Part 70 (1/2)
”A what? Then thy armour shall be stripped off, and thou shalt be tied to a stake in front of the works, and riddled with arrows for a warning to traitors.”
”N--n--n--n--no! duda--duda--duda--duda--don't do that.”
”Why not?”
”Tuta--tuta--tuta--townsfolk will--h--h--h--hang t'other buba--buba--buba--buba--b.a.s.t.a.r.d.”
”What, whom?”
”Your bub--bub--bub--brother Baldwyn.”
”What, have yon knaves ta'en him?”
The warlike hosier nodded.
”Hang the fool!” said Anthony peevishly.
The warlike hosier watched his eye, and, doffing his helmet took out of the lining an intercepted letter from the duke, bidding the said Anthony come to court immediately, as he was to represent the court of Burgundy at the court of England: was to go over and receive the English king's sister and conduct her to her bridegroom the Earl of Charolois. The mission was one very soothing to Anthony's pride, and also to his love of pleasure. For Edward the Fourth held the gayest and most luxurious court in Europe. The sly hosier saw he longed to be off, and said, ”We'll gega--gega--gega--gega--give ye a thousand angels to raise the siege.”
”And Baldwyn?”
”I'll gega--gega--gega--gega--go and send him with the money.”
It was now dinner-time; and, a flag of truce being hoisted on both sides, the sham knight and the true one dined together and came to a friendly understanding.
”But what is your grievance, my good friend?”
”Tuta--tuta--tuta-tuta--too much taxes.”
Denys on finding the arrow in his right arm, turned his back, which was protected by a long s.h.i.+eld, and walked sulkily into camp. He was met by the Comte de Jarnac, who had seen his brilliant shot, and finding him wounded into the bargain, gave him a handful of broad pieces.
”Hast got the better of thy grief, arbalestrier, methinks.”
”My grief, yes; but not my love. As soon as ever I have put down this rebellion, I go to Holland, and there I shall meet with him.”
This event was nearer than Denys thought. He was relieved from service next day, and, though his wound was no trifle, set out with a stout heart to rejoin his friend in Holland.
CHAPTER XLIV
A CHANGE came over Margaret Brandt. She went about her household duties like one in a dream. If Peter did but speak a little quickly to her, she started and fixed two terrified eyes on him. She went less often to her friend Margaret Van Eyck, and was ill at her ease when there. Instead of meeting her warm old friend's caresses, she used to receive them pa.s.sive and trembling, and sometimes almost shrink from them. But the most extraordinary thing was, she never would go outside her own house in daylight. When she went to Tergou it was after dusk, and she returned before daybreak. She would not even go to matins. At last Peter, un.o.bservant as he was, noticed it, and asked her the reason.
”The folk all look at me so.”
One day, Margaret Van Eyck asked her what was the matter. A scared look and a flood of tears were all the reply: the old lady expostulated gently. ”What, sweetheart, afraid to confide your sorrows to me?”
”I have no sorrows, madam, but of my own making. I am kinder treated than I deserve; especially in this house.”
”Then why not come oftener, my dear?”