Free Daughter of Satan by Jean Plaidy Page A

how she would have it, for he had saved her life, and she wished to risk it again in making her thank-offering.
    The wind tugged at her thick hair. It was as verminous as her rags, and she hated it to be so: she longed for a gown with puffed sleeves and a skirt cut away to show a splendid under-gown. But one thing she had learned from her ducking was that although her clothes smelt of the mud of the pond, many of the lice attached to them had lost their lives in the water. If she dipped her clothes in a clear stream, and her hair too, she might leave some more of the irritating creatures behind; anda clear stream would not leave a smell upon her and her garments as the pond had.
    She knew of such a stream; it was in the grounds surrounding none other than the house of Richard Merriman himself. Before she took the eggs to him she would wash her hair and her clothes in the stream.
    Such thoughts made her laugh out loud. He would see the change in her. In her imagination the dip in the stream would do more than rid her rags of their pests; it would transform them into silks and velvets.
    She went on with vigour, eager to be done with the difficult task and get to the easier and more pleasant one of cleaning herself and her garments in the stream. She clutched at a clump of ling which came away in her hand, but she was able to save herself just in time, though in doing so she scratched her arm badly and it started to bleed.
    But she did not care, since she had found her first seagulls’ eggs.
    Getting down took far longer than the ascent, as now she had the eggs to consider, and she could not have borne the disappointment if she had broken them. She had tied each one separately and skilfully into her rags, for she needed all the help her hands could give her. Gingerly she came, the soft curls at her forehead damp with the sweat of her exertion; and dirty and dishevelled, she eventually reached the grounds about Richard Merriman’s house.
    The stream at this point was about six feet wide and someone – long ago – had put stepping-stones across it. It was sheltered by trees and shrubs; the grass grew long with weeds and wild flowers between, for Joseph Jubin, at his master’s orders, had left this part of the grounds uncultivated.
    Delighted to find that only one of the eggs was cracked, very carefully she placed them on the grass while she took off her rags. When she dipped them into the stream the colour of the water changed to a dark brown, and she laughed in quiet pleasure to watch.
    She spread them out in the sun, and, cautiously tiptoeing into the stream, she dipped her hair in the water. The cold water took her breath away. She sat down in the stream andrubbed the dirt off her body. Washing seemed a more daring operation than climbing steep cliffs in search of seagulls’ eggs.
    Stretching herself in the sunshine, waiting for her rags to dry, she thought how pleasant it was to be naked, for thus she would look the same as everyone else. Mistress Alton would look no better, stripped of her good clothes; nor would the wife of Sir Humphrey Cavill, that fine lady who was Bartle’s mother!
    Her damp hair fell to her waist and she spread it round her to make it dry more easily while she sat hugging her knees, thinking how pleased he would be with the eggs, which must surely be a delicacy even for him. And as she sat there her eyes caught the pale crimson of the betony flower and with a little cry of delight she leaned forward to pick it. He should have that flower, for it would keep evil away from his house.
    Neither her rags nor her hair were quite dry, but no matter, she was all impatience now to take him his gift and could wait no longer. She went swiftly towards the house, looking up in admiration at its gabled and diamond-paned windows. It was the most beautiful house she had ever seen; it seemed more beautiful than Sir Humphrey’s over at Stoke, because she could never get near enough to Sir