CHAPTER FIVE.
NEW AND STRANGE.
"I stretched mine empty hands for bread, And see, they have given me stones instead!"
"B.M."
Before anything more could be said, the door opened, and Lady Foljambecame in. She addressed herself at once to Perrote.
"Did I not bid you alway to lock the door when you should enter? Lo,here it is unlocked. Wherefore have you a key apart from mine, but thatyou should so do?"
"I cry you mercy, Dame," said Perrote, meekly. "Did you ever thisbefore?"
"I mind not well, Dame."
"Well, of a surety! Call you this guarding a prisoner? Mind you notthat which happed at Tickhill, when she 'scaped forth by aid of thatknight--his name I forget--and had nigh reached the border of theliberties ere it was discovered? Is this your allegiance and duty?Dame, I bid you good morrow."
"Better late than never, Avena," said the Countess, a littlesatirically. "Thou fond thing, there, lie over twenty years betwixt yonnight at Tickhill and this morrow. And if the night were back, where isthe knight? Nay, Avena Foljambe, I have nought to escape for, now."
"Dame, I must needs say you be rare unbuxom and unthankful."
"Ay, so said the fox to the stork, when he 'plained to be served withthin broth."
"Pray you, look but around. You be lodged fit for any queen, be she thegreatest in Christendom; you need but speak a wish, and you shall haveit fulfilled--"
"Namely, thou shalt not put me off with red silk to my broidery when Iwould have blue."
"You eat of the best, and lie of the softest, and speak with whom youwould--"
"Hold there!" The fire had come back to the sunken eyes. "I wouldspeak with some that come never anigh me, mine own children, that havecast me off, or be kept away from me; they never so much as ask the oldmother how she doth. And I slaved and wrought and risked my life forthem, times out of mind! And here you keep me, shut up in four walls,--never a change from year end to year end; never a voice to say `Mother!'or `I love thee;' never a hope to look forward to till death take me!No going forth of my cage; even the very air of heaven has to come in tome. And I may choose, may I, whether my bed shall be hung with green orblue? I may speak my pleasure if I would have to my four-hoursmacaroons or gingerbread? and be duly thankful that this liberty andthese delicates are granted me! Avena Foljambe, all your folly liethnot in your legs."
Lady Foljambe evidently did not appreciate this pun upon her surname.
"Dame!" she said, severely.
"Well? I can fare forth, if you have not had enough. What right hathyour King thus to use me? I never was his vassal. I entreated his aid,truly, as prince to prince; and had he kept his bond and word, he hadbeen the truer man. I never brake mine, and I had far more need thanhe. Wherefore played he at see-saw, now aiding me, and now Charles,until none of his knights well knew which way he was bent? I broughtCharles de Blois to him a prisoner, and he let him go for a heap ofyellow stuff, and fiddled with him, off and on, till Charles brake hispledged word, and lost his life, as he deserved, at Auray. I desire toknow what right King Edward had, when I came to visit him after I hadcaptured mine enemy, to make _me_ a prisoner, and keep me so, now andthen suffering me, like a cat with a mouse, to escape just far enough tokeep within his reach when he list to catch me again. But not now, foreight long years--eight long years!"
"Dame, I cannot remain here to list such language of my sovereign."
"Then don't. I never asked you. My tongue is free, at any rate. Youcan go."
And the Countess turned back to the black satin on which she wasembroidering a wreath of red and white roses.
"Follow me, Amphillis," said Lady Foljambe, with as much dignity as theCountess's onslaught had left her.
She led the way into the opposite chamber, the one shared by Perrote andAmphillis.
"It were best, as this hath happed, that you should know quickly whothis lady is that wotteth not how to govern her tongue. She is theDuchess of Brittany. Heard you ever her story?"
"Something, Dame, an' it please you; yet not fully told. I heard, as Ithink, of some quarrel betwixt her and a cousin touching the successionto the duchy, and that our King had holpen her, and gave his daughter inwedlock to the young Duke her son."
"So did he, in very deed; and yet is she thus unbuxom. Listen, and youshall hear the inwards thereof. In the year of our Lord 1341 died DukeJohn of Brittany, that was called the Good, and left no child. Twobrothers had he--Sir Guy, that was his brother both of father andmother, and Sir John, of the father only, that was called Count deMontfort. Sir Guy was then dead, but had left behind him a daughter,the Lady Joan, that man called Joan the Halting, by reason she was lameof one leg. Between her and her uncle of Montfort was the war ofsuccession--she as daughter of the brother by father and mother, he asnearer akin to Duke John, being brother himself. [Note 1.] Our Kingtook part with the Count de Montfort, and the King of France espousedthe cause of the Lady Joan."
Lady Foljambe did not think it necessary to add that King Edward'spolicy had been of the most halting character in this matter--at onetime fighting for Jeanne, and at another for Montfort, until his noblesmight well have been pardoned, if they found it difficult to remember atany given moment on which side their master was.
"Well, the King of France took the Count, and led him away captive toParis his city. Whereupon this lady, that is now here in ward, what didshe but took in her arms her young son, that was then a babe of some fewmonths old, and into the Council at Rennes she went--which city is thechief town of Brittany--and quoth she unto the nobles there assembled,`Fair Sirs, be not cast down by the loss of my lord; he was but one man.See here his young son, who shall 'present him for you; and trust me,we will keep the stranger out of our city as well without him as withhim.' Truly, there was not a man to come up to her. She handled swordas well as any marshal of the King's host; no assault could surpriseher, no disappointment could crush her, nor could any man, however wily,take her off her guard. When she had gone forward to Hennebon--forRennes surrendered ere help could come from our King--man said she radeall up and down the town, clad in armour, encouraging the townsmen, andmoving the women to go up to the ramparts and thence to hurl down on thebesiegers the stones that they tare up from the paved streets. Neverman fought like her!"
"If it please you, Dame, was her lord never set free?" asked Amphillis,considerably interested.
"Ay and no," said Lady Foljambe. "Set free was he never, but he escapedout of Louvre [Note 2] in disguise of a pedlar, and so came to Englandto entreat the King's aid; but his Grace was then so busied with foreignwarfare that little could he do, and the poor Count laid it so to heartthat he died. He did but return home to die in his wife's arms."
"Oh, poor lady!" said Amphillis.
"Three years later," said Lady Foljambe, "this lady took prisoner SirCharles de Blois, the husband of the Lady Joan, and brought him to theKing; also bringing her young son, that was then a lad of six years, andwas betrothed to the King's daughter, the Lady Mary. The King orderedher residence in the Castle of Tickhill, where she dwelt many years,until a matter of two years back, when she was brought hither."
Amphillis felt this account exceedingly unsatisfactory.
"Dame," said she, "if I may have leave to ask at you, wherefore is thislady a prisoner? What hath she done?"
Lady Foljambe's lips took a stern set. She was apparently not pleasedwith the freedom of the question.
"She was a very troublesome person," said she. "Nothing could stay her;she was ever restless and interfering. But these be matters too highfor a young maid such as thou. Thou wert best keep to thy broidery andsuch-like duties."
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Harvest Home--the sixteenth of August--arrived when Amphillis had been aweek at Hazelwood. She had not by any means concluded that processwhich is known as "settling down." On the contrary, she had never feltso
unsettled, and the feeling grew rather than diminished. EvenAlexandra and Ricarda had tried her less than her present companions, inone sense; for they puzzled her less, though they teased her more. Shewas beginning to understand her mistress, whose mood was usually one ofweary lack of interest and energy, occasionally broken either by seasonsof acute sorrow, or by sudden flashes of fiery anger: and the last wereless trying than the first--indeed, it seemed sometimes to Amphillisthat they served as a vent and a relief; that for a time after them theweariness was a shade less dreary, and the languor scarcely quite sooverpowering.
Late in the evening, on the night before Harvest Home, Sir Godfreyreturned home, attended by his squire, Master Norman Hylton. Theimpression received by Amphillis concerning the master of the house wasthat he was a fitting pendant to his wife--tall, square, and stern. Shedid not know that Sir Godfrey had been rather wild in his youth, and, assome such men do, had become correspondingly severe and precise in hisold age. Not that his heart had changed; it was simply that the sins ofyouth had been driven out by the sins of maturer life. And Satan isalways willing to let his slaves replace one sin by another, for itmakes them none the less surely his. Sir Godfrey suffered under nosense of inconsistency in sternly rebuking, when exhibited by Agatha orMatthew, slight tendencies to evil of the same types as he had once beenaddicted to himself. Had he not sown his wild oats, and become areformed character? The outside of the cup and platter were now sobeautifully clean, that it never so much as occurred to him to questionthe condition of the inside. Yet within were some very foul things--alienation from God, and hardness of heart, and love of gold, that grewupon him year by year. And he thought himself a most excellent man,though he was only a whitewashed sepulchre. He lifted his head high, ashe stood in the court of the temple, and effusively thanked God that hewas not as other men. An excellent man! said everybody who knew him--perhaps a little too particular, and rather severe on the peccadilloesof young people. But when the time came that another Voice pronouncedfinal sentence on that whitewashed life, the verdict was scarcely "Welldone!"
Norman Hylton sat opposite to Amphillis at the supper-table, in the onlymanner in which people could sit opposite to each other at a mediaevaltable--namely, when it was in the form of a squared horseshoe. Thetable, which was always one or more boards laid across trestles, wasvery narrow, the inside of the horseshoe being reserved for the servantsto hand the dishes. There were therefore some yards of distance betweenopposite neighbours. Amphillis studied her neighbour, so far as anoccasional glance in his direction allowed her to do so, and she came tothe conclusion that there was nothing remarkable about him except theexpression of his face. He was neither tall nor short, neither handsomenor ugly, neither lively nor morose. He talked a little with his nextneighbour, Matthew Foljambe, but there was nothing in the manner ofeither to provoke curiosity as to the subject of their conversation.But his expression puzzled Amphillis. He had dark eyes--like theCountess's, she thought; but the weary and sometimes fiery aspect ofhers was replaced in these by a look of perfect contentment and peace.Yet it was utterly different from the self-satisfied expression whichbeamed out of Sir Godfrey's eyes.
"What manner of man is Master Hylton?" she asked of Agatha, who alwayssat next her. Precedence at table was regulated by strict rules.
"The youngest of six brethren; prithee, trouble not thine head overhim," was that young lady's answer.
"But that doth me not to wit what manner of man he is," respondedAmphillis, turning to the sewer or waiter, who was offering her somerissoles of lamb.
Agatha indulged in a little explosion of laughter under cover of herhandkerchief.
"Oh, Amphillis, where hast thou dwelt all thy life? Thou art the fullseliest [simplest, most unconventional] maid ever I did see."
Amphillis replied literally. "Why, in Hertfordshire was I born, but Idwelt in London town a while ere I came hither."
"A jolly townswoman must thou have made! Canst not conceive what Imean? Why, the youngest of six brethren hath all his fortune to make,and cannot be no catch at all for a maid, without he be full high ofrank, and she have gold enough to serve her turn without."
"But I don't want to catch him," said Amphillis, innocently.
Agatha burst out laughing, and Lady Foljambe, from the middle of thehorseshoe table, looked daggers at her. Unrestrained laughter at table,especially in a girl, was a serious breach of etiquette.
"I say, you shouldn't be so funny!" remonstrated Agatha. "How shall manhelp to laugh if you say so comical words?"
"I wist not I was thus comical," said Amphillis. "But truly I conceiveyou not. Wherefore should I catch Master Hylton, and wherewith, and towhat end?"
"Amphillis, you shall be the death of me! My Lady shall snap off myhead at after supper, and the maid is not born that could help to laughat you. To what end? Why, for an husband, child! As to wherewith,that I leave to thee." And Agatha concluded with another stifledgiggle.
"Agatha!" was all that the indignant Amphillis could say in answer. Shecould hardly have told whether she felt more vexed or astonished. Thebare idea of such a thing, evidently quite familiar to Agatha, wasutterly new to her. "You never, surely, signify that any decent maidcould set herself to seek a man for an husband, like an angler withfish?"
"They must be uncommon queer folks in Hertfordshire if thou art a samplethereof," was the reply. "Why, for sure, I so signified. Thou musthave been bred up in a convent, Phyllis, or else tied to thygrandmother's apron-string all thy life. Shall a maid ne'er have a bitof fun, quotha?"
Amphillis made no answer, but finished her rissoles in silence, andhelped herself to a small pound-cake.
"Verily, some folks be born as old as their grandmothers," said Agatha,accepting a fieldfare from the sewer, and squeezing a lemon over it. "Iwould fain enjoy my youth, though I'm little like to do it whilst here Iam. Howbeit, it were sheer waste of stuff for any maid to set her hearton Master Norman; he wist not how to discourse with maids. He shouldhave been a monk, in very sooth, for he is fit for nought no better.There isn't a sparkle about him."
"He looks satisfied," said Amphillis, rather wistfully. She was wishingthat she felt so.
Agatha's answer was a puzzled stare, first at Amphillis, and then at MrHylton.
"`Satisfied!'" she repeated, as if she wondered what the word couldmean. "Aren't we all satisfied?"
"Maybe you are," replied Amphillis, "though I reckon I have heard yousay what looked otherwise. You would fain have more life and jollity,if I err not."
"Truly, therein you err not in no wise," answered Agatha, laughingagain, though in a more subdued manner than before. "I never loved todwell in a nunnery, and this house is little better. `Satisfied!'" shesaid again, as though the word perplexed her. "I never thought of nosuch a thing. Doth Master Norman look satisfied? What hath satisfiedhim, trow?"
"That is it I would fain know," said Amphillis.
"In good sooth, I see not how it may be," resumed Agatha. "He has nevera penny to his patrimony. I heard him to say once to Master Godfreythat all he had of his father was horse, and arms, and raiment. Norhath he any childless old uncle, or such, that might take to him, andmake his fortune. He lives of his wits, belike. Now, I am an onlydaughter, and have never a brother to come betwixt me and theinheritance; I shall have a pretty penny when my father dies. So I havesome right to be jolly. Ay, and jolly I'll be when I am mine ownmistress, I warrant you! I've no mother, so there is none to overseeme, and rule me, and pluck me by the sleeve when I would go hither andthither, so soon as I can be quit of my Lady yonder. Oh, there's ajolly life afore _me_."
It was Amphillis's turn to be astonished.
"Dear heart!" she said. "Why, I have no kindred nearer than uncle andcousins, but I have ever reckoned it a sore trouble to lose my mother,and no blessing."
"Very like it was to you!" said Agatha. "You'd make no bones if youwere ruled like an antiphonarium [music-book for anthems and chants],I'll be
bound, I'm none so fond of being driven in harness. I love myown way, and I'll have it, too, one of these days."
"But then you have none to love you! That is one of the worst sorrowsin the world, I take it."
"Love! bless you, I shall have lovers enough! I've three hundred a yearto my fortune."
Three hundred pounds in 1372 was equal to nearly five thousand now.
"But what good should it do you that people wanted your money?" askedAmphillis. "That isn't loving _you_."
"Amphillis, I do believe you were born a hundred years old! or else insome other world, where their notions are quite diverse from this," saidAgatha, taking a candied orange from the sewer. "I never heard suchthings as you say."
"But lovers who only want your money seem to me very unsatisfyingfolks," replied Amphillis. "Will they smooth your pillows when you aresick? or comfort you when your heart is woeful?"
"I don't mean my heart to be woeful, and as to pillows, there bethousands will smooth them for wages."
"They are smoother when 'tis done for love," was the answer.
Agatha devoted herself to her orange, and in a few minutes Lady Foljambegave the signal to rise from table. The young ladies followed her toher private sitting-room, where Agatha received a stern reprimand forthe crime of laughing too loud, and was told she was no better than asilly giglot, who would probably bring herself some day to diredisgrace. Lady Foljambe then motioned her to the spindle, and desiredher not to leave it till the bell rang for evening prayers in thechapel, just before bed-time. Agatha pulled a face behind LadyFoljambe's back, but she did not dare to disobey.
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Note 1. It seems very strange to us that the Count de Montfort shouldhave imagined himself to have a better claim to the crown than hisniece; but the principle under which he claimed was the law ofnon-representation, which forbade the child of a deceased son or brotherto inherit; and this, little as it is now allowed or even understood,was not only the custom of some Continental states, but was the law ofsuccession in England, itself until 1377. The struggle between Stephenand the Empress Maud, and that between King John and his nephew Arthur,were fought upon this principle.
Note 2. The Louvre, then considered _near_ Paris, was usually mentionedwithout the article.