In Convent Walls Part 2

Well I mind that night, when I was awoke by pebbles cast up at my cas.e.m.e.nt, for I lay in a turret chamber, that looked outward. So soon as I knew what the sound meant, I rose from my bed and cast a mantle about me, and opened the cas.e.m.e.nt.

"Is any there?" said I.

"Is that thou, Sissot?" quoth a voice which I knew at once for my brother Robert's, "Lose not one moment, but arouse the Queen, and pray her to take horse as speedily as may be, or she shall be captured of the Scots, which come in great force by the Aire Valley, and are nearhand [nearly] at mine heels. And send one to bid the garrison be alert, and to let me in, that I may tell my news more fully."

I wis not whether I shut the cas.e.m.e.nt or no, for ere man might count ten was I in the Queen's antechamber, and shaking of Dame Elizabeth by the shoulders. But, good lack, she took it as easy as might be. She was alway one to take matters easy, Dame Elizabeth de Mohun.

"Oh, let be till daylight," quoth she, as she turned on her pillow.

"'Tis but one of Robin Lethegreve's fumes and frets, I'll be bound. He is for ever a-reckoning that the Scots be at hand or the house o' fire, and he looks for man to vault out of his warm bed that instant minute when his fearsome news be spoken. Go to sleep, Cicely, and let folks be."

And round turned she, and, I warrant, was asleep ere I could bring forth another word. So then I fell to shaking Joan de Vilers, that lay at tother end of the chamber. But she was right as bad, though of another fashion.

"Wherefore rouse me?" saith she. "I can do nought. 'Tis not my place.

If Dame Elizabeth arise not, I cannot. Thou wert best go back abed, dear heart. Thou shalt but set thyself in trouble."

Well, there was no time to reason with such a goose; but I longed to shake her yet again. Howbeit, I tarried no longer in the antechamber, but burst into the Queen's own chamber where she lay abed, with Dame Tiffany in the pallet--taking no heed that Joan called after me--

"Cicely! Cicely! how darest thou? Come back, or thou shall be mispaid or tint!" [Held in displeasure or ruined.]

But I cared not at that moment, whether for mispayment or tinsel. I had my duty to do, and I did it. If the news were true, the Queen was little like to snyb [blame] me when she found it so: and if no, well, I had but done as I should. And I knew that Dame Tiffany, which tended her like a hen with one chicken, should hear my tidings of another fashion from the rest. Had Dame Elizabeth lain that night in the pallet, and Dame Tiffany in the antechamber, my work had been the lighter. But afore I might win to the pallet--which to do I had need to cross the chamber,--Queen Isabel's own voice saith from the state bed--"Who is there?"

"Dame," said I,--forgetting to kneel, in such a fl.u.s.ter was I--"my brother hath now brought tidings that the Scots come in force by the Aire Valley, with all speed, and are nearhand at the very gate; wherefore--"

The Queen heard me no further. She was out of her bed, and herself donning her raiment, ere I might win thus far.

"Send Dame Elizabeth to me," was all she said, "and thyself bid De Nantoil alarm the garrison. Well done!"

I count I am not perfect nor a saint, else had I less relished that second shake of Dame Elizabeth--that was fast asleep--and deliverance of the Queen's bidding. I stayed me not to hear her mingled contakes and wayments [reproaches and lamentations], but flew off to the outermost door, and unbarring the same, spake through the crack that wherewith I was charged to Oliver de Nantoil, the usher of the Queen's chamber, which lay that night at her outer door. Then was nought but bustle and stir, both within and without. The Queen would have up Robin, and hearkened to his tale while Alice Conan combed her hair, the which she bade bound up at the readiest, to lose not a moment. In less than an hour, methinks, she won to horse, and all we behind, and set forth for York, which was the contrary way to that the Scots were coming. And, ah me! I rade with Dame Elizabeth, that did nought but grieve over her lost night's rest, and harry poor me for breaking the same. I asked at her if she had better loved to be taken of the Scots; since if so, the Queen's leave accorded, we might have left her behind.

"Scots!" quoth she. "Where be these ghostly [fabulous, figurative]

Scots? I will go bail they be wrapped of their foldings [plaids] fast asleep on some moor an hundred miles hence. 'Tis but Robin, the clown!

that is so clumst [stupid] with his rashness, that he seeth a Scot full armed under every bush, and heareth a trumpeter in every corncrake: and as if that were not enough, he has a sister as ill as himself, that must take all for gospel as if Friar Robert preached it. Mary love us! but I quoke when thou gattest hold on me by the shoulders! I count it was a good hour ere I might sleep again."

"Dear heart, Dame!" cried I, "but it was not two minutes! It is scantly an hour by now."

"Then that is thy blame, Cicely, routing like a bedel [shouting like a town-crier], and oncoming [a.s.saulting] folks as thou dost. I marvel thou canst not be peaceable! I alway am. Canst mind the night that ever I shaked thee awake and made thee run out of thy warm bed as if a bear were after thee?"

I trust I kept out of my voice the laughter that was in my throat as I said, "No, Dame: that cannot I." The self notion of Dame Elizabeth ever doing thus to any was so exceeding laughable.

"Well! then why canst--Body o' me! what ever is yonder flaming light?"

Master Oliver was just alongside, and quoth he drily--

"Burden not your Ladyship; 'tis but the Scots that have reached Brotherton, and be firing the suburbs."

"Holy Mary, pray for us!" skraighs Dame Elizabeth, at last verily feared: "Cicely, how canst thou ride so slow? For love of all the saints; let us get on!"

Then fell she to her beads, and began to invoke all the Calendar, while she urged on her horse till his rapid trotting brake up the _aves_ and _oras_ into fragments that man might scarce hear and keep him sober. I warrant I was well pleased, for all my weariness, when we rade in at Micklebar of York; and so, I warrant, was Dame Elizabeth, for all her impa.s.sibility. We tarried not long at York, for, hearing that the Scots came on, the Queen removed to Nottingham for safer keeping. And so ended that year.

But no contakes had I, save of Dame Elizabeth, that for the rest of that month put on a sorrowful look at the sight of me. On the contrary part, Robin had brave reward from the King, and my Lady the Queen was pleased to advance me, as shall now be told, shortly thereafter: and ever afterwards did she seem to affy her more in me, as in one that had been tried and proved faithful unto trust.

Thus far had I won when I heard a little bruit behind me, and looking up, as I guessed, I saw Jack, over my shoulder.

"Dear heart, Jack!" said I, "but thou hast set me a merry task! Two days have I been a-work, and not yet won to the Queen's former journey to France; yet I do thee to wit, I am full disheartened at the stretch of road I see afore me. Must I needs tell every thing that happed for every year? Mary love us! but I feel very nigh at my wits' end but to think of it. Why, my Chronicle shall be bigger than the Golden Legend and the Morte Arthur put together, and all Underby Common shall not furnish geese enow to keep me in quills!"

I ended betwixt laughter and tears. To say sooth, I was very nigh the latter.

"Take breath, Sissot," saith Jack, quietly.

"But dost thou mean that, Jack?"

"I mean not to make a nief [serf] of my wife," saith he. I was something comforted to hear that.

"As for time, dear heart," he pursueth, "take thou an hour or twain by the day, so thou weary not thyself; and for events, I counsel thee to make a diverse form of chronicle from any ever yet written."

"How so, Jack?"

"Set down nothing because it should go in a chronicle, but only those matters wherein thyself was interested."

"But that, Jack," said I, laughing as I looked up on him, "shall be the 'Annals of Cicely' over again; wherewith I thought thou wert not compatient." [Pleased, satisfied; the adjective of compa.s.sion.]

"Nay, the Annals of Cicely were Cicely's fancies and feelings," he made answer: "this should be what Cicely heard and saw."

I sat and meditated thereon.

"And afore thou wear thy fingers to the bone with thy much scribing,"

saith he, with that manner of smile of his eyes which Jack hath, "call thou Father Philip to write at thy mouth, good wife."

"Nay, verily!" quoth I. "I would be loth to call off Father Philip from his G.o.dly meditations, though I cast no doubt he were both fairer scribe and better chronicler than I."

To speak sooth, it was Father Philip learned me to write, and the master should be better than the scholar. I marvel more that have leisure learn not to write. Jack cannot, nor my mother, and this it was that made my said mother desirous to have me taught, for she said, had she wist the same, she could have kept a rare chronicle when she dwelt at the Court, and sith my life was like to be there also, she would fain have me able to do so. I prayed Father Philip to learn my discreet Alice, for I could trust her not to make an ill use thereof; but I feared to trust my giddy little Vivien with such edged tools as Jack saith pen and ink be. And in very sooth it were a dread thing if any amongst us should be entrapped into intelligence with the King's enemies, or such treasonable matter; and of this are wise men ever afeared, when their wives or daughters learn to write. For me, I were little feared of such matter as that: and should rather have feared (for such as Vivien) the secret scribing of love-letters to unworthy persons.

Howbeit, Jack is wiser than I, and he saith it were dangerous to put such power into the hands of most men and women.

Lo! here again am I falling into the Annals of Cicely. Have back, Dame Cicely, an' it like you. Methinks I had best win back: yet how shall I get out of the said Annals, and forward on my journey, when the very next thing that standeth to be writ is mine own marriage?

It was on the morrow of the Epiphany, 1320, that I was wedded to my Jack in the Chapel of York Castle. I have not set down the inwards of my love-tale, nor shall I, for good cause; for then should I not only fall into the Annals of Cicely, but should belike never make end thereof.

Howbeit, this will I say,--that when King Edward bestowed me on my Jack, I rather count he had his eyes about him, and likewise that there had been a few little pa.s.sages that might have justified him in so doing: for Jack was of the household, and we had sat the one by the other at table more than once or twice, and had not always held our tongues when so were. So we were no strangers, forsooth, but pretty well to the contrary: and verily, I fell on my feet that morrow. I am not so sure of Jack. And soothly, it were well I should leave other folks to blow my trumpet, if any care to waste his breath at that business.

I was appointed damsel of the chamber on my marriage, and at after that saw I far more of the Queen than aforetime. Now and again it was my turn to lie in that pallet in her chamber. Eh, but I loved not that work! I used to feel all out [altogether] terrified when those great dark eyes flashed their shining flashes, and there were not so many nights in the seven that they did not. She was as easy to put out as to shut one's eyes, but to bring in again--eh, that was weary work!

I am not like to forget that July even when, in the Palace of Westminster, my Lord of Exeter came to the Queen, bearing the Great Seal. It was a full warm eve, and the Queen was late abed. Joan de Vilers was that night tire-woman, and I was in waiting. I mind that when one scratched on the door, we thought it Master Oliver, and instead of going to see myself, I but bade one of the sub-damsels in a whisper.

But no sooner said she,--"Dame, if it shall serve you, here is my Lord of Exeter and Sir Robert de Ayleston,"--than there was a full great commotion. The Queen rose up with her hair yet unbound, and bade them be suffered to enter: and when my Lord of Exeter came in, she--and after her all we of her following--set her on her knees afore him to pray his blessing. This my Lord gave, but something hastily, as though his thoughts were elsewhere. Then said he--

"Dame, the King sends you the Great Seal, to be kept of you until such time as he shall ask it again."

And he motioned forward Sir Robert de Ayleston, that held in his arms the great bag of white leather, wherein was the Great Seal of gold.

Saw I ever in all my life face change as hers changed then! To judge from her look, she might have been entering the gates of Heaven. (A sorry Heaven, thought I, that gold and white leather could make betwixt them.) Her eyes glowed, and flashed, and danced, all at once: and she sat her down in a chair of state, and received the Seal in her own hands, and saith she--