For her part, Birdalone longed
sore to ask them somewhat of the Castle of the Quest, but the words
clave to her throat for very fear; and she sat restless and ill at
ease. However at last said a townsman to a chapman: Art thou for
the Red Hold, Master Peter, when thou art done here? Birdalone
turned very pale at that word; and Master Peter spake: Yea, surely,
neighbour, if the folk leave aught in my packs for others to buy. He
spake in a jovial voice, as if he were merry, and the others all
laughed together, as though they were well pleased and in good
contentment. And now, deemed Birdalone, would be her time to speak
if she would learn aught; so she constrained herself at last, and
spake, though in a quavering voice: Meseems then, masters, this good
town is thriving as now? This I ask because I am a stranger in these
parts this long while, and now I am come back hither fain were I to
find the land in good peace; for I may chance to take up my abode
hereby.
The goodmen turned to her and smiled kindly when they heard the
sweetness of her voice; and one of them said: Sir of the sallet, ye
shall be content with the peace in this land, and the thriving of its
folk; the very villeins hereabout live as well as franklins in most
lands, and the yeomen and vavassours are clad as if they were knights
of a good lord's household.
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