In Convent Walls. Emily Sarah Holt

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 buttons 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 buttons, 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 buttons.”

      “Not o’er your buttons, 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!”

      And Dame Elizabeth laid her down and happed the coverlet about her, and was fast asleep in a few minutes.

      The next even, when we came into hall for supper, was Sir Roger de Mortimer on the dais, looking as though the world belonged to him. Maybe he thought it was soon to do the same; and therein was he not deceived. The first day, he sat in his right place, at the high table, after the knights and barons of France whom the King of France had appointed to the charge of our Queen: but not many days were over ere he crept up above them—and then above the bishops themselves, until at last he sat on the left hand of Queen Isabel, my Lord of Chester being at her right. But this first night he kept his place.

      Note 1. Neuilly. Queen Isabelle’s scribe is responsible for the orthography in this and subsequent places.

      Note 2. The old Palace of the French Kings, the remaining part of which is now known as the Conciergerie.

      Note 3. September 12th.

      Note 4. Cakes made with honey. Three pennyworth were served daily at the royal table.

      Note 5. Wardrobe Account, 19 Edward the Second, 25/15.

      Note 6. Rheims and Soissons. An idea of the difficulties of travelling at that time maybe gathered from the entry of “Guides for the Queen between Paris and Rheims, 18 shillings.”

      Note 7. The vessel containing the oil wherewith the Kings of France were anointed, oil and ampulla being fabled to have come from Heaven.

      Note 8. 2 pounds 13 shillings 4 pence.—Wardrobe Account, 19 Edward the Second, 25/15.

      Note 9. Gee. This is one of the few words in our tongue directly derivable from the ancient Britons.

      Note 10. “Avice Serueladi” occurs on the Close Roll for 1308.