Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 1, 2025
Robert Edrupt, the wool-merchant, and David Saumond, the mason, were taking passage in the Sainte Spirite. Guy Bouverel had a share in her cargo, and came for a word about that and to bid Nicholas good-by. Brother Ambrosius, a solemn- faced portly monk, had letters to send to Rome.
Gilbert Gay the merchant, his wife Thomasyn and his son Nicholas were returning from France, and in their company were Alan of York and Josian his wife, Guy Bouverel the goldsmith, and others. West of Canterbury they came up with a stout bright-eyed little man who looked as if he had fed well all his life, and was called Martin Bouvin. "What luck, Martin?" asked Master Gay.
Guy Bouverel came springing up the stair, Giovanni and Padraig close behind him. When greetings had been exchanged, and Alan had told the others that he was in London only for a brief stay on his way to France, Tomaso addressed the young goldsmith. "Guy," he said, "did you ever ferret out anything more about those parchment scraps we found among the King's coin?
Once Guy Bouverel, whom Dickon had met once or twice at Wilfrid's house, gave him surprised and pleased greeting. A little later came Padraig, the Irish clerk, on his way to Rouen. Padraig somehow learned about Audrey in the few hours he spent there. "I thought 'twas more than hammer and tongs that took you out of Sussex," he said.
The little man's beady black eyes twinkled knowingly. "A true cook, Master Bouverel, takes all good things where he finds them. I make bouillabaisse for those who like it, but between you and me Norman matelote of fish is just as good. I cook pigeon broth as they do in Boulogne, I make black bean soup as they do in Spain.
Guy Bouverel and Master Gay the merchant with his wife and son, and some others, are coming along. We'll stay at the Abbey, but we rode on to see you first. I've my wife with me, Wilfrid." "That's news indeed," said the potter cordially. "And who may she be? Some foreign damsel you met in your pilgrimage?" "That's one way of saying it," answered Alan smiling.
In the central space was a seated figure playing on a harp, while around him were packed in a close group a lion, a ram, a bull, a goat, a crab, fishes, and other figures. Nobody at first saw what it could be. "If I mistake not," said the little stout man, Martin Bouvin, at last, "it is Sir Orpheus playing to the beasts." "To be sure!" cried Guy Bouverel.
Not finding a place in his mind for one just then, he looked meek and said nothing, and presently took his leave. "Saint Paul was a tentmaker, was he not?" queried Guy Bouverel when the door had closed upon the churchman. "Had he rowed in the galleys I doubt whether we should have had those Epistles."
Word Of The Day
Others Looking