Chapter IV

There was much ado in the Franklin’s house. The Franklin had been to London and brought thither rich gowns, bright ribbons, gorgeous sashes, brocades, velvets and damasks, and much rich work of the goldsmiths. Spices and delicious meats filled his larders, the good wife was busied all day at her preserves, and a notable cook had been engaged to prepare the viands for the nuptial banquet.

In the oak parlour Robert the German undid his pack and displayed the choice laces of Bruges and Mechlin. The Franklin, his wife and daughter, fingered them over with exclamations of admiration, the merchant naming the price of each article.

‘Eh, but this is bonny,’ cried Alice, holding up a lace kerchief to the light of the little window. As she did so the sunlight streamed upon her face and plainly revealed a small livid spot, about the size of a groat, upon her right cheek.

‘Lo,’ cried her mother, catching sight of it. ‘The wench is spotted; ‘twill never do for her to go to church speckled like a trout.’

‘Nay, it is nothing,’ said Alice.

‘By the Virgin,’ cried her father, ‘thou shalt be bonny the bridal, be thou ugly for ever after,’ and calling to a servant, he sent to bid the Leech come.

The Leech was a cunning man in diseases and in all manner of simples.

‘Give her a draught for a good complexion, Master Doctor,’ cried the Franklin.

‘Let her be clear-skinned against the wedding,’ said her mother.

But the Leech grew solemn as he examined the girl’s face.

‘Is it aught but a skin scratch, Master Doctor?’ asked her father.

The Leech lifted his hands and closed his eyes in token of gravity.

‘It is the leprosy,’ he said.

‘The leprosy,’ shrieked her mother, and she crossed herself again and again.

‘The leprosy,’ muttered her father. He turned as white as a shroud and reeled against the wall.

Alice fell back in a swoon.

About noon the Bailiff told the news to Sir Gilbert. The old knight grunted.

‘Before God,’ he said, ‘I have no use for a leper wench; thou canst tear up the parchments and send the girl to the lazar-house.’

Then as the Bailiff left the chamber he called after him, ‘And send up thy daughter Kate to me this evening.’

Sir Gilbert was a grim and mighty man. The parchments were put by and Alice was admitted to the lazar-house over against the forest, and there she abode with those other folk, whom the Lord had afflicted in like manner.

Philip of Gisburn had gotten him leave a month since, and had betaken himself to the French wars to fight for the King.