Read Online The Book of the Maidservant by Rebecca Barnhouse - Free Book Online
Authors: Rebecca Barnhouse
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merchant.
Dame Margery stands stock-still, not crying for once.
I’m last in line and I don’t like it. I go forward and gently take her arm. “Come, mistress,” I whisper.
She walks obediently beside me.
I watch either side of the path and glance behind me every few steps. Looking for the soldiers keeps me from seeing my mistress’s face. Her nose is uncovered so she can still breathe, but she can’t talk. She doesn’t even try. She keeps her arms at her sides, never touching the gag.
The path winds downward, and before long, I can hear the sound of a stream. And suddenly, voices.
We stop. The merchant looks back at the rest of us, signaling us to silence, but there’s no need. Even Dame Isabel holds her knife at the ready.
Slowly, silently, we creep forward.
I grip Dame Margery’s arm, pulling her along, glancing behind me and wishing we weren’t last.
I shudder when I remember the one-eyed soldier with the pike.
The water gets louder, but the voices are gone. Have they heard us? Our pace slows. The merchant and Petrus go first through the undergrowth, then the two students. Behind them, Father Nicholas leads the merchant’s horse. Just ahead of Dame Margery and me, Bartilmew looms over his master and mistress, a stout stick in his hands.
I whirl at a sound behind me. A squirrel scampers along a tree branch. I breathe out in relief.
As we near the stream, the path turns sharply.
Petrus and the merchant disappear from view, then John Mouse and Thomas.
The priest stops, holding the horse’s lead, and the rest of us stop behind him, our bodies tense, ready to run.
Suddenly, there’s shouting. The water is so loud that I can’t tell what they’re saying, and the trees block my view. What’s happening? Are there more than three soldiers?
We might die any minute. I look at Dame Margery. Her eyes are as full of fear as mine must be. Shame mingles with my fear—I can’t leave her like this.
I raise my dagger and begin to cut.
The gag falls to the ground.
j ohn Mouse appears from around the bend.
“Hurry!” He beckons us to follow.
Father Nicholas pulls on the horse’s lead and turns the corner. Dame Isabel goes next, then her husband, then Bartilmew.
Finally, it’s our turn. I pull my mistress along the path as she mouths a prayer, her lips and tongue moving silently.
When we round the trees, we can see the stream—and four peasant boys with fishing nets. No soldiers at all.
The boys watch us as we pass. One might be my age, but the other three are no older than Cicilly. As I go by, one of them sticks out his tongue at me. I grin with relief. My thumping heart begins to calm, and my knees feel weak.
At the brook, fast water chuckles around mossy rocks, and we have to step carefully to cross it. The horse whinnies and digs in his hooves until the merchant takes his lead from Father Nicholas.
Once we’ve crossed the water, the path broadens out enough that I can hear John Mouse laughing as he describes the way Petrus surprised the peasants, making them yell.
“Poaching, they were,” the merchant adds. “Thought we were going to turn them in.”
When we emerge from the dripping trees, the rain has stopped, although low gray clouds still scud across the sky. I push my hood back, close my eyes, and let the cold wind wash away the last of my fear.
Petrus Tappester’s voice startles my eyes open again. “Who did this?” He points at my mistress’s face.
Nobody says anything. I stare straight ahead, unable to breathe.
“I warned you,” he says, pointing around at each of us. His finger comes to a stop on me.
I look down. I thought we were going to die. My mistress needed to pray. We all did. Surely Petrus Tappester can see that.
“It’s about time for a break and something to eat, isn’t it?” John Mouse says, more loudly than he needs to.
“Aye, let’s stop for a while,” Thomas says.
“I, too, believe we should rest before we continue,” Father Nicholas says,
Dame Margery stands stock-still, not crying for once.
I’m last in line and I don’t like it. I go forward and gently take her arm. “Come, mistress,” I whisper.
She walks obediently beside me.
I watch either side of the path and glance behind me every few steps. Looking for the soldiers keeps me from seeing my mistress’s face. Her nose is uncovered so she can still breathe, but she can’t talk. She doesn’t even try. She keeps her arms at her sides, never touching the gag.
The path winds downward, and before long, I can hear the sound of a stream. And suddenly, voices.
We stop. The merchant looks back at the rest of us, signaling us to silence, but there’s no need. Even Dame Isabel holds her knife at the ready.
Slowly, silently, we creep forward.
I grip Dame Margery’s arm, pulling her along, glancing behind me and wishing we weren’t last.
I shudder when I remember the one-eyed soldier with the pike.
The water gets louder, but the voices are gone. Have they heard us? Our pace slows. The merchant and Petrus go first through the undergrowth, then the two students. Behind them, Father Nicholas leads the merchant’s horse. Just ahead of Dame Margery and me, Bartilmew looms over his master and mistress, a stout stick in his hands.
I whirl at a sound behind me. A squirrel scampers along a tree branch. I breathe out in relief.
As we near the stream, the path turns sharply.
Petrus and the merchant disappear from view, then John Mouse and Thomas.
The priest stops, holding the horse’s lead, and the rest of us stop behind him, our bodies tense, ready to run.
Suddenly, there’s shouting. The water is so loud that I can’t tell what they’re saying, and the trees block my view. What’s happening? Are there more than three soldiers?
We might die any minute. I look at Dame Margery. Her eyes are as full of fear as mine must be. Shame mingles with my fear—I can’t leave her like this.
I raise my dagger and begin to cut.
The gag falls to the ground.
j ohn Mouse appears from around the bend.
“Hurry!” He beckons us to follow.
Father Nicholas pulls on the horse’s lead and turns the corner. Dame Isabel goes next, then her husband, then Bartilmew.
Finally, it’s our turn. I pull my mistress along the path as she mouths a prayer, her lips and tongue moving silently.
When we round the trees, we can see the stream—and four peasant boys with fishing nets. No soldiers at all.
The boys watch us as we pass. One might be my age, but the other three are no older than Cicilly. As I go by, one of them sticks out his tongue at me. I grin with relief. My thumping heart begins to calm, and my knees feel weak.
At the brook, fast water chuckles around mossy rocks, and we have to step carefully to cross it. The horse whinnies and digs in his hooves until the merchant takes his lead from Father Nicholas.
Once we’ve crossed the water, the path broadens out enough that I can hear John Mouse laughing as he describes the way Petrus surprised the peasants, making them yell.
“Poaching, they were,” the merchant adds. “Thought we were going to turn them in.”
When we emerge from the dripping trees, the rain has stopped, although low gray clouds still scud across the sky. I push my hood back, close my eyes, and let the cold wind wash away the last of my fear.
Petrus Tappester’s voice startles my eyes open again. “Who did this?” He points at my mistress’s face.
Nobody says anything. I stare straight ahead, unable to breathe.
“I warned you,” he says, pointing around at each of us. His finger comes to a stop on me.
I look down. I thought we were going to die. My mistress needed to pray. We all did. Surely Petrus Tappester can see that.
“It’s about time for a break and something to eat, isn’t it?” John Mouse says, more loudly than he needs to.
“Aye, let’s stop for a while,” Thomas says.
“I, too, believe we should rest before we continue,” Father Nicholas says,
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