The Book of the Maidservant Read Online Free PDF Page B

starts to put his arm around his young wife, but she turns to him, her face flushed.
    “It’s none of their affair,” she whispers through clenched teeth.
    The old man looks at her. “My dear, it’s no secret at all.” He looks around the table. “We wish for a child, an heir.”
    “Then you
must
go to the Holy Land,” Dame Margery says, leaning forward to try to grasp the young wife’s arm. She jerks her hand away, but my mistress goes right on talking. “The place where Our Lord was a child, the very place where his holy mother conceived, oh, yes, you must go and pray to the Virgin there.” She drops her voice, but everyone can still hear her when she says, “And I can give you a few hints about things that might help.”
    Petrus barks out a laugh. “You can bet she’ll do that. I’m telling you, this pretend-virgin wearing these white clothes knows how to get children.”
    “You’re hardly one to talk, Petrus Tappester,” mymistress snaps, her face fiercer than I’ve ever seen it. “Your envy will be your downfall.”
    “Come, come, we mustn’t quarrel on a holy pilgrimage,” the priest says in a timid voice.
    “Who’s telling who what to do?” Petrus yells.
    At that moment, a man clad in red and blue steps into the room. His black beard forks in the middle, and he wears a green cap. Even Petrus Tappester stops talking to look at him.
    “They said you were bound for Venice,” he says, and people nod. “You’d be wise to follow me. I’ve been this route more times than most.”
    “Are you a merchant, then?” John Mouse asks, and the man nods.
    Petrus Tappester rolls his eyes, but the young wife says, “Well, as I’ve said, there is safety in numbers.”
    People rumble their agreement and slide down the bench to make room for the merchant.
    Now that everyone has been served, I find an out-of-the-way spot in the kitchen to slurp my soup. As I eat, I think about John Mouse’s friend Thomas. His eyes and face are as guarded as John Mouse’s are open. Thomas’s short hair is the color of a haystack in the rain, and he keeps the collar of his black gown high around his neck, his shoulders hunched. The two of them spoke softly to each other during the meal, and whenever John Mouse laughed, Thomas twisted his lips in a wry smirk. How can they be friends when they’re so different?
    Just as I’ve picked the last little bit of fish from my bowl with my fingers, the servant of the old man and his youngwife comes through the kitchen door. He sees me and nods. I smile at him—I hope he’s not like Piers back in Lynn, never doing anything but bothering me.
    He doesn’t smile back, just gestures that we’re leaving.
    I scramble to shoulder my pack, then hurry to follow the company. The last thing I want is to be left behind.

a s we leave town, Petrus Tappester takes charge because he’s the loudest. Never mind that the merchant actually knows the way. Petrus walks quickly, and I’m grateful for the old man and his young wife, who slow us down.
    The wife, Dame Isabel, is wearing slippers, not boots like everybody else or bare feet like me. She takes little mincing steps, crying out every time her toes meet a sharp rock. Then her old husband rushes to her side and says, “Now, now, my sweet honey bird.” It looks to me like he needs more help than she does, he’s so old. His hair, what’s left of it, is gray and so is his wispy beard. His legs are as skinny as the skeleton’s that’s carved into the stone outside the guildhall in Lynn. The skeleton leads a merry dance of people, from a prince to a leper, all of them heading to the grave.
    I’m glad the old man with his skeleton legs isn’t leading us.
    And I wish old men wouldn’t wear such short tunics. They’d look far better in long gowns, like priests and students wear.
    Their servant is called either Bartilmew or “boy,” depending on what sort of mood Dame Isabel is in, although he’s more of a man than a boy. He’s big,