"How long will it be?" cries Jack.
"I cannot tell thee, Jack," she saith. "Some months, I fear. Not
years--I do trust, not years. But God knoweth--and to Him I commit
you." And as she bent her head low over the mantle wherein I was
lapped, I heard her say--"_Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere
nobis, Jesu_!"
I knew that, because I always had to repeat it in my evening prayers,
though I never could tell what it meant, only, as it seemed to say
"Agnes" and "Monday," I supposed it had something to do with me, and was
to make me good after some fashion, but I saw not why it must be only on
a Monday, especially as I had to say it every day. Now, of course, I
know what it means, and I wonder children and ignorant people are not
taught what prayers mean, instead of being made to say them just like
popinjays. I wanted to teach my Joan what it meant, but the Lady
Julian, my lord's mother, commanded me not to do so, for it was unlucky.
I begged her to tell me why, and she said the Latin was a holy tongue,
known to God and the saints, and so long as they understood our prayers,
we did not need to understand them.
"But, Dame," said I, "saving your presence, if I say prayers I
understand not, how can I tell the way to use them? I may be asking for
a basket of pears when I want a pair of shoes."
"Wherefore trouble the blessed saints for either?" saith she. "Prayers
be only for high and holy concerns--not for base worldly matter, such as
be pears and shoes."
"But I am worldly matter, under your leave, Dame," said I. "And saith
not the Paternoster somewhat touching daily bread?"
"Ay, the food of the soul--`_panem supersubstantialem da nobis_'" quoth
she. "It means not a loaf of bread, child."
"That's Saint Matthew," said I. "But Saint Luke hath it `_panem
quotidianum_,' and saith nought of `_supersubstantialem_.' And surely
common food cometh from God."
"Daughter!" saith she, somewhat severely, "thou shouldst do a deal
better to leave thy fantasies and the workings of thine own brain, and
listen with meek submission to the holy doctors that can teach thee with
authority."
"Dame, I cry you mercy," said I. "But surely our Lord teacheth with
more authority than they all; and if I have His words, what need I of
theirs?"
_Ha, chetife_! she would not listen to me,--only bade me yet again to
beware of pride and presumption, lest I should fall into heresy, from
the which Saint Agnes preserve me! But it doth seem strange that folks
should fall into heresy by studying our Lord's words; I had thought they
should rather thereby keep them out of it.
Well--dear heart, here again am I got away from my story! this it is to
have too quick a wit--our mother blessed us, and kissed us all, and set
forth, the six eldest with her, for Southampton. I know now, though I
heard not then, that she was on her way to join our father. News had
come that he was safe over seas, in France, with the Sieurs de Fienles,
the Lady Margaret's kin, and no sooner had she learned it than she set
forth to join him. I doubt greatly if he sent for her. Nay, I should
rather say he would scarce have blessed her for coming. But she got not
thus far on her way, as shall be seen.
His tarrying with the Sieurs de Fienles was in truth but a blind to hide
his true proceedings. He stayed in Normandy but a few weeks, until the
hue and cry was over, and folks in England should all have got well in
their heads that he was there: then, or ever harm should befall him by
tarrying there too long, he made quiet departure, and ere any knew of it
he was safe in the King of France's dominions. At this time the King of
France was King Charles le Bel, youngest brother of our Queen. I
suppose he was too much taken up with the study of his own perfections
to see the perfections or imperfections of any body else: otherwise had
he scarce been so stone-blind to all that went on but just afore his
nose. There be folks that can see a mouse a mile off, and there be
others that cannot see an elephant a yard in front of them. But there
be a third sort, and to my honest belief King Charles was of them, that
can see the mouse as clear as sunlight when it is their own interest to
detect him, but have not a notion of the elephant being there when they
do not choose to look at him. When he wanted to be rid of his first
wife Queen Blanche, he could see her well enough, and all her failings
too, as black as midnight; but when his sister behaved herself as ill as
ever his wife did or could have done, he only shut his eyes and took a
comfortable nap. Now King Charles had himself expelled my father from
his dominions, for some old grudge that I never rightly understood; yet
never a word said he when he came back without licence. Marry, but our
old King Edward should not have treated thus the unlicenced return of a
banished man! He would have been hung within the week, with him on the
throne. But King Charles was not cut from that stuff. He let my father
alone till the Queen came over--our Queen Isabel, his sister, I mean--
and then who but he in all the French Court! Howbeit, they kept things
pretty quiet for that time; nought came to King Edward's ears, and she
did her work and went home. Forsooth, it was sweet work, for she
treated with her brother as the sister of France, and not as the wife of
England. King Charles had taken Guienne, and she, sent to demand
restitution, concluded a treaty of peace on his bare word that it should
be restored, with no pledge nor security whatever: but bitter complaints
she laid of the King her husband, and the way in which he treated her.
Well, it is true, he did not treat her as I should have done in his
place, for he gave in to all her whims a deal too much, where a good
buffet on her ear should have been ever so much more for her good--and
his too, I will warrant. Deary me, but if some folks were drowned, the
world would get along without them! I mention no names (only that weary
Nichola, that is for ever mashing my favourite things). So the Queen
came home, and all went on for a while.
But halt, my goose-quill! thou marchest too fast. Have back a season.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. This is the probable order of birth. The date assigned to the
birth of Agnes is fictitious, but that of her husband is taken from his
_Probatio Aetatis_.
Note 2. July 8th, 1317; this is about the probable time. The Countess
is supposed to be writing in the spring of 1348.
Note 3. This word was then used of both sexes, and was the proper
designation of the son of a prince or peer not yet arrived at the age of
knighthood.