The White Rose of Langley | Page 6

window, Maude summoned courage to ask him his name.
"Bertram Lyngern," said he smilingly. "I have a longer name than thou." [See Note 2.]
"And a father and mother?" asked Maude.
"A father," said the boy. "He is one of my Lord's knights; but for my mother,--the women say she died the day I was born."
"I have ne father ne mother," responded Maude, sorrowfully, "ne none to care for me in all the wide world."
"Careth Mistress Drew nought for thee?"
Maude's laugh was bitterly negative.
"Ne Parnel, thy fellow?"
"She striveth alway to abash [frighten] and trouble me," sighed Maude.
"Poor Maude!" said Bertram, looking concerned. "Wouldst have me care for thee? May be I could render thy life somewhat lighter. If I talked with Parnel--"
"It were to no good," said Maude, brushing away to get her sink clean. "There is nothing but sharp words and snybbyngs [scoldings] all day long; and if I give her word back, then will she challenge [accuse] me to Mistress, and soothly I am aweary of life."
Weary of life at twelve years old! It was a new idea to Bertram, and he had found no answer, when the sharp voice of Ursula Drew summoned Maude away.
"Haste, child!" cried Ursula. "Thou art as long of coming as Advent Sunday at Christmas. Now, by the time I be back, lay thou out for me on the table four bundles of herbs from the dry herb closet--an handful of knot-grass, and the like of shepherd's pouch, and of bramble-seeds, and of plantain. Now, mark thou, the top leaves of the plantain only! Leave me not find thee idling; but have yonder row of pans as bright as a new tester when I come, and the herbs ready." [See note 3.]
Ursula bustled off, and Maude set to work at the pans. When they were sufficiently scrubbed, she pulled off the dirty apron in which she had been working, and went towards the dry herb closet. But she had not reached it, when her wrist was caught and held in a grasp like that of a vice.
"Whither goest, Mistress Maude?" demanded an unwelcome voice.
"Stay me not, I pray thee, Parnel!" said the child entreatingly. "Mistress Drew hath bidden me lay out divers herbs against she cometh."
"What herbs be they?" inquired Parnel demurely, with an assumption of gravity and superior knowledge which Maude knew, from sad experience, to mask some project of mischief. But knowing also that peril lay in silence, no less than in compliance, she reluctantly gave the information.
"There is no shepherd's pouch in the closet," responded Parnel.
"Then whither must I seek it?" asked Maude.
"In the fields," said Parnel.
"Ay me!" exclaimed the child.
"And 'tis not in leaf, let be flower," added her tormentor.
"What can I do?" cried Maude in dismay.
Still keeping tight hold of her wrist, Parnel answered the query by the execution of a war-dance around Maude.
"Parnel, do leave go!" supplicated the prisoner.
"Mistress Maude is bidden lay out herbs!" sang the gaoler in amateur recitative. "Mistress Maude hath no shepherd's pouch! Mistress Maude is loth to go and pluck it!"
"Parnel, do leave me go!"
"Mistress Maude doth not her mistress' bidding! Mistr--"
Suddenly breaking off, Parnel, who could be as quick as a lizard when she chose, quitted her hold, and vanished out of sight in some incomprehensible manner, as Ursula Drew marched into the kitchen.
"Now, then, where be those herbs?" demanded that authority, in a tone indicative of a whipping.
"Mistress, I could not help it!" sobbed the worried child.
"By'r Lady, but thou canst help it if thou wilt!" returned Ursula. "Reach me down the rod; thy laziness shall be well a-paid for once."
Maude sobbed helplessly, but made no effort to obey.
"Where be thine ears? Reach the rod!" reiterated Ursula.
"Whom chastise you, Mistress Drew?" inquired Bertram's voice through the door; "she that demeriteth the same, or she that no doth?"
"This lazy maid demeriteth fifty rods!" was the pleasing answer.
"I cry you mercy, but I think not so," said Bertram judicially. "An' you whipped the demeritous party, it should be Parnel. I saw all that chanced, by the lattice, but the maids saw not me."
Parnel was not whipped, for her quickness made her a favourite; but neither was Maude, for Bertram's intercession rescued her.
"The saints bless you, Master Bertram!" said Maude, at the next opportunity. "And the saints help me, for verily I have an hard life. I am all of a bire [hurry, confusion], and sore strangled [tired], from morn to night."
"Poor little Maude!" answered Bertram pityingly. "Would I might shape thy matters better-good. Do the saints help, thinkest? Hugh Calverley saith no."
"Talk you with such like evil fawtors, [factor, doer], Master Bertram?" asked Maude in a shocked voice.
"Evil fawtors, forsooth! Hugh is no evil fawtor. How can I help but rede [attend to] his sayings? He is one of my fellows. And 'tis but what