"Alack, alack!" said Mistress Hodges, shaking her head. "These be evil days now in the which we live, when that terrible Frenchman from over the seas, Sir Fulke de Breauté (may the foul fiend fly off with him!), spares neither the ministers of Holy Church nor defenceless damsels--"
"Indeed, it would seem as if De Breauté had a grudge against me," Aliva could not help interposing, with a half smile. "He owes me somewhat, by my faith. He asked for my hand; he cannot say he did not get it. How like to a drowned water-rat he looked, coated with our good honest English mud! A pretty dance I led him, I trow," she added, with a ripple of laughter. "He'll ne'er forgive me."
Mistress Hodges grinned good-humouredly, pleased to see the lady's spirits rising again.
"In good sooth, lady, but young knights find it hard to forgive fair ladies who will have none of them when they come a-wooing."
The conversation was becoming too personal. Aliva flushed slightly, and tried to turn it.
"And now, prithee goody, it seems to me that I too may well ask, how comes it that you and your son come so far from Bletsoe this evening?"
The smile faded from the woman's face.
"I am on a weary errand, fair lady," she replied. "I have come thus far in company with my son, who is on his journey back to the abbey of St. Alban, where he is a lay-brother. I have come but to say a prayer with him, in this the wayfarer's chapel, to good St. Nicolas, who protects all travellers. Alas! he will return to St. Alban's; he says it is his duty. I have dissuaded him sore with tears and prayers, but it is of none avail. In these bad times there is no peace even in the religious houses, nothing but wars and rumours of wars."
"Certes, I did hear from Dicky Dumpling--(ah, poor Dickon! how fares it with him, I wonder? He presented a broad surface to the horsemen's charge)--that your son had barely 'scaped with his life from that fearful St. Vincent's Eve at St. Alban's!"
"Gramercy, lady," replied the woman, wiping her eyes, "'twas a hairbreadth 'scape, in good sooth! But, thanks to our Lady and the good St. Benedict--who, my son says, preserved the humblest of his servants to serve him further--he got off scot-free from the fire and the sword, yea, and the water too!"