not write; afuller, who cleaned clothes; a tapiser, who sold tapestry, universallyused for hangings of rooms; a barber, an armourer, a spurrier, ascourer, a dyer, a glover, a turner, a goldbeater, an upholdester orupholsterer, a toothdrawer, a buckler-maker, a fletcher (who featheredarrows), a poulter or poulterer, a vinter or wine-merchant, a pewterer,a haberdasher, a pinner or pin-maker, a skinner, a hamper-maker, and ahosier. The list might be prolonged through fifty other trades, but wehave reached Temple Bar. So few houses between Saint Martin's Lane andTemple Bar! Yes, so few. Ground was cheap, and houses were low, a
nd itcost less to cover much ground than to build high. Only very exaltedmansions had three floors, and more than three were unknown even toimagination. Moreover, the citizens of London had decided ideas of thegarden order. They did not crush their houses tight together, as if tosqueeze out another inch, if possible. Though their streets wereexceedingly narrow, yet nearly every house had its little garden; andbehind that row to which we are paying particular attention, ran "leCovent Garden," the Abbot of Westminster's private pleasure ground, andon its south-east was Auntrous' Garden, bordered by "the King's highway,leading from the town of Seint Gylys to Stronde Crosse." The town ofSeint Gylys was quite a country place, and as to such remote villages asBlumond's Bury or Iseldon, which we call Bloomsbury and Islington,nobody thought of them in connection with London, any more than withNottingham or Durham.
The houses were much more picturesque than those of modern build. Therewas no attempt at uniformity. Each man set his house down as it suitedhim, and some thatches turned to the east and west, while others frontednorth and south. There were few chimneys, except in the larger houses,and no shop windows; a large wooden shutter fixed below the windowcovered it at night, and in the day it was let down to hang, tablewise,as a counter whereon the goods sold by the owner were displayed.
The Strand was one of the few chief streets where various tradescongregated together. Usually every street had its special calling, andevery trade its own particular street. Some of the latter retain theirsignificant names even yet--Hosier Lane, Cordwainer Street, BreadStreet, Soper's Lane, the Poultry, Silver Street, Ironmonger's Lane, andPaternoster Row, in which last lived the text-writers and rosary-makers.The mercers lived mainly in Cheapside, the drapers in Lombard Street(they were mostly Italians, as the name shows), the furriers in SaintMary Axe, the fishmongers in Knightriders' Street, the brewers by theThames, the butchers in Eastcheap, and the goldsmiths in Guthrum's (nowGutter) Lane.
But it is time to inquire what kind of patties were inviting thepasser-by on Mr Altham's counter. They were a very large variety:oyster, crab, lobster, anchovy, and all kinds of fish; sausage-rolls,jelly, liver, galantine, and every sort of meat; ginger, honey, cream,fruit; cheese-cakes, almond and lemon; little open tarts called brytarts, made of literal cheese, with a multitude of other articles--eggs,honey or sugar, and spices; and many another compound of multifariousand indigestible edibles; for what number of incongruities, palatable orsanitary, did our forefathers _not_ put together in a pie! For onedescription of dainty, however, Mr Altham would have been asked on thisJuly afternoon in vain. He would have deemed it next door to sacrilegeto heat his oven for a mince pie, outside the charmed period betweenChristmas Eve and Twelfth Day.
On the afternoon in question, Mr Altham stepped out of his door tospeak with his neighbour the girdler, and no sooner was he well out ofthe way than another person walked into it. This was a youth of someeighteen years, dressed in a very curious costume. Men did not affectblack clothes then, except in mourning; and the taste of few led them tothe sombre browns and decorous greys worn by most now. This younggentleman had on a tunic of dark red, in shape not unlike a butcher'sblue frock, which was fastened round the hips by a girdle of blackleather, studded with brass spangles. His head was covered by a loosehood of bright blue, and his hose or stockings--for stockings andtrousers were in one--were a light, bright shade of apple-green. Lowblack shoes completed this showy costume, but it was not more showy thanthat of every other man passing along the street. Our young man seemedrather anxious not to be seen, for he cast sundry suspicious glances inthe direction of the girdler's, and having at length apparentlysatisfied himself that the patty-maker was not likely to return at once,he darted across the street, and presented himself at the window of thecorner shop. Two girls were sitting behind it, whose ages were twentyand seventeen. These young ladies were scarcely so smart as thegentleman. The elder wore a grey dress striped with black, over whichwas a crimson kirtle or pelisse, with wide sleeves and tight grey onesunder them; a little green cap sat on her light hair, which was braidedin two thick masses, one on each side of the face. The younger wore adress of the same light green as the youth's hose, with a silverygirdle, and a blue cap.
"Mistress Alexandra!" said the youth in a loud whisper.
The elder girl took no notice of him. The younger answered as if shehad just discovered his existence, though in truth she had seen himcoming all the time.
"O Clement Winkfield, is that you? We've no raffyolys [Sausage-rolls]left, if that be your lack."
"I thank you, Mistress Ricarda; but I lack nought o' the sort. MistressAlexandra knoweth full well that I come but to beg a kind word fromher."
"I've none to spare this even," said the elder, with a toss of her head.
"But you will, sweet heart, when you hear my tidings."
"What now? Has your mother bought a new kerchief, or the cat catched amouse?"
"Nay, sweet heart, mock me not! Here be grand doings, whereof my Lordtalked this morrow at dinner, I being awaiting. What say you to agoodly tournament at the Palace of the Savoy?"
"I dare reckon you fell asleep and dreamed thereof."
"Mistress Alexandra, you'd make a saint for to swear! Howbeit, if youreck not thereof,--I had meant for to practise with my cousin at ArundelHouse, for to get you standing room with the maids yonder; but seeingyou have no mind thereto--I dare warrant Mistress Joan Silverton shallnot say me nay, and may be Mistress Argenta--"
"Come within, Clement, and eat a flaune," said Ricarda in a verydifferent tone, taking up a dish of cheese-cakes from the counter."When shall the jousting be?"
"Oh, it makes no bones, Mistress Ricarda. Your sister hath no mindthereto, 'tis plain."
However, Clement suffered himself to be persuaded to do what he liked,and Ricarda going close to her sister to fetch a plate, whispered to hera few words of warning as to what she might lose by too much coldness,whereupon the fair Alexandra thawed somewhat, and condescended to seemslightly interested in the coming event. Ricarda, however, continued todo most of the talking.
Clement Winkfield was scullion in the Bishop of Durham's kitchen, andwould have been considered in that day rather a good match for atradesman's daughter; for anything in the form of manufacture or barterwas then in a very mean social position. Domestic service stood muchhigher than it does now; and though Mr Altham's daughters wereheiresses in a small way, they could not afford to despise ClementWinkfield, except as a political stratagem.
"And what like shall the jousting be, Clement?" asked Ricarda, when thatyoung gentleman had been satisfactorily settled on a form inside theshop, with a substantial cheese-cake before him--not a mere mouthful,but a large oval tart from which two or three people might be helped.
"It shall be the richest and rarest show was seen this many a day, mymistress," replied Clement, having disposed of his first bite. "In goodsooth, Mistress, but you wot how to make flaunes! My Lord hath nonesuch on his table."
"That was Saundrina's making," observed Ricarda with apparentcarelessness.
"Dear heart! That's wherefore it's so sweet, trow," responded Clementgallantly.
Alexandra laughed languidly. "Come now, Clem, tell us all about thejousting, like a good lad as thou art, and win us good places to see thesame, and I will make thee a chowet-pie [liver-pie] of the best," saidshe, laying aside her affected indifference.
"By my troth, I'll talk till my tongue droppeth on the floor," answeredthe delighted Clement; "and I have heard all of Will Pierpoint, that isin my Lord of Arundel his stable, and is thick as incle-weaving with oneof my Lord of Lancaster his palfreymen. The knights be each one in adoublet of white linen, spangled of silver, having around the sleevesand down the face thereof a border of green cloth, whereon is broideredthe device chosen, wrought about with clouds and vines of golden work.The ladies and damsels be likewise in green and white. For the knights,moreover, there be masking visors, fourteen of peacocks' heads, andfourteen of maidens' heads, the one sort
to tilt against the other. MyLord Duke of Lancaster, that is lord of the revels, beareth a costume ofwhite velvet paled with cramoisie [striped with crimson velvet], whereonbe wrought garters of blue, and the Lady of Cambridge, that is lady ofthe jousts, and shall give the prizes, shall be in Inde-colour [blue],all wrought with roses of silver. There be at this present forty womenbroiderers a-working in the Palace, in such haste they be paid mightyhigh wage--fourpence halfpenny each one by the day."
In order to understand the value of these payments, we must multiplythem by about sixteen. The wages of a broideress, according to thepresent worth of money, were, when high, six shillings a day.
"And the device, what is it?"
"Well, I counsel not any man to gainsay it. `It is as it is'--there youhave it."
"Truly, a merry saying. And when shall it be, Clem?"
Mistress Alexandra was quite gracious now.
"Thursday shall be a fortnight, being Saint Maudlin's Day, at ten o' theclock in the forenoon. Will hath passed word to me to get me in, andtwo other with me. You'll come, my mistresses? There'll not be roomfor Mistress Amphillis; I'm sorry."
Alexandra tossed her head very contemptuously.
"What does Amphillis want of jousts?" said she. "She's fit for noughtsave to sift flour and cleanse vessels when we have a-done with them.And she hasn't a decent kirtle, never name a hood. I wouldn't be seenin her company for forty shillings."
"Saundrina's been at Father to put her forth," added Ricarda, "if hecould but hear of some service in the country, where little plenishingwere asked. There's no good laying no money out on the like of her."
A soft little sound at the door made them look round. A girl wasstanding there, of about Clement's age--a pale, quiet-looking girl, whoseemed nervously afraid of making her presence known, apparently lestshe should be blamed for being there or anywhere. Alexandra spokesharply.
"Come within and shut the door, Amphillis, and stare not thus like agoose! What wouldst?"
Amphillis neither came in nor shut the door. She held it in her hand,while she said in a shy way, "The patties are ready to come forth, ifone of you will come," and then she disappeared, as if frightened ofstaying a minute longer than she could help.
"`Ready to come forth!'" echoed Ricarda. "Cannot the stupid thing takethem forth by herself?"
"I bade her not do so," explained her sister, "but call one of us--sheis so unhandy. Go thou, Ricarda, or she'll be setting every one wrongside up."
Ricarda, with a martyr-like expression--which usually means anexpression very unlike a martyr's--rose and followed Amphillis.Alexandra, thus left alone with Clement, became so extra amiable as toset that not over-wise youth on a pinnacle of ecstasy, until she heardher father's step, when she dismissed him hastily.
She did not need to have been in a hurry, for the patty-maker wasstopped before he reached the threshold, by a rather pompous individualin white and blue livery. Liveries were then worn far more commonlythan now--not by servants only, but by officials of all kinds, and bygentlemen retainers of the nobles--sometimes even by nobles themselves.To wear a friend's livery was one of the highest compliments that couldbe paid. Mr Altham knew by a glance at his costume that the man whohad stopped him bore some office in the household of the Duke ofLancaster, since he not only wore that Prince's livery, but bore hisbadge, the ostrich feather ermine, affixed to his left sleeve.
"Master Altham the patty-maker, I take it?"
"He, good my master, and your servant."
"A certain lady would fain wit of you, Master, if you have at thispresent dwelling with you a daughter named Amphillis?"
"I have no daughter of that name. I have two daughters, whose names beAlexandra and Ricarda, that dwell with me; likewise one wedded, namedIsabel. I have a niece named Amphillis."
"That dwelleth with you?"
"Ay, she doth at this present, sithence my sister, her mother, isdeparted [dead]; but--"
"You have had some thought of putting her forth, maybe?"
Mr Altham looked doubtful.
"Well! we have talked thereof, I and my maids; but no certain end wascome to thereabout."
"That is it which the lady has heard. Mistress Walton the silkwoman, atthe Wheelbarrow, spake with this lady, saying such a maid there was, forwhom you sought service; and the lady wotteth [knows] of a gentlewomanwith whom she might be placed an' she should serve, and the servicesuited your desires for her."
"Pray you, come within, and let us talk thereon at our leisure. I ambeholden to Mistress Walton; she knew I had some thoughts thereanent[about it], and she hath done me a good turn to name it."
The varlet, as he was then called, followed Mr Altham into the shop.Aralet is a contraction of this word. But varlet, at that date, was aterm of wide signification, including any type of personal attendant.The varlet of a duke would be a gentleman by birth and education, forgentlemen were not above serving nobles even in very menial positions.People had then, in some respects, "less nonsense about them" than now,and could not see that it was any degradation for one man to hand aplate to another.
Alexandra rose when the varlet made his appearance. She did not keep aheart, and she did keep a large stock of vanity. She was consequentlyquite ready to throw over Clement Winkfield as soon as ever a moreeligible suitor should present himself; and her idea of mankind rangedthem in two classes--such as were, and such as were not, eligiblesuitors for Alexandra Altham.
Mr Altham, however, led his guest straight through the shop andupstairs, thus cutting short Miss Altham's wiles and graces. He tookhim into what we should call his study, a very little room close to hisbedchamber, and motioned him to the only chair it contained; for chairswere rare and choice things, the form or bench being the usual piece offurniture. Before shutting the door, however, he called--"Phyllis!"
Somebody unseen to the varlet answered the call, and received directionsin a low voice. Mr Altham then came in and shut the door.
"I have bidden the maid bring us hypocras and spice," said he; "so youshall have a look at her."
Hypocras was a very light wine, served as tea now is in the afternoon,and spice was a word which covered all manner of good things--not onlypepper, sugar, cinnamon, and nutmegs, but rice, almonds, ginger, andeven gingerbread.
Mr Tynneslowe--for so the varlet was named--sat down in the chair, andawaited the tray and Amphillis.