Yet for lovely gold I would even
venture to go thither--that is, if I had my image of the Blessed
Mother about my neck and the moon shone very bright."
"Now haste thee with the barley brew," said Lord James, "for my
stomach is as deep as a well and as empty as the purse of a younger
son."
The strange cripple emitted another bird-like cachinnation, resembling
the sound which is made by the wooden cogwheels wherewithal boys
fright the crows from the cornfields when the August sun is yellowing
the land.
"Poor old Caesar Martin can show you something better than that," he
cried, as he hirpled out (for so Malise described it afterwards) and
presently returned dragging a great iron pot with a strength which
seemed incredible in so ramshackle a body.
"Ha! ha!" he said, "here is fragrant stew; smell it. Is it not good?
In ten minutes it will be so hot and toothsome that you will scarce
have patience to wait till it be decently cool in the platters. This
is not common Angevin stew, but Bas Breton--which is a far better
thing."
Malise rose, and, relieving the old man, with one finger swung the pot
to a crook that hung over the cheerful blaze of the birchwood.
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