The White Lady of Hazelwood: A Tale of the Fourteenth Century

  CHAPTER SIX.

  A THANKLESS CHILD.

  "We will not come to Thee Till Thou hast nailed us to some bitter cross And made us look on Thee."

  "B.M."

  Amphillis took her own spindle, and sat down beside Marabel, who wasjust beginning to spin.

  "What was it so diverted Agatha at supper?" inquired Marabel.

  "She laughs full easily," answered Amphillis; and told her what had beenthe subject of discourse.

  "She is a light-minded maid," said Marabel. "So you thought MasterNorman had a satisfied look, trow? Well, I count you had the right."

  "Agatha said she knew not of nought in this world that should satisfyhim."

  Marabel smiled. "I misdoubt if that which satisfieth him ever came outof this world. Amphillis, whenas you dwelt in London town, heard you atall preach one of the poor priests?"

  "What manner of folks be they?"

  "You shall know them by their raiment, for they mostly go clad of afrieze coat, bound by a girdle of unwrought leather."

  "Oh, ay? I heard once a friar so clad; and I marvelled much to whatOrder he belonged. But it was some while gone."

  "What said he?"

  "Truly, that cannot I tell you, for I took not but little note. I wasbut a maidling, scarce past my childhood. My mother was well pleasedtherewith. I mind her to have said, divers times, when she lay of herlast sickness, that she would fain have shriven her of the friar in thefrieze habit. Wherefore, cannot I say."

  "Then perchance I can say it for you:--for I reckon it was because hebrought her gladder tidings than she had heard of other."

  Amphillis looked surprised. "Why, whatso? Sermons be all alike, so faras ever I could tell."

  "Be they so? No, verily, Amphillis. Is there no difference betwixtpreaching of the law--`Do this, and thou shalt live,' and preaching ofthe glad gospel of the grace of God--`I give unto them everlastinglife?'"

  "But we must merit Heaven!" exclaimed Amphillis.

  "Our Lord, then, paid not the full price, but left at the least a fewmarks over for us to pay? Nay, He bought Heaven for us, Amphillis: andonly He could do it. We have nothing to pay; and if we had, how shouldour poor hands reach to such a purchase as that? It took God to savethe world. Ay, and it took God, too, to love the world enough to saveit."

  "Why, but if so be, we are saved--not shall be."

  "We are, if we ever shall be."

  "But is that true Catholic doctrine?"

  "It is the true doctrine of God's love. Either, therefore, it isCatholic doctrine, or Catholic doctrine hath erred from it."

  "But the Church cannot err!"

  "Truth, so long as she keep her true to God's law. The Church is men,not God! and God must be above the Church. But what is the Church? Isit this priest or that bishop? Nay, verily; it is the congregation ofall the faithful elect that follow Christ, and do after Hiscommandments. So long, therefore, as they do after His commands, andfollow Him, they be little like to err. `He that believeth in the Son_hath_ everlasting life.'"

  "But we all believe in our Lord!" said Amphillis, feeling as if so manynew ideas had never entered her head all at once before.

  "Believe what?" said Marabel, and she smiled.

  "Why, we believe that He came down from Heaven, and died, and roseagain, and ascended, and such-like."

  "Wherefore?"

  "Wherefore came He? Truly, that know I not. By reason that it likedHim, I count."

  "Ay, that was the cause," said Marabel, softly. "He came because--shallwe say?--He so loved Amphillis Neville, that He could not do without herin Heaven: and as she could win there none other way than by the layingdown of His life, He came and laid it down."

  "Marabel! Never heard I none to speak after this manner! Soothly, ourLord died for us: but--"

  "But--yet was it not rightly for us, thee and me, but for some folks along way off, we cannot well say whom?"

  Amphillis span and thought--span fast, because she was thinking hard:and Marabel did not interrupt her thoughts.

  "But--we must merit it!" she urged again at last.

  "Dost thou commonly merit the gifts given thee? When man meriteth thathe receiveth--when he doth somewhat, to obtain it--it is a wage, not agift. The very life and soul of a gift is that it is not merited, butgiven of free favour, of friendship or love."

  "I never heard no such doctrine!"

  Marabel only smiled.

  "Followeth my Lady this manner?"

  "A little in the head, maybe; for the heart will I not speak."

  "And my La--I would say, Mistress Perrote?" Amphillis suddenlyrecollected that her mistress was never to be mentioned.

  "Ask at her," said Marabel, with a smile.

  "Then Master Norman is of this fashion of thinking?"

  "Ay. So be the Hyltons all."

  "Whence gat you the same?"

  "It was learned me of my Lady Molyneux of Sefton, that I served aschamberer ere I came hither. I marvel somewhat, Amphillis, that thouhast never heard the same, and a Neville. All the Nevilles of Raby beof our learning--well-nigh."

  "Dear heart, but I'm no Neville of Raby!" cried Amphillis, with a laughat the extravagance of the idea. "At the least, I know not well whencemy father came; his name was Walter Neville, and his father was Ralph,and more knew I never. He bare arms, 'tis true--gules, a saltireargent; and his device, `_Ne vile velis_.'"

  "The self arms of the Nevilles of Raby," said Marabel, with an amusedsmile. "I marvel, Amphillis, thou art not better learned in thine ownfamily matters."

  "Soothly. I never had none to learn me, saving my mother; and thoughshe would tell me oft of my father himself, how good and true man hewere, yet she never seemed to list to speak much of his house. Maybe itwas by reason he came below his rank in wedding her, and his kin refusedto acknowledge her amongst them. Thus, see you, I dropped down, as manshould say, into my mother's rank, and never had no chance to learnnought of my father's matters."

  "Did thine uncle learn thee nought, then?"

  "He learned me how to make patties of divers fashions," answeredAmphillis, laughing. "He was very good to me, and belike to my mother,his sister; but I went not to dwell with him until after she wasdeparted to God. And then I was so slender [insignificant] a countrymaid, with no fortune, ne parts [talents], that my cousins did somewhatslight me, and keep me out of sight. So never met I any that should belike to wise me in this matter. And, the sooth to say, but I would notdesire to dwell amongst kin that had set my mother aside, and reckonedher not fit to company with them, not for no wickedness nor unseemlydealing, but only that she came of a trading stock. It seemeth me, hadsuch wist our blessed Lord Himself, they should have bidden Him standaside, for He was but a carpenter's son. That's the evil of being inhigh place, trow."

  "Ah, no, dear heart! It hath none ado with place, high or low. 'Tishuman nature. Thou shalt find a duchess more ready to company with asquire's wife, oft-times, than the squire's wife with the bailiff'swife, and there is a deal further distance betwixt. It hangeth on theheart, not on the station."

  "But folks' hearts should be the better according to their station."

  Marabel laughed. "That were new world, verily. The grace of God is thesame in every station, and the like be the wiles of Satan--not that hebringeth to all the same temptation, for he hath more wit than so; buthe tempteth all, high and low. The high have the fairer look-out, yetthe more perilous place; the low have the less to content them, yet arethey safer. Things be more evenly parted in this world than many think.Many times he that hath rich food, hath little appetite for it; and hethat hath his appetite sharp, can scarce get food to satisfy it."

  "But then things fit not," said Amphillis.

  "Soothly, nay. This world is thrown all out of gear by sin. Thingsfitted in Eden, be thou sure. Another reason is there also--that hewhich hath the food may bestow it on him that can relish it, and hath itnot."

  The chapel bell tolled softly
for the last service of the day, and thewhole household assembled. Every day this was done at Hazelwood, forprime, sext, and compline, at six a.m., noon, and seven p.m.respectively, and any member of the household found missing would havebeen required to render an exceedingly good reason for it. The serviceswere very short, and a sermon was a scarcely imagined performance.After compline came bed-time. Each girl took her lamp, louted to LadyFoljambe and kissed her hand, and they then filed upstairs to bed afterPerrote, she and Amphillis going to their own turret.

  Hitherto Perrote had been an extremely silent person. Not one wordunnecessary to the work in hand had she ever uttered, since those few onAmphillis's first arrival. It was therefore with some little surprisethat the girl heard her voice, as she stood that evening brushing herhair before the mirror.

  "Amphillis, who chose you to come hither?"

  "Truly, Mistress, that wis I not. Only, first of all, Mistress Chaucer,of the Savoy Palace, looked me o'er to see if I should be meet fortaking into account, and then came a lady thence, and asked at me diversquestions, and judged that I should serve; but who she was I knew not.She bade me be well ware that I gat me in no entanglements of no sort,"said Amphillis, laughing a little; "but in good sooth, I see herenothing to entangle me in."

  "She gave thee good counsel therein. There be tangles of divers sorts,my maid, and those which cut the tightest be not alway the worst. Thoumayest tangle thy feet of soft wool, or rich silk, no less than of roughcord. Ah me! there be tangles here, Amphillis, and hard to undo. Therewere skilwise fingers to their tying--hard fingers, that thought only topull them tight, and harried them little touching the trouble of such asshould be thus tethered. And there be knots that no man can undo--onlyGod. Why tarry the wheels of His chariot?"

  Amphillis turned round from the mirror.

  "Mistress Perrote, may I ask a thing at you?"

  "Ask, my maid."

  "My Lady answered me not; will you? What hath our Lady done to be thusshut close in prison?"

  "_She_ done?" was the answer, with a piteous intonation. Perrote lookedearnestly into the girl's face. "Amphillis, canst thou keep a secret?"

  "If I know myself, I can well."

  "Wilt thou so do, for the love of God and thy Lady? It should harm her,if men knew thou wist it. And, God wot, she hath harm enough."

  "I will never speak word, Mistress Perrote, to any other than you,without you bid me, or grant me leave."

  "So shall thou do well. Guess, Amphillis, who is it that keepeth thispoor lady in such durance."

  "Nay, that I cannot, without it be our Lord the King."

  "He, surely; yet is he but the gaoler. There is another beyond him, atwhose earnest entreaty, and for whose pleasure he so doth. Who is it,thinkest?"

  "It seemeth me, Mistress, looking to what you say, this poor lady mustneeds have some enemy," said Amphillis.

  "Amphillis, that worst enemy, the enemy that bindeth these fetters uponher, that bars these gates against her going forth, that hath quenchedall the sunlight of her life, and hushed all the music out of it--thisenemy is her own son, that she nursed at her bosom--the boy for whoselife she risked hers an hundred times, whose patrimony she only saved tohim, whose welfare through thirty years hath been dearer to her than herown. Dost thou marvel if her words be bitter, and if her eyes besorrowful? Could they be aught else?"

  Amphillis looked as horrified as she felt.

  "Mistress Perrote, it is dreadful! Can my said Lord Duke be Christianman?"

  "Christian!" echoed Perrote, bitterly. "Dear heart, ay! one of the bestCatholics alive! Hath he not built churches with the moneys of hismother's dower, and endowed convents with the wealth whereof hedefrauded her? What could man do better? A church is a great matter,and a mother a full little one. Mothers die, but churches and conventsendure. Ah, when such mothers die and go to God, be there no words writon the account their sons shall thereafter render? Is He all silentthat denounced the Jewish priests for their Corban, by reason theyallowed man to deny to his father and mother that which he had devote toGod's temple? Is His temple built well of broken hearts, and His altarmeetly covered with the rich tracery of women's tears? `The hope of thehypocrite shall perish, when God taketh away his soul.'"

  Never before had Amphillis seen any one change as Perrote had changednow. The quiet, stolid-looking woman had become an inspired prophetess.It was manifest that she dearly loved her mistress, and wasproportionately indignant with the son who treated her so cruelly.

  "Child," she said to Amphillis, "she lived for nought save that boy!Her daughter was scarce anything to her; it was alway the lad, the lad!And thus the lad a-payeth her for all her love and sacrifice--for theheart that stood betwixt him and evil, for the gold and jewels that shethought too mean to be set in comparison with him, for the weary armsthat bare him, and the tired feet that carried him about, a littlewailing babe--for the toil and the labour, the hope and the fear, thewaiting and the sorrow! Ay, but I marvel in what manner of coin God ourFather shall pay him!"

  "But wherefore doth he so?" cried Amphillis.

  "She was in his way," replied Perrote, in a tone of constrainedbitterness. "He could not have all his will for her. He desired tomake bargains, and issue mandates, and reign at his pleasure, and shetold him the bargains were unprofitable, and the mandates unjust, and itwas not agreeable. 'Twas full awkward and ill-convenient, look you, tohave an old mother interfering with man's pleasure. He would, have sether in a fair palace, and given her due dower, I reckon, would she butthere have tarried, like a slug on a cabbage-leaf, and let him alone;and she would not. How could she? She was not a slug, but an eagle.And 'tis not the nature of an eagle to hang hour after hour upon acabbage-leaf. So, as King Edward had at the first kept her in durancefor his own ends, my gracious Lord Duke did entreat him to continue thesame on his account. As for my Lady Duchess, I say not; I know her not.This only I know, that my Lady Foljambe is her kinswoman. And, mosttimes, there is a woman at the bottom of all evil mischief. Ay, thereis so!"

  "Mistress Perrote, it seemeth me this is worser world than I wist ere Icame hither."

  "Art avised o' that? Ay, Phyllis, thou shalt find it so; and thefurther thou journeyest therein, the worser shalt thou find it."

  "Mistress, wherefore is it that this poor lady of ours is kept sosecret? It seemeth as though man would have none know where she were."

  "_Ha, chetife_! [Oh, miserable!] I can but avise thee to ask so muchat them that do keep her."

  "Shall she never be suffered to come forth?"

  "Ay," said Perrote, slowly and solemnly. "She shall come forth one day.But I misdoubt if it shall be ere the King come Himself for her."

  "The King! Shall his Grace come hither?" inquired Amphillis, with muchinterest. She thought of no king but Edward the Third.

  Perrote's eyes were uplifted towards the stars. She spoke as if shewere answering them rather than Amphillis.

  "He shall deem [judge] the poor men of the people, and He shall makesafe the sons of poor men; and He shall make low the false challenger.And He shall dwell with the sun, and before the moon, in generation andin to generation... And He shall be Lord from the sea till to the sea,and from the flood till to the ending of the world... For He shalldeliver a poor man from the mighty, and a poor man to whom was nonehelper. He shall spare a poor man and needy, and He shall make safe thesouls of poor men... Blessed be the name of His majesty withouten end!and all earth shall be filled with His majesty. Be it done, be itdone!" [Note 1.]

  Amphillis almost held her breath as she listened, for the first time inher life, to the grand roll of those sonorous verses.

  "That were a King!" she said.

  "That shall be a King," answered Perrote, softly. "Not yet is Hiskingdom of this world. But He is King of Israel, and King of kings, andKing of the everlasting ages; and the day cometh when He shall be Kingof nations, when there shall be one Lord over all the earth, and HisName one. Is He thy King, Amphill
is Neville?"

  "Signify you our blessed Lord, Mistress Perrote?"

  "Surely, my maid. Could any other answer thereto?"

  "I reckon so," said Amphillis, calmly, as she put away her brush, andbegan undressing.

  "I would make sure, if I were thou. For the subjects be like to dwellin the Court when they be preferred to higher place. `Ye ben servantisto that thing to which ye han obeisched.' [Note 2.] Whose servant artthou? Who reigns in thine inner soul, Phyllis?"

  "Soothly, Mistress, I myself. None other, I ween."

  "Nay, one other must there needs be. Thou obeyest the rule of one oftwo masters--either Christ our Lord, or Satan His enemy."

  "In very deed, Mistress, I serve God."

  "Then thou art concerned to please God in everything. Or is it rather,that thou art willing to please God in such matters as shall notdisplease Amphillis Neville?"

  Amphillis folded up sundry new and not altogether agreeable thoughts inthe garments which she was taking off and laying in neat order on thetop of her chest for the morning. Perrote waited for the answer. Itdid not come until Amphillis's head was on the pillow.

  "Cannot I please God and myself both?"

  "That canst thou, full well and sweetly, if so be thou put God first.Otherwise, nay."

  "Soothly, Mistress, I know not well what you would be at."

  "What our Saviour would be at Himself, which is, thy true bliss andblessedness, Phyllis. My maid, to be assured of fair ending and goodwelcome at the end of the journey makes not the journeying wearier. Toknow not whither thou art wending, save that it is into the dark; to bemet of a stranger, that may be likewise an enemy; to be had up afore thejudge's bar, with no advocate to plead for thee, and no surety ofacquittal,--that is evil journeying, Phyllis, Dost not think so much?"

  Perrote listened in vain for any answer.

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  Note 1. Psalm seventy-two, verses 4, 5, 8, 12, 13, 18, 19; Hereford andPurvey's version, 1381-8.

  Note 2. Romans six, verse 16; Wycliffe's version, 1382.