Under One Sceptre, or Mortimer's Mission: The Story of the Lord of the MarchesHolt, Emily Sarah
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Under One Sceptre, or Mortimer's Mission: The Story of the Lord of the Marches
Holt, Emily Sarah
Historical fiction; Mortimer, Roger de, Earl of March, 1328-1360 -- Fiction
He found a trim, neat little cottage by the roadside, where a clean,
smiling lad was cutting up a log of wood, and a tidy, pleasant-looking
girl was sewing in the little porch. And when Lawrence had made known
his wishes, and the girl had called "Mother!" to someone in the inner
room—the cottage only held two—the woman who came forward in answer had
a clean rosy face, and smooth black hair neatly braided.
"Mariot, dost thou mind thy youngest brother?"
"Lolly! Eh, my little lad, is it thou?"
She laid both hands on his shoulders and turned him round to the light.
"My dear lad! My own little Lolly! Mind thee? aye, that do I,
forsooth. And thou art come back to Usk?—is it to ’bide there? And how
goes it with thee, lad? art wed? and hast done well? Tell me all about
thee, Lolly."
It was an entirely different welcome from any of the rest. The news
that Lawrence was a knight, and had returned possessed of a sum which in
her eyes was great riches, did not seem to strike Mariot in any light
but that of being glad for him. And when he offered her the same sum
which he had given to the rest, and they had received so murmuringly, to
his surprise she refused it.
"Nay, lad, I’ll not take thy gold," said Mariot. "I want for nought, God
be thanked, and my childre be good childre; and Jack hath so much as he
can do, and Alice yonder can make a pretty penny in the straw plaiting,
and Maud comes on well with her sewing. Surely it were ill done, even
had I need, that thy brethren and sisters should strip thee of every
penny! Little Lolly, I guess I was pretty nigh the only one that loved
thee as a babe, and now, thanks be to God, since I knew how He loved me
I have learned to love better. Go thy ways, lad, and see to thine own
well-doing, and keep thy bits of savings in thy pocket. I am every whit
as much beholden to thee as if thou hadst given me a thousand marks.
But bethink thee somewhat of thine own future: for when folk think not
of their own selves—of the which sort there be main few, by my
troth—other folk must think for them. Thou shalt wish to wed one of
these days, an’ thou dost not now: and how shall that be compassed with
never a plack in thy pocket? Go thy ways, and get thee a good wife and
a pleasant home—the which shall do me a much more pleasure than to have
the spending of thy gold. Choose her by a true heart, and not by a fair
face, and ask our Lord to help thee in the choosing, and then thou shalt
do well. And now and anon, when thou hast an hour or twain to spare,
come down hither and drink thy four-hours with us, and give me to wit of
thy welfare—that shall pleasure me full greatly. My Lady Madison, trow,
shall be too fine to sup her four-hours with a miner’s widow; but I
would like to see thee by nows and thens."
"She will not be my wife an’ she so be," said Lawrence: "but truly,
Mariot, I look for no such, and it should better serve that thou wouldst
leave me help thee."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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