"Nay, her hood and veil look like company for the Abbess. Come this way, dame, and we will find the steward to marshal her."
Grisell had rather have been left to the guardianship of her kind old friend, but she was obliged to follow. They dismounted in a fine court with cloister-like buildings round it, and full of people of all kinds, for no less than six hundred stout yeomen wore red coats and the bear and ragged staff. Grisell would fain have clung to her guide, but she was not allowed to do so. She was marshalled up stone steps into a great hall, where tables were being laid, covered with white napery and glittering with silver and pewter.
The seneschal marched before her all the length of the hall to where there was a large fireplace with a burning log, summer though it was, and shut off by handsome tapestried and carved screens sat a half circle of ladies, with a young-looking lady in a velvet fur-trimmed surcoat in their midst. A tall man with a keen, resolute face, in long robes and gold belt and chain, stood by her leaning on her chair.
The seneschal announced, "Place, place for the Lady Grisell Dacre of Whitburn," and Grisell bent low, putting back as much of her veil as she felt courtesy absolutely to require. The lady rose, the knight held out his hand to raise the bending figure. He had that power of recollection and recognition which is so great an element in popularity. "The Lady Grisell Dacre," he said. "She who met with so sad a disaster when she was one of my lady mother's household?"
Grisell glowing all over signed acquiescence, and he went on, "Welcome to my poor house, lady. Let me present you to my wife."
The Countess of Warwick was a pale, somewhat inane lady. She was the heiress of the Beauchamps and De Spensers in consequence of the recent death of her brother, "the King of the Isle of Wight"-and through her inheritance her husband had risen to his great power. She was delicate and feeble, almost apathetic, and she followed her husband's lead, and received her guest with fair courtesy; and Grisell ventured in a trembling voice to explain that she had spent those years at Wilton, but that the new Abbess's Proctor would not consent to her remaining there any longer, not even long enough to send to her parents or to the Countess of Salisbury.
"Poor maiden! Such are the ways of his Holiness where the King is not man enough to stand in his way," said Warwick. "So, fair maiden, if you will honour my house for a few days, as my lady's guest, I will send you north in more fitting guise than with this white-smith dame."
"She hath been very good to me," Grisell ventured to add to her thanks.
"She shall have good entertainment here," said the Earl smiling. "No doubt she hath already, as Sarum born. See that Goodwife Hall, the white smith's wife, and her following have the best of harbouring," he added to his silver-chained steward.
"You are a Dacre of Whitburn," he added to Grisell. "Your father has not taken sides with Dacre of Gilsland and the Percies." Then seeing that Grisell knew nothing of all this, he laughed and said, "Little convent birds, you know nought of our worldly strifes."
In fact, Grisell had heard nothing from her home for the last five years, which was the less marvel as neither her father nor her mother could write if they had cared to do so. Nor did the convent know much of the state of England, though prayers had been constantly said for the King's recovery, and of late there had been thanksgivings for the birth of the Prince of Wales; but it was as much as she did know that just now the Duke of York was governing, for the poor King seemed as senseless as a stone, and the Earl of Salisbury was his Chancellor. Nevertheless Salisbury was absent in the north, and there was a quarrel going on between the Nevils and the Percies which Warwick was going to compose, and thus would be able to take Grisell so far in his company.
The great household was larger than even what she remembered at the houses of the Countess of Salisbury before her accident, and, fresh from the stillness of the convent as she was, the noises were amazing to her when all sat down to supper. Tables were laid all along the vast hall. She was placed at the upper one to her relief, beside an old lady, Dame Gresford, whom she remembered to have seen at Montacute Castle in her childhood, as one of the attendants on the Countess. She was forced to put back her veil, and she saw some of the young knights and squires staring at her, then nudging one another and laughing.
"Never mind them, sweetheart," said Dame Gresford kindly; "they are but unmannerly lurdanes, and the Lord Earl would make them know what is befitting if his eye fell on them."
The good lady must have had a hint from the authorities, for she kept Grisell under her wing in the huge household, which was like a city in itself. There was a knight who acted as steward, with innumerable knights, squires, and pages under him, besides the six hundred red jacketed yoemen, and servants of all degrees, in the immense court of the buttery and kitchen, as indeed there had need to be, for six oxen were daily cooked, with sheep and other meats in proportion, and any friend or acquaintance of any one in this huge establishment might come in, and not only eat and drink his fill, but carry off as much meat as he could on the point of his dagger.
Goodwife Hall, as coming from Salisbury, stayed there in free quarters, while she made the round of all the shrines in London, and she was intensely gratified by the great Earl recollecting, or appearing to recollect, her and inquiring after her husband, that hearty burgess, whose pewter was so lasting, and he was sure was still in use among his black guard.
When she saw Grisell on finally departing for St. Albans, she was carrying her head a good deal higher on the strength of "my Lord Earl's grace to her." She hoped that her sweet Lady Grisell would remain here, as the best hap she could have in the most noble, excellent, and open-handed house in the world! Grisell's own wishes were not the same, for the great household was very bewildering-a strange change from her quietly-busy convent. The Countess was quiet enough, but dull and sickly, and chiefly occupied by her ailments. She seemed to be always thinking about leeches, wise friars, wonderful nuns, or even wizards and cunning women, and was much concerned that her husband absolutely forbade her consulting the witch of Spitalfields.
"Nay, dame," said he, "an thou didst, the next thing we should hear would be that thou hadst been sticking pins into King Harry's waxen image and roasting him before the fire, and that nothing but roasting thee in life and limb within a fire would bring him to life and reason."
"They would never dare," cried the lady.
"Who can tell what the Queen would dare if she gets her will!" demanded the Earl. "Wouldst like to do penance with sheet and candle, like Gloucester's wife?"
Such a possibility was enough to silence the Lady of Warwick on the score of witches, and the only time she spoke to Grisell was to ask her about Sister Avice and her cures. She set herself to persuade her husband to let her go down to one of his mother's Wiltshire houses to consult the nun, but Warwick had business in the north, nor would he allow her to be separated from him, lest she might be detained as a hostage.
Dame Gresford continued to be Grisell's protector, and let the girl sit and spin or embroider beside her, while the other ladies of the house played at ball in the court, or watched the exercises of the pages and squires. The dame's presence and authority prevented Grisell's being beset with uncivil remarks, but she knew she was like a toad among the butterflies, as she overheard some saucy youth calling her, while a laugh answered him, and she longed for her convent.
CHAPTER VIII-OLD PLAYFELLOWS
Alone thou goest forth,
Thy face unto the north,
Moor and pleasance all around thee and beneath thee.
E. BARRETT BROWNING, A Valediction.
One great pleasure fell to Grisell's share, but only too brief. The family of the Duke of York on their way to Baynard's Castle halted at Warwick House, and the Duchess Cecily, tall, fair, and stately, sailed into the hall, followed by three fair daughters, while Warwick, her nephew, though nearly of the same age, advanced with his wife to meet and receive her.