Hilarius assented gladly; and as they went, Martin told him of Court and King, and the wondrous doings when the Princess Isabel was wed. He listened open-eyed to tales of joust and revel and sport; and heard eagerly all the minstrel could tell of Sir John Maltravers himself, a man of great and good reputation, and no mean musician; “and,” added Martin, “three fair daughters he hath, the eldest Eleanor, fairest of them all, of whom men say she would fain be a nun. Thou art a pretty lad, I wager one or other will claim thee for page.”
“I will strive to serve well,” said Hilarius soberly, “but I have never spoken but to one maid ’til yesterday, when a woman gave me good-morrow.”
“And thou art for Westminster! Nay, but by all the Saints this Prior of thine is a strange master!”
“It is but for a time,” said Hilarius, “then I shall go back to the Monastery again. But first I would learn to be a real limner; I have some small skill with the brush,” he added simply.
“Back to the cloister? Nay, lad, best turn about and get back now, not wait till thou hast had a taste of Court life. Joust and banquet and revel, revel, banquet, and joust, much merry-making and little reason, much love and few marryings: a gay round, but not such as makes a monk.”
“Nay, that life will not be for me. I am to serve my lord, write for him, methinks. But tell me, good Martin, dost thou love the Court? It seems a fine thing to be the King’s Minstrel.”
“Nay, lad, nay,” said the other hastily, “give me the open country and the greenwood, and leave to sing or be silent. Still, the King is a good master, and lets me roam as I list if I will but come back; ’tis ill-faring in winter, so back I go to pipe in my cage and follow the Court until next Lady-day lets the sun in on us again.”
He struck his vielle lightly, and the two fell into a slower pace as the minstrel sang. Hilarius’ eyes filled with tears, for he was still heart-sore, and Martin’s voice rose and fell like the wind in the tossing tree-tops which had beckoned him over the Monastery wall. The song itself was sad—of a lover torn from his mistress and borne away captive to alien service. When it was ended they took a brisker pace in silence; then, after a while, Hilarius said timidly:—
