“I can no further,” he said. “Farewell, young sir, and God keep thee! An old man’s blessing ne’er harmed any one.”
Hilarius gave him godden, and sped swiftly back through the streets crowded with folks returning from the tourney. The Abbey bell rang out above the shouts and din.
“’Tis an evil, evil world,” quoth young Hilarius.
CHAPTER III
A SENDING FROM THE LORD
October and November came and sped, and Hilarius’ longing to be a limner waxed with the waning year. One day by the waterside he met Martin, of whom he saw now much, now little, for the Minstrel followed the Court.
“The cage grows too small for me, lad,” he said, as he stood with Hilarius watching the sun sink below the Surrey uplands; “ay, and I love one woman, which is ill for a man of my trade. I must be away to my mistress, winter or no winter, else my song will die and my heart break.”
“’Tis even so with me, good Martin,” said Hilarius sadly; “I too would fain go forth and serve my mistress; but the cage door is barred, and I may not open it from within.”
Martin whistled and smote the lad friendly on the shoulder.
“Patience, lad, patience, thou art young yet. Eighteen this Martinmas, say you? In truth ’tis a great age, but still leaves time and to spare. ‘All things come to a waiting man,’ saith the proverb.”
A week later he chanced on Hilarius sitting on a bench under the south wall of the farmery cloister. It was a mild, melancholy day, and suited the Minstrel’s mood.