“In good troth is she, sir — and much cause she has to sink down. I am sure she will be to seek for such another father.”
“I see you are a most discerning woman, gossip Gillian,” answered the merchant; “and yonder youth that supported her is her bridegroom?”
“Much need she has for some one to support her,” said Gillian; “and so have I for that matter, for what can poor old rusty Raoul do?”
“But as to your young lady’s marriage?” said the merchant.
“No one knows more, than that such a thing was in treaty between our late lord and the great Constable of Chester, that came today but just in time to prevent the Welsh from cutting all our throats, and doing the Lord knoweth what mischief beside. But there is a marriage talked of, that is certain — and most folk think it must be for this smooth-cheeked boy, Damian, as they call him; for though the Constable has gotten a beard, which his nephew hath not, it is something too grizzled for a bridegroom’s chin — Besides, he goes to the Holy Wars — fittest place for all elderly warriors — I wish he would take Raoul with him.— But what is all this to what you were saying about your mourning wares even now?— It is a sad truth, that my poor lord is gone — But what then?— Well-a-day, you know the good old saw,—
‘Cloth must be wear,
Eat beef and drink beer,
Though the dead go to bier.’
And for your merchandising, I am as like to help you with my good word as Mannerly Margery, provided you bid fair for it; since, if the lady loves me not so much, I can turn the steward round my finger.”
“Take this in part of your bargain, pretty Mistress Gillian,” said the merchant; “and when my wains come up, I will consider you amply, if I get good sale by your favourable report.— But how shall I get into the castle again? for I would wish to consult you, being a sensible woman, before I come in with my luggage.”
“Why,” answered the complaisant dame, “if our English be on guard, you have only to ask for Gillian, and they will open the wicket to any single man at once; for we English stick all together, were it but to spite the Normans;— but if a Norman be on duty, you must ask for old Raoul, and say you come to speak of dogs and hawks for sale, and I warrant you come to speech of me that way. If the sentinel be a Fleming, you have but to say you are a merchant, and he will let you in for the love of trade.”
The merchant repeated his thankful acknowledgment, glided from her side, and mixed among the spectators, leaving her to congratulate herself on having gained a brace of florins by the indulgence of her natural talkative humour; for which, on other occasions, she had sometimes dearly paid.
The ceasing of the heavy toll of the castle bell now gave intimation that the noble Raymond Berenger had been laid in the vault with his fathers. That part of the funeral attendants who had come from the host of De Lacy, now proceeded to the castle hall, where they partook, but with temperance, of some refreshments which were offered as a death-meal; and presently after left the castle, headed by young Damian, in the same slow and melancholy form in which they had entered. The monks remained within the castle to sing repeated services for the soul of the deceased, and for those of his faithful men-at-arms who had fallen around him, and who had been so much mangled during, and after, the contest with the Welsh, that it was scarce possible to know one individual from another; otherwise the body of Dennis Morolt would have obtained, as his faith well deserved, the honours of a separate funeral. [Footnote: The Welsh, a fierce and barbarous people, were often accused of mangling the bodies of their slain antagonists. Every one must remember Shakspeare’s account, how
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