Part 17 (1/2)
”No,” said Cicely courteously, ”we have only come out to take the air before breakfast.”
”I crave pardon,” said the woman, curtseying, ”the pretty lady belongs to the great folk down yonder. Would she look at my poor wares? Here are beads and trinkets of the goodly stones, pins and collars, bracelets and eardrops, white, yellow, and purple,” she said, uncovering her basket, where were arranged various ornaments made of Derbys.h.i.+re spar.
”We have no money, good woman,” said Cicely, rising to return, vaguely uncomfortable at the woman's eye, which awoke some remembrance of Tibbott the huckster, and the troubles connected with her.
”Yea, but if my young mistress would only bring me in to the Great Lady there, I know she would buy of me my beads and bracelets, of give me an alms for my poor children. I have five of them, good young lady, and they lie naked and hungry till I can sell my few poor wares, and the yeomen are so rough and hard. They would break and trample every poor bead I have in pieces rather than even let my Lord hear of them. But if even my basket could be carried in and shown, and if the good Earl heard my sad tale, I am sure he would give license.”
”He never does!” said Diccon, roughly; ”hold off, woman, do not hang on us, or I'll get thee branded for a vagabond.”
The woman put her knuckles into her eyes, and wailed out that it was all for her poor children, and Cicely reproved him for his roughness, and as the woman kept close behind them, wailing, moaning, and persuading, the boy and girl were wrought upon at last to give her leave to wait outside the gate of the inn garden, while they saw whether it was possible to admit her or her basket.
But before they reached the gate, they saw a figure beyond it, scanning the hill eagerly. They knew him for their father even before he shouted to them, and, as they approached, his voice was displeased: ”How now, children; what manners are these?”
”We have only been on the hillside, sweet father,” said Cis, ”Diccon and I together. We thought no harm.”
”This is not Sheffield Chase, Cis, and thou art no more a child, but a maiden who needs to be discreet, above all in these times. Whom did I see following you?”
”A poor woman, whom-Ha, where is she?” exclaimed Cis, suddenly perceiving that the woman seemed to have vanished.
”A troublesome begging woman who beset us with her wares,” said Diccon, ”and would give us no peace, praying that we would get them carried in to the Queen and her ladies, whining about her children till she made Cis soft-hearted. Where can she have hidden herself?”
The man who was stationed as sentry at the gate said he had seen the woman come over the brow of the hill with Master Diccon and Mistress Cicely, but that as they ran forward to meet Captain Talbot she had disappeared amid the rocks and brushwood.
”Poor woman, she was afraid of our father,” said Cicely; ”I would we could see her again.”
”So would not I,” said Richard. ”It looks not well, and heed me well, children, there must be no more of these pranks, nor of wandering out of bounds, or babbling with strangers. Go thou in to thy mother, Cis, she hath been in much trouble for thee.”
Mistress Susan was unusually severe with the girl on the indiscretion of gadding in strange places with no better escort than Diccon, and of entering into conversation with unknown persons. Moreover, Cicely's hair, her shoes, and camlet riding skirt were all so dank with dew that she was with difficulty made presentable by the time the horses were brought round.
The Queen, who had not seen the girl that morning, made her come and ride near her, asking questions on the escapade, and giving one of her bewitching pathetic smiles as she said how she envied the power of thus dancing out on the greensward, and breathing the free and fresh morning air. ”My Scottish blood loves the mountains, and bounds the more freely in the fresh breeze,” she said, gazing towards the Peak. ”I love the scent of the dew. Didst get into trouble, child? Methought I heard sounds of chiding?”
”It was no fault of mine,” said Cis, inclined to complain when she found sympathy, ”the woman would speak to us.”
”What woman?” asked the Queen.
”A poor woman with a basket of wares, who prayed hard to be allowed to show them to your Grace or some of the ladies. She said she had five sorely hungered children, and that she heard your Grace was a compa.s.sionate lady.”
”Woe is me, compa.s.sion is full all that I am permitted to give,” said the Queen, sadly; ”she brought trinkets to sell. What were her wares, saidst thou?”
”I had no time to see many,” said Cis, ”something pure and white like a new-laid egg, I saw, and a necklet, clouded with beauteous purple.”
”Ay, beads and bracelets, no doubt,” said the Queen.
”Yes, beads and bracelets,” returned Cicely, the soft chime of the Queen's Scottish accent bringing back to her that the woman had twice pressed on her beads and bracelets.
”She dwelt on them,” said the Queen lightly. ”Ay, I know the chant of the poor folk who ever hover about our outskirts in hopes to sell their country gewgaws, beads and bracelets, collars and pins, little guessing that she whom they seek is poorer than themselves. Mayhap, our Argus-eyed lord may yet let the poor dame within his fence, and we may be able to gratify thy longing for those same purple and white beads and bracelets.”
Meantime the party were riding on, intending to dine at Buxton, which meant to reach it by noonday. The tall roof of the great hall erected by the Earl over the baths was already coming in sight, and by and by they would look into the valley. The Wye, after coming down one of those lovely deep ravines to be found in all mountainous countries, here flowed through a more open s.p.a.ce, part of which had been artificially levelled, but which was covered with buildings, rising out amongst the rocks and trees.