But Pierce Hardcastle had come to Ridley’s opinion, that did his knight but shut his eyes, the Lady Grisell was as good a mate as man could wish both in word and deed.
“I would fain,” said he, “have the Lady Eleanor to look at, but this lady to dress my hurts, ay, and talk with me. Never met I woman who was so good company! She might almost be a scholar at Oxford for her wit.”
However much solace the lady might find in the courtesy of Master Hardcastle, she was not pleased to find that her hand-maiden Thora exchanged glances with the young men-at-arms; and in a few days Ridley spoke to Grisell, and assured her that mischief would ensue if the silly wench were not checked in her habit of loitering and chattering whenever she could escape from her lady’s presence in the solar, which Grisell used as her bower, only descending to the hall at meal-times.
Grisell accordingly rebuked her the next time she delayed unreasonably over a message, but the girl pouted and muttered something about young Ralph Hart helping her with the heavy pitcher up the stair.
“It is unseemly for a maiden to linger and get help from strange soldiers,” said Grisell.
“No more unseemly than for the dame to be ever holding converse with their captain,” retorted the North Country hand-maiden, free of speech and with a toss of the head.
“Whist, Thora! or you must take a buffet,” said Grisell, clenching a fist unused to striking, and trying to regard chastisement as a duty. “You know full well that my only speech with Master Hardcastle is as his hostess.”
Thora laughed. “Ay, lady; I ken well what the men say. How that poor youth is spell-bound, and that you are casting your glamour over him as of old over my poor old lady and little Master Bernard.”
“For shame, Thora, to bring me such tales!” and Grisell’s hand actually descended on her maiden’s face, but so slight was the force that it only caused a contemptuous laugh, which so angered the young mistress as to give her energy to strike again with all her might.
“And you’d beat me,” observed her victim, roused to anger. “You are so ill favoured yourself that you cannot bear a man to look on a fair maid!”
“What insolence is this?” cried Grisell, utterly amazed. “Go into the turret room, spin out this hank, and stay there till I call you to supper. Say your Ave, and recollect what beseems a modest maiden.”