“Oh, that is right! I am sorry I forgot.”
“And the Lady bade me tell thee, mignonne, that she is coming to thy bower shortly, with a pedlar who is waiting in the court, to choose stuffs for thy Whitsuntide robes.”
“A pedlar! Delightful! Aunt Marjory, I am sure you want something?”
Marjory laughed. “I want thy tale finished, Magot, before the pedlar comes.”
“Too long, my dear Aunt Marjory, unless the pedlar takes all summer to mount the stairs. But you know my Lord and father fled into sanctuary at Merton Abbey, and refused to leave it unless the Lord King would pledge his royal word for his safety. I don’t think I should have thought it made much difference. (I wonder if that pedlar has any silversmiths’ work.) The Lord King did not pledge his word, but he ordered the Lord Mayor and the citizens to fetch my fair father—only think of that, Aunt Marjory!—dead or alive. Some of the nobler citizens appealed to the Bishop, who was everything with the King just then: but instead of interceding for my fair father, as they asked, he merely confirmed the order. So twenty thousand citizens marched on the Abbey; and when my fair father knew that, he fled to the high altar, and embraced the holy cross with one hand, holding the blessed pix in the other.”
“Was our Lord in the pix?” inquired Marjory—meaning, of course, to refer to the consecrated wafer.
“I am not sure, fair Aunt. But however, things turned out better than seemed likely: for not only the Bishop of Chichester, but even my Lord of Chester—my fair father’s great enemy—interceded with the Lord King in his behalf. We heard that my Lord of Chester spoke very plainly to him, and told him not only that he would find it easier to draw a crowd together than to get rid of it again, but also that his fickleness would scandalise the world.”
“And the Lord King allowed him to say that?”
“Yes, and it had a great effect upon him. I think people who are fickle don’t like others to see it—don’t you? Do you think that pedlar will have any sendal (a silk stuff of extremely fine quality) of India?”
“Thine eyes and half thy tongue are in the pedlar’s pack, Magot. I cannot tell thee. But just let me know how it ended, and thy fair father was set free.”