contemptuously kind, and her voice was level and controlled as ever. Rannilt swallowed the choking residue of tears, shook the mist from her eyes, and began to be very busy with her pots and pans, looking hurriedly about her for a distraction which would turn attention from herself at any cost. 'It came over me just for a minute: I'm past it now. Why, you've got your feet and the hem of your gown wet,' she exclaimed, seizing gratefully on the first thing that offered. 'You should change your shoes.'
Susanna shrugged the diversion scornfully aside. 'Never mind my wet feet. The river's up a little, I was not noticing until I went too near the edge, leaning to hang a shirt on the bushes. What of your wet eyes? That's more to the point. Oh, fool girl, you're wasting your fancy! This is a common rogue of the roads, with many a smaller deed of the kind behind him, and he'll get nothing but his due in the noose that's waiting for him. Get sense, and put him out of your mind.'
'He is not a rogue,' said Rannilt, despairingly brave. 'He did not do it, I know it, I know him, he could not. It isn't in him to do violence. And I do fret for him, I can't help it.'
'So I see,' said Susanna resignedly. 'So I've seen ever since they ran him to ground. I tire of him and of you. I want you in your wits again. God's truth, must I carry this household on my back without even your small help?' She gnawed a thoughtful lip, and demanded abruptly: 'Will it cure you if I let you go see for yourself that the tumbler is alive and whole, and out of our reach for a while, more's the pity? Yes, and likely to worm his way out of even this tangle in the end!'
She had spoken magical words. Rannilt was staring up at her dry-eyed, bright as a candle-flame. 'See? See him? You mean I could go there?'
'You have legs,' said Susanna tartly. 'It's no distance. They don't close their gates against anyone. You may even come back in your right senses, when you see how little store he sets by you, while you're breaking your fool heart for him. You may get to know him for what he is, and the better for you. Yes, go. Go, and be done with it! This once I'll manage without you. Let Daniel's wife start making herself useful. Good practice for her.'
'You mean it?' whispered Rannilt, stricken by such generosity. 'I may go? But who will see to the broth here, and the meat?'
'I will. I have often enough, God knows! I tell you, go, go quickly, before I change my mind, stay away all day long, if that will send you back cured. I can very well do without you this once. But wash your face, girl, and comb your hair, and do yourself and us credit. You can take some of those oat-cakes in a basket, if you wish, and whatever scraps were left from yesterday. If he felled my father,' said Susanna roughly, turning away to pick up the ladle and stir the pot simmering on the hob, 'there's worse waiting for him in the end, no need to grudge him a mouthful while he is man alive.' She looked back over a straight shoulder at Rannilt, who still hovered in a daze. 'Go and visit your minstrel, I mean it, you have leave. I doubt if he even remembers your face! Go and learn sense.'
Lost in wonder, and only half believing in such mercies, Rannilt washed her face and tidied her tangle of dark hair with trembling hands, seized a basket and filled it with whatever morsels were brusquely shoved her way, and went out through the hall like a child walking in its sleep. It was wholly by chance that Margery was coming down the stairs, with a pile of discarded garments on her arm. She marked the small, furtive figure flitting past below, and in surprised goodwill, since this waif was alien and lonely here as she was, asked: 'Where are you sent off to in such a hurry, child?'
Rannilt halted submissively, and looked up into Margery's rounded, fresh countenance. 'Mistress Susanna gave me leave. I'm going to the abbey, to take this provision to Liliwin.' The name, so profoundly significant to her, meant
Susanna shrugged the diversion scornfully aside. 'Never mind my wet feet. The river's up a little, I was not noticing until I went too near the edge, leaning to hang a shirt on the bushes. What of your wet eyes? That's more to the point. Oh, fool girl, you're wasting your fancy! This is a common rogue of the roads, with many a smaller deed of the kind behind him, and he'll get nothing but his due in the noose that's waiting for him. Get sense, and put him out of your mind.'
'He is not a rogue,' said Rannilt, despairingly brave. 'He did not do it, I know it, I know him, he could not. It isn't in him to do violence. And I do fret for him, I can't help it.'
'So I see,' said Susanna resignedly. 'So I've seen ever since they ran him to ground. I tire of him and of you. I want you in your wits again. God's truth, must I carry this household on my back without even your small help?' She gnawed a thoughtful lip, and demanded abruptly: 'Will it cure you if I let you go see for yourself that the tumbler is alive and whole, and out of our reach for a while, more's the pity? Yes, and likely to worm his way out of even this tangle in the end!'
She had spoken magical words. Rannilt was staring up at her dry-eyed, bright as a candle-flame. 'See? See him? You mean I could go there?'
'You have legs,' said Susanna tartly. 'It's no distance. They don't close their gates against anyone. You may even come back in your right senses, when you see how little store he sets by you, while you're breaking your fool heart for him. You may get to know him for what he is, and the better for you. Yes, go. Go, and be done with it! This once I'll manage without you. Let Daniel's wife start making herself useful. Good practice for her.'
'You mean it?' whispered Rannilt, stricken by such generosity. 'I may go? But who will see to the broth here, and the meat?'
'I will. I have often enough, God knows! I tell you, go, go quickly, before I change my mind, stay away all day long, if that will send you back cured. I can very well do without you this once. But wash your face, girl, and comb your hair, and do yourself and us credit. You can take some of those oat-cakes in a basket, if you wish, and whatever scraps were left from yesterday. If he felled my father,' said Susanna roughly, turning away to pick up the ladle and stir the pot simmering on the hob, 'there's worse waiting for him in the end, no need to grudge him a mouthful while he is man alive.' She looked back over a straight shoulder at Rannilt, who still hovered in a daze. 'Go and visit your minstrel, I mean it, you have leave. I doubt if he even remembers your face! Go and learn sense.'
Lost in wonder, and only half believing in such mercies, Rannilt washed her face and tidied her tangle of dark hair with trembling hands, seized a basket and filled it with whatever morsels were brusquely shoved her way, and went out through the hall like a child walking in its sleep. It was wholly by chance that Margery was coming down the stairs, with a pile of discarded garments on her arm. She marked the small, furtive figure flitting past below, and in surprised goodwill, since this waif was alien and lonely here as she was, asked: 'Where are you sent off to in such a hurry, child?'
Rannilt halted submissively, and looked up into Margery's rounded, fresh countenance. 'Mistress Susanna gave me leave. I'm going to the abbey, to take this provision to Liliwin.' The name, so profoundly significant to her, meant
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