can do better than Master Colfoot if they bide their time."
Frevisse wanted to know more, but not by gossiping with servants. And not cramped on a narrow stairway. She turned away, continuing upward, but Bess chatted on at her back. “When young master goes to London, then likely Master Payne will look for someone for her there. A merchant very like. Imagine living in London."
Clearly Bess' country imagination was more than ready for a marriage in far and marvelous London. Frevisse wondered what Magdalen's thoughts on the matter were.
A fussy, unfamiliar voice at the head of the stairs interrupted her wondering. “Now, Master Edward, I can't think that your father would want you to. And what has become of Richard I can't...“
“Coming," Frevisse said, to warn anyone from starting down, and the voice cut nervously off.
When she reached the top an elderly man in plain priestly black and a tall young man were waiting. No, not a young man. A boy. He was well grown for fifteen, almost his father's height, and had his father's sense of dignity and pride, too, to judge by the self-assured bow he made to her, his hand resting on the scholar's scrip at his waist. But for all that he was still a boy, with a boy's long bones and a boy's face untouched yet by much living. And though his gown had the plain cut and color of an Oxford scholar, his belt bore an ornate buckle and its end hung fashionably long almost to the floor.
She smiled at him. “Master Edward," she said, “I hear you are at Oxford. How go your studies there?"
“ Omnia bene , and I thank you." He cocked an intelligent eye at her. “You are...“
“Dame Frevisse of St. Frideswide's priory in the north of the shire."
“Ah, yes. I'd heard everything about you but your name."
Despite the glib reply, Frevisse doubted he had heard very much at all beyond some story that she and Sister Emma had sheltered in his home from the rain yesterday. She looked at the man standing beside him. “You are his tutor, sir? Are you to be congratulated on your pupil?"
“Sir Perys," the man said with a rapid ducking of his head. He was a thin man, not tall, with a habit of clearing his throat before every utterance. “He's a fine boy. A fine young man. An excellent fine scholar."
Frevisse knew she should resist the urge but she did not. Her own Latin was not good, but this was a mere boy. “ Salvasti de necessitatibus animam meam , " she said, hoping she remembered it correctly from the psalter, “ quoniam respexisti humilitatem meam . " You have saved me in my distress, for you have looked with pity on my helplessness.
But Edward was more than equal to the test; lectures and debates at universities were entirely in Latin, and he answered fluently, “ Non opus agere gratiam. Salveris ad domum modestam. Valeant preces tuae voluntam servire quemquam egentem." Frevisse held up her hand with an appreciative smile. “ Pace . My store of Latin doesn't go much beyond my prayers. What I learned else was long ago, and I never had the scholar's knack of it."
Edward smiled and said, “ Et ne nos inducas in tentationem ."
Which was, of course, from the Lord's Prayer: And lead us not into temptation. Duly chastened and amused, Frevisse replied, “I will know better next time."
Sir Perys tapped Edward on the shoulder with a teacher's proprietary air. “By your leave," he said to Frevisse.
Frevisse inclined her head. With his tutor close on his heels, Master Payne's heir disappeared down the stairs.
Chapter Nine
Frevisse went on to Magdalen's room with Bess still behind her. Only Maud and Sister Emma were there. Fever-flushed, Sister Emma was propped up on pillows, fretting at the coverlet with restless fingers while Maud urged her to drink something from a faintly steaming mug.
“I'm hot enough already," Sister Emma complained, the words thick. “I want something cool. There's no point
Frevisse wanted to know more, but not by gossiping with servants. And not cramped on a narrow stairway. She turned away, continuing upward, but Bess chatted on at her back. “When young master goes to London, then likely Master Payne will look for someone for her there. A merchant very like. Imagine living in London."
Clearly Bess' country imagination was more than ready for a marriage in far and marvelous London. Frevisse wondered what Magdalen's thoughts on the matter were.
A fussy, unfamiliar voice at the head of the stairs interrupted her wondering. “Now, Master Edward, I can't think that your father would want you to. And what has become of Richard I can't...“
“Coming," Frevisse said, to warn anyone from starting down, and the voice cut nervously off.
When she reached the top an elderly man in plain priestly black and a tall young man were waiting. No, not a young man. A boy. He was well grown for fifteen, almost his father's height, and had his father's sense of dignity and pride, too, to judge by the self-assured bow he made to her, his hand resting on the scholar's scrip at his waist. But for all that he was still a boy, with a boy's long bones and a boy's face untouched yet by much living. And though his gown had the plain cut and color of an Oxford scholar, his belt bore an ornate buckle and its end hung fashionably long almost to the floor.
She smiled at him. “Master Edward," she said, “I hear you are at Oxford. How go your studies there?"
“ Omnia bene , and I thank you." He cocked an intelligent eye at her. “You are...“
“Dame Frevisse of St. Frideswide's priory in the north of the shire."
“Ah, yes. I'd heard everything about you but your name."
Despite the glib reply, Frevisse doubted he had heard very much at all beyond some story that she and Sister Emma had sheltered in his home from the rain yesterday. She looked at the man standing beside him. “You are his tutor, sir? Are you to be congratulated on your pupil?"
“Sir Perys," the man said with a rapid ducking of his head. He was a thin man, not tall, with a habit of clearing his throat before every utterance. “He's a fine boy. A fine young man. An excellent fine scholar."
Frevisse knew she should resist the urge but she did not. Her own Latin was not good, but this was a mere boy. “ Salvasti de necessitatibus animam meam , " she said, hoping she remembered it correctly from the psalter, “ quoniam respexisti humilitatem meam . " You have saved me in my distress, for you have looked with pity on my helplessness.
But Edward was more than equal to the test; lectures and debates at universities were entirely in Latin, and he answered fluently, “ Non opus agere gratiam. Salveris ad domum modestam. Valeant preces tuae voluntam servire quemquam egentem." Frevisse held up her hand with an appreciative smile. “ Pace . My store of Latin doesn't go much beyond my prayers. What I learned else was long ago, and I never had the scholar's knack of it."
Edward smiled and said, “ Et ne nos inducas in tentationem ."
Which was, of course, from the Lord's Prayer: And lead us not into temptation. Duly chastened and amused, Frevisse replied, “I will know better next time."
Sir Perys tapped Edward on the shoulder with a teacher's proprietary air. “By your leave," he said to Frevisse.
Frevisse inclined her head. With his tutor close on his heels, Master Payne's heir disappeared down the stairs.
Chapter Nine
Frevisse went on to Magdalen's room with Bess still behind her. Only Maud and Sister Emma were there. Fever-flushed, Sister Emma was propped up on pillows, fretting at the coverlet with restless fingers while Maud urged her to drink something from a faintly steaming mug.
“I'm hot enough already," Sister Emma complained, the words thick. “I want something cool. There's no point
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