The bishop had not forgotten him, often asking Master Gervase for the little prentice who meant to carve one of the corbels.
“Ay, my lord, and it would not greatly surprise me if he carried out his thought,” said Elyas, with a smile. And he told the bishop of his work for Dame Alicia’s chantry. “He hath a marvellous fancy for his age,” he added.
“Brother Ambrose at the Kalendarhay complains that he is idle, but says he can do anything with his fingers,” remarked the bishop. “He would fain he were a monk, that he might paint in the missals, but thou and I would have him do nobler work. Not that I would say aught against the good brothers,” he added, rapidly crossing himself. “Everyone to his calling, and the boy’s lies not between their walls. Keep him to it, keep him to it, goodman; give him a thorough training, for which none is better fitted than thyself. It is my earnest desire that proper workers may be trained to give their best in this building, as of old the best was given for the Temple. Thou and I may never see the fruit of our labours—what of that? One soweth and another reapeth, and so it is for the glory of God, let that suffice. The walls of the choir go on well, methinks, and in another year or two we shall have reached the Lady Chapel.”
“Ay, my lord.”
“And then there must be no more work done by thee for town or country. I claim it all. So thou hadst best finish off Dame Alicia’s chantry.”
“No fear, my lord. The lady is impatient, and will not tarry till then. I shall have to go down in the summer to see after the fixing of these bosses, and of some other work which she hath confided to me, and that will end it.”
The good bishop, indeed, was inclined to be jealous over anything which took away Gervase’s time and attention, and the stone mason had some difficulty in keeping his own hands free, his skill being of great repute among all the gentlemen round, and some of them being of fiery dispositions, ill-disposed to brook waiting. There was plenty doing in the yard, and often visitors to see how the work got on or to give orders, and, as Hugh was the only one in the house who could write or read, his master frequently called him to his aid when a scroll was brought from some neighbouring abbot or prior.
At Easter they had, as usual, the gammon of bacon, to show widespread hatred of the Jews, and the tansy pudding in remembrance of the bitter herbs. Also another old custom there was, the expectation of which kept Gervase on the watch with a comical look on his face, and set Joan quivering with excitement for, as she confided to Hugh in a very loud whisper, mother had promised that she should be by “to see father heaved.”
She was terribly disappointed when he went out, and scarcely consoled by his taking her with him, and when at last he brought her home, clasping a great bunch of primroses in her little hot hands, she was not to be separated from him.
“Why dost thou not go and look for thy friend Hugh?”