“And men do not love me.”
“They do,—ah,—all poor folk!”
He turned his head to look in her eyes: “What matter?” he said gently. “I 'd liefer be Will Langland. He—yonder—'s missed somewhat.”
But now there was a rustle without the door and a parting to right and left adown the hall. An usher cried: “The Queen!” And Joanna the Fair and her ladies came in with flutter of veils and flirting of skirts. And lo! one of the ladies was Godiyeva from the lonely manor-house in Yorkshire.
Then there began a buzzing of tongues and bowing of knights and squires. The sober gentleman in the furred gown ceased to con his parchment and went and kissed the Queen's hand; so likewise did Dan Chaucer, but thereafter withdrew again to his quiet corner.
“The King not come?” said his mother.
“He 's in Council, madame,” made answer Sir John Holland; “there hath been discovered a flaw in the poll-tax, and they seek a remedy.”
She shrugged her shoulders, and looked about her on the company. Said she: “Is 't a jongleuse,—yonder,—beside the tall clerk?” For, by this, Will Langland was on his feet, as were all they in the Queen's presence.
“Madame!” cried Godiyeva, “'t is a glee-maid dwelt with us in Yorkshire last year at Ascension-tide; told us a tale of Piers Ploughman, and how the peasant should make laws in England.”
“Pah!—I am sick of these peasant tales!” said the Queen. “Gentlewomen may not ride abroad, but they must set a flappet on their ears to smother the foul songs and catchwords of villeins. England pampereth her common folk to her cost. In Gascony, when the Black Prince was alive, 't was not thus we ruled. Saint Denys! 't is said these churls do beat and maul the King's officers that come to do the King's business and gather his moneys.”