hopeful. Iâd be wary ofhim, if I were you. Conflicting loyalties make for difficulties. But the question is: do you like him?â
I shook my head, turned my face away.
âIf you wish to keep your own counsel, itâs your choice.â
This made me feel churlish. âHow do I know if I can trust him?â I asked this worldly woman.
âHas he given you a gift?â I shook my head. âIf he does it shows he has designs on your respectability.â
âOh.â I thought about this. Not that any gift had been offered. âSo I should refuse any such gift?â
Her eye gleamed. âIâd not say that. Iâd say accept any gift he makes you.â The gleam brightened to a twinkle as if she had been the recipient of many gifts in her past life. âIt may well be that it is the sign of a true regard, if he is willing to spend money on you and he matches the gift well to your inclination. And before you argue that it is too particular, the great Capellanus saysâhave you read Capellanus?âwell, he says that a woman who is loved may freely accept from her lover a mirror or a girdle or a pair of gloves.â
âSo if he gives me a gift of a mirror he loves me true?â I found myself smiling.
âOf course.â But her answering smile was sly. âUnless he merely wishes to lure you into his bed. Only you can tell. You need to balance the good against the bad in any relationship, mistress. But Iâd say take him, if you would. I have taken a lover, and enjoyed the experience.â
I thought about this too. I could well imagine, as I took in the expanse of her comfortable figure, assessing the quality of her enveloping cloak and her stocky grey palfrey. She was not without means.
âAnd sin?â I asked bluntly, startling even myself. âWhat about sin? What about adultery, if I take this man to my bed?â
âSin!â She brushed the word away as if it were a troublesome gnat. âWill God punish us for snatching at happiness in a world that brings a woman precious little of it? I say not. I live a good life, I give charity to the starving, I confess my sins and find absolution. Would God begrudge me a kiss or the warm arms of a man on a cold night? Iâm too old to look for marriage, I think. Now youâll be an object of admiration and desire. Youâre comely, and doubtless fertile, mistress.â
And Mistress Saxby raised her harsh voiceâmuch like the raucous jays that hopped along the hedgerowsâin song.
âLove is soft and love is sweet, and speaks in accents fair;
Love is mighty agony, and love is mighty care:
Love is utmost ecstasy and love is keen to dare
,
Love is wretched misery: to live with, itâs despairâ¦â
She leaned to nudge me with a knowing elbow.
âBut to live without it is even worse,â she added in an aside accompanied by an arch look.
I was sorry to see her go at Lincoln.
âI need to offer a prayer for inflammation of the knees,â she said with a roguish wink. âAnd other bits of me. Iâll not be able to go on pilgrimages for ever.â The badges on her cloak glinted in the cold light. âMake the most of your youth, my girl. Youâll regret it if you donât.â With broad fingers, surprisingly agile, she unpinned one of her badges showing the Virgin seated in Majesty under a canopy, with the Christ child in her arms. âTake this. One of my betteronesâpewter rather than leadâcanât afford the silver. From Our Ladyâs Shrine at Walsingham. Sheâll keep you safe.â
Mistress Saxby patted my hand as her face grew sombre. âIf you do take this man, what I would say is: beware of the wife. Itâs easy to be carried away by the glamour of stolen kisses, but a wife can make your life a misery. Take my word for it.â
âI have no intention of crossing the path of his wife.â
Mistress Saxbyâs