Suddenly Giles felt his sister nudge him—apparently to keep him from asking any further questions. Awkwardly they bade the lame boy farewell and proceeded on their way. Anne glanced back over her shoulder to make sure they were beyond Luke’s hearing before she spoke again.
‘I don’t know how I could have been so thoughtless,’ said she when they had reached the far side of the market-place. ‘Of course, the poor boy knows already what people say of him.’
‘Yes,’ sighed Giles, nodding seriously. ‘ “Ugly little imp! Misshapen little brat!”—and so on. Poor Luke! They are a heartless lot, the children of this town. I’d like to punch their heads when I hear them teasing him. Well, it doesn’t seem to me that we have got any farther with our shell, Anne. It’s not so wonderful. Maybe, after all, it doesn’t matter what people say about one?’
‘I wish we could see Agnes again,’ said Anne. ‘Perhaps she would tell us more about it.’
‘I don’t believe she would,’ said Giles. ‘People in fairy stories never tell you much. They just say, for instance, “Take this ring, put it on your father’s finger, and he’ll turn into a black swan.” They never tell you who’s going to feed him or where you’re going to get a lake for him to swim in. You can just take your choice: your father or a black swan. No, people who deal in magic don’t talk much.’
‘But this isn’t magic,’ said Anne. ‘At least,’ she added thoughtfully, ‘I don’t think it is. In any case, let us seek out Agnes. It would be fun to meet her again even if she won’t say any more about the shell.’
‘All right,’ said Giles. ‘But for the present we must get home. It’s late.’
10 The man who knew everyone
That night the children found that a very important personage was to be a supper guest at their house. It was no other than Master Piers Belmont, Chamberlain to the Duke. Often enough had Giles and his sister gazed up at the great castle on the hill in the centre of the town. The Duke’s home! Great grey towers surrounded by lesser buildings, with all manner of different roofs, a chapel of its own, stables, smithies and servants’ houses, it was like a town in itself—a town within a town. It was the finest castle, folks said, in all that country—except perhaps it be the King’s; and he lived in a city a long way off. But, indeed, to the townsfolk the Duke seemed like a king himself. He had an army of his own and officers of the Household. And all the notices posted in the town, all the announcements cried aloud by the Town Crier, ended ‘By Order of the Duke’. It had even been hinted that the King was himself a little afraid of this great man who, while he was His Majesty’s subject and obeyed his commands, was also His Majesty’s cousin. But that was only gossip. Certain it was, however, that the Duke, being the most powerful of all the nobles in the land, had often greatly helped the young King’s father in his wars.
And now that a member of the ducal household was a guest in their home Giles and Anne were very excited. For hours they lay awake, at their old game of listening to the clatter of knives and forks and the bits of talk that floated up to the attic. Next day they pestered their mother to tell them all that had been said.
Well, it seemed their father had persuaded the great Chamberlain to come and talk over his business affairs with him. He was the Duke’s right-hand man in all matters of money and law. And he proved himself a learned gentleman and very wise.
‘I never heard anything like him,’ said their mother. ‘He’s been everywhere. He knows everyone.’
‘Was he able to help Father out of his money troubles?’ asked Giles.
‘Alas! No,’ said their mother, turning away sadly. ‘He could give us no advice that was helpful. Goodness! If a change of some sort doesn’t happen soon, I don’t know what is to become of us.’
The children now set out on a hunt for Agnes the Applewoman. One of the first persons they called on to question was Luke the Lame Boy. He lived in part of an old tumble-down stable which a horse-dealer let him use for his own. He often got odd jobs about the yard for the people who came to trade there, holding horses, carrying messages, and what not. This home of his was at least dry and comfortably lined with straw, even if it had been made for horses to live in. Indeed, Anne and Giles sometimes envied Luke his peculiar shelter, in the way young folk often do, thinking every place but their own home the finest in the world. Luke knew all the gossip of the town; and many a pleasant hour the children had spent sitting on his straw bed with him, chatting of this and that.
But today the lame boy could not help them in their quest.
‘I have not seen the Applewoman for many weeks,’ said he. ‘I wish I had. My leg is troubling me again.’
‘What, your—your twisted one?’ asked Anne with wide-staring, motherly eyes.
‘Oh, no,’ laughed Luke. ‘That one never was much good. It is this, my left one, that has failed me now. You see, using it so much, with only the crutch to take the place of the other one, sometimes gets it so tired I am unable to walk. Agnes has always been able to put it right for me. She hopes some day to cure both. How long have you been seeking her?’
‘Oh, not long,’ said Giles. ‘We only set out today.’
‘Well, I am almost certain she is not in the town,’ said Luke. ‘If she were I would have heard. Why don’t you look for her in the fields—in the country beyond the walls. She spends much time there hunting for plants and roots from which she makes her medicines. If you find her bring me word.’
Thanking Luke, the children set off again.
The day had begun with the fairest of weather and they thoroughly enjoyed the sunny fields and cool lanes and all the glory of summer in the country.
But they saw nothing of Agnes.
Finally, pretty weary, they sat down to rest and eat their sandwiches. Their talk turned upon Piers Belmont, the Duke’s Chamberlain.
‘I’m not sure I think so much of him, after all,’ said Giles. ‘If a man with his knowledge of business, looking after all the Duke’s money matters, cannot find a way to put Father’s worries to rest, well, he can’t be so great. That’s what I say.’
‘Oh, but you can’t tell, Giles,’ said his sister. ‘Father’s troubles may be particularly hard to set straight. Master Belmont must be a great man. You remember what Mother said about him?’
‘No,’ muttered Giles. ‘What was it?’
‘She said, “He’s most interesting. He knows everyone.” ’
Anne folded her hands and, with a sigh, gazed up at some small grey clouds crossing the sky.
‘I find nothing marvellous in that,’ said Giles.
‘Oh, good gracious!’ cried Anne impatiently. ‘Just think of it—to know everyone! Fancy travelling to a foreign country and going up to the King and saying, “Well, here I am!” ’
‘Humph!’ her brother muttered. ‘And I can imagine its being a great nuisance, too, to know everyone. For, mark you, that means also to be known by everyone; having everyone poke his nose in your business; never able to go anywhere without someone saying he saw you do this or he saw you do that.’
‘Oh, but just think,’ said Anne, ‘every time you went into a church, or down the street, having all heads turn and say, “There goes Anne.” ... I wonder how one goes about getting to know everyone. How many people do you know, Giles?’
‘Oh, six or seven,’ said Giles. ‘That is, not counting Mother and Father and Uncle Remigius. I suppose family doesn’t count. After all, you have to know your family—My goodness! Is that rain falling?’