OF THE LOVE OF GERARD’S SONS AND OF JACOBUS FOR BIRDALONE.
Now dwelt Birdalone in rest and peace when she had been taken into the
guild along with her mother, and they had taken the due apprentices to
them; and they began to gather much of goods to them, for of fine
broidery there was little done in the Five Crafts, and none at all that
could be put beside their work, either for beauty of the draught of it,
or for skill of handiwork. She declared unto all folk how that the
poor-wife (who had to name Audrey) was her very mother, from whom she
had been stolen in her youngest days; but she told none any tale of how
she was stolen. And the twain dwelt together in the greatest
loving-kindness; and it was with Audrey as she had forecast, that now
her days were happy, and she living in all ease and content, that the
goodliness of her youth came back to her, and she became a fair woman
as for her years; and therewith it grew to be clear that the two were
so much alike one to the other, that all might see that they were
mother and daughter.
Gerard and his two sons she maintained yet as her men; and not only
were they of much use to her in fetching and carrying, but also true it
is that her beauty was so manifest, that she whiles needed a stout lad
weaponed at her back when she was in the streets or amidst the throng
of the market; and many were they, and whiles of the highest, who
craved love of her, some with honour, and some with lack of it.
Of these, forsooth, were but two that anywise troubled her; and the
most trouble was this, that she might not fail to see that the love of
her had entered into the hearts of the two Gerardsons, Robert and
Giles; so that times were when she deemed she must even send them away,
but when it came to the point she had not the heart thereto; though
none other remedy there seemed, so sorely as their souls were wounded
by longing for her. It is not to be said that they ever spake to her
thereof, or wittingly wearied her with signs of love; but they could
not so easily cover it up but that it was ever before her eyes. But she
suffered it all for friendship’s sake and for their true service, and
in all friendliness did what she might to solace their grief. Forsooth
so good and true she found that father-kind, and the young men so
goodly and kind, that she said to herself, had she not another man
lying in her heart, she might well have chosen one of those twain for
her very speech-friend and true lover.
The second wooer that troubled her was the master, Jacobus, who, when
but three months were worn of her dwelling in her house, did all openly
crave her love and offer her marriage, he being a man unwedded. Sore
was her heart that she must needs gainsay him, so kind and courteous as
he had been to her at their first coming together; though this indeed
is sooth, that straightway, so soon as he saw her, he fell into the
captivity of her love. Howsoever, gainsay him she needs must, and he
took the naysay so hardly that he was scarce like a man before her, and
wept and prayed and lamented many times over, till she wearied of it,
and well-nigh fell to loathing him. So that it came to this at last,
that one day she spake to him and said that she might no longer bear
it, but must seek another house and leave his. There then was the
to-do, for he fell on his knees before her, and kissed her feet, would
she, would she not, and cried out in his grief, till at last for pure
weariness of his folly she gave way unto him, and said that she would
still abide there; whereon he rose up from her and went away with all
the grief run off him for that time, and as glad a man to look on as
you might see on a summer’s day.
But the next morning he came unto her again, and she thinking all was
begun afresh, made him no glad countenance; but he stood up before her
and spake friendly, and said how that she was in the right of it, and
that if they both dwelt in one house together they were like to have
but a weary time of it, both she and he. But, said he, I will not that
thou shouldst depart out of this house, for a goodly one it is, and
full meet for thee; it is for me to depart, and not for thee. I tell
thee, forsooth, that I had from the first meant this house as a gift
from me to thee. And therewith he drew from his pouch a scroll, which
was a deed of gift of the said house, duly sealed and attested, and he
gave it into her hands; but she was sore moved thereat, and at the
demeanour of him that morning, and she let the scroll fall to the floor
and wept for pity of him, and reached out both her hands, and he kissed
them, and then her lips also, and sithence he sat down beside her. But
she said: Alas! that thou wilt give me what I may not take, and wouldst
have of me what I may not give.
But now he waxed hotter, and said: This once I command thee to do my
will, and take my gift. It will be nought to my gain if thou take it
not; for I may not live in this house when thou art gone from it; and I
swear by All-hallows that I will not let any have it to hire, nor will
I sell it, since thou hast made it holy by dwelling therein.
Yet was she sore moved by his generous fashion, and she said: I will
take thy gift then, and live here in honour of thee and thy friendship;
for well I wot thou hadst no mind to buy me with thy gift.
So she spake, and he stood up stark and stern, and so departed, and
kissed her not again; though meseems she would have suffered him had he
offered it. Nay, belike had he at that moment pressed his wooing
somewhat masterfully, it is not so sure but she might have yeasaid it,
and suffered him to wed her and lead her to bed; though it would have
gone ill both with him and with her thereafter.
Thenceforth dwelt Birdalone with her mother and her maidens and her men
in that house, and it became famous in the Five Crafts because of her
beauty and her wisdom, which minished not, but waxed day by day; but
therewithal as the time wore, waxed her longing and sadness. But all
this she hid in her own heart, and was debonair to all about her, and
so good to poor folk that none had a word save of blessing on her
beauty and her wisdom.