Our Little Lady Part 5

"Step in, Hildith," said Bertha, as she opened it. "Christ give thee a good even!"

"The like to thee," was the answer, as a rather worn-looking woman came in. "Mistress Avice, your servant. Pray you, would you lend me the loan of a tinder-box? I am but now come home from work, and am that weary I may scarce move; and yon careless Jaket hath let the fire out, and I must needs kindle the same again ere I may dress supper for the children."

It was no wonder if Hildith looked worn out, or if she could not afford a tinder-box. That precious article cost a penny, and her wages were fifteen pence a year. If we do a sum to find out what that would be now, when money is much more plentiful, we shall find that Hildith's wages come to twenty-two s.h.i.+llings and sixpence, and the tinder-box was worth eighteen-pence. We should fancy that n.o.body could live on such a sum. But we must remember two things: first, they then did a great deal for themselves which we pay for; they spun and wove their own linen and woollen, did their own was.h.i.+ng, brewed their own ale and cider, made their own b.u.t.ter and cheese, and physicked themselves with herbs.

Secondly, prices were very much lower as respected the necessaries of life; bread was four loaves, or cakes, for a penny, of the very best quality; a lamb or a goose cost fourpence, eight chickens were sold for fivepence, and twenty-four eggs for a penny. Clothing stuffs were dear, but then (as people sometimes say) they wore "for everlasting," and ladies of rank would send half-worn gowns to one another as very handsome presents. Fourpence was a good price to give for a pair of shoes, and a halfpenny a day for food was a liberal allowance.

"Any news to-night, Hildith?" asked Avice, as she handed her neighbour the tinder-box.

"Well, nay; without you call it news that sheriffs man brought word this morrow that the Lord King had granted the half of her goods to old Barnaba o' the Lichgate."

"She that was a Jew, and was baptised at Whitsuntide? I am glad to hear that."

"Ay, she. I am not o'er sorry; she is a good neighbour, Jew though she be."

"Then I reckon she will tarry here, and not go to dwell in the House of Converts in London town?"

"Marry, she will so, if she have any wisdom teeth left. I would not like to be carried away from all I know, up to yon big town, though they do say the houses be made o' gold and silver."

Avice smiled, for she knew better.

"Nay, Hildith, London town is built of brick and stone like Lincoln."

"Is it, now? I always heard it was made o' gold. But aren't there a vast sight o' folk there? nigh upon ten thousand?"

"Ay, and more."

"However do they get victuals for them all?"

"I got mine when I lived there," said Avice, laughing.

"And don't they burn sea-coal?"

"They did once; it is forbidden now."

"Dirty, poisonous stuff! I wouldn't touch it. Well, good-even. Shut the door quick, Bertha, and don't watch me out o' sight; 'tis the unluckiest thing man can do."

And Bertha believed it, as she showed by shutting the door.

Old Barnaba, the Jewess, had been dealt with tenderly. In those days, if a Jew were baptised, he forfeited all he had to the King. Most unaccountable it is that any Christian country should have let such a law exist for an hour! These dest.i.tute Jews, however, were provided for in the House of Converts, in London, which stood at the bottom of Chancery Lane, between it and Saint Dunstan's Church.

It was bed-time soon after. Avice put away her distaff, Bertha folded up her sewing, and they mounted the ladder. This was about seven o'clock, which was then as late an hour as it was thought that respectable people ought to be about. But by two o'clock the next morning, Bertha was sweeping the kitchen, and Avice carding flax in the corner. They did not trouble themselves about breakfast; it was an unknown luxury, except for people who were very old or very delicate.

Two meals a day were the rule: dinner, at nine in the morning: supper, at three in the afternoon. In those days they lived in a far harder and less comfortable way than we do, and they had generally better health.

But, it must be admitted, they did not live nearly so long, and the infant mortality among them was very great.

Morning was no time for story-telling. The rooms had to be swept, the bread to be baked, the clothes to be washed, the pigs and chickens to be fed. Moreover, to-day was the first day of the Michaelmas fair, and things must be bought in to last till Christmas. The active work was finished by about seven o'clock. Dinner was now got ready. It consisted of two bowls of broth, then boiled dumplings, and lastly some stewed giblets. Having made things tidy, our friends now tied on woollen hoods, and each taking down from the rafter-hooks a capacious basket, they went forth to do their shopping.

Note 1. The peculiar ways attributed to the little Princess, and especially this incident, are taken from an account of a real deaf and dumb child, published many years ago. There was certainly something about the Princess which her attendants considered wonderful and beautiful.

CHAPTER FIVE.

THE DUMB PLAYMATES.

Out into the Michaelmas fair our friends went.

In these days, when fairs have quite changed their character, we cannot easily form a notion of what they once were. The fair, held in every town four times a year, was a very important matter. There were much fewer shops than now; and not only in the town, but from all the surrounding villages people flocked to the fair, to lay in food and clothes and all sorts of necessaries, enough to last till the next fair-day. They had very little fresh butcher's meat, and very few vegetables except what they grew themselves; so they ate numbers of things salted which we have fresh. Not only salt fish and salt neat, but salt cabbage formed a great part of their diet. The consequence of all this salt food was that they suffered dreadfully from scurvy. But they did not run to the doctor, for except in rare instances there was no doctor to run to! All doctors were clergymen then, and there were very few of them. In the large towns there were apothecaries, or chemists, who often prescribed for people; and there were "wise women"

who knew a good deal about herbs, and sometimes gave good medicines, along with a great deal of foolish nonsense in the way of charms and all sorts of silly fancies. At that time, ladies were taught a good deal about medicine, and a benevolent lady was often the doctor for a large neighbourhood. But we are wandering away from the Michaelmas fair, and we must come back.

The fair was a very busy scene. In some places it was hard work to get along at all. The booths were set up, not in the streets but in the churchyards, the market place, and on any waste s.p.a.ce available. And what with the noise of business, the hum of gossip, the shouts of competing sellers, and the sound of hundreds of clogs on the round paving-stones, it may be readily supposed that quiet was far away.

Avice's first business was to lay in a stock of salt meat and salt fish.

Very little of either was used fresh, for it was not obtainable: and still less would have been used so far as fish is concerned, had not the law, alike of the Church and of the State, compelled it to be eaten throughout Lent, and on every Friday in the year. Little enough fish would anybody have touched then, but for that provision. Avice bought half of a salted calf, which cost a s.h.i.+lling; five hundred herrings, at half-a-crown; a bushel of salt, at threepence (which was dear); twenty-five stock-fish, at two s.h.i.+llings; a quarter of a sheep, at fourpence; a quarter of wheat, at six s.h.i.+llings; a quarter of oats, at five s.h.i.+llings; half a quarter of salt cabbage, at five s.h.i.+llings; and five pounds of figs, at three-halfpence a pound. This was her provision for the three months which would elapse before the Christmas fair. She then went to the drapery stalls, and laid in two hoods, for herself and Bertha, at a s.h.i.+lling each; ten ells of russet, to serve for two gowns, at eighteen-pence the ell; twelve ells of serge, at three-halfpence the ell; two pairs of shoes, at fourpence each. The russet was intended for their best dresses; the serge for common. Considering how very little went to make a garment, it seems likely that our ancestors wove their stuff a good deal wider than we do. Avice also laid in a few other articles of different kinds: a bra.s.s pot, which cost her 2 s.h.i.+llings 2 pence; five pounds of tallow, at three-halfpence a pound, and as many of wax at sixpence; wax was largely used for a variety of objects. Her last and costliest purchase she would have been better without. It was a painted and gilded image of Saint Katherine, and cost fifteen s.h.i.+llings. But Avice, though a good woman according to her light, had enjoyed very little light, and did not understand half so well as we do that she might go straight to G.o.d through the new and living way opened upon the cross, without the intervention of any mediator except the Lord Jesus. She thought she must pray through a saint; and she had no idea of praying unless she could see something to pray to. Her old image had lost much of its paint, and half an arm, and its nose was hopelessly damaged. Therefore, as she must have one, poor Avice thought it best to buy a new one, rather than have her old saint tinkered up. Alas for the G.o.ds or the mediators who require to be tinkered!

By the time that these purchases were made, and the goods brought home, it was not far from the supper hour; and Bertha prepared that meal by boiling a dish of salt cabbage from one of the barrels. This, with black bread and ale, made their supper.

The meal was just ready, and Avice had put away her carding, having finished that kind of work for the day, when a rap at the door was followed by the lifting of the latch, and the old smith put in his head.

"Any room for a man, have ye?"

"Plenty for you, Uncle Dan," answered Avice heartily; and Bertha's eyes lighted up at the sight of her father.

Dan came forward and sat down on the stool which Bertha set for him.

"Has it not been a charming day?" said Avice.

"Ay, it's fine weather i' Lincoln," was Dan's dry answer. "Up at smithy, it's none so bad neither--yet. Just a touch of thunder we had this morning,--a bit of a grumble i' th' distance like: but I've known worser storms a deal. Ay, I have so!"

Avice quite understood what kind of storm he meant.

"How do you get on without me, Father?" asked Bertha.

"Well, I'll not say I don't miss thee, my singing bird; but I'm willing, when it's for thy good. I've got--let me see--two b.u.t.tons left o' my blouse, and I think there's one o' my flannel s.h.i.+rt, but I'm none so sure. It's rather troublesome, for sure, when there's none o' th'

sleeves; they keep for ever a-slippin' up man's arm; but I could put up wi' that easy if there was nought more. It's true I don't want to pull 'em down while even comes."

"Oh, Father, let me sew you some on!" cried Bertha.

"So thou shall," said Dan. "But I've a bit o' news for thee, la.s.s.

Susanna's to be wed."

"With whom, Uncle?"

"Michael, cartwright, at corner."

"Is it a good match?"