The next time the page’s head paused at her window, Maude summoned courage to ask him his name.
“Bertram Lyngern,” said he smilingly. “I have a longer name than thou.” (See Note 2.)
“And a father and mother?” asked Maude.
“A father,” said the boy. “He is one of my Lord’s knights; but for my mother,—the women say she died the day I was born.”
“I have ne father ne mother,” responded Maude, sorrowfully, “ne none to care for me in all the wide world.”
“Careth Mistress Drew nought for thee?”
Maude’s laugh was bitterly negative.
“Ne Parnel, thy fellow?”
“She striveth alway to abash (frighten) and trouble me,” sighed Maude.
“Poor Maude!” said Bertram, looking concerned. “Wouldst have me care for thee? May be I could render thy life somewhat lighter. If I talked with Parnel—”