In Convent Walls Part 6

"Only a talking?" saith Dame Joan, and laughed. "You be happy woman, in good sooth, if your worsest trouble be a comb that hath his teeth split."

"Do but try him!" quoth Dame Elizabeth, and snorked [twisted, contorted]

up her mouth, as the comb that instant moment came to a spot where her hair was louked [fastened] together. "Bless the comb!" saith she, and I guess she meant it but little. "Wala wa! Dame Joan, think you 'tis matter for laughter?"

"More like than greeting," [weeping], she made answer.

"Verily," said I, "but I see much worser matter for tears than your comb, Dame Elizabeth. Either the Queen is sore ill-usen of her brother, that such ill companions should be allowed near her, or else--"

Well for me, my lace snapped at that moment, and I ended not the sentence. When I was laid down beside Dame Joan, it came to me like a flash of lightning--"Or else--what?" And at that minute Dame Joan turned her on the pillows, and set her lips to mine ear.

"Dame Cicely," quoth she, "mine heart mis...o...b..s me it is the 'or else.'

Pray you, govern your tongue, and use your eyes in time to come. Trust not her in the red bed too much, and her in the green-hung chamber not at all."

The first was Dame Elizabeth, and the last Dame Isabel de Lapyoun, that lay in a chamber hung with green, with Dame Tiffany. I was secure she meant not the other, but to make certain I whispered the name, and she saith, "She."

I reckoned it not ill counsel, for mine own thoughts a.s.sented thereto, in especial as touched Dame Isabel.

After that day wherein Sir Roger de Mortimer was in the Queen's cabinet, I trow I kept mine eyes open.

For a few days he came and went: but scarce more than a sennight had pa.s.sed ere I learned that he had come to dwell in Paris all out; and but little more time was spent when one even, Dame Isabel de Lapyoun came into our chamber as we were about to hie us abed, and saith she, speaking to none in especial, but to all--

"Sir Roger de Mortimer is made of the Prince's following, and shall as to-morrow take up his abode in the Queen's hostel."

"Dear heart!" saith Dame Elizabeth, making pause with one hand all wet, and in the other the napkin whereon she went about to dry it. "Well, no business of mine, trow."

I could not help to cry, "_Ha, chetife_!"

Dame Isabel made answer to neither the one nor the other, but marched forth of the door with her nose an inch higher than she came in. She was appointed to the pallet for that night, so we three lay all in our chamber.

"This pa.s.seth!" saith Dame Elizabeth, drying of her fingers, calm enough, on the napkin.

"Even as I looked for," saith Dame Joan, but her voice was not so calm.

There was in it a note of grief [a tone of indignation].

"_I_ ne'er trouble me to look for nought," quoth Dame Elizabeth. "What good, trow? Better to leave folks come and go, as they list, so long as they let [hinder] you not to come and go likewise."

"I knew not you were one of Cain's following, Dame Bess."

"Cain's following!" saith she, drawing off her fillet. "Who was Cain, trow? Wala wa! but if my fillet be not all tarnished o' this side. I would things would go right!"

"So would I, and so did not Cain," Dame Joan makes answer. "Who was he, quotha? Why, he that slew his brother Abel."

"Oh, some of those old Scripture matters? I wis nought o' those folks.

But what so? I have not slain my brother, nor my sister neither."

"It looks as though your brother and your sister too might go astray and be lost ere you should soil your fingers and strain your arms a-pulling them forth."

"Gramercy! Every man for himself!" saith Dame Elizabeth, a-pulling off her hood. "Now, here's a string come off! Alway my luck! If a body might but bide in peace--"

"And never have no troubles, nor strings come off, nor b.u.t.tons broke, nor st.i.tches come loose--" adds Dame Joan, a-laughing.

"Right so--man might have a bit of piece of man's life, then. Why, look you, the string is all chafen, that it is not worth setting on anew; and so much as a yard of red ribbon have I not. I must needs don my hood of green of Louvaine."

She said it in a voice which might have gone with the direst calamity that could befall.

"Dame Elizabeth de Mohun, you be a full happy woman!"

"What will the woman say next?"

"That somewhat hangeth on what you may next say."

"Well, what I next say is that I am full ill-used to have in one hour a tarnished fillet and a broken string, and--Saint Lucy love us! here be two of my b.u.t.tons gone!"

I could thole no longer, and forth brake I in laughter. Dame Joan joined with me, and some ado had we to peace Dame Elizabeth, that was sore grieved by our laughing.

"Will you leave man be?" quoth she. "They be right [real] silver b.u.t.tons, and not one more have I of this pattern: I ensure you they cost me four shillings the dozen at John Fairhair's in London [a London goldsmith]. I'll be bound I can never match them without I have them wrought of set purpose. Deary, deary me!"

"Well!" saith Dame Joan, "I may break my heart afore I die, but I count it will not be over b.u.t.tons."

"Not o'er your b.u.t.tons, belike," saith Dame Elizabeth. "And here, this very day, was Hilda la Vileyne at me, begging and praying me that I would pay her charges for that hood of scarlet wrought with gold and pearls the which I had made last year when I was here with the Queen.

Truly, I forgat the same at that time; and now I have not the money to mine hand. But deary me, the pitiful tale she told!--of her mother ill, and her two poor little sisters without meet raiment for winter, and never a bit of food nor fuel in the house--I marvel what maids would be at, to make up such tales!"

"It was not true, trow?"

"True?" saith Dame Elizabeth, pulling off her rings. "It might be true as Damascus steel, for aught I know. But what was that to me? I lacked the money for somewhat that liked me better than to buy fuel for a parcel of common folks like such. They be used to lack comforts, and not I. And I hate to hear such stories, belike. Forsooth, man might as well let down a black curtain over the window on a sunshine day as be plagued with like tales when he would fain be jolly. I sent her off in hot haste, I can tell you."

"With the money?"

"The saints be about us! Not I."

"And the little maids may greet them asleep for lack of food?" saith Dame Joan.

"How wis I there be any such? I dare be bound it was all a made-up tale to win payment."

"You went not to see?"

"I go to see! I! Dame Joan, you be verily--"

"I am verily one for whom Christ our Lord deigned to die on the bitter rood, and so is Hilda la Vileyne. Tell me but where she dwelleth, and _I_ will go to see if the tale be true."

"Good lack! I carry not folks' addresses in mine head o' that fashion.

Let be; she shall be here again in a day or twain. She hath granted me little peace these last ten days."

"And you verily wis not where she dwelleth?"

"I wis nought thereabout, and an' I did I would never tell you to-night.

Dear heart, do hie you abed and sleep in peace, and let other folks do the like! I never harry me with other men's troubles. Good even!"