Shield of Three Lions by Pamela Kaufman Page A

knew, though I’d never been sure what it signified nor did I now. Yet I must have had some notion of it for I found myself surprised that a creature as low as Maud would be guilty. Somehow I thought only kings were adulterous. The sin went down somewhat in my estimation, like gluttony.
    I held the purple-veined slime at arm’s length. “Why is a caul so important?”
    “A caul usually be destroyed by the babe at birth. When it comeswhole, ’tis a token straight from Heaven with strong magic powers. Niver let it gae, fer ye’re the first wight I’ve known personally what received such a gift. It mun mean summit.”
    I was grateful to Enoch, for suppose I’d gotten such a loathsome innard without him to explain it? ’Twould have been flung in a ditch afore now. Then I had a further revelation: this caul was a sign from the good witch Abunda! Instantly I drew the flesh to my chest and hugged it tight. Never would I be separated from my caul until my mission was complete.

SOOTHLY THE CAUL WROUGHT ITS MAGIC, FOR two weeks later we stood safely on a grassy verge overlooking a stream of people.
    “We’ve changed to Watling,” said Enoch, “where it joins Icknield Street nigh to Dunstable. Folk from the north and folk fram Oxen-ford march togeddir from this point on and we’ll disappear in the crowd.”
    I looked at him in disbelief. Even after all this time, I thought him the wildest, woolliest creature ever born and he would disappear only in a crowd of Scots. Also, since Northumberland and Roncechaux now knew my disguise, I was as visible as Enoch. But apparently we’d have to take our chances, for Enoch assured me that the only alternative was to cut across open fields and I wanted no more of that ever again.
    ’Twas a wondrous crowd of people jostling along the way, but I was too anxious searching for my enemies to enjoy the sight. When we were sure all we saw were strangers, Enoch nudged Twixt down the slope onto the stones with Tippet trailing after and Lance a shadow under the ass’s bulging belly.
    My heart started and stopped in panic as the safety of the last two hazy green weeks was left behind. I tried to hide my face under my hat, peering from under the brim. Knights there were aplenty,such a ratty bunch of ruffians that they were more brigand than noble. Foot soldiers as well moved in the crowd, with bits of armor and an occasional helmet. Churchmen of all casts, friars, priests, monks, holy sisters, pardoners, even two hermits, but by far the largest group were buyers and sellers headed for the London market. There were physicians in purple robes and gray gloves, a sprinkling of strange folk with yellow circles on their sleeves and yellow pointed hats, rich landowners in coifs. Once we passed hand-carried litters of two noble young ladies, with heads held high on long necks, their expressions as regal and mean as swans’.
    The din was fierce. Everyone talked or shouted in a babble of tongues while babes screamed from their cradle-boards and tore at their mothers’ snoods and drivers flicked whips to clear the way for long lumbering carts crowded with ancients. Horses neighed and struck the stones smartly with their hooves while harness bells jingled and somewhere someone caught the rhythm and began to sing.
    “When misty clouds break to the sun,
Then shall whistling soon be begun
       
Of May!
       
Of merriest May!
    Tunes to sing are delighful
    When they’re made with fable full
       
Of May!
       
Of merriest May!
    No more have hearts to mourn in pain,
No more let envy your lives stain;
       
Be gay! Be frivolous gay!”
     
    ’Twas a happy song joyously sung and I began to feel an excitement stir in spite of my fears, when of a sudden the Scot joined the chorus. What ailed the oaf? Had he forgotten utterly our need to be inconspicuous? Not only did he bray in his native tongue louder than anyone, he sang some toty tune up in the clouds known only to himself.
    I tried to shrink wee