The Book of the Maidservant by Rebecca Barnhouse Read Free Book Online Page B

can trust?
    “Stay, Thomas,” John Mouse says. “A maiden in distress. ’Tis our lot to rescue her from the dragons that assail her chastity.” They both laugh, and Thomas pulls an imaginary sword from its scabbard.
    “It’s my mistress, Dame Margery,” I say.
    “The quiet one? Never says a word about God?” John asks.
    “They’ve thrown her out of the company. They say she can’t travel with them anymore. And they say I have to cook and wash for them.”
    John Mouse stands a little straighter and stops laughing. “Hush, Thomas,” he says. “When did this happen?”
    “Just now,” I say.
    “Not to worry, little serving maid,” he says. “Come, Thomas, my good fellow. Bring that wineskin. Time for a disputation.”
    The two of them disappear into the hospice, singing again.
    Fearfully, I creep into the stable and curl up in a corner to wait out the night.

t he nickering of a horse awakens me. Light filters through chinks in the stable walls—it must be morning.
    I look around, trying to understand where I am.
    Suddenly, I remember last night. Where is my mistress? I gather my skirts and fly out the door, then stop when I hear voices coming from the hospice.
    When I peer in, I see Dame Margery standing against the wall, her head down. She has pinned her headdress herself—and very badly. Her crooked wimple makes her look like a madwoman.
    Everyone else sits on benches watching her. Everyone except John Mouse, who paces back and forth, his long black gown billowing when he turns. He gesticulates toward my mistress as he speaks. I see no signs of last night’s drunkenness.
    “As Christians, as pilgrims, how can you leave a woman alone in the middle of a strange country?” he asks. “She doesn’t speak the language; she doesn’t know her way. She may have been sent by God as a penance for us all.” Helooks directly at Petrus Tappester, who snorts and looks away.
    I listen in awe. John Mouse doesn’t need to go to the university at Bologna. He’s a good lawyer already.
    “Well, I’m not a pilgrim,” the merchant says. “I don’t have to put up with her caterwauling.”
    “I answer to my parish priest, not this devil in women’s clothing,” Petrus Tappester says. “Besides, Holy Church says women can’t preach. She could get us all thrown in jail.”
    I hold my breath, watching. Will they still kick her out of the company with John Mouse here? What will become of me?
    “Nor are Thomas and I pilgrims,” John says, looking at the merchant. “But even so, we know our duty to our fellow Christians.” He turns to Petrus. “Canon law forbids a woman to preach, as you say, but to pray? Heed the words of the apostle, who tells us we should pray without ceasing.” He turns back to the rest of the company. “We should all pray as much as Dame Margery does, whether we’re on a pilgrimage or not.”
    Nobody says anything for a moment. My mistress keeps her head down, but tears glint on her cheeks. I hope she doesn’t start crying out loud. If she does, we’re both lost.
    Suddenly, Dame Isabel rises. “John Mouse is right, as befits a scholar,” she says, casting a simpering smile at him.
    Now the priest stands. “We cannot abandon one of our flock here in a foreign land,” he says. He blinks and looks around. When he sees Petrus scowling at him, he sits downin such a hurry that he misses the bench and lands with a
whump
on the floor.
    He looks up, his mouth wide with confusion.
    Petrus laughs out loud. Then the merchant begins to laugh, and then John Mouse. Finally, everyone is laughing except for my mistress.
    Father Nicholas smiles sheepishly, and Thomas extends a hand to pull him to his feet.
    “All right, she can stay for now,” Petrus says. “But no more of this wailing like a banshee, and no telling me about
my
sins. And no preaching, either.”
    “Especially not during meals,” the merchant adds.
    “Agreed?” Petrus says, looking around at each member of the company.
    When no