Evelyn Everett-Green - A Clerk of Oxford, and His Adventures in the Barons' War

Leofric's eyes were bright with interest. He was too modest to speak the words that trembled on his tongue; but the thought of having access to books was strangely tempting, and there was something about Edmund and Alys which attracted him greatly. The gentle refinement of their manners and speech was in such pleasing contrast to the brusquerie of the bulk of his associates. When Alys said timidly, —

"Would Leofric Wyvill come to us if our father approved?" his face burned with gratification and joy at being thus singled out; and Edmund looked at him, saying, —

"I had scarce liked to ask, in case thou mightest have other work more important; but I trow my father would approve, and would pay thee for thy time and labour."

"O sir, to have books to read would be payment enough!" cried Leofric eagerly. "I have longed to see more, but there be all too few in the city for the needs of scholars and clerks; and but for the kindness of Brother Angelus, I should never have aught to study save what I can write down of the things we hear. I am but a learner myself; but if I can help you, it will make me glad and proud to do so. I could at least strive to remember all I hear, and repeat it to you. That is what I have to do for Jack, who is not used to learning. He forgets all too soon, and then we go over each lecture together, and I write upon the walls such things as we most desire to remember, and there they are to remind us if we want information another day."

Before the boat and its occupants made their way back to the town, Amalric de Montfort had made up his mind to ask of his father grace to remain behind and enter himself as a clerk in some Hall at Oxford; whilst Edmund had fully resolved to beg his parents to engage Leofric Wyvill to come to him several times in the week, to read with him, and instruct him in brother-like fashion in those things which he was learning for himself.

"Have a care how thou dost answer me, Mistress; I am not one who brooks trifling!"

"I have never trifled with thee, Roger de Horn," answered the maiden addressed, speaking firmly though gently. "Methinks thou dost forget thyself in speaking such words to me to-day."

The dark face of Roger was deeply flushed. He looked as though he had been drinking – as indeed was probably the case; at any rate he was very angry, and his words came hissing from between his teeth in a fashion not pleasant to hear.

"Not trifled with me, quotha? Canst thou look me in the face and say that? – whilst the love-token that thou didst give me lies now upon my heart!"

The face of Linda Balzani flushed deeply, partly with anger, partly with maiden modesty. She drew herself away with a gesture full of simple dignity.

"I have given thee no token," she said. "If thou hast received aught, it must be from the hands of my sister. I know nothing of any token."

"What!" cried the young man, the flush mounting even to his brow, "wilt thou deny the kiss that thou didst bestow upon me out in the greenwood on Midsummer Eve, and the token thou didst give me as proof of thy love?"

Linda drew away yet a little farther, and glanced round the room as though seeking some way of exit. The excitement in Rogers manner was unpleasant, and the claim he was making upon her was revolting. She had always disliked this braggart, even though treating him with civility as her brother's friend. Of late she had come to dislike him more and more, and to shrink from his approach as one shrinks from the proximity of some noisome reptile. She had fancied that her sister had of late been seeking the society of Roger with pleasure; which thing rather perplexed her, because in private Lotta never masked her dislike and contempt for the bully and swaggerer, and of late had been more severe in her strictures than ever.

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