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diff --git a/old/arpn10h.htm b/old/arpn10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c2bd93b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/arpn10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10798 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>The Armourer's Prentices</title> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">The Armourer's Prentices, by Charlotte Mary Yonge</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Armourer's Prentices, by Charlotte M. Yonge + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Armourer's Prentices + +Author: Charlotte Mary Yonge + +Release Date: February, 2006 [EBook #9959] +[This file was first posted on November 5, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h1>THE ARMOURER’S PRENTICES</h1> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h2>PREFACE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I have attempted here to sketch citizen life in the early Tudor days, +aided therein by Stowe’s <i>Survey of London</i>, supplemented +by Mr. Loftie’s excellent history, and Dr. Burton’s <i>English +Merchants</i>.</p> +<p>Stowe gives a full account of the relations of apprentices to their +masters; though I confess that I do not know whether Edmund Burgess +could have become a citizen of York after serving an apprenticeship +in London. Evil May Day is closely described in Hall’s <i>Chronicle</i>. +The ballad, said to be by Churchill, a contemporary, does not agree +with it in all respects; but the story-teller may surely have license +to follow whatever is most suitable to the purpose. The sermon +is exactly as given by Hall, who is also responsible for the description +of the King’s sports and of the Field of the Cloth of Gold and +of Ardres. Knight’s admirable <i>Pictorial History of England</i> +tells of Barlow, the archer, dubbed by Henry VIII. the King of Shoreditch.</p> +<p><i>Historic Winchester</i> describes both St. Elizabeth College and +the Archer Monks of Hyde Abbey. The tales mentioned as told by +Ambrose to Dennet are really New Forest legends.</p> +<p>The Moresco’s Arabic Gospel and Breviary are mentioned in Lady +Calcott’s <i>History of Spain</i>, but she does not give her authority. +Nor can I go further than Knight’s <i>Pictorial History</i> for +the King’s adventure in the marsh. He does not say where +it happened, but as in Stowe’s map “Dead Man’s Hole” +appears in what is now Regent’s Park, the marsh was probably deep +enough in places for the adventure there. Brand’s <i>Popular +Antiquities</i> are the authority for the nutting in St. John’s +Wood on Holy Cross Day. Indeed, in some country parishes I have +heard that boys still think they have a license to crack nuts at church +on the ensuing Sunday.</p> +<p>Seebohm’s <i>Oxford Reformers</i> and the <i>Life of Sir Thomas +More</i>, written by William Roper, are my other authorities, though +I touched somewhat unwillingly on ground already lighted up by Miss +Manning in her <i>Household of Sir Thomas More</i>.</p> +<p>Galt’s <i>Life of Cardinal Wolsey</i> afforded the description +of his household taken from his faithful Cavendish, and likewise the +story of Patch the Fool. In fact, a large portion of the whole +book was built on that anecdote.</p> +<p>I mention all this because I have so often been asked my authorities +in historical tales, that I think people prefer to have what the French +appropriately call <i>pièces justificatives</i>.</p> +<p>C. M. YONGE.</p> +<p><i>August</i> 1<i>st</i>, 1884</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER I. THE VERDURER’S LODGE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“Give me the poor allottery my father left me by testament, +with that I will go buy me fortunes.”<br />“Get you with +him, you old dog.”</p> +<p><i>As You Like It</i>.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The officials of the New Forest have ever since the days of the Conqueror +enjoyed some of the pleasantest dwellings that southern England can +boast.</p> +<p>The home of the Birkenholt family was not one of the least delightful. +It stood at the foot of a rising ground, on which grew a grove of magnificent +beeches, their large silvery boles rising majestically like columns +into a lofty vaulting of branches, covered above with tender green foliage. +Here and there the shade beneath was broken by the gilding of a ray +of sunshine on a lower twig, or on a white trunk, but the floor of the +vast arcades was almost entirely of the russet brown of the fallen leaves, +save where a fern or holly bush made a spot of green. At the foot +of the slope lay a stretch of pasture ground, some parts covered by +“lady-smocks, all silver white,” with the course of the +little stream through the midst indicated by a perfect golden river +of shining kingcups interspersed with ferns. Beyond lay tracts +of brown heath and brilliant gorse and broom, which stretched for miles +and miles along the flats, while the dry ground was covered with holly +brake, and here and there woods of oak and beech made a sea of verdure, +purpling in the distance.</p> +<p>Cultivation was not attempted, but hardy little ponies, cows, goats, +sheep, and pigs were feeding, and picking their way about in the marshy +mead below, and a small garden of pot-herbs, inclosed by a strong fence +of timber, lay on the sunny side of a spacious rambling forest lodge, +only one story high, built of solid timber and roofed with shingle. +It was not without strong pretensions to beauty, as well as to picturesqueness, +for the posts of the door, the architecture of the deep porch, the frames +of the latticed windows, and the verge boards were all richly carved +in grotesque devices. Over the door was the royal shield, between +a pair of magnificent antlers, the spoils of a deer reported to have +been slain by King Edward IV., as was denoted by the “glorious +sun of York” carved beneath the shield.</p> +<p>In the background among the trees were ranges of stables and kennels, +and on the grass-plat in front of the windows was a row of beehives. +A tame doe lay on the little green sward, not far from a large rough +deer-hound, both close friends who could be trusted at large. +There was a mournful dispirited look about the hound, evidently an aged +animal, for the once black muzzle was touched with grey, and there was +a film over one of the keen beautiful eyes, which opened eagerly as +he pricked his ears and lifted his head at the rattle of the door latch. +Then, as two boys came out, he rose, and with a slowly waving tail, +and a wistful appealing air, came and laid his head against one of the +pair who had appeared in the porch. They were lads of fourteen +and fifteen, clad in suits of new mourning, with the short belted doublet, +puffed hose, small ruffs and little round caps of early Tudor times. +They had dark eyes and hair, and honest open faces, the younger ruddy +and sunburnt, the elder thinner and more intellectual—and they +were so much the same size that the advantage of age was always supposed +to be on the side of Stephen, though he was really the junior by nearly +a year. Both were sad and grave, and the eyes and cheeks of Stephen +showed traces of recent floods of tears, though there was more settled +dejection on the countenance of his brother.</p> +<p>“Ay, Spring,” said the lad, “’tis winter +with thee now. A poor old rogue! Did the new housewife talk +of a halter because he showed his teeth when her ill-nurtured brat wanted +to ride on him? Nay, old Spring, thou shalt share thy master’s +fortunes, changed though they be. Oh, father! father! didst thou +guess how it would be with thy boys!” And throwing himself +on the grass, he hid his face against the dog and sobbed.</p> +<p>“Come, Stephen, Stephen; ’tis time to play the man! +What are we to do out in the world if you weep and wail?”</p> +<p>“She might have let us stay for the month’s mind,” +was heard from Stephen.</p> +<p>“Ay, and though we might be more glad to go, we might carry +bitterer thoughts along with us. Better be done with it at once, +say I.”</p> +<p>“There would still be the Forest! And I saw the moorhen +sitting yester eve! And the wild ducklings are out on the pool, +and the woods are full of song. Oh! Ambrose! I never +knew how hard it is to part—”</p> +<p>“Nay, now, Steve, where be all your plots for bravery? +You always meant to seek your fortune—not bide here like an acorn +for ever.”</p> +<p>“I never thought to be thrust forth the very day of our poor +father’s burial, by a shrewish town-bred vixen, and a base narrow-souled—”</p> +<p>“Hist! hist!” said the more prudent Ambrose.</p> +<p>“Let him hear who will! He cannot do worse for us than +he has done! All the Forest will cry shame on him for a mean-hearted +skinflint to turn his brothers from their home, ere their father and +his, be cold in his grave,” cried Stephen, clenching the grass +with his hands, in his passionate sense of wrong.</p> +<p>“That’s womanish,” said Ambrose.</p> +<p>“Who’ll be the woman when the time comes for drawing +cold steel?” cried Stephen, sitting up.</p> +<p>At that moment there came through the porch a man, a few years over +thirty, likewise in mourning, with a paler, sharper countenance than +the brothers, and an uncomfortable pleading expression of self-justification.</p> +<p>“How now, lads!” he said, “what means this passion? +You have taken the matter too hastily. There was no thought that +ye should part till you had some purpose in view. Nay, we should +be fain for Ambrose to bide on here, so he would leave his portion for +me to deal with, and teach little Will his primer and accidence. +You are a quiet lad, Ambrose, and can rule your tongue better than Stephen.”</p> +<p>“Thanks, brother John,” said Ambrose, somewhat sarcastically, +“but where Stephen goes I go.”</p> +<p>“I would—I would have found Stephen a place among the +prickers or rangers, if—” hesitated John. “In +sooth, I would yet do it, if he would make it up with the housewife.”</p> +<p>“My father looked higher for his son than a pricker’s +office,” returned Ambrose.</p> +<p>“That do I wot,” said John, “and therefore, ’tis +for his own good that I would send him forth. His godfather, our +uncle Birkenholt, he will assuredly provide for him, and set him forth—”</p> +<p>The door of the house was opened, and a shrewish voice cried, “Mr. +Birkenholt—here, husband! You are wanted. Here’s +little Kate crying to have yonder smooth pouch to stroke, and I cannot +reach it for her.”</p> +<p>“Father set store by that otter-skin pouch, for poor Prince +Arthur slew the otter,” cried Stephen. “Surely, John, +you’ll not let the babes make a toy of that?”</p> +<p>John made a helpless gesture, and at a renewed call, went indoors.</p> +<p>“You are right, Ambrose,” said Stephen, “this is +no place for us. Why should we tarry any longer to see everything +moiled and set at nought? I have couched in the forest before, +and ’tis summer time.”</p> +<p>“Nay,” said Ambrose, “we must make up our fardels +and have our money in our pouches before we can depart. We must +tarry the night, and call John to his reckoning, and so might we set +forth early enough in the morning to lie at Winchester that night and +take counsel with our uncle Birkenholt.”</p> +<p>“I would not stop short at Winchester,” said Stephen. +“London for me, where uncle Randall will find us preferment!”</p> +<p>“And what wilt do for Spring!”</p> +<p>“Take him with me, of course!” exclaimed Stephen. +“What! would I leave him to be kicked and pinched by Will, and +hanged belike by Mistress Maud?”</p> +<p>“I doubt me whether the poor old hound will brook the journey.”</p> +<p>“Then I’ll carry him!”</p> +<p>Ambrose looked at the big dog as if he thought it would be a serious +undertaking, but he had known and loved Spring as his brother’s +property ever since his memory began, and he scarcely felt that they +could be separable for weal or woe.</p> +<p>The verdurers of the New Forest were of gentle blood, and their office +was well-nigh hereditary. The Birkenholts had held it for many +generations, and the reversion passed as a matter of course to the eldest +son of the late holder, who had newly been laid in the burial ground +of Beaulieu Abbey. John Birkenholt, whose mother had been of knightly +lineage, had resented his father’s second marriage with the daughter +of a yeoman on the verge of the Forest, suspected of a strain of gipsy +blood, and had lived little at home, becoming a sort of agent at Southampton +for business connected with the timber which was yearly cut in the Forest +to supply material for the shipping. He had wedded the daughter +of a person engaged in law business at Southampton, and had only been +an occasional visitor at home, ever after the death of his stepmother. +She had left these two boys, unwelcome appendages in his sight. +They had obtained a certain amount of education at Beaulieu Abbey, where +a school was kept, and where Ambrose daily studied, though for the last +few months Stephen had assisted his father in his forest duties.</p> +<p>Death had come suddenly to break up the household in the early spring +of 1515, and John Birkenholt had returned as if to a patrimony, bringing +his wife and children with him. The funeral ceremonies had been +conducted at Beaulieu Abbey on the extensive scale of the sixteenth +century, the requiem, the feast, and the dole, all taking place there, +leaving the Forest lodge in its ordinary quiet.</p> +<p>It had always been understood that on their father’s death +the two younger sons must make their own way in the world; but he had +hoped to live until they were a little older, when he might himself +have started them in life, or expressed his wishes respecting them to +their elder brother. As it was, however, there was no commendation +of them, nothing but a strip of parchment, drawn up by one of the monks +of Beaulieu, leaving each of them twenty crowns, with a few small jewels +and properties left by their own mother, while everything else went +to their brother.</p> +<p>There might have been some jealousy excited by the estimation in +which Stephen’s efficiency—boy as he was—was evidently +held by the plain-spoken underlings of the verdurer; and this added +to Mistress Birkenholt’s dislike to the presence of her husband’s +half-brothers, whom she regarded as interlopers without a right to exist. +Matters were brought to a climax by old Spring’s resentment at +being roughly teased by her spoilt children. He had done nothing +worse than growl and show his teeth, but the town-bred dame had taken +alarm, and half in terror, half in spite, had insisted on his instant +execution, since he was too old to be valuable. Stephen, who loved +the dog only less than he loved his brother Ambrose, had come to high +words with her; and the end of the altercation had been that she had +declared that she would suffer no great lubbers of the half-blood to +devour her children’s inheritance, and teach them ill manners, +and that go they must, and that instantly. John had muttered a +little about “not so fast, dame,” and “for very shame,” +but she had turned on him, and rated him with a violence that demonstrated +who was ruler in the house, and took away all disposition to tarry long +under the new dynasty.</p> +<p>The boys possessed two uncles, one on each side of the house. +Their father’s elder brother had been a man-at-arms, having preferred +a stirring life to the Forest, and had fought in the last surges of +the Wars of the Roses. Having become disabled and infirm, he had +taken advantage of a corrody, or right of maintenance, as being of kin +to a benefactor of Hyde Abbey at Winchester, to which Birkenholt some +generations back had presented a few roods of land, in right of which, +one descendant at a time might be maintained in the Abbey. Intelligence +of his brother’s death had been sent to Richard Birkenholt, but +answer had been returned that he was too evil-disposed with the gout +to attend the burial.</p> +<p>The other uncle, Harry Randall, had disappeared from the country +under a cloud connected with the king’s deer, leaving behind him +the reputation of a careless, thriftless, jovial fellow, the best company +in all the Forest, and capable of doing every one’s work save +his own.</p> +<p>The two brothers, who were about seven and six years old at the time +of his flight, had a lively recollection of his charms as a playmate, +and of their mother’s grief for him, and refusal to believe any +ill of her Hal. Rumours had come of his attainment to vague and +unknown greatness at court, under the patronage of the Lord Archbishop +of York, which the Verdurer laughed to scorn, though his wife gave credit +to them. Gifts had come from time to time, passed through a succession +of servants and officials of the king, such as a coral and silver rosary, +a jewelled bodkin, an agate carved with St. Catherine, an ivory pouncet +box with a pierced gold coin as the lid; but no letter with them, as +indeed Hal Randall had never been induced to learn to read or write. +Master Birkenholt looked doubtfully at the tokens and hoped Hal had +come honestly by them; but his wife had thoroughly imbued her sons with +the belief that Uncle Hal was shining in his proper sphere, where he +was better appreciated than at home. Thus their one plan was to +go to London to find Uncle Hal, who was sure to put Stephen on the road +to fortune, and enable Ambrose to become a great scholar, his favourite +ambition.</p> +<p>His gifts would, as Ambrose observed, serve them as tokens, and with +the purpose of claiming them, they re-entered the hall, a long low room, +with a handsome open roof, and walls tapestried with dressed skins, +interspersed with antlers, hung with weapons of the chase. At +one end of the hall was a small polished barrel, always replenished +with beer, at the other a hearth with a wood fire constantly burning, +and there was a table running the whole length of the room; at one end +of this was laid a cloth, with a few trenchers on it, and horn cups, +surrounding a barley loaf and a cheese, this meagre irregular supper +being considered as a sufficient supplement to the funeral baked meats +which had abounded at Beaulieu. John Birkenholt sat at the table +with a trencher and horn before him, uneasily using his knife to crumble, +rather than cut, his bread. His wife, a thin, pale, shrewish-looking +woman, was warming her child’s feet at the fire, before putting +him to bed, and an old woman sat spinning and nodding on a settle at +a little distance.</p> +<p>“Brother,” said Stephen, “we have thought on what +you said. We will put our stuff together, and if you will count +us out our portions, we will be afoot by sunrise to-morrow.”</p> +<p>“Nay, nay, lad, I said not there was such haste; did I, mistress +housewife?”—(she snorted); “only that thou art a well-grown +lusty fellow, and ’tis time thou wentest forth. For thee, +Ambrose, thou wottest I made thee a fair offer of bed and board.”</p> +<p>“That is,” called out the wife, “if thou wilt make +a fair scholar of little Will. ’Tis a mighty good offer. +There are not many who would let their child be taught by a mere stripling +like thee!”</p> +<p>“Nay,” said Ambrose, who could not bring himself to thank +her, “I go with Stephen, mistress; I would mend my scholarship +ere I teach.”</p> +<p>“As you please,” said Mistress Maud, shrugging her shoulders, +“only never say that a fair offer was not made to you.”</p> +<p>“And,” said Stephen, “so please you, brother John, +hand us over our portions, and the jewels as bequeathed to us, and we +will be gone.”</p> +<p>“Portions, quotha?” returned John. “Boy, +they be not due to you till you be come to years of discretion.”</p> +<p>The brothers looked at one another, and Stephen said, “Nay, +now, brother, I know not how that may be, but I do know that you cannot +drive us from our father’s house without maintenance, and detain +what belongs to us.”</p> +<p>And Ambrose muttered something about “my Lord of Beaulieu.”</p> +<p>“Look you, now,” said John, “did I ever speak of +driving you from home without maintenance? Hath not Ambrose had +his choice of staying here, and Stephen of waiting till some office +be found for him? As for putting forty crowns into the hands of +striplings like you, it were mere throwing it to the robbers.”</p> +<p>“That being so,” said Ambrose turning to Stephen, “we +will to Beaulieu, and see what counsel my lord will give us.”</p> +<p>“Yea, do, like the vipers ye are, and embroil us with my Lord +of Beaulieu,” cried Maud from the fire.</p> +<p>“See,” said John, in his more caressing fashion, “it +is not well to carry family tales to strangers, and—and—”</p> +<p>He was disconcerted by a laugh from the old nurse, “Ho! +John Birkenholt, thou wast ever a lad of smooth tongue, but an thou, +or madam here, think that thy brothers can be put forth from thy father’s +door without their due before the good man be cold in his grave, and +the Forest not ring with it, thou art mightily out in thy reckoning!”</p> +<p>“Peace, thou old hag; what matter is’t of thine?” +began Mistress Maud, but again came the harsh laugh. “Matter +of mine! Why, whose matter should it be but mine, that have nursed +all three of the lads, ay, and their father before them, besides four +more that lie in the graveyard at Beaulieu? Rest their sweet souls! +And I tell thee, Master John, an thou do not righteously by these thy +brothers, thou mayst back to thy parchments at Southampton, for not +a man or beast in the Forest will give thee good day.”</p> +<p>They all felt the old woman’s authority. She was able +and spirited in her homely way, and more mistress of the house than +Mrs. Birkenholt herself; and such were the terms of domestic service, +that there was no peril of losing her place. Even Maud knew that +to turn her out was an impossibility, and that she must be accepted +like the loneliness, damp, and other evils of Forest life. John +had been under her dominion, and proceeded to persuade her. “Good +now, Nurse Joan, what have I denied these rash striplings that my father +would have granted them? Wouldst thou have them carry all their +portion in their hands, to be cozened of it at the first ale-house, +or robbed on the next heath?”</p> +<p>“I would have thee do a brother’s honest part, John Birkenholt. +A loving part I say not. Thou wert always like a very popple for +hardness, and smoothness, ay, and slipperiness. Heigh ho! +But what is right by the lads, thou <i>shalt</i> do.”</p> +<p>John cowered under her eye as he had done at six years old, and faltered, +“I only seek to do them right, nurse.”</p> +<p>Nurse Joan uttered an emphatic grunt, but Mistress Maud broke in, +“They are not to hang about here in idleness, eating my poor child’s +substance, and teaching him ill manners.”</p> +<p>“We would not stay here if you paid us for it,” returned +Stephen.</p> +<p>“And whither would you go?” asked John.</p> +<p>“To Winchester first, to seek counsel with our uncle Birkenholt. +Then to London, where uncle Randall will help us to our fortunes.”</p> +<p>“Gipsy Hal! He is more like to help you to a halter,” +sneered John, <i>sotto voce</i>, and Joan herself observed, “Their +uncle at Winchester will show them better than to run after that there +go-by-chance.”</p> +<p>However, as no one wished to keep the youths, and they were equally +determined to go, an accommodation was come to at last. John was +induced to give them three crowns apiece and to yield them up the five +small trinkets specified, though not without some murmurs from his wife. +It was no doubt safer to leave the rest of the money in his hands than +to carry it with them, and he undertook that it should be forthcoming, +if needed for any fit purpose, such as the purchase of an office, an +apprentice’s fee, or an outfit as a squire. It was a vague +promise that cost him nothing just then, and thus could be readily made, +and John’s great desire was to get them away so that he could +aver that they had gone by their own free will, without any hardship, +for he had seen enough at his father’s obsequies to show him that +the love and sympathy of all the scanty dwellers in the Forest was with +them.</p> +<p>Nurse Joan had fought their battles, but with the sore heart of one +who was parting with her darlings never to see them again. She +bade them doff their suits of mourning that she might make up their +fardels, as they would travel in their Lincoln-green suits. To +take these she repaired to the little rough shed-like chamber where +the two brothers lay for the last time on their pallet bed, awake, and +watching for her, with Spring at their feet. The poor old woman +stood over them, as over the motherless nurslings whom she had tended, +and she should probably never see more, but she was a woman of shrewd +sense, and perceived that “with the new madam in the hall” +it was better that they should be gone before worse ensued.</p> +<p>She advised leaving their valuables sealed up in the hands of my +Lord Abbot, but they were averse to this—for they said their uncle +Randall, who had not seen them since they were little children, would +not know them without some pledge.</p> +<p>She shook her head. “The less you deal with Hal Randall +the better,” she said. “Come now, lads, be advised +and go no farther than Winchester, where Master Ambrose may get all +the book-learning he is ever craving for, and you, Master Steevie, may +prentice yourself to some good trade.”</p> +<p>“Prentice!” cried Stephen, scornfully.</p> +<p>“Ay, ay. As good blood as thine has been prenticed,” +returned Joan. “Better so than be a cut-throat sword-and-buckler +fellow, ever slaying some one else or getting thyself slain—a +terror to all peaceful folk. But thine uncle will see to that—a +steady-minded lad always was he—was Master Dick.”</p> +<p>Consoling herself with this hope, the old woman rolled up their new +suits with some linen into two neat knapsacks; sighing over the thought +that unaccustomed fingers would deal with the shirts she had spun, bleached, +and sewn. But she had confidence in “Master Dick,” +and concluded that to send his nephews to him at Winchester gave a far +better chance of their being cared for, than letting them be flouted +into ill-doing by their grudging brother and his wife.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER II. THE GRANGE OF SILKSTEDE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p> “All Itchen’s valley +lay,<br />St. Catherine’s breezy side and the woodlands far away,<br />The +huge Cathedral sleeping in venerable gloom,<br />The modest College +tower, and the bedesmen’s Norman home.”</p> +<p>LORD SELBORNE.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Very early in the morning, even according to the habits of the time, +were Stephen and Ambrose Birkenholt astir. They were full of ardour +to enter on the new and unknown world beyond the Forest, and much as +they loved it, any change that kept them still to their altered life +would have been distasteful.</p> +<p>Nurse Joan, asking no questions, folded up their fardels on their +backs, and packed the wallets for their day’s journey with ample +provision. She charged them to be good lads, to say their Pater, +Credo, and Ave daily, and never omit Mass on a Sunday. They kissed +her like their mother and promised heartily—and Stephen took his +crossbow. They had had some hope of setting forth so early as +to avoid all other human farewells, except that Ambrose wished to begin +by going to Beaulieu to take leave of the Father who had been his kind +master, and get his blessing and counsel. But Beaulieu was three +miles out of their way, and Stephen had not the same desire, being less +attached to his schoolmaster and more afraid of hindrances being thrown +in their way.</p> +<p>Moreover, contrary to their expectation, their elder brother came +forth, and declared his intention of setting them forth on their way, +bestowing a great amount of good advice, to the same purport as that +of nurse Joan, namely, that they should let their uncle Richard Birkenholt +find them some employment at Winchester, where they, or at least Ambrose, +might even obtain admission into the famous college of St. Mary.</p> +<p>In fact, this excellent elder brother persuaded himself that it would +be doing them an absolute wrong to keep such promising youths hidden +in the Forest.</p> +<p>The purpose of his going thus far with them made itself evident. +It was to see them past the turning to Beaulieu. No doubt he wished +to tell the story in his own way, and that they should not present themselves +there as orphans expelled from their father’s house. It +would sound much better that he had sent them to ask counsel of their +uncle at Winchester, the fit person to take charge of them. And +as he represented that to go to Beaulieu would lengthen their day’s +journey so much that they might hardly reach Winchester that night, +while all Stephen’s wishes were to go forward, Ambrose could only +send his greetings. There was another debate over Spring, who +had followed his master as usual. John uttered an exclamation +of vexation at perceiving it, and bade Stephen drive the dog back. +“Or give me the leash to drag him. He will never follow +me.”</p> +<p>“He goes with us,” said Stephen.</p> +<p>“He! Thou’lt never have the folly! The old +hound is half blind and past use. No man will take thee in with +him after thee.”</p> +<p>“Then they shall not take me in,” said Stephen. +“I’ll not leave him to be hanged by thee.”</p> +<p>“Who spoke of hanging him!”</p> +<p>“Thy wife will soon, if she hath not already.”</p> +<p>“Thou wilt be for hanging him thyself ere thou have made a +day’s journey with him on the king’s highway, which is not +like these forest paths, I would have thee to know. Why, he limps +already.”</p> +<p>“Then I’ll carry him,” said Stephen, doggedly.</p> +<p>“What hast thou to say to that device, Ambrose?” asked +John, appealing to the elder and wiser.</p> +<p>But Ambrose only answered “I’ll help,” and as John +had no particular desire to retain the superannuated hound, and preferred +on the whole to be spared sentencing him, no more was said on the subject +as they went along, until all John’s stock of good counsel had +been lavished on his brothers’ impatient ears. He bade them +farewell, and turned back to the lodge, and they struck away along the +woodland pathway which they had been told led to Winchester, though +they had never been thither, nor seen any town save Southampton and +Romsey at long intervals. On they went, sometimes through beech +and oak woods of noble, almost primeval, trees, but more often across +tracts of holly underwood, illuminated here and there with the snowy +garlands of the wild cherry, and beneath with wide spaces covered with +young green bracken, whose soft irregular masses on the undulating ground +had somewhat the effect of the waves of the sea. These alternated +with stretches of yellow gorse and brown heather, sheets of cotton-grass, +and pools of white crowfoot, and all the vegetation of a mountain side, +only that the mountain was not there.</p> +<p>The brothers looked with eyes untaught to care for beauty, but with +a certain love of the home scenes, tempered by youth’s impatience +for something new. The nightingales sang, the thrushes flew out +before them, the wild duck and moorhen glanced on the pools. Here +and there they came on the furrows left by the snout of the wild swine, +and in the open tracts rose the graceful heads of the deer, but of inhabitants +or travellers they scarce saw any, save when they halted at the little +hamlet of Minestead, where a small alehouse was kept by one Will Purkiss, +who claimed descent from the charcoal-burner who had carried William +Rufus’s corpse to burial at Winchester—the one fact in history +known to all New Foresters, though perhaps Ambrose and John were the +only persons beyond the walls of Beaulieu who did not suppose the affair +to have taken place in the last generation.</p> +<p>A draught of ale and a short rest were welcome as the heat of the +day came on, making the old dog plod wearily on with his tongue out, +so that Stephen began to consider whether he should indeed have to be +his bearer—a serious matter, for the creature at full length measured +nearly as much as he did. They met hardly any one, and they and +Spring were alike too well known and trained, for difficulties to arise +as to leading a dog through the Forest. Should they ever come +to the term of the Forest? It was not easy to tell when they were +really beyond it, for the ground was much of the same kind. Only +the smooth, treeless hills, where they had always been told Winchester +lay, seemed more defined; and they saw no more deer, but here and there +were inclosures where wheat and barley were growing, and black timbered +farm-houses began to show themselves at intervals. Herd boys, +as rough and unkempt as their charges, could be seen looking after little +tawny cows, black-faced sheep, or spotted pigs, with curs which barked +fiercely at poor weary Spring, even as their masters were more disposed +to throw stones than to answer questions.</p> +<p>By and by, on the further side of a green valley, could be seen buildings +with an encircling wall of flint and mortar faced with ruddy brick, +the dark red-tiled roofs rising among walnut-trees, and an orchard in +full bloom spreading into a long green field.</p> +<p>“Winchester must be nigh. The sun is getting low,” +said Stephen.</p> +<p>“We will ask. The good folk will at least give us an +answer,” said Ambrose wearily.</p> +<p>As they reached the gate, a team of plough horses was passing in +led by a peasant lad, while a lay brother, with his gown tucked up, +rode sideways on one, whistling. An Augustinian monk, ruddy, burly, +and sunburnt, stood in the farm-yard, to receive an account of the day’s +work, and doffing his cap, Ambrose asked whether Winchester were near.</p> +<p>“Three mile or thereaway, my good lad,” said the monk; +“thou’lt see the towers an ye mount the hill. Whence +art thou?” he added, looking at the two young strangers. +“Scholars? The College elects not yet a while.”</p> +<p>“We be from the Forest, so please your reverence,” and +are bound for Hyde Abbey, where our uncle, Master Richard Birkenholt, +dwells.”</p> +<p>“And oh, sir,” added Stephen, “may we crave a drop +of water for our dog?”</p> +<p>The monk smiled as he looked at Spring, who had flung himself down +to take advantage of the halt, hanging out his tongue, and panting spasmodically. +“A noble beast,” he said, “of the Windsor breed, is’t +not?” Then laying his hand on the graceful head, “Poor +old hound, thou art o’er travelled. He is aged for such +a journey, if you came from the Forest since morn. Twelve years +at the least, I should say, by his muzzle.”</p> +<p>“Your reverence is right,” said Stephen, “he is +twelve years old. He is two years younger than I am, and my father +gave him to me when he was a little whelp.”</p> +<p>“So thou must needs take him to seek thy fortune with thee,” +said the good-natured Augustinian, not knowing how truly he spoke. +“Come in, my lads, here’s a drink for him. What said +you was your uncle’s name?” and as Ambrose repeated it, +“Birkenholt! Living on a corrody at Hyde! Ay! ay! +My lads, I have a call to Winchester to-morrow, you’d best tarry +the night here at Silkstede Grange, and fare forward with me.”</p> +<p>The tired boys were heartily glad to accept the invitation, more +especially as Spring, happy as he was with the trough of water before +him, seemed almost too tired to stand over it, and after the first, +tried to lap, lying down. Silkstede was not a regular convent, +only a grange or farm-house, presided over by one of the monks, with +three or four lay brethren under him, and a little colony of hinds, +in the surrounding cottages, to cultivate the farm, and tend a few cattle +and numerous sheep, the special care of the Augustinians.</p> +<p>Father Shoveller, as the good-natured monk who had received the travellers +was called, took them into the spacious but homely chamber which served +as refectory, kitchen, and hall. He called to the lay brother +who was busy over the open hearth to fry a few more rashers of bacon; +and after they had washed away the dust of their journey at the trough +where Spring had slaked his thirst, they sat down with him to a hearty +supper, which smacked more of the grange than of the monastery, spread +on a large solid oak table, and washed down with good ale. The +repast was shared by the lay brethren and farm servants, and also by +two or three big sheep dogs, who had to be taught their manners towards +Spring.</p> +<p>There was none of the formality that Ambrose was accustomed to at +Beaulieu in the great refectory, where no one spoke, but one of the +brethren read aloud some theological book from a stone pulpit in the +wall. Here Brother Shoveller conversed without stint, chiefly +with the brother who seemed to be a kind of bailiff, with whom he discussed +the sheep that were to be taken into market the next day, and the prices +to be given for them by either the college, the castle, or the butchers +of Boucher Row. He however found time to talk to the two guests, +and being sprung from a family in the immediate neighbourhood, he knew +the verdurer’s name, and ere he was a monk, had joined in the +chase in the Forest.</p> +<p>There was a little oratory attached to the hall, where he and the +lay brethren kept the hours, to a certain degree, putting two or three +services into one, on a liberal interpretation of <i>laborare est orare</i>. +Ambrose’s responses made their host observe as they went out, +“Thou hast thy Latin pat, my son, there’s the making of +a scholar in thee.”</p> +<p>Then they took their first night’s rest away from home, in +a small guest-chamber, with a good bed, though bare in all other respects. +Brother Shoveller likewise had a cell to himself, but the lay brethren +slept promiscuously among their sheep-dogs on the floor of the refectory.</p> +<p>All were afoot in the early morning, and Stephen and Ambrose were +awakened by the tumultuous bleatings of the flock of sheep that were +being driven from their fold to meet their fate at Winchester market. +They heard Brother Shoveller shouting his orders to the shepherds in +tones a great deal more like those of a farmer than of a monk, and they +made haste to dress themselves and join him as he was muttering a morning +abbreviation of his obligatory devotions in the oratory, observing that +they might be in time to hear mass at one of the city churches, but +the sheep might delay them, and they had best break their fast ere starting.</p> +<p>It was Wednesday, a day usually kept as a moderate fast, so the breakfast +was of oatmeal porridge, flavoured with honey, and washed down with +mead, after which Brother Shoveller mounted his mule, a sleek creature, +whose long ears had an air of great contentment, and rode off, accommodating +his pace to that of his young companions up a stony cart-track which +soon led them to the top of a chalk down, whence, as in a map, they +could see Winchester, surrounded by its walls, lying in a hollow between +the smooth green hills. At one end rose the castle, its fortifications +covering its own hill, beneath, in the valley, the long, low massive +Cathedral, the college buildings and tower with its pinnacles, and nearer +at hand, among the trees, the Almshouse of Noble Poverty at St. Cross, +beneath the round hill of St. Catherine. Churches and monastic +buildings stood thickly in the town, and indeed, Brother Shoveller said, +shaking his head, that there were well-nigh as many churches as folk +to go to them; the place was decayed since the time he remembered when +Prince Arthur was born there. Hyde Abbey he could not show them, +from where they stood, as it lay further off by the river side, having +been removed from the neighbourhood of the Minster, because the brethren +of St. Grimbald could not agree with those of St. Swithun’s belonging +to the Minster, as indeed their buildings were so close together that +it was hardly possible to pass between them, and their bells jangled +in each other’s ears.</p> +<p>Brother Shoveller did not seem to entertain a very high opinion of +the monks of St. Grimbald, and he asked the boys whether they were expected +there. “No,” they said; “tidings of their father’s +death had been sent by one of the woodmen, and the only answer that +had been returned was that Master Richard Birkenholt was ill at ease, +but would have masses said for his brother’s soul.”</p> +<p>“Hem!” said the Augustinian ominously; but at that moment +they came up with the sheep, and his attention was wholly absorbed by +them, as he joined the lay brothers in directing the shepherds who were +driving them across the downs, steering them over the high ground towards +the arched West Gate close to the royal castle. The street sloped +rapidly down, and Brother Shoveller conducted his young companions between +the overhanging houses, with stalls between serving as shops, till they +reached the open space round the Market Cross, on the steps of which +women sat with baskets of eggs, butter, and poultry, raised above the +motley throng of cattle and sheep, with their dogs and drivers, the +various cries of man and beast forming an incongruous accompaniment +to the bells of the churches that surrounded the market-place.</p> +<p>Citizens’ wives in hood and wimple were there, shrilly bargaining +for provision for their households, squires and grooms in quest of hay +for their masters’ stables, purveyors seeking food for the garrison, +lay brethren and sisters for their convents, and withal, the usual margin +of begging friars, wandering gleemen, jugglers and pedlars, though in +no great numbers, as this was only a Wednesday market-day, not a fair. +Ambrose recognised one or two who made part of the crowd at Beaulieu +only two days previously, when he had “seen through tears the +juggler leap,” and the jingling tune one of them was playing on +a rebeck brought back associations of almost unbearable pain. +Happily, Father Shoveller, having seen his sheep safely bestowed in +a pen, bethought him of bidding the lay brother in attendance show the +young gentlemen the way to Hyde Abbey, and turning up a street at right +angles to the principal one, they were soon out of the throng.</p> +<p>It was a lonely place, with a decayed uninhabited appearance, and +Brother Peter told them it had been the Jewry, whence good King Edward +had banished all the unbelieving dogs of Jews, and where no one chose +to dwell after them.</p> +<p>Soon they came in sight of a large extent of monastic buildings, +partly of stone, but the more domestic offices of flint and brick or +mortar. Large meadows stretched away to the banks of the Itchen, +with cattle grazing in them, but in one was a set of figures to whom +the lay brother pointed with a laugh of exulting censure.</p> +<p>“Long bows!” exclaimed Stephen. “Who be they?”</p> +<p>“Brethren of St. Grimbald, sir. Such rule doth my Lord +of Hyde keep, mitred abbot though he be. They say the good bishop +hath called him to order, but what recks he of bishops? Good-day, +Brother Bulpett, here be two young kinsmen of Master Birkenholt to visit +him; and so <i>benedicite</i>, fair sirs. St. Austin’s grace +be with you!”</p> +<p>Through a gate between two little red octagonal towers, Brother Bulpett +led the two visitors, and called to another of the monks, “<i>Benedicite</i>, +Father Segrim, here be two striplings wanting speech of old Birkenholt.”</p> +<p>“Looking after dead men’s shoes, I trow,” muttered +father Segrim, with a sour look at the lads, as he led them through +the outer court, where some fine horses were being groomed, and then +across a second court surrounded with a beautiful cloister, with flower +beds in front of it. Here, on a stone bench, in the sun, clad +in a gown furred with rabbit skin, sat a decrepit old man, both his +hands clasped over his staff. Into his deaf ears their guide shouted, +“These boys say they are your kindred, Master Birkenholt.”</p> +<p>“Anan?” said the old man, trembling with palsy. +The lads knew him to be older than their father, but they were taken +by surprise at such feebleness, and the monk did not aid them, only +saying roughly, “There he is. Tell your errand.”</p> +<p>“How fares it with you, uncle?” ventured Ambrose.</p> +<p>“Who be ye? I know none of you,” muttered the old +man, shaking his head still more.</p> +<p>“We are Ambrose and Stephen from the Forest,” shouted +Ambrose.</p> +<p>“Ah! Steve! poor Stevie! The accursed boar has +rent his goodly face so as I would never have known him. Poor +Steve! Best his soul!”</p> +<p>The old man began to weep, while his nephews recollected that they +had heard that another uncle had been slain by the tusk of a wild boar +in early manhood. Then to their surprise, his eyes fell on Spring, +and calling the hound by name, he caressed the creature’s head—“Spring, +poor Spring! Stevie’s faithful old dog. Hast lost +thy master? Wilt follow me now?”</p> +<p>He was thinking of a Spring as well as of a Stevie of sixty years +ago, and he babbled on of how many fawns were in the Queen’s Bower +this summer, and who had best shot at the butts at Lyndhurst, as if +he were excited by the breath of his native Forest, but there was no +making him understand that he was speaking with his nephews. The +name of his brother John only set him repeating that John loved the +greenwood, and would be content to take poor Stevie’s place and +dwell in the verdurer’s lodge; but that he himself ought to be +abroad, he had seen brave Lord Talbot’s ships ready at Southampton, +John might stay at home, but he would win fame and honour in Gascony.</p> +<p>And while he thus wandered, and the boys stood by perplexed and distressed, +Brother Segrim came back, and said, “So, young sirs, have you +seen enough of your doting kinsman? The sub-prior bids me say +that we harbour no strange, idling, lubber lads nor strange dogs here. +’Tis enough for us to be saddled with dissolute old men-at-arms +without all their idle kin making an excuse to come and pay their devoirs. +These corrodies are a heavy charge and a weighty abuse, and if there +be the visitation the king’s majesty speaks of, they will be one +of the first matters to be amended.”</p> +<p>Wherewith Stephen and Ambrose found themselves walked out of the +cloister of St. Grimbald, and the gates shut behind them.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER III. KINSMEN AND STRANGERS</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“The reul of St. Maure and of St. Beneit<br />Because that +it was old and some deale streit<br />This ilke monk let old things +pace;<br />He held ever of the new world the trace.”</p> +<p>CHAUCER.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“The churls!” exclaimed Stephen.</p> +<p>“Poor old man!” said Ambrose; “I hope they are +good to him!”</p> +<p>“To think that thus ends all that once was gallant talk of +fighting under Talbot’s banner,” sighed Stephen, thoughtful +for a moment. “However, there’s a good deal to come +first.”</p> +<p>“Yea, and what next?” said the elder brother.</p> +<p>“On to uncle Hal. I ever looked most to him. He +will purvey me to a page’s place in some noble household, and +get thee a clerk’s or scholar’s place in my Lord of York’s +house. Mayhap there will be room for us both there, for my Lord +of York hath a goodly following of armed men.”</p> +<p>“Which way lies the road to London?”</p> +<p>“We must back into the town and ask, as well as fill our stomachs +and our wallets,” said Ambrose. “Talk of their rule! +The entertaining of strangers is better understood at Silkstede than +at Hyde.”</p> +<p>“Tush! A grudged crust sticks in the gullet,” returned +Stephen. “Come on, Ambrose, I marked the sign of the White +Hart by the market-place. There will be a welcome there for foresters.”</p> +<p>They returned on their steps past the dilapidated buildings of the +old Jewry, and presently saw the market in full activity; but the sounds +and sights of busy life where they were utter strangers, gave Ambrose +a sense of loneliness and desertion, and his heart sank as the bolder +Stephen threaded the way in the direction of a broad entry over which +stood a slender-bodied hart with gold hoofs, horns, collar, and chain.</p> +<p>“How now, my sons?” said a full cheery voice, and to +their joy, they found themselves pushed up against Father Shoveller.</p> +<p>“Returned already! Did you get scant welcome at Hyde? +Here, come where we can get a free breath, and tell me.”</p> +<p>They passed through the open gateway of the White Hart, into the +court, but before listening to them, the monk exchanged greetings with +the hostess, who stood at the door in a broad hat and velvet bodice, +and demanded what cheer there was for noon-meat.</p> +<p>“A jack, reverend sir, eels and a grampus fresh sent up from +Hampton; also fresh-killed mutton for such lay folk as are not curious +of the Wednesday fast. They are laying the board even now.”</p> +<p>“Lay platters for me and these two young gentlemen,” +said the Augustinian. “Ye be my guests, ye wot,” he +added, “since ye tarried not for meat at Hyde.”</p> +<p>“Nor did they ask us,” exclaimed Stephen; “lubbers +and idlers were the best words they had for us.”</p> +<p>“Ho! ho! That’s the way with the brethren of St +Grimbald! And your uncle?”</p> +<p>“Alas, sir, he doteth with age,” said Ambrose. +“He took Stephen for his own brother, dead under King Harry of +Windsor.”</p> +<p>“So! I had heard somewhat of his age and sickness. +Who was it who thrust you out?”</p> +<p>“A lean brother with a thin red beard, and a shrewd, puckered +visage.”</p> +<p>“Ha! By that token ’twas Segrim the bursar. +He wots how to drive a bargain. St. Austin! but he deemed you +came to look after your kinsman’s corrody.”</p> +<p>“He said the king spake of a visitation to abolish corrodies +from religious houses,” said Ambrose.</p> +<p>“He’ll abolish the long bow from them first,” said +Father Shoveller. “Ay, and miniver from my Lord Abbot’s +hood. I’d admonish you, my good brethren of S. Grimbald, +to be in no hurry for a visitation which might scarce stop where you +would fain have it. Well, my sons, are ye bound for the Forest +again? An ye be, we’ll wend back together, and ye can lie +at Silkstede to-night.”</p> +<p>“Alack, kind father, there’s no more home for us in the +Forest,” said Ambrose.</p> +<p>“Methought ye had a brother?”</p> +<p>“Yea; but our brother hath a wife.”</p> +<p>“Ho! ho! And the wife will none of you?”</p> +<p>“She would have kept Ambrose to teach her boy his primer,” +said Stephen; “but she would none of Spring nor of me.”</p> +<p>“We hoped to receive counsel from our uncle at Hyde,” +added Ambrose.</p> +<p>“Have ye no purpose now?” inquired the Father, his jolly +good-humoured face showing much concern.</p> +<p>“Yea,” manfully returned Stephen. “’Twas +what I ever hoped to do, to fare on and seek our fortune in London.”</p> +<p>“Ha! To pick up gold and silver like Dick Whittington. +Poor old Spring here will scarce do you the part of his cat,” +and the monk’s hearty laugh angered Stephen into muttering, “We +are no fools,” but Father Shoveller only laughed the more, saying, +“Fair and softly, my son, ye’ll never pick up the gold if +ye cannot brook a kindly quip. Have you friends or kindred in +London?”</p> +<p>“Yea, that have we, sir,” cried Stephen; “our mother’s +own brother, Master Randall, hath come to preferment there in my Lord +Archbishop of York’s household, and hath sent us tokens from time +to time, which we will show you.”</p> +<p>“Not while we be feasting,” said Father Shoveller, hastily +checking Ambrose, who was feeling in his bosom. “See, the +knaves be bringing their grampus across the court. Here, we’ll +clean our hands, and be ready for the meal;” and he showed them, +under a projecting gallery in the inn yard a stone trough, through which +flowed a stream of water, in which he proceeded to wash his hands and +face, and to wipe them in a coarse towel suspended nigh at hand. +Certainly after handling sheep freely there was need, though such ablutions +were a refinement not indulged in by all the company who assembled round +the well-spread board of the White Hart for the meal after the market. +They were a motley company. By the host’s side sat a knight +on his way home from pilgrimage to Compostella, or perhaps a mission +to Spain, with a couple of squires and other attendants, and converse +of political import seemed to be passing between him and a shrewd-looking +man in a lawyer’s hood and gown, the recorder of Winchester, who +preferred being a daily guest at the White Hart to keeping a table of +his own. Country franklins and yeomen, merchants and men-at-arms, +palmers and craftsmen, friars and monks, black, white, and grey, and +with almost all, Father Shoveller had greeting or converse to exchange. +He knew everybody, and had friendly talk with all, on canons or crops, +on war or wool, on the prices of pigs or prisoners, on the news of the +country side, or on the perilous innovations in learning at Oxford, +which might, it was feared, even affect St. Mary’s College at +Winchester.</p> +<p>He did not affect outlandish fishes himself, and dined upon pike, +but observing the curiosity of his guests, he took good care to have +them well supplied with grampus; also in due time with varieties of +the pudding and cake kind which had never dawned on their forest-bred +imagination, and with a due proportion of good ale—the same over +which the knight might be heard rejoicing, and lauding far above the +Spanish or French wines, on which he said he had been half starved.</p> +<p>Father Shoveller mused a good deal over his pike and its savoury +stuffing. He was not by any means an ideal monk, but he was equally +far from being a scandal. He was the shrewd man of business and +manager of his fraternity, conducting the farming operations and making +all the bargains, following his rule respectably according to the ordinary +standard of his time, but not rising to any spirituality, and while +duly observing the fast day, as to the quality of his food, eating with +the appetite of a man who lived in the open fields.</p> +<p>But when their hunger was appeased, with many a fragment given to +Spring, the young Birkenholts, wearied of the endless talk that was +exchanged over the tankard, began to grow restless, and after exchanging +signs across Father Shoveller’s solid person, they simultaneously +rose, and began to thank him and say they must pursue their journey.</p> +<p>“How now, not so fast, my sons,” said the Father; “tarry +a bit, I have more to say to thee. Prayers and provender, thou +knowst—I’ll come anon. So, sir, didst say yonder beggarly +Flemings haggle at thy price for thy Southdown fleeces. Weight +of dirt forsooth! Do not we wash the sheep in the Poolhole stream, +the purest water in the shire?”</p> +<p>Manners withheld Ambrose from responding to Stephen’s hot impatience, +while the merchant in the sleek puce-coloured coat discussed the Flemish +wool market with the monk for a good half-hour longer.</p> +<p>By this time the knight’s horses were brought into the yard, +and the merchant’s men had made ready his palfrey, his pack-horse +being already on the way; the host’s son came round with the reckoning, +and there was a general move. Stephen expected to escape, and +hardly could brook the good-natured authority with which Father Shoveller +put Ambrose aside, when he would have discharged their share of the +reckoning, and took it upon himself. “Said I not ye were +my guests?” quoth he. “We missed our morning mass, +it will do us no harm to hear Nones in the Minster.”</p> +<p>“Sir, we thank you, but we should be on our way,” said +Ambrose, incited by Stephen’s impatient gestures.</p> +<p>“Tut, tut. Fair and softly, my son, or more haste may +be worse speed. Methought ye had somewhat to show me.”</p> +<p>Stephen’s youthful independence might chafe, but the habit +of submission to authorities made him obediently follow the monk out +at the back entrance of the inn, behind which lay the Minster yard, +the grand western front rising in front of them, and the buildings of +St. Swithun’s Abbey extending far to their right. The hour +was nearly noon, and the space was deserted, except for an old woman +sitting at the great western doorway with a basket of rosaries made +of nuts and of snail shells, and a workman or two employed on the bishop’s +new reredos.</p> +<p>“Now for thy tokens,” said Father Shoveller. “See +my young foresters, ye be new to the world. Take an old man’s +counsel, and never show, nor speak of such gear in an hostel. +Mine host of the White Hart is an old gossip of mine, and indifferent +honest, but who shall say who might be within earshot?”</p> +<p>Stephen had a mind to say that he did not see why the meddling monk +should wish to see them at all, and Ambrose looked a little reluctant, +but Father Shoveller said in his good-humoured way, “As you please, +young sirs. ’Tis but an old man’s wish to see whether +he can do aught to help you, that you be not as lambs among wolves. +Mayhap ye deem ye can walk into London town, and that the first man +you meet can point you to your uncle—Randall call ye him?—as +readily as I could show you my brother, Thomas Shoveller of Granbury. +But you are just as like to meet with some knave who might cozen you +of all you have, or mayhap a beadle might take you up for vagabonds, +and thrust you in the stocks, or ever you get to London town; so I would +fain give you some commendation, an I knew to whom to make it, and ye +be not too proud to take it.”</p> +<p>“You are but too good to us, sir,” said Ambrose, quite +conquered, though Stephen only half believed in the difficulties. +The Father took them within the west door of the Minster, and looking +up and down the long arcade of the southern aisle to see that no one +was watching, he inspected the tokens, and cross-examined them on their +knowledge of their uncle.</p> +<p>His latest gift, the rosary, had come by the hand of Friar Hurst, +a begging Minorite of Southampton, who had it from another of his order +at Winchester, who had received it from one of the king’s archers +at the Castle, with a message to Mistress Birkenholt that it came from +her brother, Master Randall, who had good preferment in London, in the +house of my Lord Archbishop of York, without whose counsel King Henry +never stirred. As to the coming of the agate and the pouncet box, +the minds of the boys were very hazy. They knew that the pouncet +box had been conveyed through the attendants of the Abbot of Beaulieu, +but they were only sure that from that time the belief had prevailed +with their mother that her brother was prospering in the house of the +all-powerful Wolsey. The good Augustinian, examining the tokens, +thought they gave colour to that opinion. The rosary and agate +might have been picked up in an ecclesiastical household, and the lid +of the pouncet box was made of a Spanish coin, likely to have come through +some of the attendants of Queen Katharine.</p> +<p>“It hath an appearance,” he said. “I marvel +whether there be still at the Castle this archer who hath had speech +with Master Randall, for if ye know no more than ye do at present, ’tis +seeking a needle in a bottle of hay. But see, here come the brethren +that be to sing Nones—sinner that I am, to have said no Hours +since the morn, being letted with lawful business.”</p> +<p>Again the unwilling Stephen had to submit. There was no feeling +for the incongruous in those days, and reverence took very different +directions from those in which it now shows itself, so that nobody had +any objection to Spring’s pacing gravely with the others towards +the Lady Chapel, where the Hours were sung, since the Choir was in the +hands of workmen, and the sound of chipping stone could be heard from +it, where Bishop Fox’s elaborate lace-work reredos was in course +of erection. Passing the shrine of St. Swithun, and the grand +tomb of Cardinal Beaufort, where his life-coloured effigy filled the +boys with wonder, they followed their leader’s example, and knelt +within the Lady Chapel, while the brief Latin service for the ninth +hour was sung through by the canon, clerks, and boys. It really +was the Sixth, but cumulative easy-going treatment of the Breviary had +made this the usual time for it, as the name of noon still testifies. +The boys’ attention, it must be confessed, was chiefly expended +on the wonderful miracles of the Blessed Virgin in fresco on the walls +of the chapel, all tending to prove that here was hope for those who +said their Ave in any extremity of fire or flood.</p> +<p>Nones ended, Father Shoveller, with many a halt for greeting or for +gossip, took the lads up the hill towards the wide fortified space where +the old Castle and royal Hall of Henry of Winchester looked down on +the city, and after some friendly passages with the warder at the gate, +Father Shoveller explained that he was in quest of some one recently +come from court, of whom the striplings in his company could make inquiry +concerning a kinsman in the household of my Lord Archbishop of York. +The warder scratched his head, and bethinking himself that Eastcheap +Jockey was the reverend. Father’s man, summoned a horse-boy +to call that worthy.</p> +<p>“Where was he?”</p> +<p>“Sitting over his pottle in the Hall,” was the reply, +and the monk, with a laugh savouring little of asceticism, said he would +seek him there, and accordingly crossed the court to the noble Hall, +with its lofty dark marble columns, and the Round Table of King Arthur +suspended at the upper end. The governor of the Castle had risen +from his meal long ago, but the garrison in the piping times of peace +would make their ration of ale last as far into the afternoon as their +commanders would suffer. And half a dozen men still sat there, +one or two snoring, two playing at dice on a clear corner of the board, +and another, a smart well-dressed fellow in a bright scarlet jerkin, +laying down the law to a country bumpkin, who looked somewhat dazed. +The first of these was, as it appeared, Eastcheap Jockey, and there +was something both of the readiness and the impudence of the Londoner +in his manner, when he turned to answer the question. He knew +many in my Lord of York’s house—as many as a man was like +to know where there was a matter of two hundred folk between clerks +and soldiers, he had often crushed a pottle with them. No; he +had never heard of one called Randall, neither in hat nor cowl, but +he knew more of them by face than by name, and more by byname than surname +or christened name. He was certainly not the archer who had brought +a token for Mistress Birkenholt, and his comrades all avouched equal +ignorance on the subject. Nothing could be gained there, and while +Father Shoveller rubbed his bald head in consideration, Stephen rose +to take leave.</p> +<p>“Look you here, my fair son,” said the monk. “Starting +at this hour, though the days be long, you will not reach any safe halting +place with daylight, whereas by lying a night in this good city, you +might reach Alton to-morrow, and there is a home where the name of Brother +Shoveller will win you free lodging and entertainment.”</p> +<p>“And to-night, good Father?” inquired Ambrose.</p> +<p>“That will I see to, if ye will follow me.”</p> +<p>Stephen was devoured with impatience during the farewells in the +Castle, but Ambrose represented that the good man was giving them much +of his time, and that it would be unseemly and ungrateful to break from +him.</p> +<p>“What matter is it of his? And why should he make us +lose a whole day?” grumbled Stephen.</p> +<p>“What special gain would a day be to us?” sighed Ambrose. +“I am thankful that any should take heed for us.”</p> +<p>“Ay, you love leading-strings,” returned Stephen. +“Where is he going now? All out of our way!”</p> +<p>Father Shoveller, however, as he went down the Castle hill, explained +that the Warden of St. Elizabeth’s Hospital was his friend, and +knowing him to have acquaintance among the clergy of St. Paul’s, +it would be well to obtain a letter of commendation from him, which +might serve them in good stead in case they were disappointed of finding +their uncle at once.</p> +<p>“It would be better for Spring to have a little more rest,” +thought Stephen, thus mitigating his own longing to escape from the +monks and friars, of whom Winchester seemed to be full.</p> +<p>They had a kindly welcome in the pretty little college of St. Elizabeth +of Hungary, lying in the meadows between William of Wykeham’s +College and the round hill of St. Catharine. The Warden was a +more scholarly and ecclesiastical-looking person than his friend, the +good-natured Augustinian. After commending them to his care, and +partaking of a drink of mead, the monk of Silkstede took leave of the +youths, with a hearty blessing and advice to husband their few crowns, +not to tell every one of their tokens, and to follow the counsel of +the Warden of St. Elizabeth’s, assuring them that if they turned +back to the Forest, they should have a welcome at Silkstede. Moreover +he patted Spring pitifully, and wished him and his master well through +the journey.</p> +<p>St. Elizabeth’s College was a hundred years older than its +neighbour St. Mary’s, as was evident to practised eyes by its +arches and windows, but it had been so entirely eclipsed by Wykeham’s +foundation that the number of priests, students, and choir-boys it was +intended to maintain, had dwindled away, so that it now contained merely +the Warden, a superannuated priest, and a couple of big lads who acted +as servants. There was an air of great quietude and coolness about +the pointed arches of its tiny cloister on that summer’s day, +with the old monk dozing in his chair over the manuscript he thought +he was reading, not far from the little table where the Warden was eagerly +studying Erasmus’s <i>Praise of Folly</i>. But the Birkenholts +were of the age at which quiet means dulness, at least Stephen was, +and the Warden had pity both on them and on himself; and hearing joyous +shouts outside, he opened a little door in the cloister wall, and revealed +a multitude of lads with their black gowns tucked up “a playing +at the ball”—these being the scholars of St. Mary’s. +Beckoning to a pair of elder ones, who were walking up and down more +quietly, he consigned the strangers to their care, sweetening the introduction +by an invitation to supper, for which he would gain permission from +their Warden.</p> +<p>One of the young Wykehamists was shy and churlish, and sheered off +from the brothers, but the other catechised them on their views of becoming +scholars in the college. He pointed out the cloister where the +studies took place in all weathers, showed them the hall, the chapel, +and the chambers, and expatiated on the chances of attaining to New +College. Being moreover a scholarly fellow, he and Ambrose fell +into a discussion over the passage of Virgil, copied out on a bit of +paper, which he was learning by heart. Some other scholars having +finished their game, and become aware of the presence of a strange dog +and two strange boys, proceeded to mob Stephen and Spring, whereupon +the shy boy stood forth and declared that the Warden of St. Elizabeth’s +had brought them in for an hour’s sport.</p> +<p>Of course, in such close quarters, the rival Warden was esteemed +a natural enemy, and went by the name of “Old Bess,” so +that his recommendation went for worse than nothing, and a dash at Spring +was made by the inhospitable young savages. Stephen stood to the +defence in act to box, and the shy lad stood by him, calling for fair +play and one at a time. Of course a fight ensued, Stephen and +his champion on the one side, and two assailants on the other, till +after a fall on either side, Ambrose’s friend interfered with +a voice as thundering as the manly crack would permit, peace was restored, +Stephen found himself free of the meads, and Spring was caressed instead +of being tormented.</p> +<p>Stephen was examined on his past, present, and future, envied for +his Forest home, and beguiled into magnificent accounts, not only of +the deer that had fallen to his bow and the boars that had fallen to +his father’s spear, but of the honours to which his uncle in the +Archbishop’s household would prefer him—for he viewed it +as an absolute certainty that his kinsman was captain among the men-at-arms, +whom he endowed on the spot with scarlet coats faced with black velvet, +and silver medals and chains.</p> +<p>Whereat one of the other boys was not behind in telling how his father +was pursuivant to my Lord Duke of Norfolk, and never went abroad save +with silver lions broidered on back and breast, and trumpets going before; +and another dwelt on the splendours of the mayor and aldermen of Southampton +with their chains and cups of gold. Stephen felt bound to surpass +this with the last report that my Lord of York’s men rode Flemish +steeds in crimson velvet housings, passmented with gold and gems, and +of course his uncle had the leading of them.</p> +<p>“Who be thine uncle?” demanded a thin, squeaky voice. +“I have brothers likewise in my Lord of York’s meimé.”</p> +<p>“Mine uncle is Captain Harry Randall, of Shirley,” quoth +Stephen magnificently, scornfully surveying the small proportions of +the speaker, “What is thy brother?”</p> +<p>“Head turnspit,” said a rude voice, provoking a general +shout of laughter; but the boy stood his ground, and said hotly: “He +is page to the comptroller of my lord’s household, and waits at +the second table, and I know every one of the captains.”</p> +<p>“He’ll say next he knows every one of the Seven Worthies,” +cried another boy, for Stephen was becoming a popular character.</p> +<p>“And all the paladins to boot. Come on, little Rowley!” +was the cry.</p> +<p>“I tell you my brother is page to the comptroller of the household, +and my mother dwells beside the Gate House, and I know every man of +them,” insisted Rowley, waxing hot. “As for that Forest +savage fellow’s uncle being captain of the guard, ’tis more +like that he is my lord’s fool, Quipsome Hal!”</p> +<p>Whereat there was a cry, in which were blended exultation at the +hit, and vituperation of the hitter. Stephen flew forward to avenge +the insult, but a big bell was beginning to ring, a whole wave of black +gowns rushed to obey it, sweeping little Rowley away with them; and +Stephen found himself left alone with his brother and the two lads who +had been invited to St. Elizabeth’s, and who now repaired thither +with them.</p> +<p>The supper party in the refectory was a small one, and the rule of +the foundation limited the meal to one dish and a pittance, but the +dish was of savoury eels, and the Warden’s good nature had added +to it some cates and comfits in consideration of his youthful guests.</p> +<p>After some conversation with the elder Wykehamist, the Warden called +Ambrose and put him through an examination on his attainments, which +proved so satisfactory, that it ended in an invitation to the brothers +to fill two of the empty scholarships of the college of the dear St. +Elizabeth. It was a good offer, and one that Ambrose would fain +have accepted, but Stephen had no mind for the cloister or for learning.</p> +<p>The Warden had no doubt that he could be apprenticed in the city +of Winchester, since the brother at home had in keeping a sum sufficient +for the fee. Though the trade of “capping” had fallen +off, there were still good substantial burgesses who would be willing +to receive an active lad of good parentage, some being themselves of +gentle blood. Stephen, however, would not brook the idea. +“Out upon you, Ambrose!” said he, “to desire to bind +your own brother to base mechanical arts.”</p> +<p>“’Tis what Nurse Joan held to be best for us both,” +said Ambrose.</p> +<p>“Joan! Yea, like a woman, who deems a man safest when +he is a tailor, or a perfumer. An you be minded to stay here with +a black gown and a shaven crown, I shall on with Spring and come to +preferment. Maybe thou’lt next hear of me when I have got +some fat canonry for thee.”</p> +<p>“Nay, I quit thee not,” said Ambrose. “If +thou fare forward, so do I. But I would thou couldst have brought +thy mind to rest there.”</p> +<p>“What! wouldst thou be content with this worn-out place, with +more churches than houses, and more empty houses than full ones? +No! let us on where there is something doing! Thou wilt see that +my Lord of York will have room for the scholar as well as the man-at-arms.”</p> +<p>So the kind offer was declined, but Ambrose was grieved to see that +the Warden thought him foolish, and perhaps ungrateful.</p> +<p>Nevertheless the good man gave them a letter to the Reverend Master +Alworthy, singing clerk at St. Paul’s Cathedral, telling Ambrose +it might serve them in case they failed to find their uncle, or if my +Lord of York’s household should not be in town. He likewise +gave them a recommendation which would procure them a night’s +lodging at the Grange, and after the morning’s mass and meat, +sped them on their way with his blessing, muttering to himself, “That +elder one might have been the staff of mine age! Pity on him to +be lost in the great and evil City! Yet ’tis a good lad +to follow that fiery spark his brother. <i>Tanquam agnus inter +lupos</i>. Alack!”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER IV. A HERO’S FALL</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“These four came all afront and mainly made at me. I +made no more ado, but took their seven points on my target—thus—”</p> +<p>SHAKESPEARE.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The journey to Alton was eventless. It was slow, for the day +was a broiling one, and the young foresters missed their oaks and beeches, +as they toiled over the chalk downs that rose and sank in endless succession; +though they would hardly have slackened their pace if it had not been +for poor old Spring, who was sorely distressed by the heat and the want +of water on the downs. Every now and then he lay down, panting +distressfully, with his tongue hanging out, and his young masters always +waited for him, often themselves not sorry to rest in the fragment of +shade from a solitary thorn or juniper.</p> +<p>The track was plain enough, and there were hamlets at long intervals. +Flocks of sheep fed on the short grass, but there was no approaching +the shepherds, as they and their dogs regarded Spring as an enemy, to +be received with clamour, stones, and teeth, in spite of the dejected +looks which might have acquitted him of evil intentions.</p> +<p>The travellers reached Alton in the cool of the evening, and were +kindly received by a monk, who had charge of a grange just outside the +little town, near one of the springs of the River Wey.</p> +<p>The next day’s journey was a pleasanter one, for there was +more of wood and heather, and they had to skirt round the marshy borders +of various bogs. Spring was happier, being able to stop and lap +whenever he would, and the whole scene was less unfriendly to them. +But they scarcely made speed enough, for they were still among tall +whins and stiff scrub of heather when the sun began to get low, gorgeously +lighting the tall plumes of golden broom, and they had their doubts +whether they might not be off the track; but in such weather, there +was nothing alarming in spending a night out of doors, if only they +had something for supper. Stephen took a bolt from the purse at +his girdle, and bent his crossbow, so as to be ready in case a rabbit +sprang out, or a duck flew up from the marshes.</p> +<p>A small thicket of trees was in sight, and they were making for it, +when sounds of angry voices were heard, and Spring, bristling up the +mane on his neck, and giving a few premonitory fierce growls like thunder, +bounded forward as though he had been seven years younger. Stephen +darted after him, Ambrose rushed after Stephen, and breaking through +the trees, they beheld the dog at the throat of one of three men. +As they came on the scene, the dog was torn down and hurled aside, giving +a howl of agony, which infuriated his master. Letting fly his +crossbow bolt full at the fellow’s face, he dashed on, reckless +of odds, waving his knotted stick, and shouting with rage. Ambrose, +though more aware of the madness of such an assault, still hurried to +his support, and was amazed as well as relieved to find the charge effectual. +Without waiting to return a blow, the miscreants took to their heels, +and Stephen, seeing nothing but his dog, dropped on his knees beside +the quivering creature, from whose neck blood was fast pouring. +One glance of the faithful wistful eyes, one feeble movement of the +expressive tail, and Spring had made his last farewell! That was +all Stephen was conscious of; but Ambrose could hear the cry, “Good +sirs, good lads, set me free!” and was aware of a portly form +bound to a tree. As he cut the rope with his knife, the rescued +traveller hurried out thanks and demands—“Where are the +rest of you?” and on the reply that there were no more, proceeded, +“Then we must on, on at once, or the villains will return! +They must have thought you had a band of hunters behind you. Two +furlongs hence, and we shall be safe in the hostel at Dogmersfield. +Come on, my boy,” to Stephen, “the brave hound is quite +dead, more’s the pity. Thou canst do no more for him, and +we shall soon be in his case if we dally here.”</p> +<p>“I cannot, cannot leave him thus,” sobbed Stephen, who +had the loving old head on his knees. “Ambrose! stay, we +must bring him. There, his tail wagged! If the blood were +staunched—”</p> +<p>“Stephen! Indeed he is stone dead! Were he our +brother we could not do otherwise,” reasoned Ambrose, forcibly +dragging his brother to his feet. “Go on we must. +Wouldst have us all slaughtered for his sake? Come! The +rogues will be upon us anon. Spring saved this good man’s +life. Undo not his work. See! Is yonder your horse, +sir? This way, Stevie!”</p> +<p>The instinct of catching the horse roused Stephen, and it was soon +accomplished, for the steed was a plump, docile, city-bred palfrey, +with dapple-grey flanks like well-stuffed satin pincushions, by no means +resembling the shaggy Forest ponies of the boys’ experience, but +quite astray in the heath, and ready to come at the master’s whistle, +and call of “Soh! Soh!—now Poppet!” Stephen +caught the bridle, and Ambrose helped the burgess into the saddle. +“Now, good boys,” he said, “each of you lay a hand +on my pommel. We can make good speed ere the rascals find out +our scant numbers.”</p> +<p>“You would make better speed without us, sir,” said Stephen, +hankering to remain beside poor Spring.</p> +<p>“D’ye think Giles Headley the man to leave two children, +that have maybe saved my life as well as my purse, to bear the malice +of the robbers?” demanded the burgess angrily. “That +were like those fellows of mine who have shown their heels and left +their master strapped to a tree! Thou! thou! what’s thy +name, that hast the most wit, bring thy brother, unless thou wouldst +have him laid by the side of his dog.”</p> +<p>Stephen was forced to comply, and run by Poppet’s side, though +his eyes were so full of tears that he could not see his way, even when +the pace slackened, and in the twilight they found themselves among +houses and gardens, and thus in safety, the lights of an inn shining +not far off.</p> +<p>A figure came out in the road to meet them, crying, “Master! +master! is it you? and without scathe? Oh, the saints be praised!”</p> +<p>“Ay, Tibble, ’tis I and no other, thanks to the saints +and to these brave lads! What, man, I blame thee not, I know thou +canst not strike; but where be the rest?”</p> +<p>“In the inn, sir. I strove to call up the hue and cry +to come to the rescue, but the cowardly hinds were afraid of the thieves, +and not one would come forth.”</p> +<p>“I wish they may not be in league with them,” said Master +Headley. “See! I was delivered—ay, and in time to +save my purse, by these twain and their good dog. Are ye from +these parts, my fair lads?”</p> +<p>“We be journeying from the New Forest to London,” said +Ambrose. “The poor dog heard the tumult, and leapt to your +aid, sir, and we made after him.”</p> +<p>“’Twas the saints sent him!” was the fervent answer. +“And” (with a lifting of the cap) “I hereby vow to +St. Julian a hound of solid bronze a foot in length, with a collar of +silver, to his shrine in St. Faith’s, in token of my deliverance +in body and goods! To London are ye bound? Then will we +journey on together!”</p> +<p>They were by this time near the porch of a large country hostel, +from the doors and large bay window of which light streamed out. +And as the casement was open, those without could both see and hear +all that was passing within.</p> +<p>The table was laid for supper, and in the place of honour sat a youth +of some seventeen or eighteen years, gaily dressed, with a little feather +curling over his crimson cap, and thus discoursing:—</p> +<p>“Yea, my good host, two of the rogues bear my tokens, besides +him whom I felled to the earth. He came on at me with his sword, +but I had my point ready for him; and down he went before me like an +ox. Then came on another, but him I dealt with by the back stroke +as used in the tilt-yard at Clarendon.”</p> +<p>“I trow we shall know him again, sir. Holy saints! to +think such rascals should haunt so nigh us,” the hostess was exclaiming. +“Pity for the poor goodman, Master Headley. A portly burgher +was he, friendly of tongue and free of purse. I well remember +him when he went forth on his way to Salisbury, little thinking, poor +soul, what was before him. And is he truly sped?”</p> +<p>“I tell thee, good woman, I saw him go down before three of +their pikes. What more could I do but drive my horse over the +nearest rogue who was rifling him?”</p> +<p>“If he were still alive—which Our Lady grant!—the +knaves will hold him to ransom,” quoth the host, as he placed +a tankard on the table.</p> +<p>“I am afraid he is past ransom,” said the youth, shaking +his head. “But an if he be still in the rogues’ hands +and living, I will get me on to his house in Cheapside, and arrange +with his mother to find the needful sum, as befits me, I being his heir +and about to wed his daughter. However, I shall do all that in +me lies to get the poor old seignior out of the hands of the rogues. +Saints defend me!”</p> +<p>“The poor old seignior is much beholden to thee,” said +Master Headley, advancing amid a clamour of exclamations from three +or four serving-men or grooms, one protesting that he thought his master +was with him, another that his horse ran away with him, one showing +an arm which was actually being bound up, and the youth declaring that +he rode off to bring help.</p> +<p>“Well wast thou bringing it,” Master Headley answered. +“I might be still standing bound like an eagle displayed, against +yonder tree, for aught you fellows recked.”</p> +<p>“Nay, sir, the odds—” began the youth.</p> +<p>“Odds! such odds as were put to rout—by what, deem you? +These two striplings and one poor hound. Had but one of you had +the heart of a sparrow, ye had not furnished a tale to be the laugh +of the Barbican and Cheapside. Look well at them. How old +be you, my brave lads?”</p> +<p>“I shall be sixteen come Lammas day, and Stephen fifteen at +Martinmas day, sir,” said Ambrose; “but verily we did nought. +We could have done nought had not the thieves thought more were behind +us.”</p> +<p>“There are odds between going forward and backward,” +said Master Headley, dryly. “Ha! Art hurt? Thou +bleedst,” he exclaimed, laying his hand on Stephen’s shoulder, +and drawing him to the light.</p> +<p>“’Tis no blood of mine,” said Stephen, as Ambrose +likewise came to join in the examination. “It is my poor +Spring’s. He took the coward’s blow. His was +all the honour, and we have left him there on the heath!” +And he covered his face with his hands.</p> +<p>“Come, come, my good child,” said Master Headley; “we +will back to the place by times to-morrow when rogues hide and honest +men walk abroad. Thou shalt bury thine hound, as befits a good +warrior, on the battle-field. I would fain mark his points for +the effigy we will frame, honest Tibble, for St. Julian. And mark +ye, fellows, thou godson Giles, above all, who ’tis that boast +of their valour, and who ’tis that be modest of speech. +Yea, thanks, mine host. Let us to a chamber, and give us water +to wash away soil of travel and of fray, and then to supper. Young +masters, ye are my guests. Shame were it that Giles Headley let +go farther them that have, under Heaven and St. Julian, saved him in +life, limb, and purse.”</p> +<p>The inn was large, being the resort of many travellers from the south, +often of nobles and knights riding to Parliament, and thus the brothers +found themselves accommodated with a chamber, where they could prepare +for the meal, while Ambrose tried to console his brother by representing +that, after all, poor Spring had died gallantly, and with far less pain +than if he had suffered a wasting old age, besides being honoured for +ever by his effigy in St. Faith’s, wherever that might be, the +idea which chiefly contributed to console his master.</p> +<p>The two boys appeared in the room of the inn looking so unlike the +dusty, blood-stained pair who had entered, that Master Headley took +a second glance to convince himself that they were the same, before +beckoning them to seats on either side of him, saying that he must know +more of them, and bidding the host load their trenchers well from the +grand fabric of beef-pasty which had been set at the end of the board. +The runaways, four or five in number, herded together lower down, with +a few travellers of lower degree, all except the youth who had been +boasting before their arrival, and who retained his seat at the board, +thumping it with the handle of his knife to show his impatience for +the commencement of supper; and not far off sat Tibble, the same who +had hailed their arrival, a thin, slight, one-sided looking person, +with a terrible red withered scar on one cheek, drawing the corner of +his mouth awry. He, like Master Headley himself, and the rest +of his party were clad in red, guarded with white, and wore the cross +of St. George on the white border of their flat crimson caps, being +no doubt in the livery of their Company. The citizen himself, +having in the meantime drawn his conclusions from the air and gestures +of the brothers, and their mode of dealing with their food, asked the +usual question in an affirmative tone, “Ye be of gentle blood, +young sirs?”</p> +<p>To which they replied by giving their names, and explaining that +they were journeying from the New Forest to find their uncle in the +train of the Archbishop of York.</p> +<p>“Birkenholt,” said Tibble, meditatively. “He +beareth vert, a buck’s head proper, on a chief argent, two arrows +in saltire. Crest, a buck courant, pierced in the gorge by an +arrow, all proper.”</p> +<p>To which the brothers returned by displaying the handles of their +knives, both of which bore the pierced and courant buck.</p> +<p>“Ay, ay,” said the man. “’Twill be +found in our books, sir. We painted the shield and new-crested +the morion the first year of my prenticeship, when the Earl of Richmond, +the late King Harry of blessed memory, had newly landed at Milford Haven.”</p> +<p>“Verily,” said Ambrose, “our uncle Richard Birkenholt +fought at Bosworth under Sir Richard Pole’s banner.”</p> +<p>“A tall and stalwart esquire, methinks,” said Master +Headley. “Is he the kinsman you seek?”</p> +<p>“Not so, sir. We visited him at Winchester, and found +him sorely old and with failing wits. We be on our way to our +mother’s brother, Master Harry Randall.”</p> +<p>“Is he clerk or layman? My Lord of York entertaineth +enow of both,” said Master Headley.</p> +<p>“Lay assuredly, sir,” returned Stephen; “I trust +to him to find me some preferment as page or the like.”</p> +<p>“Know’st thou the man, Tibble?” inquired the master.</p> +<p>“Not among the men-at-arms, sir,” was the answer; “but +there be a many of them whose right names we never hear. However, +he will be easily found if my Lord of York be returned from Windsor +with his train.”</p> +<p>“Then will we go forward together, my young Masters Birkenholt. +I am not going to part with my doughty champions!”—patting +Stephen’s shoulder. “Ye’d not think that these +light-heeled knaves belonged to the brave craft of armourers?”</p> +<p>“Certainly not,” thought the lads, whose notion of armourers +was derived from the brawny blacksmith of Lyndhurst, who sharpened their +boar spears and shod their horses. They made some kind of assent, +and Master Headley went on. “These be the times! This +is what peace hath brought us to! I am called down to Salisbury +to take charge of the goods, chattels, and estate of my kinsman, Robert +Headley—Saints rest his soul!—and to bring home yonder spark, +my godson, whose indentures have been made over to me. And I may +not ride a mile after sunset without being set upon by a sort of robbers, +who must have guessed over-well what a pack of cowards they had to deal +with.”</p> +<p>“Sir,” cried the younger Giles, “I swear to you +that I struck right and left. I did all that man could do, but +these rogues of serving-men, they fled, and dragged me along with them, +and I deemed you were of our company till we dismounted.”</p> +<p>“Did you so? Methought anon you saw me go down with three +pikes in my breast. Come, come, godson Giles, speech will not +mend it! Thou art but a green, town-bred lad, a mother’s +darling, and mayst be a brave man yet, only don’t dread to tell +the honest truth that you were afeard, as many a better man might be.”</p> +<p>The host chimed in with tales of the thieves and outlaws who then, +and indeed for many later generations, infested Bagshot heath, and the +wild moorland tracks around. He seemed to think that the travellers +had had a hair’s-breadth escape, and that a few seconds’ +more delay might have revealed the weakness of the rescuers and have +been fatal to them.</p> +<p>However there was no danger so near the village in the morning, and, +somewhat to Stephen’s annoyance, the whole place turned out to +inspect the spot, and behold the burial of poor Spring, who was found +stretched on the heather, just as he had been left the night before. +He was interred under the stunted oak where Master Headley had been +tied. While the grave was dug with a spade borrowed at the inn, +Ambrose undertook to cut out the dog’s name on the bark, but he +had hardly made the first incision when Tibble, the singed foreman, +offered to do it for him, and made a much more sightly inscription than +he could have done. Master Headley’s sword was found honourably +broken under the tree, and was reserved to form a base for his intended +<i>ex voto</i>. He uttered the vow in due form like a funeral +oration, when Stephen, with a swelling heart, had laid the companion +of his life in the little grave, which was speedily covered in.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER V. THE DRAGON COURT</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p> “A citizen<br /> Of +credit and renown;<br />A trainband captain eke was he<br /> Of +famous London town.”</p> +<p>COWPER.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>In spite of his satisfaction at the honourable obsequies of his dog, +Stephen Birkenholt would fain have been independent, and thought it +provoking and strange that every one should want to direct his movements, +and assume the charge of one so well able to take care of himself; but +he could not escape as he had done before from the Warden of St. Elizabeth, +for Ambrose had readily accepted the proposal that they should travel +in Master Headley’s company, only objecting that they were on +foot; on which the good citizen hired a couple of hackneys for them.</p> +<p>Besides the two Giles Headleys, the party consisted of Tibble, the +scarred and withered foreman, two grooms, and two serving-men, all armed +with the swords and bucklers of which they had made so little use. +It appeared in process of time that the two namesakes, besides being +godfather and godson, were cousins, and that Robert, the father of the +younger one, had, after his apprenticeship in the paternal establishment +at Salisbury, served for a couple of years in the London workshop of +his kinsman to learn the latest improvements in weapons. This +had laid the foundation of a friendship which had lasted through life, +though the London cousin had been as prosperous as the country one had +been the reverse. The provincial trade in arms declined with the +close of the York and Lancaster wars. Men were not permitted to +turn from one handicraft to another, and Robert Headley had neither +aptitude nor resources. His wife was vain and thriftless, and +he finally broke down under his difficulties, appointing by will his +cousin to act as his executor, and to take charge of his only son, who +had served out half his time as apprentice to himself. There had +been delay until the peace with France had given the armourer some leisure +for an expedition to Salisbury, a serious undertaking for a London burgess, +who had little about him of the ancient northern weapon-smith, and had +wanted to avail himself of the protection of the suite of the Bishop +of Salisbury, returning from Parliament. He had spent some weeks +in disposing of his cousin’s stock in trade, which was far too +antiquated for the London market; also of the premises, which were bought +by an adjoining convent to extend its garden; and he had divided the +proceeds between the widow and children. He had presided at the +wedding of the last daughter, with whom the mother was to reside, and +was on his way back to London with his godson, who had now become his +apprentice.</p> +<p>Giles Headley the younger was a fine tall youth, but clumsy and untrained +in the use of his limbs, and he rode a large, powerful brown horse, +which brooked no companionship, lashing out with its shaggy hoofs at +any of its kind that approached it, more especially at poor, plump, +mottled Poppet. The men said he had insisted on retaining that, +and no other, for his journey to London, contrary to all advice, and +he was obliged to ride foremost, alone in the middle of the road; while +Master Headley seemed to have an immense quantity of consultation to +carry on with his foreman, Tibble, whose quiet-looking brown animal +was evidently on the best of terms with Poppet. By daylight Tibble +looked even more sallow, lean, and sickly, and Stephen could not help +saying to the serving-man nearest to him, “Can such a weakling +verily be an armourer?”</p> +<p>“Yea, sir. Wry-mouthed Tibble, as they call him, was +a sturdy fellow till he got a fell against the mouth of a furnace, and +lay ten months in St. Bartholomew’s Spital, scarce moving hand +or foot. He cannot wield a hammer, but he has a cunning hand for +gilding, and coloured devices, and is as good as Garter-king-at-arms +himself for all bearings of knights and nobles.”</p> +<p>“As we heard last night,” said Stephen.</p> +<p>“Moreover in the spital he learnt to write and cast accompts +like a very scrivener, and the master trusts him more than any, except +maybe Kit Smallbones, the head smith.”</p> +<p>“What will Smallbones think of the new prentice!” said +one of the other men.</p> +<p>“Prentice! ’Tis plain enough what sort of prentice +the youth is like to be who beareth the name of a master with one only +daughter.”</p> +<p>An emphatic grunt was the only answer, while Ambrose pondered on +the good luck of some people, who had their futures cut out for them +with no trouble on their own part.</p> +<p>This day’s ride was through more inhabited parts, and was esteemed +less perilous. They came in sight of the Thames at Lambeth, but +Master Headley, remembering how ill his beloved Poppet had brooked the +ferry, decided to keep to the south of the river by a causeway across +Lambeth marsh, which was just passable in high and dry summers, and +which conducted them to a raised road called Bankside, where they looked +across to the towers of Westminster, and the Abbey in its beauty dawned +on the imagination of Stephen and Ambrose. The royal standard +floated over the palace, whence Master Headley perceived that the King +was there, and augured that my Lord of York’s meiné would +not be far to seek. Then came broad green fields with young corn +growing, or hay waving for the scythe, the tents and booths of May Fair, +and the beautiful Market Cross in the midst of the village of Charing, +while the Strand, immediately opposite, began to be fringed with great +monasteries within their ample gardens, with here and there a nobleman’s +castellated house and terraced garden, with broad stone stairs leading +to the Thames.</p> +<p>Barges and wherries plied up and down, the former often gaily canopied +and propelled by liveried oarsmen, all plying their arms in unison, +so that the vessel looked like some brilliant many-limbed creature treading +the water. Presently appeared the heavy walls inclosing the City +itself, dominated by the tall openwork timber spire of St. Paul’s, +with the foursquare, four-turreted Tower acting, as it has been well +said, as a padlock to a chain, and the river’s breadth spanned +by London bridge, a very street of houses built on the abutments. +Now, Bankside had houses on each side of the road, and Wry-mouthed Tibble +showed evident satisfaction when they turned to cross the bridge, where +they had to ride in single file, not without some refractoriness on +the part of young Headley’s steed.</p> +<p>On they went, now along streets where each story of the tall houses +projected over the last, so that the gables seemed ready to meet; now +beside walls of convent gardens, now past churches, while the country +lads felt bewildered with the numbers passing to and fro, and the air +was full of bells.</p> +<p>Cap after cap was lifted in greeting to Master Headley by burgess, +artisan, or apprentice, and many times did he draw Poppet’s rein +to exchange greetings and receive congratulations on his return. +On reaching St. Paul’s Minster, he halted and bade the servants +take home the horses, and tell the mistress, with his dutiful greetings, +that he should be at home anon, and with guests.</p> +<p>“We must e’en return thanks for our safe journey and +great deliverance,” he said to his young companions, and thrusting +his arm into that of a russet-vested citizen, who met him at the door, +he walked into the cathedral, recounting his adventure.</p> +<p>The youths followed with some difficulty through the stream of loiterers +in the nave, Giles the younger elbowing and pushing so that several +of the crowd turned to look at him, and it was well that his kinsman +soon astonished him by descending a stair into a crypt, with solid, +short, clustered columns, and high-pitched vaulting, fitted up as a +separate church, namely that of the parish of St. Faith. The great +cathedral, having absorbed the site of the original church, had given +this crypt to the parishioners. Here all was quiet and solemn, +in marked contrast to the hubbub in “Paul’s Walk,” +above in the nave. Against the eastern pillar of one of the bays +was a little altar, and the decorations included St. Julian, the patron +of travellers, with his saltire doubly crossed, and his stag beside +him. Little ships, trees, and wonderful enamelled representations +of perils by robbers, field and flood, hung thickly on St. Julian’s +pillar, and on the wall and splay of the window beside it; and here, +after crossing himself, Master Headley rapidly repeated a Paternoster, +and ratified his vow of presenting a bronze image of the hound to whom +he owed his rescue. One of the clergy came up to register the +vow, and the good armourer proceeded to bespeak a mass of thanksgiving +on the next morning, also ten for the soul of Master John Birkenholt, +late Verdurer of the New Forest in Hampshire—a mode of showing +his gratitude which the two sons highly appreciated.</p> +<p>Then, climbing up the steps again, and emerging from the cathedral +by the west door, the boys beheld a scene for which their experiences +of Romsey, and even of Winchester, had by no means prepared them. +It was five o’clock on a summer evening, so that the place was +full of stir. Old women sat with baskets of rosaries and little +crosses, or images of saints, on the steps of the cathedral, while in +the open space beyond, more than one horse was displaying his paces +for the benefit of some undecided purchaser, who had been chaffering +for hours in Paul’s Walk. Merchants in the costume of their +countries, Lombard, Spanish, Dutch, or French, were walking away in +pairs, attended by servants, from their Exchange, likewise in the nave. +Women, some alone, some protected by serving-men or apprentices, were +returning from their orisons, or, it might be, from their gossipings. +Priests and friars, as usual, pervaded everything, and round the open +space were galleried buildings with stalls beneath them, whence the +holders were removing their wares for the night. The great octagonal +structure of Paul’s Cross stood in the centre, and just beneath +the stone pulpit, where the sermons were wont to be preached, stood +a man with a throng round him, declaiming a ballad at the top of his +sing-song voice, and causing much loud laughter by some ribaldry about +monks and friars.</p> +<p>Master Headley turned aside as quickly as he could, through Paternoster +Row, which was full of stalls, where little black books, and larger +sheets printed in black-letter, seemed the staple commodities, and thence +the burgess, keeping a heedful eye on his young companions among all +his greetings, entered the broader space of Cheapside, where numerous +prentice lads seemed to be playing at different sports after the labours +of the day.</p> +<p>Passing under an archway surmounted by a dragon with shining scales, +Master Headley entered a paved courtyard, where the lads started at +the figures of two knights in full armour, their lances in rest, and +their horses with housings down to their hoofs, apparently about to +charge any intruder. But at that moment there was a shriek of +joy, and out from the scarlet and azure petticoats of the nearest steed, +there darted a little girl, crying, “Father! father!” and +in an instant she was lifted in Master Headley’s arms, and was +clinging round his neck, while he kissed and blessed her, and as he +set her on her feet, he said, “Here, Dennet, greet thy cousin +Giles Headley, and these two brave young gentlemen. Greet them +like a courteous maiden, or they will think thee a little town mouse.”</p> +<p>In truth the child had a pointed little visage, and bright brown +eyes, somewhat like a mouse, but it was a very sweet face that she lifted +obediently to be kissed not only by the kinsman, but by the two guests. +Her father meantime was answering with nods to the respectful welcomes +of the workmen, who thronged out below, and their wives looking down +from the galleries above; while Poppet and the other horses were being +rubbed down after their journey.</p> +<p>The ground-floor of the buildings surrounding the oblong court seemed +to be entirely occupied by forges, workshops, warehouses and stables. +Above, were open railed galleries, with outside stairs at intervals, +giving access to the habitations of the workpeople on three sides. +The fourth, opposite to the entrance, had a much handsomer, broad, stone +stair, adorned on one side with a stone figure of the princess fleeing +from the dragon, and on the other of St. George piercing the monster’s +open mouth with his lance, the scaly convolutions of the two dragons +forming the supports of the handrail on either side. Here stood, +cap in hand, showing his thick curly hair, and with open front, displaying +a huge hairy chest, a giant figure, whom his master greeted as Kit Smallbones, +inquiring whether all had gone well during his absence. “’Tis +time you were back, sir, for there’s a great tilting match on +hand for the Lady Mary’s wedding. Here have been half the +gentlemen in the Court after you, and my Lord of Buckingham sent twice +for you since Sunday, and once for Tibble Steelman, and his squire swore +that if you were not at his bidding before noon to-morrow, he would +have his new suit of Master Hillyer of the Eagle.”</p> +<p>“He shall see me when it suiteth me,” said Mr. Headley +coolly. “He wotteth well that Hillyer hath none who can +burnish plate armour like Tibble here.”</p> +<p>“Moreover the last iron we had from that knave Mepham is nought. +It works short under the hammer.”</p> +<p>“That shall be seen to, Kit. The rest of the budget to-morrow. +I must on to my mother.”</p> +<p>For at the doorway, at the head of the stairs, there stood the still +trim and active figure of an old woman, with something of the mouse +likeness seen in her grand-daughter, in the close cap, high hat, and +cloth dress, that sumptuary opinion, if not law, prescribed for the +burgher matron, a white apron, silver chain and bunch of keys at her +girdle. Due and loving greetings passed between mother and son, +after the longest and most perilous absence of Master Headley’s +life, and he then presented Giles, to whom the kindly dame offered hand +and cheek, saying, “Welcome, my young kinsman, your good father +was well known and liked here. May you tread in his steps!”</p> +<p>“Thanks, good mistress,” returned Giles. “I +am thought to have a pretty taste in the fancy part of the trade. +My Lord of Montagu—”</p> +<p>Before he could get any farther, Mistress Headley was inquiring what +was the rumour she had heard of robbers and dangers that had beset her +son, and he was presenting the two young Birkenholts to her. “Brave +boys! good boys,” she said, holding out her hands and kissing +each according to the custom of welcome, “you have saved my son +for me, and this little one’s father for her. Kiss them, +Dennet, and thank them.”</p> +<p>“It was the poor dog,” said the child, in a clear little +voice, drawing back with a certain quaint coquetting shyness; “I +would rather kiss him.”</p> +<p>“Would that thou couldst, little mistress,” said Stephen. +“My poor brave Spring!”</p> +<p>“Was he thine own? Tell me all about him,” said +Dennet, somewhat imperiously.</p> +<p>She stood between the two strangers looking eagerly up with sorrowfully +interested eyes, while Stephen, out of his full heart, told of his faithful +comradeship with his hound from the infancy of both. Her father +meanwhile was exchanging serious converse with her grandmother, and +Giles finding himself left in the background, began: “Come hither, +pretty coz, and I will tell thee of my Lady of Salisbury’s dainty +little hounds.”</p> +<p>“I care not for dainty little hounds,” returned Dennet; +“I want to hear of the poor faithful dog that flew at the wicked +robber.”</p> +<p>“A mighty stir about a mere chance,” muttered Giles.</p> +<p>“I know what <i>you</i> did,” said Dennet, turning her +bright brown eyes full upon him. “You took to your heels.”</p> +<p>Her look and little nod were so irresistibly comical that the two +brothers could not help laughing; whereupon Giles Headley turned upon +them in a passion.</p> +<p>“What mean ye by this insolence, you beggars’ brats picked +up on the heath?”</p> +<p>“Better born than thou, braggart and coward that thou art!” +broke forth Stephen, while Master Headley exclaimed, “How now, +lads? No brawling here!”</p> +<p>Three voices spoke at once.</p> +<p>“They were insolent.”</p> +<p>“He reviled our birth.”</p> +<p>“Father! they did but laugh when I told cousin Giles that he +took to his heels, and he must needs call them beggars’ brats +picked up on the heath.”</p> +<p>“Ha! ha! wench, thou art woman enough already to set them together +by the ears,” said her father, laughing. “See here, +Giles Headley, none who bears my name shall insult a stranger on my +hearth.”</p> +<p>Stephen however had stepped forth holding out his small stock of +coin, and saying, “Sir, receive for our charges, and let us go +to the tavern we passed anon.”</p> +<p>“How now, boy! Said I not ye were my guests?”</p> +<p>“Yea, sir, and thanks; but we can give no cause for being called +beggars nor beggars’ brats.”</p> +<p>“What beggary is there in being guests, my young gentlemen?” +said the master of the house. “If any one were picked up +on the heath, it was I. We owned you for gentlemen of blood and +coat armour, and thy brother there can tell thee that, ye have no right +to put an affront on me, your host, because a rude prentice from a country +town hath not learnt to rule his tongue.”</p> +<p>Giles scowled, but the armourer spoke with an authority that imposed +on all, and Stephen submitted, while Ambrose spoke a few words of thanks, +after which the two brothers were conducted by an external stair and +gallery to a guest-chamber, in which to prepare for supper.</p> +<p>The room was small, but luxuriously filled beyond all ideas of the +young foresters, for it was hung with tapestry, representing the history +of Joseph; the bed was curtained, there was a carved chest for clothes, +a table and a ewer and basin of bright brass with the armourer’s +mark upon it, a twist in which the letter H and the dragon’s tongue +and tail were ingeniously blended. The City was far in advance +of the country in all the arts of life, and only the more magnificent +castles and abbeys, which the boys had never seen, possessed the amount +of comforts to be found in the dwellings of the superior class of Londoners. +Stephen was inclined to look with contempt upon the effeminacy of a +churl merchant.</p> +<p>“No churl,” returned Ambrose, “if manners makyth +man, as we saw at Winchester.”</p> +<p>“Then what do they make of that cowardly clown, his cousin?”</p> +<p>Ambrose laughed, but said, “Prove we our gentle blood at least +by not brawling with the fellow. Master Headley will soon teach +him to know his place.”</p> +<p>“That will matter nought to us. To-morrow shall we be +with our uncle Hal. I only wish his lord was not of the ghostly +sort, but perhaps he may prefer me to some great knight’s service. +But oh! Ambrose, come and look. See! The fellow they call +Smallbones is come out to the fountain in the middle of the court with +a bucket in each hand. Look! Didst ever see such a giant? +He is as big and brawny as Ascapart at the bar-gate at Southampton. +See! he lifts that big pail full and brimming as though it were an egg +shell. See his arm! ’Twere good to see him wield a +hammer! I must look into his smithy before going forth to-morrow.”</p> +<p>Stephen clenched his fist and examined his muscles ere donning his +best mourning jerkin, and could scarce be persuaded to complete his +toilet, so much was he entertained with the comings and goings in the +court, a little world in itself, like a college quadrangle. The +day’s work was over, the forges out, and the smiths were lounging +about at ease, one or two sitting on a bench under a large elm-tree +beside the central well, enjoying each his tankard of ale. A few +more were watching Poppet being combed down, and conversing with the +newly-arrived grooms. One was carrying a little child in his arms, +and a young man and maid sitting on the low wall round the well, seemed +to be carrying on a courtship over the pitcher that stood waiting to +be filled. Two lads were playing at skittles, children were running +up and down the stairs and along the wooden galleries, and men and women +went and came by the entrance gateway between the two effigies of knights +in armour. Some were servants bringing helm or gauntlet for repair, +or taking the like away. Some might be known by their flat caps +to be apprentices, and two substantial burgesses walked in together, +as if to greet Master Headley on his return. Immediately after, +a man-cook appeared with white cap and apron, bearing aloft a covered +dish surrounded by a steamy cloud, followed by other servants bearing +other meats; a big bell began to sound, the younger men and apprentices +gathered together and the brothers descended the stairs, and entered +by the big door into the same large hall where they had been received. +The spacious hearth was full of green boughs, with a beaupot of wild +rose, honeysuckle, clove pinks and gilliflowers; the lower parts of +the walls were hung with tapestry representing the adventures of St. +George; the mullioned windows had their upper squares filled with glass, +bearing the shield of the City of London, that of the Armourers’ +Company, the rose and portcullis of the King, the pomegranate of Queen +Catharine, and other like devices. Others, belonging to the Lancastrian +kings, adorned the pendants from the handsome open roof and the front +of a gallery for musicians which crossed one end of the hall in the +taste of the times of Henry V. and Whittington.</p> +<p>Far more interesting to the hungry travellers was it that the long +table, running the whole breadth of the apartment, was decked with snowy +linen, trenchers stood ready with horns or tankards beside them, and +loaves of bread at intervals, while the dishes were being placed on +the table. The master and his entire establishment took their +meals together, except the married men, who lived in the quadrangle +with their families. There was no division by the salt-cellar, +as at the tables of the nobles and gentry, but the master, his family +and guests, occupied the centre, with the hearth behind them, where +the choicest of the viands were placed; next after them were the places +of the journeymen according to seniority, then those of the apprentices, +household servants, and stable-men, but the apprentices had to assist +the serving-men in waiting on the master and his party before sitting +down themselves. There was a dignity and regularity about the +whole, which could not fail to impress Stephen and Ambrose with the +weight and importance of a London burgher, warden of the Armourers’ +Company, and alderman of the Ward of Cheap. There were carved +chairs for himself, his mother, and the guests, also a small Persian +carpet extending from the hearth beyond their seats. This article +filled the two foresters with amazement. To put one’s feet +on what ought to be a coverlet! They would not have stepped on +it, had they not been kindly summoned by old Mistress Headley to take +their places among the company, which consisted, besides the family, +of the two citizens who had entered, and of a priest who had likewise +dropped in to welcome Master Headley’s return, and had been invited +to stay to supper. Young Giles, as a matter of course, placed +himself amongst them, at which there were black looks and whispers among +the apprentices, and even Mistress Headley wore an air of amazement.</p> +<p>“Mother,” said the head of the family, speaking loud +enough for all to hear, “you will permit our young kinsman to +be placed as our guest this evening. To-morrow he will act as +an apprentice, as we all have done in our time.”</p> +<p>“I never did so at home!” cried Giles, in his loud, hasty +voice.</p> +<p>“I trow not,” dryly observed one of the guests.</p> +<p>Giles, however, went on muttering while the priest was pronouncing +a Latin grace, and thereupon the same burgess observed, “Never +did I see it better proved that folk in the country give their sons +no good breeding.”</p> +<p>“Have patience with him, good Master Pepper,” returned +Mr. Headley. “He hath been an only son, greatly cockered +by father, mother, and sisters, but ere long he will learn what is befiting.”</p> +<p>Giles glared round, but he met nothing encouraging. Little +Dennet sat with open mouth of astonishment, her grandmother looked shocked, +the household which had been aggrieved by his presumption laughed at +his rebuke, for there was not much delicacy in those days; but something +generous in the gentle blood of Ambrose moved him to some amount of +pity for the lad, who thus suddenly became conscious that the tie he +had thought nominal at Salisbury, a mere preliminary to municipal rank, +was here absolute subjection, and a bondage whence there was no escape. +His was the only face that Giles met which had any friendliness in it, +but no one spoke, for manners imposed silence upon youth at table, except +when spoken to; and there was general hunger enough prevailing to make +Mistress Headley’s fat capon the most interesting contemplation +for the present.</p> +<p>The elders conversed, for there was much for Master Headley to hear +of civic affairs that had passed in his absence of two months, also +of all the comings and goings, and it was ascertained that my Lord Archbishop +of York was at his suburban abode, York House, now Whitehall.</p> +<p>It was a very late supper for the times, not beginning till seven +o’clock, on account of the travellers; and as soon as it was finished, +and the priest and burghers had taken their leave, Master Headley dismissed +the household to their beds, although daylight was scarcely departed.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER VI. A SUNDAY IN THE CITY</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“The rod of Heaven has touched them all,<br /> The +word from Heaven is spoken:<br />Rise, shine and sing, thou captive +thrall,<br /> Are not thy fetters broken?”</p> +<p>KEBLE.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>On Sunday morning, when the young Birkenholts awoke, the whole air +seemed full of bells from hundreds of Church and Minster steeples. +The Dragon Court wore a holiday air, and there was no ring of hammers +at the forges; but the men who stood about were in holiday attire: and +the brothers assumed their best clothes.</p> +<p>Breakfast was not a meal much accounted of. It was reckoned +effeminate to require more than two meals a day, though, just as in +the verdurer’s lodge at home, there was a barrel of ale on tap +with drinking horns beside it in the hall, and on a small round table +in the window a loaf of bread, to which city luxury added a cheese, +and a jug containing sack, with some silver cups beside it, and a pitcher +of fair water. Master Headley, with his mother and daughter, was +taking a morsel of these refections, standing, and in out-door garments, +when the brothers appeared at about seven o’clock in the morning.</p> +<p>“Ha! that’s well,” quoth he, greeting them. +“No slugabeds, I see. Will ye come with us to hear mass +at St. Faith’s?” They agreed, and Master Headley then +told them that if they would tarry till the next day in searching out +their uncle, they could have the company of Tibble Steelman, who had +to see one of the captains of the guard about an alteration of his corslet, +and thus would have every opportunity of facilitating their inquiries +for their uncle.</p> +<p>The mass was an ornate one, though not more so than they were accustomed +to at Beaulieu. Ambrose had his book of devotions, supplied by +the good monks who had brought him up, and old Mrs. Headley carried +something of the same kind; but these did not necessarily follow the +ritual, and neither quiet nor attention was regarded as requisite in +“hearing mass.” Dennet, unchecked, was exchanging +flowers from her Sunday posy with another little girl, and with hooded +fingers carrying on in all innocence the satirical pantomime of Father +Francis and Sister Catharine; and even Master Headley himself exchanged +remarks with his friends, and returned greetings from burgesses and +their wives while the celebrant priest’s voice droned on, and +the choir responded—the peals of the organ in the Minster above +coming in at inappropriate moments, for there they were in a different +part of High Mass using the Liturgy peculiar to St. Paul’s.</p> +<p>Thinking of last week at Beaulieu, Ambrose knelt meantime with his +head buried in his hands, in an absorption of feeling that was not perhaps +wholly devout, but which at any rate looked more like devotion than +the demeanour of any one around. When the <i>Ite missa est</i> +was pronounced, and all rose up, Stephen touched him and he rose, looking +about, bewildered.</p> +<p>“So please you, young sir, I can show you another sort of thing +by and by,” said in his ear Tibble Steelman, who had come in late, +and marked his attitude.</p> +<p>They went up from St. Faith’s in a flood of talk, with all +manner of people welcoming Master Headley after his journey, and thence +came back to dinner which was set out in the hall very soon after their +return from church. Quite guests enough were there on this occasion +to fill all the chairs, and Master Headley intimated to Giles that he +must begin his duties at table as an apprentice, under the tuition of +the senior, a tall young fellow of nineteen, by name Edmund Burgess. +He looked greatly injured and discomfited, above all when he saw his +two travelling companions seated at the table—though far lower +than the night before; nor would he stir from where he was standing +against the wall to do the slightest service, although Edmund admonished +him sharply that unless he bestirred himself it would be the worse for +him.</p> +<p>When the meal was over, and grace had been said, the boards were +removed from their trestles, and the elders drew round the small table +in the window with a flagon of sack and a plate of wastel bread in their +midst to continue their discussion of weighty Town Council matters. +Every one was free to make holiday, and Edmund Burgess good-naturedly +invited the strangers to come to Mile End, where there was to be shooting +at the butts, and a match at singlestick was to come off between Kit +Smallbones and another giant, who was regarded as the champion of the +brewer’s craft.</p> +<p>Stephen was nothing loth, especially if he might take his own crossbow; +but Ambrose never had much turn for these pastimes and was in no mood +for them. The familiar associations of the mass had brought the +grief of orphanhood, homelessness, and uncertainty upon him with the +more force. His spirit yearned after his father, and his heart +was sick for his forest home. Moreover, there was the duty incumbent +on a good son of saying his prayers for the repose of his father’s +soul. He hinted as much to Stephen, who, boy-like, answered, “Oh, +we’ll see to that when we get into my Lord of York’s house. +Masses must be plenty there. And I must see Smallbones floor the +brewer.”</p> +<p>Ambrose could trust his brother under the care of Edmund Burgess, +and resolved on a double amount of repetitions of the appointed intercessions +for the departed.</p> +<p>He was watching the party of youths set off, all except Giles Headley, +who sulkily refused the invitations, betook himself to a window and +sat drumming on the glass, while Ambrose stood leaning on the dragon +balustrade, with his eyes dreamily following the merry lads out at the +gateway.</p> +<p>“You are not for such gear, sir,” said a voice at his +ear, and he saw the scathed face of Tibble Steelman beside him.</p> +<p>“Never greatly so, Tibble,” answered Ambrose. “And +my heart is too heavy for it now.”</p> +<p>“Ay, ay, sir. So I thought when I saw you in St. Faith’s. +I have known what it was to lose a good father in my time.”</p> +<p>Ambrose held out his hand. It was the first really sympathetic +word he had heard since he had left Nurse Joan.</p> +<p>“’Tis the week’s mind of his burial,” he +said, half choked with tears. “Where shall I find a quiet +church where I may say his <i>De profundis</i> in peace?”</p> +<p>“Mayhap,” returned Tibble, “the chapel in the Pardon +churchyard would serve your turn. ’Tis not greatly resorted +to when mass time is over, when there’s no funeral in hand, and +I oft go there to read my book in quiet on a Sunday afternoon. +And then, if ’tis your will, I will take you to what to my mind +is the best healing for a sore heart.”</p> +<p>“Nurse Joan was wont to say the best for that was a sight of +the true Cross, as she once beheld it at Holy Rood church at Southampton,” +said Ambrose.</p> +<p>“And so it is, lad, so it is,” said Tibble, with a strange +light on his distorted features.</p> +<p>So they went forth together, while Giles again hugged himself in +his doleful conceit, marvelling how a youth of birth and nurture could +walk the streets on a Sunday with a scarecrow such as that!</p> +<p>The hour was still early, there was a whole summer afternoon before +them; and Tibble, seeing how much his young companion was struck with +the grand vista of church towers and spires, gave him their names as +they stood, though coupling them with short dry comments on the way +in which their priests too often perverted them.</p> +<p>The Cheap was then still in great part an open space, where boys +were playing, and a tumbler was attracting many spectators; while the +ballad-singer of yesterday had again a large audience, who laughed loudly +at every coarse jest broken upon mass-priests and friars.</p> +<p>Ambrose was horrified at the stave that met his ears, and asked how +such profanity could be allowed. Tibble shrugged his shoulders, +and cited the old saying, “The nearer the church”—adding, +“Truth hath a voice, and will out.”</p> +<p>“But surely this is not the truth?”</p> +<p>“’Tis mighty like it, sir, though it might be spoken +in a more seemly fashion.”</p> +<p>“What’s this?” demanded Ambrose. “’Tis +a noble house.”</p> +<p>“That’s the Bishop’s palace, sir—a man that +hath much to answer for.”</p> +<p>“Liveth he so ill a life then?”</p> +<p>“Not so. He is no scandalous liver, but he would fain +stifle all the voices that call for better things. Ay, you look +back at yon ballad-monger! Great folk despise the like of him, +never guessing at the power there may be in such ribald stuff; while +they would fain silence that which might turn men from their evil ways +while yet there is time.”</p> +<p>Tibble muttered this to himself, unheeded by Ambrose, and then presently +crossing the church-yard, where a grave was being filled up, with numerous +idle children around it, he conducted the youth into a curious little +chapel, empty now, but with the Host enthroned above the altar, and +the trestles on which the bier had rested still standing in the narrow +nave.</p> +<p>It was intensely still and cool, a fit place indeed for Ambrose’s +filial devotions, while Tibble settled himself on the step, took out +a little black book, and became absorbed. Ambrose’s Latin +scholarship enabled him to comprehend the language of the round of devotions +he was rehearsing for the benefit of his father’s soul; but there +was much repetition in them, and he had been so trained as to believe +their correct recital was much more important than attention to their +spirit, and thus, while his hands held his rosary, his eyes were fixed +upon the walls where was depicted the Dance of Death. In terrible +repetition, the artist had aimed at depicting every rank or class in +life as alike the prey of the grisly phantom. Triple-crowned pope, +scarlet-hatted cardinal, mitred prelate, priests, monks, and friars +of every degree; emperors, kings, princes, nobles, knights, squires, +yeomen, every sort of trade, soldiers of all kinds, beggars, even thieves +and murderers, and, in like manner, ladies of every degree, from the +queen and the abbess, down to the starving beggar, were each represented +as grappled with, and carried off by the crowned skeleton. There +was no truckling to greatness. The bishop and abbot writhed and +struggled in the grasp of Death, while the miser clutched at his gold, +and if there were some nuns, and some poor ploughmen who willingly clasped +his bony fingers and obeyed his summons joyfully, there were countesses +and prioresses who tried to beat him off, or implored him to wait. +The infant smiled in his arms, but the middle-aged fought against his +scythe.</p> +<p>The contemplation had a most depressing effect on the boy, whose +heart was still sore for his father. After the sudden shock of +such a loss, the monotonous repetition of the snatching away of all +alike, in the midst of their characteristic worldly employments, and +the anguish and hopeless resistance of most of them, struck him to the +heart. He moved between each bead to a fresh group; staring at +it with fixed gaze, while his lips moved in the unconscious hope of +something consoling; till at last, hearing some uncontrollable sobs, +Tibble Steelman rose and found him crouching rather than kneeling before +the figure of an emaciated hermit, who was greeting the summons of the +King of Terrors, with crucifix pressed to his breast, rapt countenance +and outstretched arms, seeing only the Angel who hovered above. +After some minutes of bitter weeping, which choked his utterance, Ambrose, +feeling a friendly hand on his shoulder, exclaimed in a voice broken +by sobs, “Oh, tell me, where may I go to become an anchorite! +There’s no other safety! I’ll give all my portion, +and spend all my time in prayer for my father and the other poor souls +in purgatory.”</p> +<p>Two centuries earlier, nay, even one, Ambrose would have been encouraged +to follow out his purpose. As it was, Tibble gave a little dry +cough and said, “Come along with me, sir, and I’ll show +you another sort of way.”</p> +<p>“I want no entertainment!” said Ambrose, “I should +feel only as if he,” pointing to the phantom, “were at hand, +clutching me with his deadly claw,” and he looked over his shoulder +with a shudder.</p> +<p>There was a box by the door to receive alms for masses on behalf +of the souls in purgatory, and here he halted and felt for the pouch +at his girdle, to pour in all the contents; but Steelman said, “Hold, +sir, are you free to dispose of your brother’s share, you who +are purse-bearer for both?”</p> +<p>“I would fain hold my brother to the only path of safety.”</p> +<p>Again Tibble gave his dry cough, but added, “He is not in the +path of safety who bestows that which is not his own but is held in +trust. I were foully to blame if I let this grim portrayal so +work on you as to lead you to beggar not only yourself, but your brother, +with no consent of his.”</p> +<p>For Tibble was no impulsive Italian, but a sober-minded Englishman +of sturdy good sense, and Ambrose was reasonable enough to listen and +only drop in a few groats which he knew to be his own.</p> +<p>At the same moment, a church bell was heard, the tone of which Steelman +evidently distinguished from all the others, and he led the way out +of the Pardon churchyard, over the space in front of St. Paul’s. +Many persons were taking the same route; citizens in gowns and gold +or silver chains, their wives in tall pointed hats; craftsmen, black-gowned +scholarly men with fur caps, but there was a much more scanty proportion +of priests, monks or friars, than was usual in any popular assemblage. +Many of the better class of women carried folding stools, or had them +carried by their servants, as if they expected to sit and wait.</p> +<p>“Is there a procession toward? or a relic to be displayed?” +asked Ambrose, trying to recollect whose feast-day it might be.</p> +<p>Tibble screwed up his mouth in an extraordinary smile as he said, +“Relic quotha? yea, the soothest relic there be of the Lord and +Master of us all.”</p> +<p>“Methought the true Cross was always displayed on the High +Altar,” said Ambrose, as all turned to a side aisle of the noble +nave.</p> +<p>“Rather say hidden,” muttered Tibble. “Thou +shalt have it displayed, young sir, but neither in wood nor gilded shrine. +See, here he comes who setteth it forth.”</p> +<p>From the choir came, attended by half a dozen clergy, a small, pale +man, in the ordinary dress of a priest, with a square cap on his head. +He looked spare, sickly, and wrinkled, but the furrows traced lines +of sweetness, his mouth was wonderfully gentle, and there was a keen +brightness about his clear grey eye. Every one rose and made obeisance +as he passed along to the stone stair leading to a pulpit projecting +from one of the columns.</p> +<p>Ambrose saw what was coming, though he had only twice before heard +preaching. The children of the ante-reformation were not called +upon to hear sermons; and the few exhortations given in Lent to the +monks of Beaulieu were so exclusively for the religious that seculars +were not invited to them. So that Ambrose had only once heard +a weary and heavy discourse there plentifully garnished with Latin; +and once he had stood among the throng at a wake at Millbrook, and heard +a begging friar recommend the purchase of briefs of indulgence and the +daily repetition of the Ave Maria by a series of extraordinary miracles +for the rescue of desperate sinners, related so jocosely as to keep +the crowd in a roar of laughter. He had laughed with the rest, +but he could not imagine his guide, with the stern, grave eyebrows, +writhen features and earnest, ironical tone, covering—as even +he could detect—the deepest feeling, enjoying such broad sallies +as tickled the slow merriment of village clowns and forest deer-stealers.</p> +<p>All stood for a moment while the Paternoster was repeated. +Then the owners of stools sat down on them, some leant on adjacent pillars, +others curled themselves on the floor, but most remained on their feet +as unwilling to miss a word, and of these were Tibble Steelman and his +companion.</p> +<p><i>Omnis qui facit peccatum, servus est peccati</i>, followed by +the rendering in English, “Whosoever doeth sin is sin’s +bond thrall.” The words answered well to the ghastly delineations +that seemed stamped on Ambrose’s brain and which followed him +about into the nave, so that he felt himself in the grasp of the cruel +fiend, and almost expected to feel the skeleton claw of Death about +to hand him over to torment. He expected the consolation of hearing +that a daily “Hail Mary,” persevered in through the foulest +life, would obtain that beams should be arrested in their fall, ships +fail to sink, cords to hang, till such confession had been made as should +insure ultimate salvation, after such a proportion of the flames of +purgatory as masses and prayers might not mitigate.</p> +<p>But his attention was soon caught. Sinfulness stood before +him not as the liability to penalty for transgressing an arbitrary rule, +but as a taint to the entire being, mastering the will, perverting the +senses, forging fetters out of habit, so as to be a loathsome horror +paralysing and enchaining the whole being and making it into the likeness +of him who brought sin and death into the world. The horror seemed +to grow on Ambrose, as his boyish faults and errors rushed on his mind, +and he felt pervaded by the contagion of the pestilence, abhorrent even +to himself. But behold, what was he hearing now? “The +bond thrall abideth not in the house for ever, but the Son abideth ever. +<i>Si ergo Filius liberavit, verè liberi eritis</i>.” +“If the Son should make you free, then are ye free indeed.” +And for the first time was the true liberty of the redeemed soul comprehensibly +proclaimed to the young spirit that had begun to yearn for something +beyond the outside. Light began to shine through the outward ordinances; +the Church; the world, life, and death, were revealed as something absolutely +new; a redeeming, cleansing, sanctifying power was made known, and seemed +to inspire him with a new life, joy, and hope. He was no longer +feeling himself necessarily crushed by the fetters of death, or only +delivered from absolute peril by a mechanism that had lost its heart, +but he could enter into the glorious liberty of the sons of God, in +process of being saved, not in sin but <i>from</i> sin.</p> +<p>It was an era in his life, and Tibble heard him sobbing, but with +very different sobs from those in the Pardon chapel. When it was +over, and the blessing given, Ambrose looked up from the hands which +had covered his face with a new radiance in his eyes, and drew a long +breath. Tibble saw that he was like one in another world, and +gently led him away.</p> +<p>“Who is he? What is he? Is he an angel from Heaven?” +demanded the boy, a little wildly, as they neared the southern door.</p> +<p>“If an angel be a messenger of God, I trow he is one,” +said Tibble. “But men call him Dr. Colet. He is Dean +of St. Paul’s Minster, and dwelleth in the house you see below +there.”</p> +<p>“And are such words as these to be heard every Sunday?”</p> +<p>“On most Sundays doth he preach here in the nave to all sorts +of folk.”</p> +<p>“I must—I must hear it again!” exclaimed Ambrose.</p> +<p>“Ay, ay,” said Tibble, regarding him with a well-pleased +face. “You are one with whom it works.”</p> +<p>“Every Sunday!” repeated Ambrose. “Why do +not all—your master and all these,” pointing to the holiday +crowds going to and fro—“why do they not all come to listen?”</p> +<p>“Master doth come by times,” said Tibble, in the tone +of irony that was hard to understand. “He owneth the dean +as a rare preacher.”</p> +<p>Ambrose did not try to understand. He exclaimed again, panting +as if his thoughts were too strong for his words—“Lo you, +that preacher—dean call ye him?—putteth a soul into what +hath hitherto been to me but a dead and empty framework.”</p> +<p>Tibble held out his hand almost unconsciously, and Ambrose pressed +it. Man and boy, alike they had felt the electric current of that +truth, which, suppressed and ignored among man’s inventions, was +coming as a new revelation to many, and was already beginning to convulse +the Church and the world.</p> +<p>Ambrose’s mind was made up on one point. Whatever he +did, and wherever he went, he felt the doctrine he had just heard as +needful to him as vital air, and he must be within reach of it. +This, and not the hermit’s cell, was what his instinct craved. +He had always been a studious, scholarly boy, supposed to be marked +out for a clerical life, because a book was more to him than a bow, +and he had been easily trained in good habits and practices of devotion; +but all in a childish manner, without going beyond simple receptiveness, +until the experiences of the last week had made a man of him, or more +truly, the Pardon chapel and Dean Colet’s sermon had made him +a new being, with the realities of the inner life opened before him.</p> +<p>His present feeling was relief from the hideous load he had felt +while dwelling on the Dance of Death, and therewith general goodwill +to all men, which found its first issue in compassion for Giles Headley, +whom he found on his return seated on the steps—moody and miserable.</p> +<p>“Would that you had been with us,” said Ambrose, sitting +down beside him on the step. “Never have I heard such words +as to-day.”</p> +<p>“I would not be seen in the street with that scarecrow,” +murmured Giles. “If my mother could have guessed that he +was to be set over me, I had never come here.”</p> +<p>“Surely you knew that he was foreman.”</p> +<p>“Yea, but not that I should be under him—I whom old Giles +vowed should be as his own son—I that am to wed yon little brown +moppet, and be master here! So, forsooth,” he said, “now +he treats me like any common low-bred prentice.”</p> +<p>“Nay,” said Ambrose, “an if you were his son, he +would still make you serve. It’s the way with all craftsmen—yea +and with gentlemen’s sons also. They must be pages and squires +ere they can be knights.”</p> +<p>“It never was the way at home. I was only bound prentice +to my father for the name of the thing, that I might have the freedom +of the city, and become head of our house.”</p> +<p>“But how could you be a wise master without learning the craft?”</p> +<p>“What are journeymen for?” demanded the lad. “Had +I known how Giles Headley meant to serve me, he might have gone whistle +for a husband for his wench. I would have ridden in my Lady of +Salisbury’s train.”</p> +<p>“You might have had rougher usage there than here,” said +Ambrose. “Master Headley lays nothing on you but what he +has himself proved. I would I could see you make the best of so +happy a home.”</p> +<p>“Ay, that’s all very well for you, who are certain of +a great man’s house.”</p> +<p>“Would that I were certified that my brother would be as well +off as you, if you did but know it,” said Ambrose. “Ha! +here come the dishes! ’Tis supper time come on us unawares, +and Stephen not returned from Mile End!”</p> +<p>Punctuality was not, however, exacted on these summer Sunday evenings, +when practice with the bow and other athletic sports were enjoined by +Government, and, moreover, the youths were with so trustworthy a member +of the household as Kit Smallbones.</p> +<p>Sundry City magnates had come to supper with Master Headley, and +whether it were the effect of Ambrose’s counsel, or of the example +of a handsome lad who had come with his father, one of the worshipful +guild of Merchant Taylors, Giles did vouchsafe to bestir himself in +waiting, and in consideration of the effort it must have cost him, old +Mrs. Headley and her son did not take notice of his blunders, but only +Dennet fell into a violent fit of laughter, when he presented the stately +alderman with a nutmeg under the impression that it was an overgrown +peppercorn. She suppressed her mirth as well as she could, poor +little thing, for it was a great offence in good manners, but she was +detected, and, only child as she was, the consequence was the being +banished from the table and sent to bed.</p> +<p>But when, after supper was over, Ambrose went out to see if there +were any signs of the return of Stephen and the rest, he found the little +maiden curled up in the gallery with her kitten in her arms.</p> +<p>“Nay!” she said, in a spoilt-child tone, “I’m +not going to bed before my time for laughing at that great oaf! +Nurse Alice says he is to wed me, but I won’t have him! +I like the pretty boy who had the good dog and saved father, and I like +you, Master Ambrose. Sit down by me and tell me the story over +again, and we shall see Kit Smallbones come home. I know he’ll +have beaten the brewer’s fellow.”</p> +<p>Before Ambrose had decided whether thus far to abet rebellion, she +jumped up and cried: “Oh, I see Kit! He’s got my ribbon! +He has won the match!”</p> +<p>And down she rushed, quite oblivious of her disgrace, and Ambrose +presently saw her uplifted in Kit Smallbones’ brawny arms to utter +her congratulations.</p> +<p>Stephen was equally excited. His head was full of Kit Smallbones’ +exploits, and of the marvels of the sports he had witnessed and joined +in with fair success. He had thought Londoners poor effeminate +creatures, but he found that these youths preparing for the trained +bands understood all sorts of martial exercises far better than any +of his forest acquaintance, save perhaps the hitting of a mark. +He was half wild with a boy’s enthusiasm for Kit Smallbones and +Edmund Burgess, and when, after eating the supper that had been reserved +for the late comers, he and his brother repaired to their own chamber, +his tongue ran on in description of the feats he had witnessed and his +hopes of emulating them, since he understood that Archbishop as was +my Lord of York, there was a tilt-yard at York House. Ambrose, +equally full of his new feelings, essayed to make his brother a sharer +in them, but Stephen entirely failed to understand more than that his +book-worm brother had heard something that delighted him in his own +line of scholarship, from which Stephen had happily escaped a year ago!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER VII. YORK HOUSE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“Then hath he servants five or six score,<br />Some behind +and some before;<br />A marvellous great company<br />Of which are lords +and gentlemen,<br />With many grooms and yeomen<br />And also knaves +among them.”</p> +<p><i>Contemporary Poem on Wolsey</i>.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Early were hammers ringing on anvils in the Dragon Court, and all +was activity. Master Headley was giving his orders to Kit Smallbones +before setting forth to take the Duke of Buckingham’s commands; +Giles Headley, very much disgusted, was being invested with a leathern +apron, and entrusted to Edmund Burgess to learn those primary arts of +furbishing which, but for his mother’s vanity and his father’s +weakness, he would have practised four years sooner. Tibble Steelman +was superintending the arrangement of half a dozen corslets, which were +to be carried by three stout porters, under his guidance, to what is +now Whitehall, then the residence of the Archbishop of York, the king’s +prime adviser, Thomas Wolsey.</p> +<p>“Look you, Tib,” said the kind-hearted armourer, “if +those lads find not their kinsman, or find him not what they look for, +bring them back hither, I cannot have them cast adrift. They are +good and brave youths, and I owe a life to them.”</p> +<p>Tibble nodded entire assent, but when the boys appeared in their +mourning suits, with their bundles on their backs, they were sent back +again to put on their forest green, Master Headley explaining that it +was reckoned ill-omened, if not insulting, to appear before any great +personage in black, unless to enhance some petition directly addressed +to himself. He also bade them leave their fardels behind, as, +if they tarried at York House, these could be easily sent after them.</p> +<p>They obeyed—even Stephen doing so with more alacrity than he +had hitherto shown to Master Headley’s behests; for now that the +time for departure had come, he was really sorry to leave the armourer’s +household. Edmund Burgess had been very good-natured to the raw +country lad, and Kit Smallbones was, in his eyes, an Ascapart in strength, +and a Bevis in prowess and kindliness. Mistress Headley too had +been kind to the orphan lads, and these two days had given a feeling +of being at home at the Dragon. When Giles wished them a moody +farewell, and wished he were going with them, Stephen returned, “Ah! +you don’t know when you are well off.”</p> +<p>Little Dennet came running down after them with two pinks in her +hands. “Here’s a sop-in-wine for a token for each +of you young gentlemen,” she cried, “for you came to help +father, and I would you were going to stay and wed me instead of Giles.”</p> +<p>“What, both of us, little maid?” said Ambrose, laughing, +as he stooped to receive the kiss her rosy lips tendered to him.</p> +<p>“Not but what she would have royal example,” muttered +Tibble aside.</p> +<p>Dennet put her head on one side, as considering. “Nay, +not both; but you are gentle and courteous, and he is brave and gallant—and +Giles there is moody and glum, and can do nought.”</p> +<p>“Ah! you will see what a gallant fellow Giles can be when thou +hast cured him of his home-sickness by being good to him,” said +Ambrose, sorry for the youth in the universal laughter at the child’s +plain speaking.</p> +<p>And thus the lads left the Dragon, amid friendly farewells. +Ambrose looked up at the tall spire of St. Paul’s with a strong +determination that he would never put himself out of reach of such words +as he had there drunk in, and which were indeed spirit and life to him.</p> +<p>Tibble took them down to the St. Paul’s stairs on the river, +where at his whistle a wherry was instantly brought to transport them +to York stairs, only one of the smiths going any further in charge of +the corslets. Very lovely was their voyage in the brilliant summer +morning, as the glittering water reflected in broken ripples church +spire, convent garden, and stately house. Here rows of elm-trees +made a cool walk by the river side, there strawberry beds sloped down +the Strand, and now and then the hooded figures of nuns might be seen +gathering the fruit. There, rose the round church of the Temple, +and the beautiful gardens surrounding the buildings, half monastic, +half military, and already inhabited by lawyers. From a barge +at the Temple stairs a legal personage descended, with a square beard, +and open, benevolent, shrewd face, before whom Tibble removed his cap +with eagerness, saying to Ambrose, “Yonder is Master More, a close +friend of the dean’s, a good and wise man, and forward in every +good work.”</p> +<p>Thus did they arrive at York House. Workmen were busy on some +portions of it, but it was inhabited by the great Archbishop, the king’s +chief adviser. The approach of the boat seemed to be instantly +notified, as it drew near the stone steps giving entrance to the gardens, +with an avenue of trees leading up to the principal entrance.</p> +<p>Four or five yeomen ran down the steps, calling out to Tibble that +their corslets had tarried a long time, and that Sir Thomas Drury had +been storming for him to get his tilting armour into order.</p> +<p>Tibble followed the man who had undertaken to conduct him through +a path that led to the offices of the great house, bidding the boys +keep with him, and asking for their uncle Master Harry Randall.</p> +<p>The yeoman shook his head. He knew no such person in the household, +and did not think there ever had been such. Sir Thomas Drury was +found in the stable court, trying the paces of the horse he intended +to use in the approaching joust. “Ha! old Wry-mouth,” +he cried, “welcome at last! I must have my new device damasked +on my shield. Come hither, and I’ll show it thee.”</p> +<p>Private rooms were seldom enjoyed, even by knights and gentlemen, +in such a household, and Sir Thomas could only conduct Tibble to the +armoury, where numerous suits of armour hung on blocks, presenting the +semblance of armed men. The knight, a good-looking personage, +expatiated much on the device he wished to dedicate to his lady-love, +a pierced heart with a forget-me-not in the midst, and it was not until +the directions were finished that Tibble ventured to mention the inquiry +for Randall.</p> +<p>“I wot of no such fellow,” returned Sir Thomas, “you +had best go to the comptroller, who keeps all the names.” +Tibble had to go to this functionary at any rate, to obtain an order +for payment for the corslets he had brought home. Ambrose and +Stephen followed him across an enormous hall, where three long tables +were being laid for dinner.</p> +<p>The comptroller of the household, an esquire of good birth, with +a stiff little ruff round his neck, sat in a sort of office inclosed +by panels at the end of the hall. He made an entry of Tibble’s +account in a big book, and sent a message to the cofferer to bring the +amount. Then Tibble again put his question on behalf of the two +young foresters, and the comptroller shook his head. He did not +know the name. “Was the gentleman” (he chose that +word as he looked at the boys) “layman or clerk?” +“Layman, certainly,” said Ambrose, somewhat dismayed to +find how little, on interrogation, he really knew.</p> +<p>“Was he a yeoman of the guard, or in attendance on one of my +lord’s nobles in waiting?”</p> +<p>“We thought he had been a yeoman,” said Ambrose.</p> +<p>“See,” said the comptroller, stimulated by a fee administered +by Tibble, “’tis just dinner time, and I must go to attend +on my Lord Archbishop; but do you, Tibble, sit down with these striplings +to dinner, and then I will cast my eye over the books, and see if I +can find any such name. What, hast not time? None ever quits +my lord’s without breaking his fast.”</p> +<p>Tibble had no doubt that his master would be willing that he should +give up his time for this purpose, so he accepted the invitation. +The tables were by this time nearly covered, but all stood waiting, +for there flowed in from the great doorway of the hall a gorgeous train—first, +a man bearing the double archiepiscopal cross of York, fashioned in +silver, and thick with gems—then, with lofty mitre enriched with +pearls and jewels, and with flowing violet lace-covered robes came the +sturdy square-faced ruddy prelate, who was then the chief influence +in England, and after him two glittering ranks of priests in square +caps and richly embroidered copes, all in accordant colours. They +were returning, as a yeoman told Tibble, from some great ecclesiastical +ceremony, and dinner would be served instantly.</p> +<p>“That for which Ralf Bowyer lives!” said a voice close +by, “He would fain that the dial’s hands were Marie bones, +the face blancmange, wherein the figures should be grapes of Corinth!”</p> +<p>Stephen looked round and saw a man close beside him in what he knew +at once to be the garb of a jester. A tall scarlet velvet cap, +with three peaks, bound with gold braid, and each surmounted with a +little gilded bell, crowned his head, a small crimson ridge to indicate +the cock’s comb running along the front. His jerkin and +hose were of motley, the left arm and right leg being blue, their opposites, +orange tawny, while the nether stocks and shoes were in like manner +black and scarlet counterchanged. And yet, somehow, whether from +the way of wearing it, or from the effect of the gold embroidery meandering +over all, the effect was not distressing, but more like that of a gorgeous +bird. The figure was tall, lithe, and active, the brown ruddy +face had none of the blank stare of vacant idiocy, but was full of twinkling +merriment, the black eyes laughed gaily, and perhaps only so clearsighted +and shrewd an observer as Tibble would have detected a weakness of purpose +about the mouth.</p> +<p>There was a roar of laughter at the gibe, as indeed there was at +whatever was uttered by the man whose profession was to make mirth.</p> +<p>“Thou likest thy food well enough thyself, quipsome one,” +muttered Ralf.</p> +<p>“Hast found one who doth not, Ralf? Then should he have +a free gift of my bauble,” responded the jester, shaking on high +that badge, surmounted with the golden head of an ass, and jingling +with bells. “How now, friend Wry-mouth? ’Tis +long since thou wert here! This house hath well-nigh been forced +to its ghostly weapons for lack of thy substantial ones. Where +hast thou been?”</p> +<p>“At Salisbury, good Merryman.”</p> +<p>“Have the Wilts men raked the moon yet out of the pond? +Did they lend thee their rake, Tib, that thou hast raked up a couple +of green Forest palmer worms, or be they the sons of the man in the +moon, raked out and all astray?”</p> +<p>“Mayhap, for we met them with dog and bush,” said Tibble, +“and they dropped as from the moon to save my poor master from +the robbers on Bagshot heath! Come now, mine honest fellow, aid +me to rake, as thou sayest, this same household. They are come +up from the Forest, to seek out their uncle, one Randall, who they have +heard to be in this meiné. Knowest thou such a fellow?”</p> +<p>“To seek a spider in a stubble-field! Truly he needs +my bauble who sent them on such an errand,” said the jester, rather +slowly, as if to take time for consideration. “What’s +your name, my Forest flies?”</p> +<p>“Birkenholt, sir,” answered Ambrose, “but our uncle +is Harry Randall.”</p> +<p>“Here’s fools enow to take away mine office,” was +the reply. “Here’s a couple of lads would leave the +greenwood and the free oaks and beeches, for this stinking, plague-smitten +London.”</p> +<p>“We’d not have quitted it could we have tarried at home,” +began Ambrose; but at that moment there was a sudden commotion, a trampling +of horses was heard outside, a loud imperious voice demanded, “Is +my Lord Archbishop within?” a whisper ran round, “the King,” +and there entered the hall with hasty steps, a figure never to be forgotten, +clad in a hunting dress of green velvet embroidered with gold, with +a golden hunting horn slung round his neck.</p> +<p>Henry VIII. was then in the splendid prime of his youth, in his twenty-seventh +year, and in the eyes, not only of his own subjects, but of all others, +the very type of a true king of men. Tall, and as yet of perfect +form for strength, agility, and grace; his features were of the beautiful +straight Plantagenet type, and his complexion of purely fair rosiness, +his large well-opened blue eyes full at once of frankness and keenness, +and the short golden beard that fringed his square chin giving the manly +air that otherwise might have seemed wanting to the feminine tinting +of his regular lineaments. All caps were instantly doffed save +the little bonnet with one drooping feather that covered his short, +curled, yellow hair; and the Earl of Derby, who was at the head of Wolsey’s +retainers, made haste, bowing to the ground, to assure him that my Lord +Archbishop was but doffing his robes, and would be with his Grace instantly. +Would his Grace vouchsafe to come on to the privy chamber where the +dinner was spread?</p> +<p>At the same moment Quipsome Hal sprang forward, exclaiming, “How +now, brother and namesake? Wherefore this coil? Hath cloth +of gold wearied yet of cloth of frieze? Is she willing to own +her right to this?” as he held out his bauble.</p> +<p>“Holla, old Blister! art thou there?” said the King, +good-humouredly. “What! knowest not that we are to have +such a wedding as will be a sight for sore eyes!”</p> +<p>“Sore! that’s well said, friend Hal. Thou art making +progress in mine art! Sore be the eyes wherein thou wouldst throw +dust.”</p> +<p>Again the King laughed, for every one knew that his sister Mary had +secretly been married to the Duke of Suffolk for the last two months, +and that this public marriage and the tournament that was to follow +were only for the sake of appearances. He laid his hand good-naturedly +on the jester’s shoulder as he walked up the hall towards the +Archbishop’s private apartments, but the voices of both were loud +pitched, and bits of the further conversation could be picked up. +“Weddings are rife in your family,” said the jester, “none +of you get weary of fitting on the noose. What, thou thyself, +Hal? Ay, thou hast not caught the contagion yet! Now ye +gods forefend! If thou hast the chance, thou’lt have it +strong.”</p> +<p>Therewith the Archbishop, in his purple robes, appeared in the archway +at the other end of the hall, the King joined him, and still followed +by the jester, they both vanished. It was presently made known +that the King was about to dine there, and that all were to sit down +to eat. The King dined alone with the Archbishop as his host; +the two noblemen who had formed his suite joined the first table in +the higher hall; the knights that of the steward of the household, who +was of knightly degree, and with whom the superior clergy of the household +ate; and the grooms found their places among the vast array of yeomen +and serving-men of all kinds with whom Tibble and his two young companions +had to eat. A week ago, Stephen would have contemned the idea +of being classed with serving-men and grooms, but by this time he was +quite bewildered, and anxious enough to be thankful to keep near a familiar +face on any terms, and to feel as if Tibble were an old friend, though +he had only known him for five days.</p> +<p>Why the King had come had not transpired, but there was a whisper +that despatches from Scotland were concerned in it. The meal was +a lengthy one, but at last the King’s horses were ordered, and +presently Henry came forth, with his arm familiarly linked in that of +the Archbishop, whose horse had likewise been made ready that he might +accompany the King back to Westminster. The jester was close at +hand, and as a parting shaft he observed, while the King mounted his +horse, “Friend Hal! give my brotherly commendations to our Madge, +and tell her that one who weds Anguish cannot choose but cry out.”</p> +<p>Wherewith, affecting to expect a stroke from the King’s whip, +he doubled himself up, performed the contortion now called turning a +coachwheel, then, recovering himself, put his hands on his hips and +danced wildly on the steps; while Henry, shaking his whip at him, laughed +at the only too obvious pun, for Anguish was the English version of +Angus, the title of Queen Margaret’s second husband, and it was +her complaints that had brought him to his counsellor.</p> +<p>The jester then, much to the annoyance of the two boys, thought proper +to follow them to the office of the comptroller, and as that dignitary +read out from his books the name of every Henry, and of all the varieties +of Ralf and Randolf among the hundred and eighty persons composing the +household, he kept on making comments. “Harry Hempseed, +clerk to the kitchen; ay, Hempseed will serve his turn one of these +days. Walter Randall, groom of the chamber; ah, ha! my lads, if +you want a generous uncle who will look after you well, there is your +man! He’ll give you the shakings of the napery for largesse, +and when he is in an open-handed mood, will let you lie on the rushes +that have served the hall. Harry of Lambeth, yeoman of the stable. +He will make you free of all the taverns in Eastchepe.”</p> +<p>And so on, accompanying each remark with a pantomime mimicry of the +air and gesture of the individual. He showed in a second the contortions +of Harry Weston in drawing the bow, and in another the grimaces of Henry +Hope, the choir man, in producing bass notes, or the swelling majesty +of Randall Porcher, the cross-bearer, till it really seemed as if he +had shown off the humours of at least a third of the enormous household. +Stephen had laughed at first, but as failure after failure occurred, +the antics began to weary even him, and seem unkind and ridiculous as +hope ebbed away, and the appalling idea began to grow on him of being +cast loose on London without a friend or protector. Ambrose felt +almost despairing as he heard in vain the last name. He would +almost have been willing to own Hal the scullion, and his hopes rose +when he heard of Hodge Randolph, the falconer, but alas, that same Hodge +came from Yorkshire.</p> +<p>“And mine uncle was from the New Forest in Hampshire,” +he said.</p> +<p>“Maybe he went by the name of Shirley,” added Stephen, +“’tis where his home was.”</p> +<p>But the comptroller, unwilling to begin a fresh search, replied at +once that the only Shirley in the household was a noble esquire of the +Warwickshire family.</p> +<p>“You must e’en come back with me, young masters,” +said Tibble, “and see what my master can do for you.”</p> +<p>“Stay a bit,” said the fool. “Harry of Shirley! +Harry of Shirley! Methinks I could help you to the man, if so +be as you will deem him worth the finding,” he added, suddenly +turning upside down, and looking at them standing on the palms of his +hands, with an indescribable leer of drollery, which in a moment dashed +all the hopes with which they had turned to him. “Should +you know this minks of yours?” he added.</p> +<p>“I think I should,” said Ambrose. “I remember +best how he used to carry me on his shoulder to cull mistletoe for Christmas.”</p> +<p>“Ah, ha! A proper fellow of his inches now, with yellow +hair?”</p> +<p>“Nay,” said Ambrose, “I mind that his hair was +black, and his eyes as black as sloes—or as thine own, Master +Jester.”</p> +<p>The jester tumbled over into a more extraordinary attitude than before, +while Stephen said—</p> +<p>“John was wont to twit us with being akin to Gipsy Hal.”</p> +<p>“I mean a man sad and grave as the monks of Beaulieu,” +said the jester.</p> +<p>“He!” they both cried. “No, indeed! +He was foremost in all sports.” “Ah!” cried +Stephen, “mind you not, Ambrose, his teaching us leap-frog, and +aye leaping over one of us himself, with the other in his arms?”</p> +<p>“Ah! sadly changed, sadly changed,” said the jester, +standing upright, with a most mournful countenance. “Maybe +you’d not thank me if I showed him to you, young sirs, that is, +if he be the man.”</p> +<p>“Nay! is he in need, or distress?” cried the brothers.</p> +<p>“Poor Hal!” returned the fool, shaking his head with +mournfulness in his voice.</p> +<p>“Oh, take us to him, good—good jester,” cried Ambrose. +“We are young and strong. We will work for him.”</p> +<p>“What, a couple of lads like you, that have come to London +seeking for him to befriend you—deserving well my cap for that +matter. Will ye be guided to him, broken and soured—no more +gamesome, but a sickly old runagate?”</p> +<p>“Of course,” cried Ambrose. “He is our mother’s +brother. We must care for him.”</p> +<p>“Master Headley will give us work, mayhap,” said Stephen, +turning to Tibble. “I could clean the furnaces.”</p> +<p>“Ah, ha! I see fools’ caps must hang thick as beech +masts in the Forest,” cried the fool, but his voice was husky, +and he turned suddenly round with his back to them, then cut three or +four extraordinary capers, after which he observed—“Well, +young gentlemen, I will see the man I mean, and if he be the same, and +be willing to own you for his nephews, he will meet you in the Temple +Gardens at six of the clock this evening, close to the rose-bush with +the flowers in my livery—motley red and white.”</p> +<p>“But how shall we know him?”</p> +<p>“D’ye think a pair of green caterpillars like you can’t +be marked—unless indeed the gardener crushes you for blighting +his roses.” Wherewith the jester quitted the scene, walking +on his hands, with his legs in the air.</p> +<p>“Is he to be trusted?” asked Tibble of the comptroller.</p> +<p>“Assuredly,” was the answer; “none hath better +wit than Quipsome Hal, when he chooseth to be in earnest. In very +deed, as I have heard Sir Thomas More say, it needeth a wise man to +be fool to my Lord of York.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII. QUIPSOME HAL</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“The sweet and bitter fool<br /> Will presently +appear,<br />The one in motley here<br /> The other +found out there.”</p> +<p>SHAKESPEARE.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>There lay the quiet Temple Gardens, on the Thames bank, cut out in +formal walks, with flowers growing in the beds of the homely kinds beloved +by the English. Musk roses, honeysuckle and virgin’s bower, +climbed on the old grey walls; sops-in-wine, bluebottles, bachelor’s +buttons, stars of Bethlehem and the like, filled the borders; May thorns +were in full sweet blossom; and near one another were the two rose bushes, +one damask and one white Provence, whence Somerset and Warwick were +said to have plucked their fatal badges; while on the opposite side +of a broad grass-plot was another bush, looked on as a great curiosity +of the best omen, where the roses were streaked with alternate red and +white, in honour, as it were, of the union of York and Lancaster.</p> +<p>By this rose-tree stood the two young Birkenholts. Edmund Burgess +having, by his master’s desire, shown them the way, and passed +them in by a word and sign from his master, then retired unseen to a +distance to mark what became of them, they having promised also to return +and report of themselves to Master Headley.</p> +<p>They stood together earnestly watching for the coming of the uncle, +feeling quite uncertain whether to expect a frail old broken man, or +to find themselves absolutely deluded, and made game of by the jester.</p> +<p>The gardens were nearly empty, for most people were sitting over +their supper-tables after the business of the day was over, and only +one or two figures in black gowns paced up and down in conversation.</p> +<p>“Come away, Ambrose,” said Stephen at last. “He +only meant to make fools of us! Come, before he comes to gibe +us for having heeded a moment. Come, I say—here’s +this man coming to ask us what we are doing here.”</p> +<p>For a tall, well-made, well-dressed personage in the black or sad +colour of a legal official, looking like a prosperous householder, or +superior artisan, was approaching them, some attendant, as the boys +concluded belonging to the Temple. They expected to be turned +out, and Ambrose in an apologetic tone, began, “Sir, we were bidden +to meet a—a kinsman here.”</p> +<p>“And even so am I,” was the answer, in a grave, quiet +tone, “or rather to meet twain.”</p> +<p>Ambrose looked up into a pair of dark eyes, and exclaimed “Stevie, +Stevie, ’tis he. ’Tis uncle Hal.”</p> +<p>“Ay, ’tis all you’re like to have for him,” +answered Harry Randall, enfolding each in his embrace. “Lad, +how like thou art to my poor sister! And is she indeed gone—and +your honest father too—and none left at home but that hunks, little +John? How and when died she?”</p> +<p>“Two years agone come Lammastide,” answered Stephen. +“There was a deadly creeping fever and ague through the Forest. +We two sickened, and Ambrose was so like to die that Diggory went to +the abbey for the priest to housel and anneal him, but by the time Father +Simon came he was sound asleep, and soon was whole again. But +before we were on our legs, our blessed mother took the disease, and +she passed away ere many days were over. Then, though poor father +took not that sickness, he never was the same man again, and only twelve +days after last Pasch-tide he was taken with a fit and never spake again.”</p> +<p>Stephen was weeping by this time, and his uncle had a hand on his +shoulder, and with tears in his eyes, threw in ejaculations of pity +and affection. Ambrose finished the narrative with a broken voice +indeed, but as one who had more self-command than his brother, perhaps +than his uncle, whose exclamations became bitter and angry as he heard +of the treatment the boys had experienced from their half-brother, who, +as he said, he had always known as a currish mean-spirited churl, but +scarce such as this.</p> +<p>“Nor do I think he would have been, save for his wife, Maud +Pratt of Hampton,” said Ambrose. “Nay, truly also, +he deemed that we were only within a day’s journey of council +from our uncle Richard at Hyde.”</p> +<p>“Richard Birkenholt was a sturdy old comrade! Methinks +he would give Master Jack a piece of his mind.”</p> +<p>“Alack, good uncle, we found him in his dotage, and the bursar +of Hyde made quick work with us, for fear, good Father Shoveller said, +that we were come to look after his corrody.”</p> +<p>“Shoveller—what, a Shoveller of Cranbury? How fell +ye in with him?”</p> +<p>Ambrose told the adventures of their journey, and Randall exclaimed +“By my bau—I mean by my faith—if ye have ill-luck +in uncles, ye have had good luck in friends.”</p> +<p>“No ill-luck in thee, good, kind uncle,” said Stephen, +catching at his hand with the sense of comfort that kindred blood gives.</p> +<p>“How wottest thou that, child? Did not I—I mean +did not Merryman tell you, that mayhap ye would not be willing to own +your uncle?”</p> +<p>“We deemed he was but jesting,” said Stephen. “Ah!”</p> +<p>For a sudden twinkle in the black eyes, an involuntary twist of the +muscles of the face, were a sudden revelation to him. He clutched +hold of Ambrose with a sudden grasp; Ambrose too looked and recoiled +for a moment, while the colour spread over his face.</p> +<p>“Yes, lads. Can you brook the thought!—Harry Randall +is the poor fool!”</p> +<p>Stephen, whose composure had already broken down, burst into tears +again, perhaps mostly at the downfall of all his own expectations and +glorifications of the kinsman about whom he had boasted. Ambrose +only exclaimed “O uncle, you must have been hard pressed.” +For indeed the grave, almost melancholy man, who stood before them, +regarding them wistfully, had little in common with the lithe tumbler +full of absurdities whom they had left at York House.</p> +<p>“Even so, my good lad. Thou art right in that,” +said he gravely. “Harder than I trust will ever be the lot +of you two, my sweet Moll’s sons. She never guessed that +I was come to this.”</p> +<p>“O no,” said Stephen. “She always thought +thou—thou hadst some high preferment in—”</p> +<p>“And so I have,” said Randall with something of his ordinary +humour. “There’s no man dares to speak such plain +truth to my lord—or for that matter to King Harry himself, save +his own Jack-a-Lee—and he, being a fool of nature’s own +making, cannot use his chances, poor rogue! And so the poor lads +came up to London hoping to find a gallant captain who could bring them +to high preferment, and found nought but—Tom Fool! I could +find it in my heart to weep for them! And so thou mindest clutching +the mistletoe on nunk Hal’s shoulder. I warrant it groweth +still on the crooked May bush? And is old Bobbin alive?”</p> +<p>They answered his questions, but still as if under a great shock, +and presently he said, as they paced up and down the garden walks, “Ay, +I have been sore bestead, and I’ll tell you how it came about, +boys, and mayhap ye will pardon the poor fool, who would not own you +sooner, lest ye should come in for mockery ye have not learnt to brook.” +There was a sadness and pleading in his tone that touched Ambrose, and +he drew nearer to his uncle, who laid a hand on his shoulder, and presently +the other on that of Stephen, who shrank a little at first, but submitted. +“Lads, I need not tell you why I left fair Shirley and the good +greenwood. I was a worse fool then than ever I have been since +I wore the cap and bells, and if all had been brought home to me, it +might have brought your father and mother into trouble—my sweet +Moll who had done her best for me. I deemed, as you do now, that +the way to fortune was open, but I found no path before me, and I had +tightened my belt many a time, and was not much more than a bag of bones, +when, by chance, I fell in with a company of tumblers and gleemen. +I sang them the old hunting-song, and they said I did it tunably, and, +whereas they saw I could already dance a hornpipe and turn a somersault +passably well, the leader of the troop, old Nat Fire-eater, took me +on, and methinks he did not repent—nor I neither—save when +I sprained my foot and had time to lie by and think. We had plenty +to fill our bellies and put on our backs; we had welcome wherever we +went, and the groats and pennies rained into our caps. I was Clown +and Jack Pudding and whatever served their turn, and the very name of +Quipsome Hal drew crowds. Yea, ’twas a merry life! +Ay, I feel thee wince and shrink, my lad; and so should I have shuddered +when I was of thine age, and hoped to come to better things.”</p> +<p>“Methinks ’twere better than this present,” said +Stephen rather gruffly.</p> +<p>“I had my reasons, boy,” said Randall, speaking as if +he were pleading his cause with their father and mother rather than +with two such young lads. “There was in our company an old +man-at-arms who played the lute and the rebeck, and sang ballads so +long as hand and voice served him, and with him went his grandchild, +a fair and honest little maiden, whom he kept so jealously apart that +’twas long ere I knew of her following the company. He had +been a franklin on my Lord of Warwick’s lands, and had once been +burnt out by Queen Margaret’s men, and just as things looked up +again with him, King Edward’s folk ruined all again, and slew +his two sons. When great folk play the fool, small folk pay the +scot, as I din into his Grace’s ears whenever I may. A minion +of the Duke of Clarence got the steading, and poor old Martin Fulford +was turned out to shift as best he might. One son he had left, +and with him he went to the Low Countries, where they would have done +well had they not been bitten by faith in the fellow Perkin Warbeck. +You’ve heard of him?”</p> +<p>“Yea,” said Ambrose; “the same who was taken out +of sanctuary at Beaulieu, and borne off to London. Father said +he was marvellous like in the face to all the kings he had ever seen +hunting in the Forest.”</p> +<p>“I know not; but to the day of his death old Martin swore that +he was a son of King Edward’s, and they came home again with the +men the Duchess of Burgundy gave Perkin—came bag and baggage, +for young Fulford had wedded a fair Flemish wife, poor soul! He +left her with his father nigh to Taunton ere the battle, and he was +never heard of more, but as he was one of the few men who knew how to +fight, belike he was slain. Thus old Martin was left with the +Flemish wife and her little one on his hands, for whose sake he did +what went against him sorely, joined himself to this troop of jugglers +and players, so as to live by the minstrelsy he had learnt in better +days, while his daughter-in-law mended and made for the company and +kept them in smart and shining trim. By the time I fell in with +them his voice was well-nigh gone, and his hand sorely shaking, but +Fire-eating Nat, the master of our troop, was not an ill-natured fellow, +and the glee-women’s feet were well used to his rebeck. +Moreover, the Fire-eater had an eye to little Perronel, though her mother +had never let him train her—scarce let him set an eye on her; +and when Mistress Fulford died, poor soul, of ague, caught when we showed +off before the merry Prior of Worcester, her last words were that Perronel +should never be a glee-maiden. Well, to make an end of my tale, +we had one day a mighty show at Windsor, when the King and Court were +at the castle, and it was whispered to me at the end that my Lord Archbishop’s +household needed a jester, and that Quipsome Hal had been thought to +make excellent fooling. I gave thanks at first, but said I would +rather be a free man, not bound to be a greater fool than Dame Nature +made me all the hours of the day. But when I got back to the Garter, +what should I find but that poor old Martin had been stricken with the +dead palsy while he was playing his rebeck, and would never twang a +note more; and there was pretty Perronel weeping over him, and Nat Fire-eater +pledging his word to give the old man bed, board, and all that he could +need, if so be that Perronel should be trained to be one of his glee-maidens, +to dance and tumble and sing. And there was the poor old franklin +shaking his head more than the palsy made it shake already, and trying +to frame his lips to say, ‘rather they both should die.’”</p> +<p>“Oh, uncle, I wot now what thou didst!” cried Stephen.</p> +<p>“Yea, lad, there was nought else to be done. I asked +Master Fulford to give me Perronel, plighting my word that never should +she sing or dance for any one’s pleasure save her own and mine, +and letting him know that I came of a worthy family. We were wedded +out of hand by the priest that had been sent for to housel him, and +in our true names. The Fire-eater was fiery enough, and swore +that, wedded or not, I was bound to him, that he would have both of +us, and would not drag about a helpless old man unless he might have +the wench to do his bidding. I verily believe that, but for my +being on the watch and speaking a word to two or three stout yeomen +of the king’s guard that chanced to be crushing a pot of sack +at the Garter, he would have played some villainous trick on us. +They gave a hint to my Lord of York’s steward, and he came down +and declared that the Archbishop required Quipsome Hal, and would—of +his grace—send a purse of nobles to the Fire-eater, wherewith +he was to be off on the spot without more ado, or he might find it the +worse for him, and they, together with mine host’s good wife, +took care that the rogue did not carry away Perronel with him, as he +was like to have done. To end my story, here am I, getting showers +of gold coins one day and nought but kicks and gibes the next, while +my good woman keeps house nigh here on the banks of the Thames with +Gaffer Martin. Her Flemish thrift has set her to the washing and +clear-starching of the lawyers’ ruffs, whereby she makes enough +to supply the defects of my scanty days, or when I have to follow my +lord’s grace out of her reach, sweet soul. There’s +my tale, nevoys. And now, have ye a hand for Quipsome Hal?”</p> +<p>“O uncle! Father would have honoured thee!” cried +Stephen.</p> +<p>“Why didst thou not bring her down to the Forest?” said +Ambrose.</p> +<p>“I conned over the thought,” said Randall, “but +there was no way of living. I wist not whether the Ranger might +not stir up old tales, and moreover old Martin is ill to move. +We brought him down by boat from Windsor, and he has never quitted the +house since, nor his bed for the last two years. You’ll +come and see the housewife? She hath a supper laying out for you, +and on the way we’ll speak of what ye are to do, my poor lads.”</p> +<p>“I’d forgotten that,” said Stephen.</p> +<p>“So had not I,” returned his uncle; “I fear me +I cannot aid you to preferment as you expected. None know Quipsome +Hal by any name but that of Harry Merryman, and it were not well that +ye should come in there as akin to the poor fool.”</p> +<p>“No,” said Stephen, emphatically.</p> +<p>“Your father left you twenty crowns apiece?”</p> +<p>“Ay, but John hath all save four of them.”</p> +<p>“For that there’s remedy. What saidst thou of the +Cheapside armourer? His fellow, the Wry-mouth, seemed to have +a care of you. Ye made in to the rescue with poor old Spring.”</p> +<p>“Even so,” replied Ambrose, “and if Stevie would +brook the thought, I trow that Master Headley would be quite willing +to have him bound as his apprentice.”</p> +<p>“Well said, my good lad!” cried Hal. “What +sayest thou, Stevie?”</p> +<p>“I had liefer be a man-at-arms.”</p> +<p>“That thou couldst only be after being sorely knocked about +as horseboy and as groom. I tried that once, but found it meant +kicks, and oaths, and vile company—such as I would not have for +thy mother’s son, Steve. Headley is a well-reported, God-fearing +man, and will do well by thee. And thou wilt learn the use of +arms as well as handle them.”</p> +<p>“I like Master Headley and Kit Smallbones well enough,” +said Stephen, rather gloomily, “and if a gentleman must be a prentice, +weapons are not so bad a craft for him.”</p> +<p>“Whittington was a gentleman,” said Ambrose.</p> +<p>“I am sick of Whittington,” muttered Stephen.</p> +<p>“Nor is he the only one,” said Randall; “there’s +Middleton and Pole—ay, and many another who have risen from the +flat cap to the open helm, if not to the coronet. Nay, these London +companies have rules against taking any prentice not of gentle blood. +Come in to supper with my good woman, and then I’ll go with thee +and hold converse with good Master Headley, and if Master John doth +not send the fee freely, why then I know of them who shall make him +disgorge it. But mark,” he added, as he led the way out +of the gardens, “not a breath of Quipsome Hal. Down here +they know me as a clerk of my lord’s chamber, sad and sober, and +high in his trust, and therein they are not far out.”</p> +<p>In truth, though Harry Randall had been a wild and frolicsome youth +in his Hampshire home, the effect of being a professional buffoon had +actually made it a relaxation of effort to him to be grave, quiet, and +slow in movement; and this was perhaps a more effectual disguise than +the dark garments, and the false brown hair, beard, and moustache, with +which he concealed the shorn and shaven condition required of the domestic +jester. Having been a player, he was well able to adapt himself +to his part, and yet Ambrose had considerable doubts whether Tibble +had not suspected his identity from the first, more especially as both +the lads had inherited the same dark eyes from their mother, and Ambrose +for the first time perceived a considerable resemblance between him +and Stephen, not only in feature but in unconscious gesture.</p> +<p>Ambrose was considering whether he had better give his uncle a hint, +lest concealment should excite suspicion; when, niched as it were against +an abutment of the wall of the Temple courts, close to some steps going +down to the Thames, they came upon a tiny house, at whose open door +stood a young woman in the snowiest of caps and aprons over a short +black gown, beneath which were a trim pair of blue hosen and stout shoes; +a suspicion of yellow hair was allowed to appear framing the honest, +fresh, Flemish face, which beamed a good-humoured welcome.</p> +<p>“Here they be! here be the poor lads, Pernel mine.” +She held out her hand, and offered a round comfortable cheek to each, +saying, “Welcome to London, young gentlemen.”</p> +<p>Good Mistress Perronel did not look exactly the stuff to make a glee-maiden +of, nor even the beauty for whom to sacrifice everything, even liberty +and respect. She was substantial in form, and broad in face and +mouth, without much nose, and with large almost colourless eyes. +But there was a wonderful look of heartiness and friendliness about +her person and her house; the boys had never in their lives seen anything +so amazingly and spotlessly clean and shining. In a corner stood +an erection like a dark oaken cupboard or wardrobe, but in the middle +was an opening about a yard square through which could be seen the night-capped +face of a white-headed, white-bearded old man, propped against snowy +pillows. To him Randall went at once, saying, “So, gaffer, +how goes it? You see I have brought company, my poor sister’s +sons—rest her soul!”</p> +<p>Gaffer Martin mumbled something to them incomprehensible, but which +the jester comprehended, for he called them up and named them to him, +and Martin put out a bony hand, and gave them a greeting. Though +his speech and limbs had failed him, his intelligence was evidently +still intact, and there was a tenderly-cared-for look about him, rendering +his condition far less pitiable than that of Richard Birkenholt, who +was so palpably treated as an incumbrance.</p> +<p>The table was already covered with a cloth, and Perronel quickly +placed on it a yellow bowl of excellent beef broth, savoury with vegetables +and pot-herbs, and with meat and dumplings floating in it. A lesser +bowl was provided for each of the company, with horn spoons, and a loaf +of good wheaten bread, and a tankard of excellent ale. Randall +declared that his Perronel made far daintier dishes than my Lord Archbishop’s +cook, who went every day in silk and velvet.</p> +<p>He explained to her his views on the armourer, to which she agreed +with all her might, the old gentleman in bed adding something which +the boys began to understand, that there was no worthier nor more honourable +condition than that of an English burgess, specially in the good town +of London, where the kings knew better than to be ever at enmity with +their good towns.</p> +<p>“Will the armourer take both of you?” asked Mistress +Randall.</p> +<p>“Nay, it was only for Stephen we devised it,” said Ambrose.</p> +<p>“And what wilt thou do?”</p> +<p>“I wish to be a scholar,” said Ambrose.</p> +<p>“A lean trade,” quoth the jester; “a monk now or +a friar may be a right jolly fellow, but I never yet saw a man who throve +upon books!”</p> +<p>“I had rather study than thrive,” said Ambrose rather +dreamily.</p> +<p>“He wotteth not what he saith,” cried Stephen.</p> +<p>“Oh ho! so thou art of that sort!” rejoined his uncle. +“I know them! A crabbed black and white page is meat and +drink to them! There’s that Dutch fellow, with a long Latin +name, thin and weazen as never was Dutchman before; they say he has +read all the books in the world, and can talk in all the tongues, and +yet when he and Sir Thomas More and the Dean of St. Paul’s get +together at my lord’s table one would think they were bidding +for my bauble. Such excellent fooling do they make, that my lord +sits holding his sides.”</p> +<p>“The Dean of St. Paul’s!” said Ambrose, experiencing +a shock.</p> +<p>“Ay! He’s another of your lean scholars, and yet +he was born a wealthy man, son to a Lord Mayor, who, they say, reared +him alone out of a round score of children.”</p> +<p>“Alack! poor souls,” sighed Mistress Randall under her +breath, for, as Ambrose afterwards learnt, her two babes had scarce +seen the light. Her husband, while giving her a look of affection, +went on—“Not that he can keep his wealth. He has bestowed +the most of it on Stepney church, and on the school he hath founded +for poor children, nigh to St. Paul’s.”</p> +<p>“Could I get admittance to that school?” exclaimed Ambrose.</p> +<p>“Thou art a big fellow for a school,” said his uncle, +looking him over. “However, faint heart never won fair lady.”</p> +<p>“I have a letter from the Warden of St. Elizabeth’s to +one of the clerks of St. Paul’s,” added Ambrose. “Alworthy +is his name.”</p> +<p>“That’s well. We’ll prove that same,” +said his uncle. “Meantime, if ye have eaten your fill, we +must be on our way to thine armourer, nevoy Stephen, or I shall be called +for.”</p> +<p>And after a private colloquy between the husband and wife, Ambrose +was by both of them desired to make the little house his home until +he could find admittance into St. Paul’s School, or some other. +He demurred somewhat from a mixture of feelings, in which there was +a certain amount of Stephen’s longing for freedom of action, and +likewise a doubt whether he should not thus be a great inconvenience +in the tiny household—a burden he was resolved not to be. +But his uncle now took a more serious tone.</p> +<p>“Look thou, Ambrose, thou art my sister’s son, and fool +though I be, thou art bound in duty to me, and I to have charge of thee, +nor will I—for the sake of thy father and mother—have thee +lying I know not where, among gulls, and cutpurses, and beguilers of +youth here in this city of London. So, till better befals thee, +and I wot of it, thou must be here no later than curfew, or I will know +the reason why.”</p> +<p>“And I hope the young gentleman will find it no sore grievance,” +said Perronel, so good-humouredly that Ambrose could only protest that +he had feared to be troublesome to her, and promise to bring his bundle +the next day.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER IX. ARMS SPIRITUAL AND TEMPORAL</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“For him was leifer to have at his bedde’s hedde<br />Twenty +books clothed in blacke or redde<br />Of Aristotle and his philosophie<br />Than +robes riche or fiddle or psalterie.”</p> +<p>CHAUCER.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Master Headley was found spending the summer evening in the bay window +of the hall. Tibble sat on a three-legged stool by him, writing +in a crabbed hand, in a big ledger, and Kit Smallbones towered above +both, holding in his hand a bundle of tally-sticks. By the help +of these, and of that accuracy of memory which writing has destroyed, +he was unfolding, down to the very last farthing, the entire account +of payments and receipts during his master’s absence, the debtor +and creditor account being preserved as perfectly as if he had always +had a pen in his huge fingers, and studied book-keeping by double or +single entry.</p> +<p>On the return of the two boys with such an apparently respectable +member of society as the handsome well-dressed personage who accompanied +them, little Dennet, who had been set to sew her sampler on a stool +by her grandmother, under penalty of being sent off to bed if she disturbed +her father, sprang up with a little cry of gladness, and running up +to Ambrose, entreated for the tales of his good greenwood Forest, and +the pucks and pixies, and the girl who daily shared her breakfast with +a snake and said, “Eat your own side, Speckleback.” +Somehow, on Sunday night she had gathered that Ambrose had a store of +such tales, and she dragged him off to the gallery, there to revel in +them, while his brother remained with her father.</p> +<p>Though Master Stephen had begun by being high and mighty about mechanical +crafts, and thought it a great condescension to consent to be bound +apprentice, yet when once again in the Dragon court, it looked so friendly +and felt so much like a home that he found himself very anxious that +Master Headley should not say that he could take no more apprentices +at present, and that he should be satisfied with the terms uncle Hal +would propose. And oh! suppose Tibble should recognise Quipsome +Hal!</p> +<p>However, Tibble was at this moment entirely engrossed by the accounts, +and his master left him and his big companion to unravel them, while +he himself held speech with his guest at some distance—sending +for a cup of sack, wherewith to enliven the conversation.</p> +<p>He showed himself quite satisfied with what Randall chose to tell +of himself as a well known “housekeeper” close to the Temple, +his wife a “lavender” there, while he himself was attached +to the suite of the Archbishop of York. Here alone was there any +approach to shuffling, for Master Headley was left to suppose that Randall +attended Wolsey in his capacity of king’s counsellor, and therefore, +having a house of his own, had not been found in the roll of the domestic +retainers and servants. He did not think of inquiring further, +the more so as Randall was perfectly candid as to his own inferiority +of birth to the Birkenholt family, and the circumstances under which +he had left the Forest.</p> +<p>Master Headley professed to be quite willing to accept Stephen as +an apprentice, with or without a fee; but he agreed with Randall that +it would be much better not to expose him to having it cast in his teeth +that he was accepted out of charity; and Randall undertook to get a +letter so written and conveyed to John Birkenholt that he should not +dare to withhold the needful sum, in earnest of which Master Headley +would accept the two crowns that Stephen had in hand, as soon as the +indentures could be drawn out by one of the many scriveners who lived +about St. Paul’s.</p> +<p>This settled, Randall could stay no longer, but he called both nephews +into the court with him. “Ye can write a letter?” +he said.</p> +<p>“Ay, sure, both of us; but Ambrose is the best scribe,” +said Stephen.</p> +<p>“One of you had best write then. Let that cur John know +that I have my Lord of York’s ear, and there will be no fear but +he will give it. I’ll find a safe hand among the clerks, +when the judges ride to hold the assize. Mayhap Ambrose might +also write to the Father at Beaulieu. The thing had best be bruited.”</p> +<p>“I wished to do so,” said Ambrose. “It irked +me to have taken no leave of the good Fathers.”</p> +<p>Randall then took his leave, having little more than time to return +to York House, where the Archbishop might perchance come home wearied +and chafed from the King, and the jester might be missed if not there +to put him in good humour.</p> +<p>The curfew sounded, and though attention to its notes was not compulsory +by law, it was regarded as the break-up of the evening and the note +of recall in all well-ordered establishments. The apprentices +and journeymen came into the court, among them Giles Headley, who had +been taken out by one of the men to be provided with a working dress, +much to his disgust; the grandmother summoned little Dennet and carried +her off to bed. Stephen and Ambrose bade good-night, but Master +Headley and his two confidential men remained somewhat longer to wind +up their accounts. Doors were not, as a rule, locked within the +court, for though it contained from forty to fifty persons, they were +all regarded as a single family, and it was enough to fasten the heavily +bolted, iron-studded folding doors of the great gateway leading into +Cheapside, the key being brought to the master like that of a castle, +seven minutes, measured by the glass, after the last note of the curfew +in the belfry outside St. Paul’s.</p> +<p>The summer twilight, however, lasted long after this time of grace, +and when Tibble had completed his accountant’s work, and Smallbones’ +deep voiced “Goodnight, comrade,” had resounded over the +court, he beheld a figure rise up from the steps of the gallery, and +Ambrose’s voice said: “May I speak to thee, Tibble? +I need thy counsel.”</p> +<p>“Come hither, sir,” said the foreman, muttering to himself, +“Methought ’twas working in him! The leaven! the leaven!”</p> +<p>Tibble led the way up one of the side stairs into the open gallery, +where he presently opened a door, admitting to a small, though high +chamber, the walls of bare brick, and containing a low bed, a small +table, a three-legged stool, a big chest, and two cupboards, also a +cross over the head of the bed. A private room was a luxury neither +possessed nor desired by most persons of any degree, and only enjoyed +by Tibble in consideration of his great value to his master, his peculiar +tastes, and the injuries he had received. In point of fact, his +fall had been owing to a hasty blow, given in a passion by the master +himself when a young man. Dismay and repentance had made Giles +Headley a cooler and more self-controlled man ever since, and even if +Tibble had not been a superior workman, he might still have been free +to do almost anything he chose. Tibble gave his visitor the stool, +and himself sat down on the chest, saying: “So you have found +your uncle, sir.”</p> +<p>“Ay,” said Ambrose, pausing in some expectation that +Tibble would mention some suspicion of his identity; but if the foreman +had his ideas on the subject he did not disclose them, and waited for +more communications.</p> +<p>“Tibble!” said Ambrose, with a long gasp, “I must +find means to hear more of him thou tookedst me to on Sunday.”</p> +<p>“None ever truly tasted of that well without longing to come +back to it,” quoth Tibble. “But hath not thy kinsman +done aught for thee?”</p> +<p>“Nay,” said Ambrose, “save to offer me a lodging +with his wife, a good and kindly lavender at the Temple.”</p> +<p>Tibble nodded.</p> +<p>“So far am I free,” said Ambrose, “and I am glad +of it. I have a letter here to one of the canons, one Master Alworthy, +but ere I seek him I would know somewhat from thee, Tibble. What +like is he?”</p> +<p>“I cannot tell, sir,” said Tibble. “The canons +are rich and many, and a poor smith like me wots little of their fashions.”</p> +<p>“Is it true,” again asked Ambrose, “that the Dean—he +who spake those words yesterday—hath a school here for young boys?”</p> +<p>“Ay. And a good and mild school it be, bringing them +up in the name and nurture of the Holy Child Jesus, to whom it is dedicated.”</p> +<p>“Then they are taught this same doctrine?”</p> +<p>“I trow they be. They say the Dean loves them like the +children of his old age, and declares that they shall be made in love +with holy lore by gentleness rather than severity.”</p> +<p>“Is it likely that this same Alworthy could obtain me entrance +there?”</p> +<p>“Alack, sir, I fear me thou art too old. I see none but +little lads among them. Didst thou come to London with that intent?”</p> +<p>“Nay, for I only wist to-day that there was such a school. +I came with I scarce know what purpose, save to see Stephen safely bestowed, +and then to find some way of learning myself. Moreover, a change +seems to have come on me, as though I had hitherto been walking in a +dream.”</p> +<p>Tibble nodded, and Ambrose, sitting there in the dark, was moved +to pour forth all his heart, the experience of many an ardent soul in +those spirit searching days. Growing up happily under the care +of the simple monks of Beaulieu he had never looked beyond their somewhat +mechanical routine, accepted everything implicitly, and gone on acquiring +knowledge with the receptive spirit but dormant thought of studious +boyhood as yet unawakened, thinking that the studious clerical life +to which every one destined him would only be a continuation of the +same, as indeed it had been to his master, Father Simon. Not that +Ambrose expressed this, beyond saying, “They are good and holy +men, and I thought all were like them, and fear that was all!”</p> +<p>Then came death, for the first time nearly touching and affecting +the youth, and making his soul yearn after further depths, which he +might yet have found in the peace of the good old men, and the holy +rites and doctrine that they preserved; but before there was time for +these things to find their way into the wounds of his spirit, his expulsion +from home had sent him forth to see another side of monkish and clerkly +life.</p> +<p>Father Shoveller, kindly as he was, was a mere yeoman with nothing +spiritual about him; the monks of Hyde were, the younger, gay comrades, +only trying how loosely they could sit to their vows; the elder, churlish +and avaricious; even the Warden of Elizabeth College was little more +than a student. And in London, fresh phases had revealed themselves; +the pomp, state, splendour and luxury of Archbishop Wolsey’s house +had been a shock to the lad’s ideal of a bishop drawn from the +saintly biographies he had studied at Beaulieu; and he had but to keep +his ears open to hear endless scandals about the mass priests, as they +were called, since they were at this time very unpopular in London, +and in many cases deservedly so. Everything that the boy had hitherto +thought the way of holiness and salvation seemed invaded by evil and +danger, and under the bondage of death, whose terrible dance continued +to haunt him.</p> +<p>“I saw it, I saw it;” he said, “all over those +halls at York House. I seemed to behold the grisly shape standing +behind one and another, as they ate and laughed; and when the Archbishop +and his priests and the King came in it seemed only to make the pageant +complete! Only now and then could I recall those blessed words, +‘Ye are free indeed.’ Did he say from the bondage +of death?”</p> +<p>“Yea,” said Tibble, “into the glorious freedom +of God’s children.”</p> +<p>“Thou knowst it. Thou knowst it, Tibble. It seems +to me that life is no life, but living death, without that freedom! +And I <i>must</i> hear of it, and know whether it is mine, yea, and +Stephen’s, and all whom I love. O Tibble, I would beg my +bread rather than not have that freedom ever before mine eyes.”</p> +<p>“Hold it fast! hold it fast, dear sir,” said Tibble, +holding out his hands with tears in his eyes, and his face working in +a manner that happily Ambrose could not see.</p> +<p>“But how—how? The barefoot friar said that for +an <i>Ave</i> a day, our Blessed Lady will drag us back from purgatory. +I saw her on the wall of her chapel at Winchester saving a robber knight +from the sea, yea and a thief from the gallows; but that is not being +free.”</p> +<p>“Fond inventions of pardon-mongers,” muttered Tibble.</p> +<p>“And is one not free when the priest hath assoilsied him?” +added Ambrose.</p> +<p>“If, and if—” said Tibble. “But bone +shall make me trow that shrift in words, without heart-sorrow for sin, +and the Latin heard with no thought of Him that bore the guilt, can +set the sinner free. ’Tis none other that the Dean sets +forth, ay, and the book that I have here. I thank my God,” +he stood up and took off his cap reverently, “that He hath opened +the eyes of another!”</p> +<p>His tone was such that Ambrose could have believed him some devout +almost inspired hermit rather than the acute skilful artisan he appeared +at other times; and in fact, Tibble Steelman, like many another craftsman +of those days, led a double life, the outer one that of the ordinary +workman, the inner one devoted to those lights that were shining unveiled +and new to many; and especially here in the heart of the City, partly +from the influence of Dean Colet’s sermons and catechisings at +St. Paul’s, but also from remnants of Lollardism, which had never +been entirely quenched. The ordinary clergy looked at it with +horror, but the intelligent and thoughtful of the burgher and craftsman +classes studied it with a passionate fervour which might have sooner +broken out and in more perilous forms save for the guidance it received +in the truly Catholic and open-spirited public teachings of Colet, in +which he persisted in spite of the opposition of his brother clergy.</p> +<p>Not that as yet the inquirers had in the slightest degree broken +with the system of the Church, or with her old traditions. They +were only beginning to see the light that had been veiled from them, +and to endeavour to clear the fountain from the mire that had fouled +it; and there was as yet no reason to believe that the aspersions continually +made against the mass priests and the friars were more than the chronic +grumblings of Englishmen, who had found the same faults in them for +the last two hundred years.</p> +<p>“And what wouldst thou do, young sir?” presently inquired +Tibble.</p> +<p>“That I came to ask thee, good Tibble. I would work to +the best of my power in any craft so I may hear those words and gain +the key to all I have hitherto learnt, unheeding as one in a dream. +My purpose had been to be a scholar and a clerk, but I must see mine +own way, and know whither I am being carried, ere I can go farther.”</p> +<p>Tibble writhed and wriggled himself about in consideration. +“I would I wist how to take thee to the Dean himself,” he +said, “but I am but a poor man, and his doctrine is ‘new +wine in old bottles’ to the master, though he be a right good +man after his lights. See now, Master Ambrose, meseemeth that +thou hadst best take thy letter first to this same priest. It +may be that he can prefer thee to some post about the minster. +Canst sing?”</p> +<p>“I could once, but my voice is nought at this present. +If I could but be a servitor at St. Paul’s School!”</p> +<p>“It might be that the will which hath led thee so far hath +that post in store for thee, so bear the letter to Master Alworthy. +And if he fail thee, wouldst thou think scorn of aiding a friend of +mine who worketh a printing-press in Warwick Inner Yard? Thou +wilt find him at his place in Paternoster Row, hard by St. Paul’s. +He needeth one who is clerk enough to read the Latin, and the craft +being a new one ’tis fenced by none of those prentice laws that +would bar the way to thee elsewhere, at thy years.”</p> +<p>“I should dwell among books!”</p> +<p>“Yea, and holy books, that bear on the one matter dear to the +true heart. Thou might serve Lucas Hansen at the sign of the Winged +Staff till thou hast settled thine heart, and then it may be the way +would be opened to study at Oxford or at Cambridge, so that thou couldst +expound the faith to others.”</p> +<p>“Good Tibble, kind Tibble, I knew thou couldst aid me! +Wilt thou speak to this Master Hansen for me?”</p> +<p>Tibble, however, held that it was more seemly that Ambrose should +first try his fate with Master Alworthy, but in case of this not succeeding, +he promised to write a billet that would secure attention from Lucas +Hansen.</p> +<p>“I warn thee, however, that he is Low Dutch,” he added, +“though he speaketh English well.” He would gladly +have gone with the youth, and at any other time might have been sent +by his master, but the whole energies of the Dragon would be taken up +for the next week by preparations for the tilting-match at court, and +Tibble could not be spared for another working hour.</p> +<p>Ambrose, as he rose to bid his friend good-night, could not help +saying that he marvelled that one such as he could turn his mind to +such vanities as the tilt-yard required.</p> +<p>“Nay,” said Tibble, “’twas the craft I was +bred to—yea, and I have a good master; and the Apostle Paul himself—as +I’ve heard a preacher say—bade men continue in the state +wherein they were, and not be curious to chop and change. Who +knoweth whether in God’s sight, all our wars and policies be no +more than the games of the tilt-yard. Moreover, Paul himself made +these very weapons read as good a sermon as the Dean himself. +Didst never hear of the shield of faith, and helmet of salvation, and +breastplate of righteousness? So, if thou comest to Master Hansen, +and provest worthy of his trust, thou wilt hear more, ay, and maybe +read too thyself, and send forth the good seed to others,” he +murmured to himself, as he guided his visitor across the moonlit court +up the stairs to the chamber where Stephen lay fast asleep.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER X. TWO VOCATIONS</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“The smith, a mighty man is he<br /> With +large and sinewy hands;<br />And the muscles of his brawny arms<br /> Are +strong as iron bands.”</p> +<p>LONGFELLOW.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Stephen’s first thought in the morning was whether the <i>ex +voto</i> effigy of poor Spring was put in hand, while Ambrose thought +of Tibble’s promised commendation to the printer. They both, +however, found their affairs must needs wait. Orders for weapons +for the tilting-match had come in so thickly the day before that every +hand must be employed on executing them, and the Dragon court was ringing +again with the clang of hammers and screech of grind-stones.</p> +<p>Stephen, though not yet formally bound, was to enter on his apprentice +life at once; and Ambrose was assured by Master Headley that it was +of no use to repair to any of the dignified clergy of St. Paul’s +before mid-day, and that he had better employ the time in writing to +his elder brother respecting the fee. Materials were supplied +to him, and he used them so as to do credit to the monks of Beaulieu, +in spite of little Dennet spending every spare moment in watching his +pen as if he were performing some cabalistic operation.</p> +<p>He was a long time about it. There were two letters to write, +and the wording of thorn needed to be very careful, besides that the +old court hand took more time to frame than the Italian current hand, +and even thus, when dinner-time came, at ten o’clock, the household +was astonished to find that he had finished all that regarded Stephen, +though he had left the letters open, until his own venture should have +been made.</p> +<p>Stephen flung himself down beside his brother hot and panting, shaking +his shoulder-blades and declaring that his arms felt ready to drop out. +He had been turning a grindstone ever since six o’clock. +The two new apprentices had been set on to sharpening the weapon points +as all that they were capable of, and had been bidden by Smallbones +to turn and hold alternately, but “that oaf Giles Headley,” +said Stephen, “never ground but one lance, and made me go on turning, +threatening to lay the butt about mine ears if I slacked.”</p> +<p>“The lazy lubber!” cried Ambrose. “But did +none see thee, or couldst not call out for redress?”</p> +<p>“Thou art half a wench thyself, Ambrose, to think I’d +complain. Besides, he stood on his rights as a master, and he +is a big fellow.”</p> +<p>“That’s true,” said Ambrose, “and he might +make it the worse for thee.”</p> +<p>“I would I were as big as he,” sighed Stephen, “I +would soon show him which was the better man.”</p> +<p>Perhaps the grinding match had not been as unobserved as Stephen +fancied, for on returning to work, Smallbones, who presided over all +the rougher parts of the business, claimed them both. He set Stephen +to stand by him, sort out and hand him all the rivets needed for a suit +of proof armour that hung on a frame, while he required Giles to straighten +bars of iron heated to a white heat. Ere long Giles called out +for Stephen to change places, to which Smallbones coolly replied, “Turnabout +is the rule here, master.”</p> +<p>“Even so,” replied Giles, “and I have been at work +like this long enough, ay, and too long!”</p> +<p>“Thy turn was a matter of three hours this morning,” +replied Kit—not coolly, for nobody was cool in his den, but with +a brevity which provoked a laugh.</p> +<p>“I shall see what my cousin the master saith!” cried +Giles in great wrath.</p> +<p>“Ay, that thou wilt,” returned Kit, “if thou dost +loiter over thy business, and hast not those bars ready when called +for.”</p> +<p>“He never meant me to be put on work like this, with a hammer +that breaks mine arm.”</p> +<p>“What! crying out for <i>that</i>!” said Edmund Burgess, +who had just come in to ask for a pair of tongs. “What wouldst +say to the big hammer that none can wield save Kit himself?”</p> +<p>Giles felt there was no redress, and panted on, feeling as if he +were melting away, and with a dumb, wild rage in his heart, that could +get no outlet, for Smallbones was at least as much bigger than he as +he was than Stephen. Tibble was meanwhile busy over the gilding +and enamelling of Buckingham’s magnificent plate armour in Italian +fashion, but he had found time to thrust into Ambrose’s hand an +exceedingly small and curiously folded billet for Lucas Hansen, the +printer, in case of need. “He would be found at the sign +of the Winged Staff, in Paternoster Row,” said Tibble, “or +if not there himself, there would be his servant who would direct Ambrose +to the place where the Dutch printer lived and worked.” +No one was at leisure to show the lad the way, and he set out with a +strange feeling of solitude, as his path began decisively to be away +from that of his brother.</p> +<p>He did not find much difficulty in discovering the quadrangle on +the south side of the minster where the minor canons lived near the +deanery; and the porter, a stout lay brother, pointed out to him the +doorway belonging to Master Alworthy. He knocked, and a young +man with a tonsured head but a bloated face opened it. Ambrose +explained that he had brought a letter from the Warden of St. Elizabeth’s +College at Winchester.</p> +<p>“Give it here,” said the young man.</p> +<p>“I would give it to his reverence himself,” said Ambrose.</p> +<p>“His reverence is taking his after-dinner nap and may not be +disturbed,” said the man.</p> +<p>“Then I will wait,” said Ambrose.</p> +<p>The door was shut in his face, but it was the shady side of the court, +and he sat down on a bench and waited. After full an hour the +door was opened, and the canon, a good-natured looking man, in a square +cap, and gown and cassock of the finest cloth, came slowly out. +He had evidently heard nothing of the message, and was taken by surprise +when Ambrose, doffing his cap and bowing low, gave him the greeting +of the Warden of St. Elizabeth’s and the letter.</p> +<p>“Hum! Ha! My good friend—Fielder—I +remember him. He was always a scholar. So he hath sent thee +here with his commendations. What should I do with all the idle +country lads that come up to choke London and feed the plague? +Yet stay—that lurdane Bolt is getting intolerably lazy and insolent, +and methinks he robs me! What canst do, thou stripling?”</p> +<p>“I can read Latin, sir, and know the Greek alphabeta.”</p> +<p>“Tush! I want no scholar more than enough to serve my +mass. Canst sing?”</p> +<p>“Not now; but I hope to do so again.”</p> +<p>“When I rid me of Bolt there—and there’s an office +under the sacristan that he might fill as well as another knave—the +fellow might do for me well enow as a body servant,” said Mr. +Alworthy, speaking to himself. “He would brush my gowns +and make my bed, and I might perchance trust him with my marketings, +and by and by there might be some office for him when he grew saucy +and idle. I’ll prove him on mine old comrade’s word.”</p> +<p>“Sir,” said Ambrose, respectfully, “what I seek +for is occasion for study. I had hoped you could speak to the +Dean, Dr. John Colet, for some post at his school.”</p> +<p>“Boy,” said Alworthy, “I thought thee no such fool! +Why crack thy brains with study when I can show thee a surer path to +ease and preferment? But I see thou art too proud to do an old +man a service. Thou writst thyself gentleman, forsooth, and high +blood will not stoop.”</p> +<p>“Not so, sir,” returned Ambrose, “I would work +in any way so I could study the humanities, and hear the Dean preach. +Cannot you commend me to his school?”</p> +<p>“Ha!” exclaimed the canon, “this is your sort, +is it? I’ll have nought to do with it! Preaching, +preaching! Every idle child’s head is agog on preaching +nowadays! A plague on it! Why can’t Master Dean leave +it to the black friars, whose vocation ’tis, and not cumber us +with his sermons for ever, and set every lazy lad thinking he must needs +run after them? No, no, my good boy, take my advice. Thou +shalt have two good bellyfuls a day, all my cast gowns, and a pair of +shoes by the year, with a groat a month if thou wilt keep mine house, +bring in my meals, and the like, and by and by, so thou art a good lad, +and runst not after these new-fangled preachments which lead but to +heresy, and set folk racking their brains about sin and such trash, +we’ll get thee shorn and into minor orders, and who knows what +good preferment thou mayst not win in due time!”</p> +<p>“Sir, I am beholden to you, but my mind is set on study.”</p> +<p>“What kin art thou to a fool?” cried the minor canon, +so startling Ambrose that he had almost answered, and turning to another +ecclesiastic whose siesta seemed to have ended about the same time, +“Look at this varlet, Brother Cloudesley! Would you believe +it? He comes to me with a letter from mine old friend, in consideration +of which I offer him that saucy lubber Bolt’s place, a gown of +mine own a year, meat and preferment, and, lo you, he tells me all he +wants is to study Greek, forsooth, and hear the Dean’s sermons!”</p> +<p>The other canon shook his head in dismay at such arrant folly. +“Young stripling, be warned,” he said. “Know +what is good for thee. Greek is the tongue of heresy.”</p> +<p>“How may that be, reverend sir,” said Ambrose, “when +the holy Apostles and the Fathers spake and wrote in the Greek?”</p> +<p>“Waste not thy time on him, brother,” said Mr. Alworthy. +“He will find out his error when his pride and his Greek forsooth +have brought him to fire and faggot.”</p> +<p>“Ay! ay!” added Cloudesley. “The Dean with +his Dutch friend and his sermons, and his new grammar and accidence, +is sowing heretics as thick as groundsel.”</p> +<p>Wherewith the two canons of the old school waddled away, arm in arm, +and Bolt put out his head, leered at Ambrose, and bade him shog off, +and not come sneaking after other folk’s shoes.</p> +<p>Sooth to say, Ambrose was relieved by his rejection. If he +were not to obtain admission in any capacity to St. Paul’s School, +he felt more drawn to Tibble’s friend the printer; for the self-seeking +luxurious habits into which so many of the beneficed clergy had fallen +were repulsive to him, and his whole soul thirsted after that new revelation, +as it were, which Colet’s sermon had made to him. Yet the +word heresy was terrible and confusing, and a doubt came over him whether +he might not be forsaking the right path, and be lured aside by false +lights.</p> +<p>He would think it out before he committed himself. Where should +he do so in peace? He thought of the great Minster, but the nave +was full of a surging multitude, and there was a loud hum of voices +proceeding from it, which took from him all inclination to find his +way to the quieter and inner portions of the sanctuary.</p> +<p>Then he recollected the little Pardon Church, where he had seen the +<i>Dance of Death</i> on the walls; and crossing the burial-ground he +entered, and, as he expected, found it empty, since the hours for masses +for the dead were now past. He knelt down on a step, repeated +the sext office, in warning for which the bells were chiming all round, +covering his face with his hands, and thinking himself back to Beaulieu; +then, seating himself on a step, leaning against the wall, he tried +to think out whether to give himself up to the leadings of the new light +that had broken on him, or whether to wrench himself from it. +Was this, which seemed to him truth and deliverance, verily the heresy +respecting which rumours had come to horrify the country convents? +If he had only heard of it from Tibble Wry-mouth, he would have doubted, +in spite of its power over him, but he had heard it from a man, wise, +good, and high in place, like Dean Colet. Yet to his further perplexity, +his uncle had spoken of Colet as jesting at Wolsey’s table. +What course should he take? Could he bear to turn away from that +which drew his soul so powerfully, and return to the bounds which seem +to him to be grown so narrow, but which he was told were safe? +Now that Stephen was settled, it was open to him to return to St. Elizabeth’s +College, but the young soul within him revolted against the repetition +of what had become to him unsatisfying, unless illumined by the brightness +he seemed to have glimpsed at.</p> +<p>But Ambrose had gone through much unwonted fatigue of late, and while +thus musing he fell asleep, with his head against the wall. He +was half wakened by the sound of voices, and presently became aware +that two persons were examining the walls, and comparing the paintings +with some others, which one of them had evidently seen. If he +had known it, it was with the <i>Dance of Death</i> on the bridge of +Lucerne.</p> +<p>“I question,” said a voice that Ambrose had heard before, +“whether these terrors be wholesome for men’s souls.”</p> +<p>“For priests’ pouches, they be,” said the other, +with something of a foreign accent.</p> +<p>“Alack, when shall we see the day when the hope of paradise +and dread of purgatory shall be no longer made the tools of priestly +gain; and hatred of sin taught to these poor folk, instead of servile +dread of punishment.”</p> +<p>“Have a care, my Colet,” answered the yellow bearded +foreigner; “thou art already in ill odour with those same men +in authority; and though a Dean’s stall be fenced from the episcopal +crook, yet there is a rod at Rome which can reach even thither.”</p> +<p>“I tell thee, dear Erasmus, thou art too timid; I were well +content to leave house and goods, yea, to go to prison or to death, +could I but bring home to one soul, for which Christ died, the truth +and hope in every one of those prayers and creeds that our poor folk +are taught to patter as a senseless charm.”</p> +<p>“These are strange times,” returned Erasmus. “Methinks +yonder phantom, be he skeleton or angel, will have snatched both of +us away ere we behold the full issue either of thy preachings, or my +Greek Testament, or of our More’s Utopian images. Dost thou +not feel as though we were like children who have set some mighty engine +in motion, like the great water-wheels in my native home, which, whirled +by the flowing streams of time and opinion, may break up the whole foundations, +and destroy the oneness of the edifice?”</p> +<p>“It may be so,” returned Colet. “What read +we? ‘The net brake’ even in the Master’s sight, +while still afloat on the sea. It was only on the shore that the +hundred and fifty-three, all good and sound, were drawn to His feet.”</p> +<p>“And,” returned Erasmus, “I see wherefore thou +hast made thy children at St. Paul’s one hundred and fifty and +three.”</p> +<p>The two friends were passing out. Their latter speeches had +scarce been understood by Ambrose, even if he heard them, so full was +he of conflicting feelings, now ready to cast himself before their feet, +and entreat the Dean to help him to guidance, now withheld by bashfulness, +unwillingness to interrupt, and ingenuous shame at appearing like an +eavesdropper towards such dignified and venerable personages. +Had he obeyed his first impulse, mayhap his career had been made safer +and easier for him, but it was while shyness chained his limbs and tongue +that the Dean and Erasmus quitted the chapel, and the opportunity of +accosting them had slipped away.</p> +<p>Their half comprehended words had however decided him in the part +he should take, making him sure that Colet was not controverting the +formularies of the Church, but drawing out those meanings which in repetition +by rote were well-nigh forgotten. It was as if his course were +made clear to him.</p> +<p>He was determined to take the means which most readily presented +themselves of hearing Colet; and leaving the chapel, he bent his steps +to the Row which his book-loving eye had already marked. Flanking +the great Cathedral on the north, was the row of small open stalls devoted +to the sale of books, or “objects of devotion,” all so arranged +that the open portion might be cleared, and the stock-in-trade locked +up if not carried away. Each stall had its own sign, most of them +sacred, such as the Lamb and Flag, the Scallop Shell, or some patron +saint, but classical emblems were oddly intermixed, such as Minerva’s +Ægis, Pegasus, and the Lyre of Apollo. The sellers, some +middle-aged men, some lads, stretched out their arms with their wares +to attract the passengers in the street, and did not fail to beset Ambrose. +The more lively looked at his Lincoln green and shouted verses of ballads +at him, fluttering broad sheets with verses on the lamentable fate of +Jane Shore, or Fair Rosamond, the same woodcut doing duty for both ladies, +without mercy to their beauty. The scholastic judged by his face +and step that he was a student, and they flourished at him black-bound +copies of Virgilius Maro, and of Tully’s Offices, while others, +hoping that he was an incipient clerk, offered breviaries, missals or +portuaries, with the Use of St. Paul’s, or of Sarum, or mayhap +St. Austin’s Confessions. He made his way along, with his +eye diligently heedful of the signs, and at last recognised the Winged +Staff, or caduceus of Hermes, over a stall where a couple of boys in +blue caps and gowns and yellow stockings were making a purchase of a +small, grave-looking, elderly but bright cheeked man, whose yellow hair +and beard were getting intermingled with grey. They were evidently +those St. Paul’s School boys whom Ambrose envied so much, and +as they finished their bargaining and ran away together, Ambrose advanced +with a salutation, asked if he did not see Master Lucas Hansen, and +gave him the note with the commendations of Tibble Steelman the armourer.</p> +<p>He was answered with a ready nod and “yea, yea,” as the +old man opened the billet and cast his eyes over it; then scanning Ambrose +from head to foot, said with some amazement, “But you are of gentle +blood, young sir.”</p> +<p>“I am,” said Ambrose; “but gentle blood needs at +times to work for bread, and Tibble let me hope that I might find both +livelihood for the body and for the soul with you, sir.”</p> +<p>“Is it so?” asked the printer, his face lighting up. +“Art thou willing to labour and toil, and give up hope of fee +and honour, if so thou mayst win the truth?”</p> +<p>Ambrose folded his hands with a gesture of earnestness, and Lucas +Hansen said, “Bless thee, my son! Methinks I can aid thee +in thy quest, so thou canst lay aside,” and here his voice grew +sharper and more peremptory, “all thy gentleman’s airs and +follies, and serve—ay, serve and obey.”</p> +<p>“I trust so,” returned Ambrose; “my brother is +even now becoming prentice to Master Giles Headley, and we hope to live +as honest men by the work of our hands and brains.”</p> +<p>“I forgot that you English herren are not so puffed up with +pride and scorn like our Dutch nobles,” returned the printer. +“Canst live sparingly, and lie hard, and see that thou keepst +the house clean, not like these English swine?”</p> +<p>“I hope so,” said Ambrose, smiling; “but I have +an uncle and aunt, and they would have me lie every night at their house +beside the Temple gardens.”</p> +<p>“What is thine uncle?”</p> +<p>“He hath a post in the meiné of my Lord Archbishop of +York,” said Ambrose, blushing and hesitating a little. “He +cometh to and fro to his wife, who dwells with her old father, doing +fine lavender’s work for the lawyer folk therein.”</p> +<p>It was somewhat galling that this should be the most respectable +occupation that could be put forward, but Lucas Hansen was evidently +reassured by it. He next asked whether Ambrose could read Latin, +putting a book into his hand as he did so; Ambrose read and construed +readily, explaining that he had been trained at Beaulieu.</p> +<p>“That is well!” said the printer; “and hast thou +any Greek?”</p> +<p>“Only the alphabeta,” said Ambrose, “I made that +out from a book at Beaulieu, but Father Simon knew no more, and there +was nought to study from.”</p> +<p>“Even so,” replied Hansen, “but little as thou +knowst ’tis as much as I can hope for from any who will aid me +in my craft. ’Tis I that, as thou hast seen, furnish for +the use of the children at the Dean’s school of St. Paul’s. +The best and foremost scholars of them are grounded in their Greek, +that being the tongue wherein the Holy Gospels were first writ. +Hitherto I have had to get me books for their use from Holland, whither +they are brought from Basle, but I have had sent me from Hamburg a fount +of type of the Greek character, whereby I hope to print at home, the +accidence, and mayhap the <i>Dialogues</i> of Plato, and it might even +be the sacred Gospel itself, which the great Doctor, Master Erasmus, +is even now collating from the best authorities in the universities.”</p> +<p>Ambrose’s eyes kindled with unmistakable delight. “You +have the accidence!” he exclaimed. “Then could I study +the tongue even while working for you! Sir, I would do my best! +It is the very opportunity I seek.”</p> +<p>“Fair and softly,” said the printer with something of +a smile. “Thou art new to cheapening and bargaining, my +fair lad. Thou hast spoken not one word of the wage.”</p> +<p>“I recked not of that,” said Ambrose. “’Tis +true, I may not burthen mine uncle and aunt, but verily, sir, I would +live on the humblest fare that will keep body and soul together so that +I may have such an opportunity.”</p> +<p>“How knowst thou what the opportunity may be?” returned +Lucas, drily. “Thou art but a babe! Some one should +have a care of thee. If I set thee to stand here all day and cry +what d’ye lack? or to carry bales of books twixt this and Warwick +Inner Yard, thou wouldst have no ground to complain.”</p> +<p>“Nay, sir,” returned Ambrose, “I wot that Tibble +Steelman would never send me to one who would not truly give me what +I need.”</p> +<p>“Tibble Steelman is verily one of the few who are both called +and chosen,” replied Lucas, “and I think thou art the same +so far as green youth may be judged, since thou art one who will follow +the word into the desert, and never ask for the loaves and fishes. +Nevertheless, I will take none advantage of thy youth and zeal, but +thou shalt first behold what thou shalt have to do for me, and then +if it still likes thee, I will see thy kindred. Hast no father?”</p> +<p>Ambrose explained, and at that moment Master Hansen’s boy made +his appearance, returning from an errand; the stall was left in his +charge, while the master took Ambrose with him into the precincts of +what had once been the splendid and hospitable mansion of the great +king-maker, Warwick, but was now broken up into endless little tenements +with their courts and streets, though the baronial ornaments and the +arrangement still showed what the place had been.</p> +<p>Entering beneath a wide archway, still bearing the sign of the Bear +and Ragged Staff, Lucas led the way into what must have been one of +the courts of offices, for it was surrounded with buildings and sheds +of different heights and sizes, and had on one side a deep trough of +stone, fed by a series of water-taps, intended for the use of the stables. +The doors of one of these buildings was unlocked by Master Hansen, and +Ambrose found himself in what had once perhaps been part of a stable, +but had been partitioned off from the rest. There were two stalls, +one serving the Dutchman for his living room, the other for his workshop. +In one corner stood a white earthenware stove—so new a spectacle +to the young forester that he supposed it to be the printing press. +A table, shiny with rubbing, a wooden chair, a couple of stools, a few +vessels, mirrors for brightness, some chests and corner cupboards, a +bed shutting up like a box and likewise highly polished, completed the +furniture, all arranged with the marvellous orderliness and neatness +of the nation. A curtain shut off the opening to the other stall, +where stood a machine with a huge screw, turned by leverage. Boxes +of type and piles of paper surrounded it, and Ambrose stood and looked +at it with a sort of awe-struck wonder and respect as the great fount +of wisdom. Hansen showed him what his work would be, in setting +up type, and by and by correcting after the first proof. The machine +could only print four pages at a time, and for this operation the whole +strength of the establishment was required. Moreover, Master Hansen +bound, as well as printed his books. Ambrose was by no means daunted. +As long as he might read as well as print, and while he had Sundays +at St. Paul’s to look to, he asked no more—except indeed +that his gentle blood stirred at the notion of acting salesman in the +book-stall, and Master Hansen assured him with a smile that Will Wherry, +the other boy, would do that better than either of them, and that he +would be entirely employed here.</p> +<p>The methodical master insisted however on making terms with the boy’s +relations; and with some misgivings on Ambrose’s part, the two—since +business hours were almost over—walked together to the Temple +and to the little house, where Perronel was ironing under her window.</p> +<p>Ambrose need not have doubted. The Dutch blood on either side +was stirred; and the good housewife commanded the little printer’s +respect as he looked round on a kitchen as tidy as if it were in his +own country. And the bargain was struck that Ambrose Birkenholt +should serve Master Hansen for his meals and two pence a week, while +he was to sleep at the little house of Mistress Randall, who would keep +his clothes and linen in order.</p> +<p>And thus it was that both Ambrose and Stephen Birkenholt had found +their vocations for the present, and both were fervent in them. +Master Headley pshawed a little when he heard that Ambrose had engaged +himself to a printer and a foreigner; and when he was told it was to +a friend of Tibble’s, only shook his head, saying that Tib’s +only fault was dabbling in matters of divinity, as if a plain man could +not be saved without them! However, he respected the lad for having +known his own mind and not hung about in idleness, and he had no opinion +of clerks, whether monks or priests. Indeed, the low esteem in +which the clergy as a class were held in London was one of the very +evil signs of the times. Ambrose was invited to dine and sup at +the Dragon court every Sunday and holiday, and he was glad to accept, +since the hospitality was so free, and he thus was able to see his brother +and Tibble; besides that, it prevented him from burthening Mistress +Randall, whom he really liked, though he could not see her husband, +either in his motley or his plain garments, without a shudder of repulsion.</p> +<p>Ambrose found that setting up type had not much more to do with the +study of new books than Stephen’s turning the grindstone had with +fighting in the lists; and the mistakes he made in spelling from right +to left, and in confounding the letters, made him despair, and prepare +for any amount of just indignation from his master; but he found on +the contrary that Master Hansen had never had a pupil who made so few +blunders on the first trial, and augured well of him from such a beginning. +Paper was too costly, and pressure too difficult, for many proofs to +be struck off, but Hansen could read and correct his type as it stood, +and assured Ambrose that practice would soon give him the same power; +and the correction was thus completed, when Will Wherry, a big, stout +fellow, came in to dinner—the stall being left during that time, +as nobody came for books during the dinner-hour, and Hansen, having +an understanding with his next neighbour, by which they took turns to +keep guard against thieves.</p> +<p>The master and the two lads dined together on the contents of a cauldron, +where pease and pork had been simmering together on the stove all the +morning. Their strength was then united to work the press and +strike off a sheet, which the master scanned, finding only one error +in it. It was a portion of Lilly’s <i>Grammar</i>, and Ambrose +regarded it with mingled pride and delight, though he longed to go further +into those deeper revelations for the sake of which he had come here.</p> +<p>Master Hansen then left the youths to strike off a couple of hundred +sheets, after which they were to wash the types and re-arrange the letters +in the compartments in order, whilst he returned to the stall. +The customers requiring his personal attention were generally late ones. +When all this was accomplished, and the pot put on again in preparation +for supper, the lads might use the short time that remained as they +would, and Hansen himself showed Ambrose a shelf of books concealed +by a blue curtain, whence he might read.</p> +<p>Will Wherry showed unconcealed amazement that this should be the +taste of his companion. He himself hated the whole business, and +would never have adopted it, but that he had too many brothers for all +to take to the water on the Thames, and their mother was too poor to +apprentice them, and needed the small weekly pay the Dutchman gave him. +He seemed a good-natured, dull fellow, whom no doubt Hansen had hired +for the sake of the strong arms, developed by generations of oarsmen +upon the river. What he specially disliked was that his master +was a foreigner. The whole court swarmed with foreigners, he said, +with the utmost disgust, as if they were noxious insects. They +made provisions dear, and undersold honest men, and he wondered the +Lord Mayor did not see to it and drive them out. He did not <i>so</i> +much object to the Dutch, but the Spaniards—no words could express +his horror of them.</p> +<p>By and by, Ambrose going out to fetch some water from the conduit, +found standing by it a figure entirely new to him. It was a young +girl of some twelve or fourteen years old, in the round white cap worn +by all of her age and sex; but from beneath it hung down two thick plaits +of the darkest hair he had ever seen, and though the dress was of the +ordinary dark serge with a coloured apron, it was put on with an air +that made it look like some strange and beautiful costume on the slender, +lithe, little form. The vermilion apron was further trimmed with +a narrow border of white, edged again with deep blue, and it chimed +in with the bright coral earrings and necklace. As Ambrose came +forward the creature tried to throw a crimson handkerchief over her +head, and ran into the shelter of another door, but not before Ambrose +had seen a pair of large dark eyes so like those of a terrified fawn +that they seemed to carry him back to the Forest. Going back amazed, +he asked his companion who the girl he had seen could have been.</p> +<p>Will stared. “I trow you mean the old blackamoor sword-cutler’s +wench. He is one of those pestilent strangers. An ’Ebrew +Jew who worships Mahound and is too bad for the Spanish folk themselves.”</p> +<p>This rather startled Ambrose, though he knew enough to see that the +accusations could not both be true, but he forgot it in the delight, +when Will pronounced the work done, of drawing back the curtain and +feasting his eyes upon the black backs of the books, and the black-letter +brochures that lay by them. There were scarcely thirty, yet he +gloated on them as on an inexhaustible store, while Will, whistling +wonder at his taste, opined that since some one was there to look after +the stove, and the iron pot on it, he might go out and have a turn at +ball with Hob and Martin.</p> +<p>Ambrose was glad to be left to go over his coming feast. There +was Latin, English, and, alas! baffling Dutch. High or Low it +was all the same to him. What excited his curiosity most was the +<i>Enchiridion Militis Christiani</i> of Erasmus—in Latin of course, +and that he could easily read—but almost equally exciting was +a Greek and Latin vocabulary; or again, a very thin book in which he +recognised the New Testament in the Vulgate. He had heard chapters +of it read from the graceful stone pulpit overhanging the refectory +at Beaulieu, and, of course, the Gospels and Epistles at mass, but they +had been read with little expression and no attention; and that Sunday’s +discourse had filled him with eagerness to look farther; but the mere +reading the titles of the books was pleasure enough for the day, and +his master was at home before he had fixed his mind on anything. +Perhaps this was as well, for Lucas advised him what to begin with, +and how to divide his studies so as to gain a knowledge of the Greek, +his great ambition, and also to read the Scripture.</p> +<p>The master was almost as much delighted as the scholar, and it was +not till the curfew was beginning to sound that Ambrose could tear himself +away. It was still daylight, and the door of the next dwelling +was open. There, sitting on the ground cross-legged, in an attitude +such as Ambrose had never seen, was a magnificent old man, with a huge +long white beard, wearing, indeed, the usual dress of a Londoner of +the lower class, but the gown flowed round him in a grand and patriarchal +manner, corresponding with his noble, somewhat aquiline features; and +behind him Ambrose thought he caught a glimpse of the shy fawn he had +seen in the morning.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XI. AY DI ME GRENADA</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“In sooth it was a thing to weep<br /> If +then as now the level plain<br />Beneath was spreading like the deep,<br /> The +broad unruffled main.<br />If like a watch-tower of the sun<br /> Above, +the Alpuxarras rose,<br />Streaked, when the dying day was done,<br /> “With +evening’s roseate snows.”</p> +<p>ARCHBISHOP TRENCH.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>When Mary Tudor, released by death from her first dreary marriage, +contracted for her brother’s pleasure, had appeased his wrath +at her second marriage made to please herself, Henry VIII. was only +too glad to mark his assent by all manner of festivities; and English +chroniclers, instead of recording battles and politics, had only to +write of pageantries and tournaments during the merry May of the year +1515—a May, be it remembered, which, thanks to the old style, +was at least ten days nearer to Midsummer than our present month.</p> +<p>How the two queens and all their court had gone a-maying on Shooter’s +Hill, ladies and horses poetically disguised and labelled with sweet +summer titles, was only a nine days’ wonder when the Birkenholts +had come to London, but the approaching tournament at Westminster on +the Whitsun holiday was the great excitement to the whole population, +for, with all its faults, the Court of bluff King Hal was thoroughly +genial, and every one, gentle and simple, might participate in his pleasures.</p> +<p>Seats were reserved at the lists for the city dignitaries and their +families, and though old Mistress Headley professed that she ought to +have done with such vanities, she could not forbear from going to see +that her son was not too much encumbered with the care of little Dennet, +and that the child herself ran into no mischief. Master Headley +himself grumbled and sighed, but he put himself into his scarlet gown, +holding that his presence was a befitting attention to the king, glad +to gratify his little daughter, and not without a desire to see how +his workmanship—good English ware—held out against “mail +and plate of Milan steel,” the fine armour brought home from France +by the new Duke of Suffolk. Giles donned his best in the expectation +of sitting in the places of honour as one of the family, and was greatly +disgusted when Kit Smallbones observed, “What’s all that +bravery for? The tilting match quotha? Ha! ha! my young +springald, if thou see it at all, thou must be content to gaze as thou +canst from the armourers’ tent, if Tibble there chooses to be +cumbered with a useless lubber like thee.”</p> +<p>“I always sat with my mother when there were matches at Clarendon,” +muttered Giles, who had learnt at least that it was of no use to complain +of Smallbones’ plain speaking.</p> +<p>“If folks cocker malapert lads at Sarum we know better here,” +was the answer.</p> +<p>“I shall ask the master, my kinsman,” returned the youth.</p> +<p>But he got little by his move. Master Headley told him, not +unkindly, for he had some pity for the spoilt lad, that not the Lord +Mayor himself would take his own son with him while yet an apprentice. +Tibble Steelman would indeed go to one of the attendants’ tents +at the further end of the lists, where repairs to armour and weapons +might be needed, and would take an assistant or two, but who they might +be must depend on his own choice, and if Giles had any desire to go, +he had better don his working dress.</p> +<p>In fact, Tibble meant to take Edmund Burgess and one workman for +use, and one of the new apprentices for pleasure, letting them change +in the middle of the day. The swagger of Giles actually forfeited +for him the first turn, which—though he was no favourite with +the men—would have been granted to his elder years and his relationship +to the master; but on his overbearing demand to enter the boat which +was to carry down a little anvil and charcoal furnace, with a few tools, +rivets, nails, and horse-shoes, Tibble coolly returned that he needed +no such gay birds; but if Giles chose to be ready in his leathern coat +when Stephen Birkenholt came home at midday, mayhap he might change +with him.</p> +<p>Stephen went joyously in the plainest of attire, though Tibble in +fur cap, grimy jerkin, and leathern apron was no elegant steersman; +and Edmund, who was at the age of youthful foppery, shrugged his shoulders +a little, and disguised the garments of the smithy with his best flat +cap and newest mantle.</p> +<p>They kept in the wake of the handsome barge which Master Headley +shared with his friend and brother alderman, Master Hope the draper, +whose young wife, in a beautiful black velvet hood and shining blue +satin kirtle, was evidently petting Dennet to her heart’s content, +though the little damsel never lost an opportunity of nodding to her +friends in the plainer barge in the rear.</p> +<p>The Tudor tilting matches cost no lives, and seldom broke bones. +They were chiefly opportunities for the display of brilliant enamelled +and gilt armour, at the very acme of cumbrous magnificence; and of equally +gorgeous embroidery spread out over the vast expanse provided by elephantine +Flemish horses. Even if the weapons had not been purposely blunted, +and if the champions had really desired to slay one another, they would +have found the task very difficult, as in effect they did in the actual +game of war. But the spectacle was a splendid one, and all the +apparatus was ready in the armourers’ tent, marked by St. George +and the Dragon. Tibble ensconced himself in the innermost corner +with a “tractate,” borrowed from his friend Lucas, and sent +the apprentices to gaze their fill at the rapidly filling circles of +seats. They saw King Harry, resplendent in gilded armour—“from +their own anvil, true English steel,” said Edmund, proudly—hand +to her seat his sister the bride, one of the most beautiful women then +in existence, with a lovely and delicate bloom on her fair face and +exquisite Plantagenet features. No more royally handsome creatures +could the world have offered than that brother and sister, and the English +world appreciated them and made the lists ring with applause at the +fair lady who had disdained foreign princes to wed her true love, an +honest Englishman.</p> +<p>He—the cloth of frieze—in blue Milanese armour, made +to look as classical as possible, and with clasps and medals engraven +from antique gems—handed in Queen Katharine, whose dark but glowing +Spanish complexion made a striking contrast to the dazzling fairness +of her young sister-in-law. Near them sat a stout burly figure +in episcopal purple, and at his feet there was a form which nearly took +away all Stephen’s pleasure for the time. For it was in +motley, and he could hear the bells jingle, while the hot blood rose +in his cheeks in the dread lest Burgess should detect the connection, +or recognise in the jester the grave personage who had come to negotiate +with Mr. Headley for his indentures, or worse still, that the fool should +see and claim him.</p> +<p>However, Quipsome Hal seemed to be exchanging drolleries with the +young dowager of France, who, sooth to say, giggled in a very unqueenly +manner at jokes which made the grave Spanish-born queen draw up her +stately head, and converse with a lady on her other hand—an equally +stately lady, somewhat older, with the straight Plantagenet features, +and by her side a handsome boy, who, though only eight or nine years +was tonsured, and had a little scholar’s gown. “That,” +said Edmund, “is my Lady Countess of Salisbury, of whom Giles +Headley prates so much.”</p> +<p>A tournament, which was merely a game between gorgeously equipped +princes and nobles, afforded little scope for adventure worthy of record, +though it gave great diversion to the spectators. Stephen gazed +like one fascinated at the gay panoply of horse and man with the huge +plumes on the heads of both, as they rushed against one another, and +he shared with Edmund the triumph when the lance from their armoury +held good, the vexation if it were shivered. All would have been +perfect but for the sight of his uncle, playing off his drolleries in +a manner that gave him a sense of personal degradation.</p> +<p>To escape from the sight almost consoled him when, in the pause after +the first courses had been run, Tibble told him and Burgess to return, +and send Headley and another workman with a fresh bundle of lances for +the afternoon’s tilting. Stephen further hoped to find his +brother at the Dragon court, as it was one of those holidays that set +every one free, and separation began to make the brothers value their +meetings.</p> +<p>But Ambrose was not at the Dragon court, and when Stephen went in +quest of him to the Temple, Perronel had not seen him since the early +morning, but she said he seemed so much bitten with the little old man’s +scholarship that she had small doubt that he would be found poring over +a book in Warwick Inner Yard.</p> +<p>Thither therefore did Stephen repair. The place was nearly +deserted, for the inhabitants were mostly either artisans or that far +too numerous race who lived on the doles of convents, on the alms of +churchgoers, and the largesses scattered among the people on public +occasions, and these were for the most part pursuing their vocation +both of gazing and looking out for gain among the spectators outside +the lists. The door that Stephen had been shown as that of Ambrose’s +master was, however, partly open, and close beside it sat in the sun +a figure that amazed him. On a small mat or rug, with a black +and yellow handkerchief over her head, and little scarlet legs crossed +under a blue dress, all lighted up by the gay May sun, there slept the +little dark, glowing maiden, with her head best as it leant against +the wall, her rosy lips half open, her long black plaits on her shoulders.</p> +<p>Stepping up to the half-open door, whence he heard a voice reading, +his astonishment was increased. At the table were his brother +and his master, Ambrose with a black book in hand, Lucas Hansen with +some papers, and on the ground was seated a venerable, white-bearded +old man, something between Stephen’s notions of an apostle and +of a magician, though the latter idea predominated at sight of a long +parchment scroll covered with characters such as belonged to no alphabet +that he had ever dreamt of. What were they doing to his brother? +He was absolutely in an enchanter’s den. Was it a pixy at +the door, guarding it? “Ambrose!” he cried aloud.</p> +<p>Everybody started. Ambrose sprang to his feet, exclaiming, +“Stephen!” The pixy gave a little scream and jumped +up, flying to the old man, who quietly rolled up his scroll.</p> +<p>Lucas rose up as Ambrose spoke.</p> +<p>“Thy brother?” said he.</p> +<p>“Yea—come in search of me,” said Ambrose.</p> +<p>“Thou hadst best go forth with him,” said Lucas.</p> +<p>“It is not well that youth should study over long,” said +the old man. “Thou hast aided us well, but do thou now unbend +the bow. Peace be with thee, my son.”</p> +<p>Ambrose complied, but scarcely willingly, and the instant they had +made a few steps from the door, Stephen exclaimed in dismay, “Who—what +was it? Have they bewitched thee, Ambrose?”</p> +<p>Ambrose laughed merrily. “Not so. It is holy lore +that those good men are reading.”</p> +<p>“Nay now, Ambrose. Stand still—if thou canst, poor +fellow,” he muttered, and then made the sign of the cross three +times over his brother, who stood smiling, and said, “Art satisfied +Stevie? Or wilt have me rehearse my <i>Credo</i>?” +Which he did, Stephen listening critically, and drawing a long breath +as he recognised each word, pronounced without a shudder at the critical +points. “Thou art safe so far,” said Stephen. +“But sure he is a wizard. I even beheld his familiar spirit—in +a fair shape doubtless—like a pixy! Be not deceived, brother. +Sorcery reads backwards—and I saw him so read from that scroll +of his. Laughest thou! Nay! what shall I do to free thee? +Enter here!”</p> +<p>Stephen dragged his brother, still laughing, into the porch of the +nearest church, and deluged him with holy water with such good will, +that Ambrose, putting up his hands to shield his eyes, exclaimed, “Come +now, have done with this folly, Stephen—though it makes me laugh +to think of thy scared looks, and poor little Aldonza being taken for +a familiar spirit.” And Ambrose laughed as he had not laughed +for weeks.</p> +<p>“But what is it, then?”</p> +<p>“The old man is of thy calling, or something like it, Stephen, +being that he maketh and tempereth sword-blades after the prime Damascene +or Toledo fashion, and the familiar spirit is his little daughter.”</p> +<p>Stephen did not however look mollified. “Swordblades! +None have a right to make them save our craft. This is one of +the rascaille Spaniards who have poured into the city under favour of +the queen to spoil and ruin the lawful trade. Though could you +but have seen, Ambrose, how our tough English ashwood in King Harry’s +hand—from our own armoury too—made all go down before it, +you would never uphold strangers and their false wares that <i>can</i> +only get the better by sorcery.”</p> +<p>“How thou dost harp upon sorcery!” exclaimed Ambrose. +“I must tell thee the good old man’s story as ’twas +told to me, and then wilt thou own that he is as good a Christian as +ourselves—ay, or better—and hath little cause to love the +Spaniards.”</p> +<p>“Come on, then,” said Stephen. “Methought +if we went towards Westminster we might yet get where we could see the +lists. Such a rare show, Ambrose, to see the King in English armour, +ay, and Master Headley’s, every inch of it, glittering in the +sun, so that one could scarce brook the dazzling, on his horse like +a rock shattering all that came against him! I warrant you the +lances cracked and shivered like faggots under old Purkis’s bill-hook. +And that you should liefer pore over crabbed monkish stuff with yonder +old men! My life on it, there must be some spell!”</p> +<p>“No more than of old, when I was ever for book and thou for +bow,” said Ambrose; “but I’ll make thee rueful for +old Michael yet. Hast heard tell of the Moors in Spain?”</p> +<p>“Moors—blackamoors who worship Mahound and Termagant. +I saw a blackamoor last week behind his master, a merchant of Genoa, +in Paul’s Walk. He looked like the devils in the Miracle +Play at Christ Church, with blubber lips and wool for hair. I +marvelled that he did not writhe and flee when he came within the Minster, +but Ned Burgess said he was a christened man.”</p> +<p>“Moors be not all black, neither be they all worshippers of +Mahound,” replied Ambrose.</p> +<p>However, as Ambrose’s information, though a few degrees more +correct and intelligent than his brother’s, was not complete, +it will be better not to give the history of Lucas’s strange visitors +in his words.</p> +<p>They belonged to the race of Saracen Arabs who had brought the arts +of life to such perfection in Southern Spain, but who had received the +general appellation of Moors from those Africans who were continually +reinforcing them, and, bringing a certain Puritan strictness of Mohammedanism +with them, had done much towards destroying the highest cultivation +among them before the Spanish kingdoms became united, and finally triumphed +over them. During the long interval of two centuries, while Castille +was occupied by internal wars, and Aragon by Italian conquests, there +had been little aggression on the Moorish borderland, and a good deal +of friendly intercourse both in the way of traffic and of courtesy, +nor had the bitter persecution and distrust of new converts then set +in, which followed the entire conquest of Granada. Thus, when +Ronda was one of the first Moorish cities to surrender, a great merchant +of the unrivalled sword-blades whose secret had been brought from Damascus, +had, with all his family, been accepted gladly when he declared himself +ready to submit and receive baptism. Miguel Abenali was one of +the sons, and though his conversion had at first been mere compliance +with his father’s will and the family interests, he had become +sufficiently convinced of Christian truth not to take part with his +own people in the final struggle. Still, however, the inbred abhorrence +of idolatry had influenced his manner of worship, and when, after half +a life-time, Granada had fallen, and the Inquisition had begun to take +cognisance of new Christians from among the Moors as well as the Jews, +there were not lacking spies to report the absence of all sacred images +or symbols from the house of the wealthy merchant, and that neither +he nor any of his family had been seen kneeling before the shrine of +Nuestra Señora. The sons of Abenali did indeed feel strongly +the power of the national reaction, and revolted from the religion which +they saw cruelly enforced on their conquered countrymen. The Moor +had been viewed as a gallant enemy, the Morisco was only a being to +be distrusted and persecuted; and the efforts of the good Bishop of +Granada, who had caused the Psalms, Gospels, and large portions of the +Breviary to be translated into Arabic, were frustrated by the zeal of +those who imagined that heresy lurked in the vernacular, and perhaps +that objections to popular practices might be strengthened.</p> +<p>By order of Cardinal Ximenes, these Arabic versions were taken away +and burnt; but Miguel Abenali had secured his own copy, and it was what +he there learnt that withheld him from flying to his countrymen and +resuming their faith when he found that the Christianity he had professed +for forty years was no longer a protection to him. Having known +the true Christ in the Gospel, he could not turn back to Mohammed, even +though Christians persecuted in the Name they so little understood.</p> +<p>The crisis came in 1507, when Ximenes, apparently impelled by the +dread that simulated conformity should corrupt the Church, quickened +the persecution of the doubtful “Nuevos Cristianos,” and +the Abenali family, who had made themselves loved and respected, received +warning that they had been denounced, and that their only hope lay in +flight.</p> +<p>The two sons, high-spirited young men, on whom religion had far less +hold than national feeling, fled to the Alpuxarra Mountains, and renouncing +the faith of the persecutors, joined their countrymen in their gallant +and desperate warfare. Their mother, who had long been dead, had +never been more than an outward Christian; but the second wife of Abenali +shared his belief and devotion with the intelligence and force of character +sometimes found among the Moorish ladies of Spain. She and her +little ones fled with him in disguise to Cadiz, with the precious Arabic +Scriptures rolled round their waists, and took shelter with an English +merchant, who had had dealings in sword-blades with Señor Miguel, +and had been entertained by him in his beautiful Saracenic house at +Ronda with Eastern hospitality. This he requited by giving them +the opportunity of sailing for England in a vessel laden with Xeres +sack; but the misery of the voyage across the Bay of Biscay in a ship +fit for nothing but wine, was excessive, and creatures reared in the +lovely climate and refined luxury of the land of the palm and orange, +exhausted too already by the toils of the mountain journey, were incapable +of enduring it, and Abenali’s brave wife and one of her children +were left beneath the waves of the Atlantic. With the one little +girl left to him, he arrived in London, and the recommendation of his +Cadiz friend obtained for him work from a dealer in foreign weapons, +who was not unwilling to procure them nearer home. Happily for +him, Moorish masters, however rich, were always required to be proficients +in their own trade; and thus Miguel, or Michael as he was known in England, +was able to maintain himself and his child by the fabrication of blades +that no one could distinguish from those of Damascus. Their perfection +was a work of infinite skill, labour, and industry, but they were so +costly, that their price, and an occasional job of inlaying gold in +other metal, sufficed to maintain the old man and his little daughter. +The armourers themselves were sometimes forced to have recourse to him, +though unwillingly, for he was looked on with distrust and dislike as +an interloper of foreign birth, belonging to no guild. A Biscayan +or Castillian of the oldest Christian blood incurred exactly the same +obloquy from the mass of London craftsmen and apprentices, and Lucas +himself had small measure of favour, though Dutchmen were less alien +to the English mind than Spaniards, and his trade did not lead to so +much rivalry and competition.</p> +<p>As much of this as Ambrose knew or understood he told to Stephen, +who listened in a good deal of bewilderment, understanding very little, +but with a strong instinct that his brother’s love of learning +was leading him into dangerous company. And what were they doing +on this fine May holiday, when every one ought to be out enjoying themselves?</p> +<p>“Well, if thou wilt know,” said Ambrose, pushed hard, +“there is one Master William Tindal, who hath been doing part +of the blessed Evangel into English, and for better certainty of its +correctness, Master Michael was comparing it with his Arabic version, +while I overlooked the Latin.”</p> +<p>“O Ambrose, thou wilt surely run into trouble. Know you +not how nurse Joan used to tell us of the burning of the Lollard books?”</p> +<p>“Nay, nay, Stevie, this is no heresy. ’Tis such +work as the great scholar, Master Erasmus, is busied on—ay, and +he is loved and honoured by both the Archbishops and the King’s +grace! Ask Tibble Steelman what he thinks thereof.”</p> +<p>“Tibble Steelman would think nought of a beggarly stranger +calling himself a sword cutler, and practising the craft without prenticeship +or license,” said Stephen, swelling with indignation. “Come +on, Ambrose, and sweep the cobwebs from thy brain. If we cannot +get into our own tent again, we can mingle with the outskirts, and learn +how the day is going, and how our lances and breastplates have stood +where the knaves’ at the Eagle have gone like reeds and egg-shells—just +as I threw George Bates, the prentice at the Eagle yesterday, in a wrestling +match at the butts with the trick old Diggory taught me.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XII. A KING IN A QUAGMIRE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p> For my pastance<br />Hunt, sing, and dance,<br />My +heart is set<br />All godly sport<br />To my comfort.<br />Who shall +me let?</p> +<p>THE KING’S BALADE, <i>attributed to Henry VIII.</i></p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Life was a rough, hearty thing in the early sixteenth century, strangely +divided between thought and folly, hardship and splendour, misery and +merriment, toil and sport.</p> +<p>The youths in the armourer’s household had experienced little +of this as yet in their country life, but in London they could not but +soon begin to taste both sides of the matter. Master Headley himself +was a good deal taken up with city affairs, and left the details of +his business to Tibble Steelman and Kit Smallbones, though he might +always appear on the scene, and he had a wonderful knowledge of what +was going on.</p> +<p>The breaking-in and training of the two new country lads was entirely +left to them and to Edmund Burgess. Giles soon found that complaints +were of no avail, and only made matters harder for him, and that Tibble +Steelman and Kit Smallbones had no notion of favouring their master’s +cousin.</p> +<p>Poor fellow, he was very miserable in those first weeks. The +actual toil, to which he was an absolute novice, though nominally three +years an apprentice, made his hands raw, and his joints full of aches, +while his groans met with nothing but laughter; and he recognised with +great displeasure, that more was laid on him than on Stephen Birkenholt. +This was partly in consideration of Stephen’s youth, partly of +his ready zeal and cheerfulness. His hands might be sore too, +but he was rather proud of it than otherwise, and his hero worship of +Kit Smallbones made him run on errands, tug at the bellows staff, or +fetch whatever was called for with a bright alacrity that won the foremen’s +hearts, and it was noted that he who was really a gentleman, had none +of the airs that Giles Headley showed.</p> +<p>Giles began by some amount of bullying, by way of slaking his wrath +at the preference shown for one whom he continued to style a beggarly +brat picked up on the heath; but Stephen was good-humoured, and accustomed +to give and take, and they both found their level, as well in the Dragon +court as among the world outside, where the London prentices were a +strong and redoubtable body, with rude, not to say cruel, rites of initiation +among themselves, plenty of rivalries and enmities between house and +house, guild and guild, but a united, not to say ferocious, <i>esprit +de corps</i> against every one else. Fisticuffs and wrestlings +were the amenities that passed between them, though always with a love +of fair play so long as no cowardice, or what was looked on as such, +was shown, for there was no mercy for the weak or weakly. Such +had better betake themselves at once to the cloister, or life was made +intolerable by constant jeers, blows, baiting and huntings, often, it +must be owned, absolutely brutal.</p> +<p>Stephen and Giles had however passed through this ordeal. The +letter to John Birkenholt had been despatched by a trusty clerk riding +with the Judges of Assize, whom Mistress Perronel knew might be safely +trusted, and who actually brought back a letter which might have emanated +from the most affectionate of brothers, giving his authority for the +binding Stephen apprentice to the worshipful Master Giles Headley, and +sending the remainder of the boy’s portion.</p> +<p>Stephen was thereupon regularly bound apprentice to Master Headley. +It was a solemn affair, which took place in the Armourer’s Hall +in Coleman Street, before sundry witnesses. Harry Randall, in +his soberest garb and demeanour, acted as guardian to his nephew, and +presented him, clad in the regulation prentice garb—“flat +round cap, close-cut hair, narrow falling bands, coarse side coat, close +hose, cloth stockings,” coat with the badge of the Armourers’ +Company, and Master Headley’s own dragon’s tail on the sleeve, +to which was added a blue cloak marked in like manner. The instructions +to apprentices were rehearsed, beginning, “Ye shall constantly +and devoutly on your knees every day serve God, morning and evening”—pledging +him to “avoid evil company, to make speedy return when sent on +his master’s business, to be fair, gentle and lowly in speech +and carriage with all men,” and the like.</p> +<p>Mutual promises were interchanged between him and his master, Stephen +on his knees; the indentures were signed, for Quipsome Hal could with +much ado produce an autograph signature, though his penmanship went +no further, and the occasion was celebrated by a great dinner of the +whole craft at the Armourers’ Hall, to which the principal craftsmen +who had been apprentices, such as Tibble Steelman and Kit Smallbones, +were invited, sitting at a lower table, while the masters had the higher +one on the daïs, and a third was reserved for the apprentices after +they should have waited on their masters—in fact it was an imitation +of the orders of chivalry, knights, squires, and pages, and the gradation +of rank was as strictly observed as by the nobility. Giles, considering +the feast to be entirely in his honour, though the transfer of his indentures +had been made at Salisbury, endeavoured to come out in some of his bravery, +but was admonished that such presumption might be punished, the first +time, at his master’s discretion, the second time, by a whipping +at the Hall of his Company, and the third time by six months being added +to the term of his apprenticeship.</p> +<p>Master Randall was entertained in the place of honour, where he comported +himself with great gravity, though he could not resist alarming Stephen +with an occasional wink or gesture as the boy approached in the course +of the duties of waiting at the upper board—a splendid sight with +cups and flagons of gold and silver, with venison and capons and all +that a City banquet could command before the invention of the turtle.</p> +<p>There was drinking of toasts, and among the foremost was that of +Wolsey, who had freshly received his nomination of cardinal, and whose +hat was on its way from Rome—and here the jester could not help +betraying his knowledge of the domestic policy of the household, and +telling the company how it had become known that the scarlet hat was +actually on the way, but in a “varlet’s budget—a mere +Italian common knave, no better than myself,” quoth Quipsome Hal, +whereat his nephew trembled standing behind his chair, forgetting that +the decorous solid man in the sad-coloured gown and well-crimped ruff, +neatest of Perronel’s performances, was no such base comparison +for any varlet. Hal went on to describe, however, how my Lord +of York had instantly sent to stay the messenger on his handing at Dover, +and equip him with all manner of costly silks by way of apparel, and +with attendants, such as might do justice to his freight, “that +so,” he said, “men may not rate it but as a scarlet cock’s +comb, since all men be but fools, and the sole question is, who among +them hath wit enough to live by his folly.” Therewith he +gave a wink that so disconcerted Stephen as nearly to cause an upset +of the bowl of perfumed water that he was bringing for the washing of +hands.</p> +<p>Master Headley, however, suspected nothing, and invited the grave +Master Randall to attend the domestic festival on the presentation of +poor Spring’s effigy at the shrine of St. Julian. This was +to take place early in the morning of the 14th of September, Holy Cross +Day, the last holiday in the year that had any of the glory of summer +about it, and on which the apprentices claimed a prescriptive right +to go out nutting in St. John’s Wood, and to carry home their +spoil to the lasses of their acquaintance.</p> +<p>Tibble Steelman had completed the figure in bronze, with a silver +collar and chain, not quite without protest that the sum had better +have been bestowed in alms. But from his master’s point +of view this would have been giving to a pack of lying beggars and thieves +what was due to the holy saint; no one save Tibble, who could do and +say what he chose, could have ventured on a word of remonstrance on +such a subject; and as the full tide of iconoclasm, consequent on the +discovery of the original wording of the second commandment, had not +yet set in, Tibble had no more conscientious scruple against making +the figure, than in moulding a little straight-tailed lion for Lord +Harry Percy’s helmet.</p> +<p>So the party in early morning heard their mass, and then, repairing +to St. Julian’s pillar, while the rising sun came peeping through +the low eastern window of the vaulted Church of St. Faith, Master Headley +on his knees gave thanks for his preservation, and then put forward +his little daughter, holding on her joined hands the figure of poor +Spring, couchant, and beautifully modelled in bronze with all Tibble’s +best skill.</p> +<p>Hal Randall and Ambrose had both come up from the little home where +Perronel presided, for the hour was too early for the jester’s +absence to be remarked in the luxurious household of the Cardinal elect, +and he even came to break his fast afterwards at the Dragon court, and +held such interesting discourse with old Dame Headley on the farthingales +and coifs of Queen Katharine and her ladies, that she pronounced him +a man wondrous wise and understanding, and declared Stephen happy in +the possession of such a kinsman.</p> +<p>“And whither away now, youngsters?” he said, as he rose +from table.</p> +<p>“To St. John’s Wood! The good greenwood, uncle,” +said Ambrose.</p> +<p>“Thou too, Ambrose?” said Stephen joyfully. “For +once away from thine ink and thy books!”</p> +<p>“Ay,” said Ambrose, “mine heart warms to the woodlands +once more. Uncle, would that thou couldst come.”</p> +<p>“Would that I could, boy! We three would show these lads +of Cockayne what three foresters know of wood craft! But it may +not be. Were I once there the old blood might stir again and I +might bring you into trouble, and ye have not two faces under one hood +as I have! So fare ye well, I wish you many a bagful of nuts!”</p> +<p>The four months of city life, albeit the City was little bigger than +our moderate sized country towns, and far from being an unbroken mass +of houses, had yet made the two young foresters delighted to enjoy a +day of thorough country in one another’s society. Little +Dennet longed to go with them, but the prentice world was far too rude +for little maidens to be trusted in it, and her father held out hopes +of going one of these days to High Park as he called it, while Edmund +and Stephen promised her all their nuts, and as many blackberries as +could be held in their flat caps.</p> +<p>“Giles has promised me none,” said Dennet, with a pouting +lip, “nor Ambrose.”</p> +<p>“Why sure, little mistress, thou’lt have enough to crack +thy teeth on!” said Edmund Burgess.</p> +<p>“They <i>ought</i> to bring theirs to me,” returned the +little heiress of the Dragon court with an air of offended dignity that +might have suited the heiress of the kingdom.</p> +<p>Giles, who looked on Dennet as a kind of needful appendage to the +Dragon, a piece of property of his own, about whom he need take no trouble, +merely laughed and said, “Want must be thy master then.” +But Ambrose treated her petulance in another fashion. “Look +here, pretty mistress,” said he, “there dwells by me a poor +little maid nigh about thine age, who never goeth further out than to +St. Paul’s minster, nor plucketh flower, nor hath sweet cake, +nor manchet bread, nor sugar-stick, nay, and scarce ever saw English +hazel-nut nor blackberry. ’Tis for her that I want to gather +them.”</p> +<p>“Is she thy master’s daughter?” demanded Dennet, +who could admit the claims of another princess.</p> +<p>“Nay, my master hath no children, but she dwelleth near him.”</p> +<p>“I will send her some, and likewise of mine own comfits and +cakes,” said Mistress Dennet. “Only thou must bring +all to me first.”</p> +<p>Ambrose laughed and said, “It’s a bargain then, little +mistress?”</p> +<p>“I keep my word,” returned Dennet marching away, while +Ambrose obeyed a summons from good-natured Mistress Headley to have +his wallet filled with bread and cheese like those of her own prentices.</p> +<p>Off went the lads under the guidance of Edmund Burgess, meeting parties +of their own kind at every turn, soon leaving behind them the City bounds, +as they passed under New Gate, and by and by skirting the fields of +the great Carthusian monastery, or Charter House, with the burial-ground +given by Sir Walter Manny at the time of the Black Death. Beyond +came marshy ground through which they had to pick their way carefully, +over stepping-stones—this being no other than what is now the +Regent’s Park, not yet in any degree drained by the New River, +but all quaking ground, overgrown with rough grass and marsh-plants, +through which Stephen and Ambrose bounded by the help of stout poles +with feet and eyes well used to bogs, and knowing where to look for +a safe footing, while many a flat-capped London lad floundered about +and sank over his yellow ankles or left his shoes behind him, while +lapwings shrieked pee-wheet, and almost flapped him with their broad +wings, and moorhens dived in the dark pools, and wild ducks rose in +long families.</p> +<p>Stephen was able to turn the laugh against his chief adversary and +rival, George Bates of the Eagle, who proposed seeking for the lapwing’s +nest in hopes of a dainty dish of plovers’ eggs; being too great +a cockney to remember that in September the contents of the eggs were +probably flying over the heather, as well able to shift for themselves +as their parents.</p> +<p>Above all things the London prentices were pugnacious, but as every +one joined in the laugh against George, and he was, besides, stuck fast +on a quaking tussock of grass, afraid to proceed or advance, he could +not have his revenge. And when the slough was passed, and the +slight rise leading to the copse of St. John’s Wood was attained, +behold, it was found to be in possession of the lower sort of lads, +the black guard as they were called. They were of course quite +as ready to fight with the prentices as the prentices were with them, +and a battle royal took place, all along the front of the hazel bushes—in +which Stephen of the Dragon and George of the Eagle fought side by side. +Sticks and fists were the weapons, and there were no very severe casualties +before the prentices, being the larger number as well as the stouter +and better fed, had routed their adversaries, and driven them off towards +Harrow.</p> +<p>There was crackling of boughs and filling of bags, and cracking of +nuts, and wild cries in pursuit of startled hare or rabbit, and though +Ambrose and Stephen indignantly repelled the idea of St. John’s +Wood being named in the same day with their native forest, it is doubtful +whether they had ever enjoyed themselves more; until just as they were +about to turn homeward, whether moved by his hostility to Stephen, or +by envy at the capful of juicy blackberries, carefully covered with +green leaves, George Bates, rushing up from behind, shouted out “Here’s +a skulker! Here’s one of the black guard! Off to thy +fellows, varlet!” at the same time dealing a dexterous blow under +the cap, which sent the blackberries up into Ambrose’s face. +“Ha! ha!” shouted the ill-conditioned fellow. “So +much for a knave that serves rascally strangers! Here! hand over +that bag of nuts!”</p> +<p>Ambrose was no fighter, but in defence of the bag that was to purchase +a treat for little Aldonza, he clenched his fists, and bade George Bates +come and take them if he would. The quiet scholarly boy was, however, +no match for the young armourer, and made but poor reply to the buffets +of his adversary, who had hold of the bag, and was nearly choking him +with the string round his neck.</p> +<p>However, Stephen had already missed his brother, and turning round, +shouted out that the villain Bates was mauling him, and rushed back, +falling on Ambrose’s assailant with a sudden well-directed pounding +that made him hastily turn about, with cries of “Two against one!”</p> +<p>“Not at all,” said Stephen. “Stand by, Ambrose; +I’ll give the coward his deserts.”</p> +<p>In fact, though the boys were nearly of a size, George somewhat the +biggest, Stephen’s country activity, and perhaps the higher spirit +of his gentle blood, generally gave him the advantage, and on this occasion +he soon reduced Bates to roar for mercy.</p> +<p>“Thou must purchase it!” said Stephen. “Thy +bag of nuts, in return for the berries thou hast wasted!”</p> +<p>Peaceable Ambrose would have remonstrated, but Stephen was implacable. +He cut the string, and captured the bag, then with a parting kick bade +Bates go after his comrades, for his Eagle was nought but a thieving +kite.</p> +<p>Bates made off pretty quickly, but the two brothers tarried a little +to see how much damage the blackberries had suffered, and to repair +the losses as they descended into the bog by gathering some choice dewberries.</p> +<p>“I marvel these fine fellows ’scaped our company,” +said Stephen presently.</p> +<p>“Are we in the right track, thinkst thou? Here is a pool +I marked not before,” said Ambrose anxiously.</p> +<p>“Nay, we can’t be far astray while we see St. Paul’s +spire and the Tower full before us,” said Stephen. “Plainer +marks than we had at home.”</p> +<p>“That may be. Only where is the safe footing?” +said Ambrose. “I wish we had not lost sight of the others!”</p> +<p>“Pish! what good are a pack of City lubbers!” returned +Stephen. “Don’t we know a quagmire when we see one, +better than they do?”</p> +<p>“Hark, they are shouting for us.”</p> +<p>“Not they! That’s a falconer’s call. +There’s another whistle! See, there’s the hawk. +She’s going down the wind, as I’m alive,” and Stephen +began to bound wildly along, making all the sounds and calls by which +falcons were recalled, and holding up as a lure a lapwing which he had +knocked down. Ambrose, by no means so confident in bog-trotting +as his brother, stood still to await him, hearing the calls and shouts +of the falconer coming nearer, and presently seeing a figure, flying +by the help of a pole over the pools and dykes that here made some attempt +at draining the waste. Suddenly, in mid career over one of these +broad ditches, there was a collapse, and a lusty shout for help as the +form disappeared. Ambrose instantly perceived what had happened, +the leaping pole had broken to the downfall of its owner. Forgetting +all his doubts as to bogholes and morasses, he grasped his own pole, +and sprang from tussock to tussock, till he had reached the bank of +the ditch or water-course in which the unfortunate sportsman was floundering. +He was a large, powerful man, but this was of no avail, for the slough +afforded no foothold. The further side was a steep built up of +sods, the nearer sloped down gradually, and though it was not apparently +very deep, the efforts of the victim to struggle out had done nothing +but churn up a mass of black muddy water in which he sank deeper every +moment, and it was already nearly to his shoulders when with a cry of +joy, half choked however, by the mud, he cried, “Ha! my good lad! +Are there any more of ye?”</p> +<p>“Not nigh, I fear,” said Ambrose, beholding with some +dismay the breadth of the shoulders which were all that appeared above +the turbid water.</p> +<p>“Soh! Lie down, boy, behind that bunch of osier. +Hold out thy pole. Let me see thine hands. Thou art but +a straw, but, our Lady be my speed! Now hangs England on a pair +of wrists!”</p> +<p>There was a great struggle, an absolute effort for life, and but +for the osier stump Ambrose would certainly have been dragged into the +water, when the man had worked along the pole, and grasping his hands, +pulled himself upwards. Happily the sides of the dyke became harder +higher up, and did not instantly yield to the pressure of his knees, +and by the time Ambrose’s hands and shoulders felt nearly wrenched +from their sockets, the stem of the osier had been attained, and in +another minute, the rescued man, bareheaded, plastered with mud, and +streaming with water, sat by him on the bank, panting, gasping, and +trying to gather breath and clear his throat from the mud he had swallowed.</p> +<p>“Thanks, good lad, well done,” he articulated. +“Those fellows! where are they?” And feeling in his +bosom, he brought out a gold whistle suspended by a chain. “Blow +it,” he said, taking off the chain, “my mouth is too full +of slime.”</p> +<p>Ambrose blew a loud shrill call, but it seemed to reach no one but +Stephen, whom he presently saw dashing towards them.</p> +<p>“Here is my brother coming, sir,” he said, as he gave +his endeavours to help the stranger to free himself from the mud that +clung to him, and which was in some places thick enough to be scraped +off with a knife. He kept up a continual interchange of exclamations +at his plight, whistles and shouts for his people, and imprecations +on their tardiness, until Stephen was near enough to show that the hawk +had been recovered, and then he joyfully called out, “Ha! hast +thou got her? Why, flat-caps as ye are, ye put all my fellows +to shame! How now, thou errant bird, dost know thy master, or +take him for a mud wall? Kite that thou art, to have led me such +a dance! And what’s your name, my brave lads? Ye must +have been bred to wood-craft.”</p> +<p>Ambrose explained both their parentage and their present occupation, +but was apparently heeded but little. “Wot ye how to get +out of this quagmire?” was the question.</p> +<p>“I never was here before, sir,” said Stephen; “but +yonder lies the Tower, and if we keep along by this dyke, it must lead +us out somewhere.”</p> +<p>“Well said, boy, I must be moving, or the mud will dry on me, +and I shall stand here as though I were turned to stone by the Gorgon’s +head! So have with thee! Go on first, master hawk-tamer. +What will bear thee will bear me!”</p> +<p>There was an imperative tone about him that surprised the brothers, +and Ambrose looking at him from head to foot, felt sure that it was +some great man at the least, whom it had been his hap to rescue. +Indeed, he began to have further suspicions when they came to a pool +of clearer water, beyond which was firmer ground, and the stranger with +an exclamation of joy, borrowed Stephen’s cap, and, scooping up +the water with it, washed his face and head, disclosing the golden hair +and beard, fair complexion, and handsome square face he had seen more +than once before.</p> +<p>He whispered to Stephen “’Tis the King!”</p> +<p>“Ha! ha!” laughed Henry, “hast found him out, lads? +Well, it may not be the worse for ye. Pity thou shouldst not be +in the Forest still, my young falconer, but we know our good city of +London to well to break thy indentures. And thou—”</p> +<p>He was turning to Ambrose when further shouts were heard. The +King hallooed, and bade the boys do so, and in a few moments more they +were surrounded by the rest of the hawking party, full of dismay at +the king’s condition, and deprecating his anger for having lost +him.</p> +<p>“Yea,” said Henry; “an it had not been for this +good lad, ye would never have heard more of the majesty of England! +Swallowed in a quagmire had made a new end for a king, and ye would +have to brook the little Scot.”</p> +<p>The gentlemen who had come up were profuse in lamentations. +A horse was brought up for the king’s use, and he prepared to +mount, being in haste to get into dry clothes. He turned round, +however, to the boys, and said, “I’ll not forget you, my +lads. Keep that!” he added, as Ambrose, on his knee, would +have given him back the whistle, “’tis a token that maybe +will serve thee, for I shall know it again. And thou, my black-eyed +lad—My purse, Howard!”</p> +<p>He handed the purse to Stephen—a velvet hag richly wrought +with gold, and containing ten gold angels, besides smaller money—bidding +them divide, like good brothers as he saw they were, and then galloped +off with his train.</p> +<p>Twilight was coming on, but following in the direction of the riders, +the boys were soon on the Islington road. The New Gate was shut +by the time they reached it, and their explanation that they were belated +after a nutting expedition would not have served them, had not Stephen +produced the sum of twopence which softened the surliness of the guard.</p> +<p>It was already dark, and though curfew had not yet sounded, preparations +were making for lighting the watch-fires in the open spaces and throwing +chains across the streets, but the little door in the Dragon court was +open, and Ambrose went in with his brother to deliver up his nuts to +Dennet and claim her promise of sending a share to Aldonza.</p> +<p>They found their uncle in his sober array sitting by Master Headley, +who was rating Edmund and Giles for having lost sight of them, the latter +excusing himself by grumbling out that he could not be marking all Stephen’s +brawls with George Bates.</p> +<p>When the two wanderers appeared, relief took the form of anger, and +there were sharp demands why they had loitered. Their story was +listened to with many exclamations: Dennet jumped for joy, her grandmother +advised that the angels should be consigned to her own safe keeping, +and when Master Headley heard of Henry’s scruples about the indentures, +he declared that it was a rare wise king who knew that an honest craft +was better than court favour.</p> +<p>“Yet mayhap he might do something for thee, friend Ambrose,” +added the armourer. “Commend thee to some post in his chapel +royal, or put thee into some college, since such is thy turn. +How sayst thou, Master Randall, shall he send in this same token, and +make his petition?”</p> +<p>“If a foo—if a plain man may be heard where the wise +hath spoken,” said Randall, “he had best abstain. +Kings love not to be minded of mishaps, and our Hal’s humour is +not to be reckoned on! Lay up the toy in case of need, but an +thou claim overmuch he may mind thee in a fashion not to thy taste.”</p> +<p>“Sure our King is of a more generous mould!” exclaimed +Mrs. Headley.</p> +<p>“He is like other men, good mistress, just as you know how +to have him, and he is scarce like to be willing to be minded of the +taste of mire, or of floundering like a hog in a salt marsh. Ha! +ha!” and Quipsome Hal went off into such a laugh as might have +betrayed his identity to any one more accustomed to the grimaces of +his professional character, but which only infected the others with +the same contagious merriment. “Come thou home now,” +he said to Ambrose; “my good woman hath been in a mortal fright +about thee, and would have me come out to seek after thee. Such +are the women folk, Master Headley. Let them have but a lad to +look after, and they’ll bleat after him like an old ewe that has +lost her lamb.”</p> +<p>Ambrose only stayed for Dennet to divide the spoil, and though the +blackberries had all been lost or crushed, the little maiden kept her +promise generously, and filled the bag not only with nuts but with three +red-checked apples, and a handful of comfits, for the poor little maid +who never tasted fruit or sweets.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII. A LONDON HOLIDAY</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“Up then spoke the apprentices tall<br />Living in London, +one and all.”</p> +<p><i>Old Ballad.</i></p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Another of the many holidays of the Londoners was enjoyed on the +occasion of the installation of Thomas Wolsey as Cardinal of St. Cecilia, +and Papal Legate.</p> +<p>A whole assembly of prelates and “lusty gallant gentlemen” +rode out to Blackheath to meet the Roman envoy, who, robed in full splendour, +with St. Peter’s keys embroidered on back and breast and on the +housings of his mule, appeared at the head of a gallant train in the +papal liveries, two of whom carried the gilded pillars, the insignia +of office, and two more, a scarlet and gold-covered box or casket containing +the Cardinal’s hat. Probably no such reception of the dignity +was ever prepared elsewhere, and all was calculated to give magnificent +ideas of the office of Cardinal and of the power of the Pope to those +who had not been let into the secret that the messenger had been met +at Dover; and thus magnificently fitted out to satisfy the requirements +of the butcher’s son of Ipswich, and of one of the most ostentatious +of courts.</p> +<p>Old Gaffer Martin Fulford had muttered in his bed that such pomp +had not been the way in the time of the true old royal blood, and that +display had come in with the upstart slips of the Red Rose—as +he still chose to style the Tudors; and he maundered away about the +beauty and affability of Edward IV. till nobody could understand him, +and Perronel only threw in her “ay, grandad,” or “yea, +gaffer,” when she thought it was expected of her.</p> +<p>Ambrose had an unfailing appetite for the sermons of Dean Colet, +who was to preach on this occasion in Westminster Abbey, and his uncle +had given him counsel how to obtain standing ground there, entering +before the procession. He was alone, his friends Tibble and Lucas +both had that part of the Lollard temper which loathed the pride and +wealth of the great political clergy, and in spite of their admiration +for the Dean they could not quite forgive his taking part in the pomp +of such a rare show.</p> +<p>But Ambrose’s devotion to the Dean, to say nothing of youthful +curiosity, outweighed all those scruples, and as he listened, he was +carried along by the curious sermon in which the preacher likened the +orders of the hierarchy below to that of the nine orders of the Angels, +making the rank of Cardinal correspond to that of the Seraphim, aglow +with love. Of that holy flame, the scarlet robes were the type +to the spiritualised mind of Colet, while others saw in them only the +relic of the imperial purple of old Rome; and some beheld them as the +token that Wolsey was one step nearer the supreme height that he coveted +so earnestly. But the great and successful man found himself personally +addressed, bidden not to be puffed up with his own greatness, and stringently +reminded of the highest Example of humility, shown that he that exalteth +himself shall be abased, and he that humbleth himself be exalted. +The preacher concluded with a strong personal exhortation to do righteousness +and justice alike to rich and poor, joined with truth and mercy, setting +God always before him.</p> +<p>The sermon ended, Wolsey knelt at the altar, and Archbishop Wareham, +who, like his immediate predecessors, held legatine authority, performed +the act of investiture, placing the scarlet hat with its many hoops +and tassels on his brother primate’s head, after which a magnificent +<i>Te Deum</i> rang through the beautiful church, and the procession +of prelates, peers, and ecclesiastics of all ranks in their richest +array formed to escort the new Cardinal to banquet at his palace with +the King and Queen.</p> +<p>Ambrose, stationed by a column, let the throng rush, tumble, and +jostle one another to behold the show, till the Abbey was nearly empty, +while he tried to work out the perplexing question whether all this +pomp and splendour were truly for the glory of God, or whether it were +a delusion for the temptation of men’s souls. It was a debate +on which his old and his new guides seemed to him at issue, and he was +drawn in both directions—now by the beauty, order, and deep symbolism +of the Catholic ritual, now by the spirituality and earnestness of the +men among whom he lived. At one moment the worldly pomp, the mechanical +and irreverent worship, and the gross and vicious habits of many of +the clergy repelled him; at another the reverence and conservatism of +his nature held him fast.</p> +<p>Presently he felt a hand on his shoulder, and started, “Lost +in a stud, as we say at home, boy,” said the jester, resplendent +in a bran new motley suit. “Wilt come in to the banquet? +’Tis open house, and I can find thee a seat without disclosing +the kinship that sits so sore on thy brother. Where is he?”</p> +<p>“I have not seen him this day.”</p> +<p>“That did I,” returned Randall, “as I rode by on +mine ass. He was ruffling it so lustily that I could not but give +him a wink, the which my gentleman could by no means stomach! +Poor lad! Yet there be times, Ambrose, when I feel in sooth that +mine office is the only honourable one, since who besides can speak +truth? I love my lord; he is a kind, open-handed master, and there’s +none I would so willingly serve, whether by jest or earnest, but what +is he but that which I oft call him in joke—the greater fool than +I, selling peace and ease, truth and hope, this life and the next, for +yonder scarlet hat, which is after all of no more worth than this jingling +head-gear of mine.”</p> +<p>“Deafening the spiritual ears far more, it may be,” said +Ambrose, “since <i>humiles exallaverint</i>.”</p> +<p>It was no small shock that there, in the midst of the nave, the answer +was a bound, like a ball, almost as high as the capital of the column +by which they stood. “There’s exaltation!” said +Randall in a low voice, and Ambrose perceived that some strangers were +in sight. “Come, seek thy brother out, boy, and bring him +to the banquet. I’ll speak a word to Peter Porter, and he’ll +let you in. There’ll be plenty of fooling all the afternoon, +before my namesake King Hal, who can afford to be an honester man in +his fooling than any about him, and whose laugh at a hearty jest is +goodly to hear.”</p> +<p>Ambrose thanked him and undertook the quest. They parted at +the great west door of the Abbey, where, by way of vindicating his own +character for buffoonery, Randall exclaimed, “Where be mine ass?” +and not seeing the animal, immediately declared, “There he is!” +and at the same time sprang upon the back and shoulders of a gaping +and astonished clown who was gazing at the rear of the procession.</p> +<p>The crowd applauded with shouts of coarse laughter, but a man, who +seemed to belong to the victim, broke in with an angry oath, and “How +now, sir?”</p> +<p>“I cry you mercy,” quoth the jester; “’twas +mine own ass I sought, and if I have fallen on thine, I will but ride +him to York House and then restore him. So ho! good jackass,” +crossing his ankles on the poor fellow’s chest so that he could +not be shaken off.</p> +<p>The comrade lifted a cudgel, but there was a general cry of “My +Lord Cardinal’s jester, lay not a finger on him!”</p> +<p>But Harry Randall was not one to brook immunity on the score of his +master’s greatness. In another second he was on his feet, +had wrested the staff from the hands of his astounded beast of burden, +flourished it round his head after the most approved manner of Shirley +champions at Lyndhurst fair, and called to his adversary to “come +on.”</p> +<p>It did not take many rounds before Hal’s dexterity had floored +his adversary, and the shouts of “Well struck, merry fool!” +“Well played, Quipsome Hal!” were rising high when the Abbot +of Westminster’s yeomen were seen making way through the throng, +which fell back in terror on either side as they came to seize on the +brawlers in their sacred precincts.</p> +<p>But here again my Lord Cardinal’s fool was a privileged person, +and no one laid a hand on him, though his blood being up, he would, +spite of his gay attire, have enjoyed a fight on equal terms. +His quadruped donkey was brought up to him amid general applause, but +when he looked round for Ambrose, the boy had disappeared.</p> +<p>The better and finer the nature that displayed itself in Randall, +the more painful was the sight of his buffooneries to his nephew, and +at the first leap, Ambrose had hurried away in confusion. He sought +his brother here, there, everywhere, and at last came to the conclusion +that Stephen must have gone home to dinner. He walked quickly +across the fields separating Westminster from the City of London, hoping +to reach Cheapside before the lads of the Dragon should have gone out +again; but just as he was near St. Paul’s, coming round Amen Corner, +he heard the sounds of a fray. “Have at the country lubbers! +Away with the moonrakers! Flat-caps, come on!” “Hey! +lads of the Eagle! Down with the Dragons! Adders Snakes—s-s +s-s-s!”</p> +<p>There was a kicking, struggling mass of blue backs and yellow legs +before him, from out of which came “Yah! Down with the Eagles! +Cowards! Kites! Cockneys!” There were plenty +of boys, men, women with children in their arms hallooing on, “Well +done, Eagle!” “Go it, Dragon!”</p> +<p>The word Dragon filled the quiet Ambrose with hot impulse to defend +his brother. All his gentle, scholarly habits gave way before +that cry, and a shout that he took to be Stephen’s voice in the +midst of the <i>mêlée.</i></p> +<p>He was fairly carried out of himself, and doubling his fists, fell +on the back of the nearest boys, intending to break through to his brother, +and he found an unexpected ally. Will Wherry’s voice called +out, “Have with you, comrade!”—and a pair of hands +and arms considerably stouter and more used to fighting than his own, +began to pommel right and left with such good will that they soon broke +through to the aid of their friends; and not before it was time, for +Stephen, Giles, and Edmund, with their backs against the wall, were +defending themselves with all their might against tremendous odds; and +just as the new allies reached them, a sharp stone struck Giles in the +eye, and levelled him with the ground, his head striking against the +wall. Whether it were from alarm at his fall, or at the unexpected +attack in the rear, or probably from both causes, the assailants dispersed +in all directions without waiting to perceive how slender the succouring +force really was.</p> +<p>Edmund and Stephen were raising up the unlucky Giles, who lay quite +insensible, with blood pouring from his eye. Ambrose tried to +wipe it away, and there were anxious doubts whether the eye itself were +safe. They were some way from home, and Giles was the biggest +and heaviest of them all.</p> +<p>“Would that Kit Smallbones were here!” said Stephen, +preparing to take the feet, while Edmund took the shoulders.</p> +<p>“Look here,” said Will Wherry, pulling Ambrose’s +sleeve, “our yard is much nearer, and the old Moor, Master Michael, +is safe to know what to do for him. That sort of cattle always +are leeches. He wiled the pain from my thumb when ’twas +crushed in our printing press. Mayhap if he put some salve to +him, he might get home on his own feet.”</p> +<p>Edmund listened. “There’s reason in that,” +he said. “Dost know this leech, Ambrose?”</p> +<p>“I know him well. He is a good old man, and wondrous +wise. Nay, no black arts; but he saith his folk had great skill +in herbs and the like, and though he be no physician by trade, he hath +much of their lore.”</p> +<p>“Have with thee, then,” returned Edmund, “the rather +that Giles is no small weight, and the guard might come on us ere we +reached the Dragon.”</p> +<p>“Or those cowardly rogues of the Eagle might set on us again,” +added Stephen; and as they went on their way to Warwick Inner Yard, +he explained that the cause of the encounter had been that Giles had +thought fit to prank himself in his father’s silver chain, and +thus George Bates, always owing the Dragon a grudge, and rendered specially +malicious since the encounter on Holy Rood Day, had raised the cry against +him, and caused all the flat-caps around to make a rush at the gaud +as lawful prey.</p> +<p>“’Tis clean against prentice statutes to wear one, is +it not?” asked Ambrose.</p> +<p>“Ay,” returned Stephen; “yet none of us but would +stand up for our own comrade against those meddling fellows of the Eagle.”</p> +<p>“But,” added Edmund, “we must beware the guard, +for if they looked into the cause of the fray, our master might be called +on to give Giles a whipping in the Company’s hall, this being +a second offence of going abroad in these vanities.”</p> +<p>Ambrose went on before to prepare Miguel Abenali, and entreat his +good offices, explaining that the youth’s master, who was also +his kinsman, would be sure to give handsome payment for any good offices +to him. He scarcely got out half the words; the grand old Arab +waved his hand and said, “When the wounded is laid before the +tent of Ben Ali, where is the question of recompense? Peace be +with thee, my son! Bring him hither. Aldonza, lay the carpet +yonder, and the cushions beneath the window, where I may have light +to look to his hurt.”</p> +<p>Therewith he murmured a few words in an unknown tongue, which, as +Ambrose understood, were an invocation to the God of Abraham to bless +his endeavours to heal the stranger youth, but which happily were spoken +before the arrival of the others, who would certainly have believed +them an incantation.</p> +<p>The carpet though worn threadbare, was a beautiful old Moorish rug, +once glowing with brilliancy, and still rich in colouring, and the cushion +was of thick damask faded to a strange pale green. All in that +double-stalled partition, once belonging to the great earl’s war-horses, +was scrupulously clean, for the Christian Moor had retained some of +the peculiar virtues born of Mohammedanism and of high civilisation. +The apprentice lads tramped in much as if they had been entering a wizard’s +cave, though Stephen had taken care to assure Edmund of his application +of the test of holy water.</p> +<p>Following the old man’s directions, Edmund and Stephen deposited +their burden on the rug. Aldonza brought some warm water, and +Abenali washed and examined the wound, Aldonza standing by and handing +him whatever he needed, now and then assisting with her slender brown +hands in a manner astonishing to the youths, who stood by anxious and +helpless, white their companion began to show signs of returning life.</p> +<p>Abenali pronounced that the stone had missed the eyeball, but the +cut and bruise were such as to require constant bathing, and the blow +on the head was the more serious matter, for when the patient tried +to raise himself he instantly became sick and giddy, so that it would +be wise to leave him where he was. This was much against the will +of Edmund Burgess, who shared all the prejudices of the English prentice +against the foreigner—perhaps a wizard and rival in trade; but +there was no help for it, and he could only insist that Stephen should +mount guard over the bed until he had reported to his master, and returned +with his orders. Therewith he departed, with such elaborate thanks +and courtesies to the host, as betrayed a little alarm in the tall apprentice, +who feared not quarter-staff, nor wrestler, and had even dauntlessly +confronted the masters of his guild!</p> +<p>Stephen, sooth to say, was not very much at ease; everything around +had such a strange un-English aspect, and he imploringly muttered, “Bide +with me, Am!” to which his brother willingly assented, being quite +as comfortable in Master Michael’s abode as by his aunt’s +own hearth.</p> +<p>Giles meanwhile lay quiet, and then, as his senses became less confused, +and he could open one eye, he looked dreamily about him, and presently +began to demand where he was, and what had befallen him, grasping at +the hand of Ambrose as if to hold fast by something familiar; but he +still seemed too much dazed to enter into the explanation, and presently +murmured something about thirst. Aldonza came softly up with a +cup of something cool. He looked very hard at her, and when Ambrose +would have taken it from her hand to give it to him, he said, “Nay! +<i>She</i>!”</p> +<p>And <i>she</i>, with a sweet smile in her soft, dark, shady eyes, +and on her full lips, held the cup to his lips far more daintily and +dexterously than either of his boy companions could have done; then +when he moaned and said his head and eye pained him, the white-bearded +elder came and bathed his brow with the soft sponge. It seemed +all to pass before him like a dream, and it was not much otherwise with +his unhurt companions, especially Stephen, who followed with wonder +the movements made by the slippered feet of father and daughter upon +the mats which covered the stone flooring of the old stable. The +mats were only of English rushes and flags, and had been woven by Abenali +and the child; but loose rushes strewing the floor were accounted a +luxury in the Forest, and even at the Dragon court the upper end of +the hall alone had any covering. Then the water was heated, and +all such other operations carried on over a curious round vessel placed +over charcoal; the window and the door had dark heavy curtains; and +a matted partition cut off the further stall, no doubt to serve as Aldonza’s +chamber. Stephen looked about for something to assure him that +the place belonged to no wizard enchanter, and was glad to detect a +large white cross on the wall, with a holy-water stoup beneath it, but +of images there were none.</p> +<p>It seemed to him a long time before Master Headley’s ruddy +face, full of anxiety, appeared at the door.</p> +<p>Blows were, of course, no uncommon matter; perhaps so long as no +permanent injury was inflicted, the master-armourer had no objection +to anything that might knock the folly out of his troublesome young +inmate; but Edmund had made him uneasy for the youth’s eye, and +still more so about the quarters he was in, and he had brought a mattress +and a couple of men to carry the patient home, as well as Steelman, +his prime minister, to advise him.</p> +<p>He had left all these outside, however, and advanced, civilly and +condescendingly thanking the sword-cutler, in perfect ignorance that +the man who stood before him had been born to a home that was an absolute +palace compared with the Dragon court. The two men were a curious +contrast. There stood the Englishman with his sturdy form inclining, +with age, to corpulence, his broad honest face telling of many a civic +banquet, and his short stubbly brown grizzled heard; his whole air giving +a sense of worshipful authority and weight; and opposite to him the +sparely made, dark, thin, aquiline-faced, white-bearded Moor, a far +smaller man in stature, yet with a patriarchal dignity, refinement, +and grace in port and countenance, belonging as it were to another sphere.</p> +<p>Speaking English perfectly, though with a foreign accent, Abenali +informed Master Headley that his young kinsman would by Heaven’s +blessing soon recover without injury to the eye, though perhaps a scar +might remain.</p> +<p>Mr. Headley thanked him heartily for his care, and said that he had +brought men to carry the youth home, if he could not walk; and then +he went up to the couch with a hearty “How now, Giles? So +thou hast had hard measure to knock the foolery out of thee, my poor +lad. But come, we’ll have thee home, and my mother will +see to thee.”</p> +<p>“I cannot walk,” said Giles, heavily, hardly raising +his eyes, and when he was told that two of the men waited to bear him +home, he only entreated to be let alone. Somewhat sharply, Mr. +Headley ordered him to sit up and make ready, but when he tried to do +so, he sank back with a return of sickness and dizziness.</p> +<p>Abenali thereupon intreated that he might be left for that night, +and stepping out into the court so as to be unheard by the patient, +explained that the brain had had a shock, and that perfect quiet for +some hours to come was the only way to avert a serious illness, possibly +dangerous. Master Headley did not like the alternative at all, +and was a good deal perplexed. He beckoned to Tibble Steelman, +who had all this time been talking to Lucas Hansen, and now came up +prepared with his testimony that this Michael was a good man and true, +a godly one to boot, who had been wealthy in his own land and was a +rare artificer in his own craft.</p> +<p>“Though he hath no license to practise it here,” threw +in Master Headley, <i>sotto voce</i>; but he accepted the assurance +that Michael was a good Christian, and, with his daughter, regularly +went to mass; and since better might not be, he reluctantly consented +to leave Giles under his treatment, on Lucas reiterating the assurance +that he need have no fears of magic or foul play of any sort. +He then took the purse that hung at his girdle, and declared that Master +Michael (the title of courtesy was wrung from him by the stately appearance +of the old man) must be at no charges for his cousin.</p> +<p>But Abenali with a grace that removed all air of offence from his +manner, returned thanks for the intention, but declared that it never +was the custom of the sons of Ali to receive reward for the hospitality +they exercised to the stranger within their gates. And so it was +that Master Headley, a good deal puzzled, had to leave his apprentice +under the roof of the old sword-cutler for the night at least.</p> +<p>“’Tis passing strange,” said he, as he walked back; +“I know not what my mother will say, but I wish all may be right. +I feel—I feel as if I had left the lad Giles with Abraham under +the oak tree, as we saw him in the miracle play!”</p> +<p>This description did not satisfy Mrs. Headley, indeed she feared +that her son was likewise bewitched; and when, the next morning, Stephen, +who had been sent to inquire for the patient, reported him better, but +still unable to be moved, since he could not lift his head without sickness, +she became very anxious. Giles was transformed in her estimate +from a cross-grained slip to poor Robin Headley’s boy, the only +son of a widow, and nothing would content her but to make her son conduct +her to Warwick Inner Yard to inspect matters, and carry thither a precious +relic warranted proof against all sorcery.</p> +<p>It was with great trepidation that the good old dame ventured, but +the result was that she was fairly subdued by Abenali’s patriarchal +dignity. She had never seen any manners to equal his, not <i>even</i> +when King Edward the Fourth had come to her father’s house at +the Barbican, chucked her under the chin, and called her a dainty duck!</p> +<p>It was Aldonza, however, who specially touched her feelings. +Such a sweet little wench, with the air of being bred in a kingly or +knightly court, to be living there close to the very dregs of the city +was a scandal and a danger—speaking so prettily too, and knowing +how to treat her elders. She would be a good example for Dennet, +who, sooth to say, was getting too old for spoilt-child sauciness to +be always pleasing, while as to Giles, he could not be in better quarters. +Mrs. Headley, well used to the dressing of the burns and bruises incurred +in the weapon smiths’ business, could not but confess that his +eye had been dealt with as skilfully as she could have done it herself.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV. THE KNIGHT OF THE BADGER</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“I am a gentleman of a company.”</p> +<p>SHAKESPEARE.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Giles Headley’s accident must have amounted to concussion of +the brain, for though he was able to return to the Dragon in a couple +of days, and the cut over his eye was healing fast, he was weak and +shaken, and did not for several weeks recover his usual health. +The noise and heat of the smithy were distressing to him, and there +was no choice but to let him lie on settles, sun himself on the steps, +and attempt no work.</p> +<p>It had tamed him a good deal. Smallbones said the letting out +of malapert blood was wholesome, and others thought him still under +a spell; but he seemed to have parted with much of his arrogance, either +because he had not spirits for self-assertion, or because something +of the grand eastern courtesy of Abenali had impressed him. For +intercourse with the Morisco had by no means ceased. Giles went, +as long as the injury required it, to have the hurt dressed, and loitered +in the Inner Yard a long time every day, often securing some small dainty +for Aldonza—an apple, a honey cake, a bit of marchpane, a dried +plum, or a comfit. One day he took her a couple of oranges. +To his surprise, as he entered, Abenali looked up with a strange light +in his eyes, and exclaimed, “My son! thy scent is to my nostrils +as the court of my father’s house!” Then, as he beheld the +orange, he clasped his hands, took it in them, and held it to his breast, +pouring out a chant in an unknown tongue, while the tears flowed down +his cheeks.</p> +<p>“Father, father!” Aldonza cried, terrified, while Giles +marvelled whether the orange worked on him like a spell. But he +perceived their amazement, and spoke again in English, “I thank +thee, my son! Thou hast borne me back for a moment to the fountain +in my father’s house, where ye grow, ye trees of the unfading +leaf, the spotless blossom, and golden fruit! Ah Ronda! +Ronda! Land of the sunshine, the deep blue sky, and snow-topped +hills! Land where are the graves of my father and mother! +How pines and sickens the heart of the exile for thee! O happy +they who died beneath the sword or flame, for they knew not the lonely +home-longing of the exile. Ah! ye golden fruits! One fragrant +breath of thee is as a waft of the joys of my youth! Are ye foretastes +of the fruits of Paradise, the true home to which I may yet come, though +I may never, never see the towers and hills of Ronda more?”</p> +<p>Giles knew not what to make of this outburst. He kept it to +himself as too strange to be told. The heads of the family were +willing that he should carry these trifles to the young child of the +man who would accept no reward for his hospitality. Indeed, Master +Headley spent much consideration on how to recompense the care bestowed +on his kinsman.</p> +<p>Giles suggested that Master Michael had just finished the most beautiful +sword blade he had ever seen, and had not yet got a purchaser for it; +it was far superior to the sword Tibble had just completed for my Lord +of Surrey. Thereat the whole court broke into an outcry; that +any workman should be supposed to turn out any kind of work surpassing +Steelman’s was rank heresy, and Master Headley bluntly told Giles +that he knew not what he was talking of! He might perhaps purchase +the blade by way of courtesy and return of kindness, but—good +English workmanship for him!</p> +<p>However, Giles was allowed to go and ask the price of the blade, +and bring it to be looked at. When he returned to the court he +found, in front of the building where finished suits were kept for display, +a tall, thin, wiry, elderly man, deeply bronzed, and with a scar on +his brow. Master Headley and Tibble were both in attendance, Tib +measuring the stranger, and Stephen, who was standing at a respectful +distance, gave Giles the information that this was the famous Captain +of Free-lances, Sir John Fulford, who had fought in all the wars in +Italy, and was going to fight in them again, but wanted a suit of “our +harness.”</p> +<p>The information was hardly needed, for Sir John, in a voice loud +enough to lead his men to the battle-field, and with all manner of strong +asseverations in all sorts of languages, was explaining the dints and +blows that had befallen the mail he had had from Master Headley eighteen +years ago, when he was but a squire; how his helmet had endured tough +blows, and saved his head at Novara, but had been crushed like an egg +shell by a stone from the walls at Barletta, which had nearly been his +own destruction: and how that which he at present wore (beautifully +chased and in a classical form) was taken from a dead Italian Count +on the field of Ravenna, but always sat amiss on him; and how he had +broken his good sword upon one of the rascally Swiss only a couple of +months ago at Marignano. Having likewise disabled his right arm, +and being well off through the payment of some ransoms, he had come +home partly to look after his family, and partly to provide himself +with a full suit of English harness, his present suit being a patchwork +of relics of numerous battle-fields. Only one thing he desired, +a true Spanish sword, not only Toledo or Bilboa in name, but nature. +He had seen execution done by the weapons of the soldiers of the Great +Captain, and been witness to the endurance of their metal, and this +made him demand whether Master Headley could provide him with the like.</p> +<p>Giles took the moment for stepping forward and putting Abenali’s +work into the master’s hand. The Condottiere was in raptures. +He pronounced it as perfect a weapon as Gonzalo de Cordova himself could +possess; showed off its temper and his own dexterity by piercing and +cutting up an old cuirass, and invited the bystanders to let him put +it to further proof by letting him slice through an apple placed on +the open palm of the hand.</p> +<p>Giles’s friendship could not carry him so far as to make the +venture; Kit Smallbones observed that he had a wife and children, and +could not afford to risk his good right hand on a wandering soldier’s +bravado; Edmund was heard saying, “Nay, nay, Steve, don’t +be such a fool,” but Stephen was declaring he would not have the +fellow say that English lads hung back from what rogues of France and +Italy would dare.</p> +<p>“No danger for him who winceth not,” said the knight.</p> +<p>Master Headley, a very peaceful citizen in his composition in spite +of his trade, was much inclined to forbid Stephen from the experiment, +but he refrained, ashamed and unwilling to daunt a high spirit; and +half the household, eager for the excitement, rushed to the kitchen +in quest of apples, and brought out all the women to behold, and add +a clamour of remonstrance. Sir John, however, insisted that they +should all be ordered back again. “Not that the noise and +clamour of women folk makes any odds to me,” said the grim old +warrior, “I’ve seen too many towns taken for that, but it +might make the lad queasy, and cost him a thumb or so.”</p> +<p>Of course this renewed the dismay and excitement, and both Tibble +and his master entreated Stephen to give up the undertaking if he felt +the least misgiving as to his own steadiness, arguing that they should +not think him any more a craven than they did Kit Smallbones or Edmund +Burgess. But Stephen’s mind was made up, his spirit was +high, and he was resolved to go through with it.</p> +<p>He held out his open hand, a rosy-checked apple was carefully laid +on it. The sword flashed through the air—divided in half +the apple which remained on Stephen’s palm. There was a +sharp shriek from a window, drowned in the acclamations of the whole +court, while the Captain patted Stephen on the shoulder, exclaiming, +“Well done, my lad. There’s the making of a tall fellow +in thee! If ever thou art weary of making weapons and wouldst +use them instead, seek out John Fulford, of the Badger troop, and thou +shalt have a welcome. Our name is the Badger, because there’s +no troop like us for digging out mines beneath the walls.”</p> +<p>A few months ago such an invitation would have been bliss to Stephen. +Now he was bound in all honour and duty to his master, and could only +thank the knight of the Badger, and cast a regretful eye at him, as +he drank a cup of wine, and flung a bag of gold and silver, supplemented +by a heavy chain, to Master Headley, who prudently declined working +for Free Companions, unless he were paid beforehand; and, at the knight’s +request, took charge of a sufficient amount to pay his fare back again +to the Continent. Then mounting a tall, lean, bony horse, the +knight said he should call for his armour on returning from Somerset, +and rode off, while Stephen found himself exalted as a hero in the eyes +of his companions for an act common enough at feats of arms among modern +cavalry, but quite new to the London flat-caps. The only sufferer +was little Dennet, who had burst into an agony of crying at the sight, +needed that Stephen should spread out both hands before her, and show +her the divided apple, before she would believe that his thumb was in +its right place, and at night screamed out in her sleep that the ill-favoured +man was cutting off Stephen’s hands.</p> +<p>The sword was left behind by Sir John in order that it might be fitted +with a scabbard and belt worthy of it; and on examination, Master Headley +and Tibble both confessed that they could produce nothing equal to it +in workmanship, though Kit looked with contempt at the slight weapon +of deep blue steel, with lines meandering on it like a watered silk, +and the upper part inlaid with gold wire in exquisite arabesque patterns. +He called it a mere toy, and muttered something about sorcery, and men +who had been in foreign parts not thinking honest weight of English +steel good enough for them.</p> +<p>Master Headley would not trust one of the boys with the good silver +coins that had been paid as the price of the sword—French crowns +and Milanese ducats, with a few Venetian gold bezants—but he bade +them go as guards to Tibble, for it was always a perilous thing to carry +a sum of money through the London streets. Tibble was not an unwilling +messenger. He knew Master Michael to be somewhat of his own way +of thinking, and he was a naturally large-minded man who could appreciate +skill higher than his own without jealousy. Indeed, he and his +master held a private consultation on the mode of establishing a connection +with Michael and profiting by his ability.</p> +<p>To have lodged him at the Dragon court and made him part of the establishment +might have seemed the most obvious way, but the dogged English hatred +and contempt of foreigners would have rendered this impossible, even +if Abenali himself would have consented to give up his comparative seclusion +and live in a crowd and turmoil.</p> +<p>But he was thankful to receive and execute orders from Master Headley, +since so certain a connection would secure Aldonza from privation such +as the child had sometimes had to endure in the winter; when, though +the abstemious Eastern nature needed little food, there was great suffering +from cold and lack of fuel. And Tibble moreover asked questions +and begged for instructions in some of the secrets of the art. +It was an effort to such a prime artificer as Steelman to ask instruction +from any man, especially a foreigner, but Tibble had a nature of no +common order, and set perfection far above class prejudice; and moreover, +he felt Abenali to be one of those men who had their inner eyes devotedly +fixed on the truth, though little knowing where the quest would lead +them.</p> +<p>On his side Abenali underwent a struggle. “Woe is me!” +he said. “Wottest thou, my son, that the secrets of the +sword of light and swiftness are the heritage that Abdallah Ben Ali +brought from Damascus in the hundred and fifty-third year of the flight +of him whom once I termed the prophet; nor have they departed from our +house, but have been handed on from father to son. And shall they +be used in the wars of the stranger and the Christian?”</p> +<p>“I feared it might be thus,” said Tibble.</p> +<p>“And yet,” went on the old man, as if not hearing him, +“wherefore should I guard the secret any longer? My sons? +Where are they? They brooked not the scorn and hatred of the Castillian +which poisoned to them the new faith. They cast in their lot with +their own people, and that their bones may lie bleaching on the mountains +is the best lot that can have befallen the children of my youth and +hope. The house of Miguel Abenali is desolate and childless, save +for the little maiden who sits by my hearth in the land of my exile! +Why should I guard it longer for him who may wed her, and whom I may +never behold? The will of Heaven be done! Young man, if +I bestow this knowledge on thee, wilt thou swear to be as a father to +my daughter, and to care for her as thine own?”</p> +<p>It was a good while since Tibble had been called a young man, and +as he listened to the flowing Eastern periods in their foreign enunciation, +he was for a moment afraid that the price of the secret was that he +should become the old Moor’s son-in-law! His seared and +scarred youth had precluded marriage, and he entertained the low opinion +of women frequent in men of superior intellect among the uneducated. +Besides, the possibilities of giving umbrage to Church authorities were +dawning on him, and he was not willing to form any domestic ties, so +that in every way such a proposition would have been unwelcome to him. +But he had no objection to pledge himself to fatherly guardianship of +the pretty child in case of a need that might never arise. So +he gave the promise, and became a pupil of Abenali, visiting Warwick +Inner Yard with his master’s consent whenever he could be spared, +while the workmanship at the Dragon began to profit thereby.</p> +<p>The jealousy of the Eagle was proportionately increased. Alderman +Itillyeo, the head of the Eagle, was friendly enough to Mr. Headley, +but it was undeniable that they were the rival armourers of London, +dividing the favours of the Court equally between them, and the bitterness +of the emulation increased the lower it went in the establishment. +The prentices especially could hardly meet without gibes and sneers, +if nothing worse, and Stephen’s exploit had a peculiar flavour +because it was averred that no one at the Eagle would have done the +like.</p> +<p>But it was not till the Sunday that Ambrose chanced to hear of the +feat, at which he turned quite pale, but he was prouder of it than any +one else, and although he rejoiced that he had not seen it performed, +he did not fail to boast of it at home, though Perronel began by declaring +that she did not care for the mad pranks of roistering prentices; but +presently she paused, as she stirred her grandfather’s evening +posset, and said, “What saidst thou was the strange soldier’s +name?”</p> +<p>“Fulford—Sir John Fulford” said Ambrose. +“What? I thought not of it, is not that Gaffer’s name?”</p> +<p>“Fulford, yea! Mayhap—” and Perronel sat +down and gave an odd sort of laugh of agitation—“mayhap +’tis mine own father.”</p> +<p>“Shouldst thou know him, good aunt?” cried Ambrose, much +excited.</p> +<p>“Scarce,” she said. “I was not seven years +old when he went to the wars—if so be he lived through the battle—and +he reeked little of me, being but a maid. I feared him greatly +and so did my mother. ’Twas happier with only Gaffer! +Where saidst thou he was gone?”</p> +<p>Ambrose could not tell, but he undertook to bring Stephen to answer +all queries on the subject. His replies that the Captain was gone +in quest of his family to Somersetshire settled the matter, since there +had been old Martin Fulford’s abode, and there John Fulford had +parted with his wife and father. They did not, however, tell the +old man of the possibility of his son’s being at home, he had +little memory, and was easily thrown into a state of agitation; besides, +it was a doubtful matter how the Condottiere would feel as to the present +fortunes of the family. Stephen was to look out for his return +in quest of his suit of armour, inform him of his father’s being +alive, and show him the way to the little house by the Temple Gardens; +but Perronel gave the strictest injunctions that her husband’s +profession should not be explained. It would be quite enough to +say that he was of the Lord Cardinal’s household.</p> +<p>Stephen watched, but the armour was finished and Christmas passed +by before anything was seen of the Captain. At last, however, +he did descend on the Dragon court, looking so dilapidated that Mr. +Headley rejoiced in the having received payment beforehand. He +was louder voiced and fuller of strange oaths than ever, and in the +utmost haste, for he had heard tidings that “there was to be a +lusty game between the Emperor and the Italians, and he must have his +share.”</p> +<p>Stephen made his way up to speak to him, and was received with “Ha, +my gallant lad! Art weary of hammer and anvil? Wouldst be +a brave Badger, slip thine indentures, and hear helm and lance ring +in good earnest?”</p> +<p>“Not so, sir,” said Stephen, “but I have been bidden +to ask if thou hast found thy father?”</p> +<p>“What’s that to thee, stripling? When thou hast +cut thy wisdom teeth, thou’lt know old fathers be not so easy +found. ’Twas a wild goose chase, and I wot not what moved +me to run after it. I met jolly comrades enough, bumpkins that +could drink with an honest soldier when they saw him, but not one that +ever heard the name of Fulford.”</p> +<p>“Sir,” said Stephen, “I know an old man named Fulford. +His granddaughter is my uncle’s wife, and they dwell by the Temple.”</p> +<p>The intelligence seemed more startling and less gratifying than Stephen +had expected. Sir John demanded whether they were poor, and declared +that he had better have heard of them when his purse was fuller. +He had supposed that his wife had given him up and found a fresh mate, +and when he heard of her death, he made an exclamation which might be +pity, but had in it something of relief. He showed more interest +about his old father; but as to his daughter, if she had been a lad +now, a’ might have been a stout comrade by this time, ready to +do the Badger credit. Yea, his poor Kate was a good lass, but +she was only a Flemish woman and hadn’t the sense to rear aught +but a whining little wench, who was of no good except to turn fools’ +heads, and she was wedded and past all that by this time.</p> +<p>Stephen explained that she was wedded to one of the Lord Cardinal’s +meiné.</p> +<p>“Ho!” said the Condottiere, pausing, “be that the +butcher’s boy that is pouring out his gold to buy scarlet hats, +if not the three crowns. ’Tis no bad household wherein to +have a footing. Saidst thou I should find my wench and the old +Gaffer there?”</p> +<p>Stephen had to explain, somewhat to the disappointment of the Captain, +who had, as it appeared, in the company of three or four more adventurous +spirits like himself, taken a passage in a vessel lying off Gravesend, +and had only turned aside to take up his new armour and his deposit +of passage-money. He demurred a little, he had little time to +spare, and though, of course, he could take boat at the Temple Stairs, +and drop down the river, he observed that it would have been a very +different thing to go home to the old man when he first came back with +a pouch full of ransoms and plunder, whereas now he had barely enough +to carry him to the place of meeting with his Badgers. And there +was the wench too—he had fairly forgotten her name. Women +were like she wolves for greed when they had a brood of whelps.</p> +<p>Stephen satisfied him that there was no danger on that score, and +heard him muttering, that it was no harm to secure a safe harbour in +case a man hadn’t the luck to be knocked on the head ere he grew +too old to trail a pike. And he would fain see the old man.</p> +<p>So permission was asked for Stephen to show the way to Master Randall’s, +and granted somewhat reluctantly, Master Headley saying, “I’ll +have thee back within an hour, Stephen Birkenholt, and look thou dost +not let thy brain be set afire with this fellow’s windy talk of +battles and sieges, and deeds only fit for pagans and wolves.”</p> +<p>“Ay!” said Tibble, perhaps with a memory of the old fable, +“better be the trusty mastiff than the wolf.”</p> +<p>And like the wolf twitting the mastiff with his chain, the soldier +was no sooner outside the door of the Dragon court before he began to +express his wonder how a lad of mettle could put up with a flat cap, +a blue gown, and the being at the beck and call of a greasy burgher, +when a bold, handsome young knave like him might have the world before +him and his stout pike.</p> +<p>Stephen was flattered, but scarcely tempted. The hard selfishness +and want of affection of the Condottiere shocked him, while he looked +about, hoping some of his acquaintance would see him in company with +this tall figure clanking in shining armour, and with a knightly helmet +and gilt spurs. The armour, new and brilliant, concealed the worn +and shabby leathern dress beneath, and gave the tall, spare figure a +greater breadth, diminishing the look of a hungry wolf which Sir John +Fulford’s aspect suggested. However, as he passed some of +the wealthier stalls, where the apprentices, seeing the martial figure, +shouted, “What d’ye lack, sir knight?” and offered +silk and velvet robes and mantles, gay sword knots, or even rich chains, +under all the clamour, Stephen heard him swearing by St. George what +a place this would be for a sack, if his Badgers were behind him.</p> +<p>“If that poor craven of a Warbeck had had a spark of valour +in him,” quoth he, as he passed a stall gay with bright tankards +and flagons, “we would have rattled some of that shining gear +about the lazy citizens’ ears! He, jolly King Edward’s +son! I’ll never give faith to it! To turn his back +when there was such a booty to be had for the plundering.”</p> +<p>“He might not have found it so easy. Our trainbands are +sturdy enough,” said Stephen, whose <i>esprit de corps</i> was +this time on the Londoners’ side, but the knight of the Badger +snapped his fingers, and said, “So much for your burgher trainbands! +All they be good for with their show of fight is to give honest landsknechts +a good reason to fall on to the plunder, if so be one is hampered by +a squeamish prince. But grammercy to St. George, there be not +many of that sort after they he once fleshed!”</p> +<p>Perhaps a year ago, when fresh from the Forest, Stephen might have +been more captivated by the notion of adventure and conquest. +Now that he had his place in the community and looked on a civic position +with wholesome ambition, Fulford’s longings for havoc in these +peaceful streets made his blood run cold. He was glad when they +reached their destination, and he saw Perronel with bare arms, taking +in some linen cuffs and bands from a line across to the opposite wall. +He could only call out, “Good naunt, here he be!”</p> +<p>Perronel turned round, the colour rising in her cheeks, with an obeisance, +but trembling a good deal. “How now, wench? Thou art +grown a buxom dame. Thou makst an old man of me,” said the +soldier with a laugh. “Where’s my father? I +have not the turning of a cup to stay, for I’m come home poor +as a cat in a plundered town, and am off to the wars again; but hearing +that the old man was nigh at hand, I came this way to see him, and let +thee know thou art a knight’s daughter. Thou art indifferent +comely, girl, what’s thy name? but not the peer of thy mother +when I wooed her as one of the bonny lasses of Bruges.”</p> +<p>He gave a kind of embrace, while she gave a kind of gasp of “Welcome, +sir,” and glanced somewhat reproachfully at Stephen for not having +given her more warning. The cause of her dismay was plain as the +Captain, giving her no time to precede him, strode into the little chamber, +where Hal Randall, without his false beard or hair, and in his parti-coloured +hose, was seated by the cupboard-like bed, assisting old Martin Fulford +to take his midday meal.</p> +<p>“Be this thine husband, girl? Ha! ha! He’s +more like a jolly friar come in to make thee merry when the good man +is out!” exclaimed the visitor, laughing loudly at his own rude +jest; but heeding little either Hal’s appearance or his reply, +as he caught the old man’s bewildered eyes, and heard his efforts +to utter his name.</p> +<p>For eighteen years had altered John Fulford less than either his +father or his daughter, and old Martin recognised him instantly, and +held out the only arm he could use, while the knight, softened, touched, +and really feeling more natural affection than Stephen had given him +credit for, dropped on his knee, breaking into indistinct mutterings +with rough but hearty greetings, regretting that he had not found his +father sooner, when his pouch was full, lamenting the change in him, +declaring that he must hurry away now, but promising to come back with +sacks of Italian ducats to provide for the old man.</p> +<p>Those who could interpret the imperfect utterance, now further choked +by tears and agitation, knew that there was a medley of broken rejoicings, +blessings, and weepings, in the midst of which the soldier, glad perhaps +to end a scene where he became increasingly awkward and embarrassed, +started up, hastily kissed the old man on each of his withered cheeks, +gave another kiss to his daughter, threw her two Venetian ducats, bidding +her spend them for the old man, and he would bring a pouchful more next +time, and striding to the door, bade Stephen call a boat to take him +down to Gravesend.</p> +<p>Randall, who had in the meantime donned his sober black gown in the +inner chamber, together with a dark hood, accompanied his newly found +father-in-law down the river, and Stephen would fain have gone too, +but for the injunction to return within the hour.</p> +<p>Perronel had hurried back to her grandfather’s side to endeavour +to compose him after the shock of gladness. But it had been too +much for his enfeebled powers. Another stroke came on before the +day was over, and in two or three days more old Martin Fulford was laid +to rest, and his son’s ducats were expended on masses for his +soul’s welfare.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XV. HEAVE HALF A BRICK AT HIM</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“For strangers then did so increase,<br /> By +reason of King Henry’s queen,<br />And privileged in many a place<br /> To +dwell, as was in London seen.<br />Poor tradesmen had small dealing +then<br /> And who but strangers bore the bell,<br />Which +was a grief to Englishmen<br /> To see them here in +London dwell.”</p> +<p><i>Ill May Day, by</i> CHURCHILL, a <i>Contemporary Poet.</i></p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Time passed on, and Edmund Burgess, who had been sent from York to +learn the perfection of his craft, completed his term and returned to +his home, much regretted in the Dragon court, where his good humour +and good sense had generally kept the peace, both within and without.</p> +<p>Giles Headley was now the eldest prentice. He was in every +way greatly improved, thoroughly accepting his position, and showing +himself quite ready both to learn and to work; but he had not the will +or the power of avoiding disputes with outsiders, or turning them aside +with a merry jest; and rivalries and quarrels with the armoury at the +Eagle began to increase. The Dragon, no doubt, turned out finer +workmanship, and this the Eagle alleged was wholly owing to nefarious +traffic with the old Spanish or Moorish sorcerer in Warwick Inner Yard, +a thing unworthy of honest Englishmen. This made Giles furious, +and the cry never failed to end in a fight, in which Stephen supported +the cause of the one house, and George Bates and his comrades of the +other.</p> +<p>It was the same with even the archery at Mile End, where the butts +were erected, and the youth contended with the long bow, which was still +considered as the safeguard of England. King Henry often looked +in on these matches, and did honour to the winners. One match +there was in especial, on Mothering Sunday, when the champions of each +guild shot against one another at such a range that it needed a keen +eye to see the popinjay—a stuffed bird at which they shot.</p> +<p>Stephen was one of these, his forest lore having always given him +an advantage over many of the others. He even was one of the last +three who were to finish the sport by shooting against one another. +One was a butcher named Barlow. The other was a Walloon, the best +shot among six hundred foreigners of various nations, all of whom, though +with little encouragement, joined in the national sport on these pleasant +spring afternoons. The first contest threw out the Walloon, at +which there were cries of ecstasy; now the trial was between Barlow +and Stephen, and in this final effort, the distance of the pole to which +the popinjay was fastened was so much increased that strength of arm +told as much as accuracy of aim, and Stephen’s seventeen years’ +old muscles could not, after so long a strain, cope with those of Ralph +Barlow, a butcher of full thirty years old. His wrist and arm +began to shake with weariness, and only one of his three last arrows +went straight to the mark, while Barlow was as steady as ever, and never +once failed. Stephen was bitterly disappointed, his eyes filled +with tears, and he flung himself down on the turf feeling as if the +shouts of “A Barlow! a Barlow!” which were led by the jovial +voice of King Harry himself, were all exulting over him.</p> +<p>Barlow was led up to the king, who hailed him “King of Shoreditch,” +a title borne by the champion archer ever after, so long as bowmanship +in earnest lasted. A tankard which the king filled with silver +pieces was his prize, but Henry did not forget No. 2. “Where’s +the other fellow?” he said. “He was but a stripling, +and to my mind, his feat was a greater marvel than that of a stalwart +fellow like Barlow.”</p> +<p>Half a dozen of the spectators, among them the cardinal’s jester, +hurried in search of Stephen, who was roused from his fit of weariness +and disappointment by a shake of the shoulder as his uncle jingled his +bells in his ears, and exclaimed, “How now, here I own a cousin!” +Stephen sat up and stared with angry, astonished eyes, but only met +a laugh. “Ay, ay, ’tis but striplings and fools that +have tears to spend for such as this! Up, boy! Dye hear? +The other Hal is asking for thee.”</p> +<p>And Stephen, hastily brushing away his tears, and holding his flat +cap in his hand, was marshalled across the mead, hot, shy, and indignant, +as the jester mopped and mowed, and cut all sorts of antics before him, +turning round to observe in an encouraging voice, “Pluck up a +heart, man! One would think Hal was going to cut oft thine head!” +And then, on arriving where the king sat on his horse, “Here he +is, Hal, such as he is come humbly to crave thy gracious pardon for +hitting the mark no better! He’ll mend his ways, good my +lord, if your grace will pardon him this time.”</p> +<p>“Ay, marry, and that will I,” said the king. “The +springald bids fair to be King of Shoreditch by the time the other fellow +abdicates. How old art thou, my lad?”</p> +<p>“Seventeen, an it please your grace,” said Stephen, in +the gruff voice of his age.</p> +<p>“And thy name?”</p> +<p>“Stephen Birkenholt, my liege,” and he wondered whether +he would be recognised; but Henry only said—</p> +<p>“Methinks I’ve seen those sloe-black eyes before. +Or is it only that the lad is thy very marrow, quipsome one?”</p> +<p>“The which,” returned the jester, gravely, while Stephen +tingled all over with dismay, “may account for the tears the lad +was wasting at not having the thews of the fellow double his age! +But I envy him not! Not I! He’ll never have wit for +mine office, but will come in second there likewise.”</p> +<p>“I dare be sworn he will,” said the king. “Here, +take this, my good lad, and prank thee in it when thou art out of thy +time, and goest a-hunting in Epping!”</p> +<p>It was a handsome belt with a broad silver clasp, engraven with the +Tudor rose and portcullis; and Stephen bowed low and made his acknowledgments +as best he might.</p> +<p>He was hailed with rapturous acclamations by his own contemporaries, +who held that he had saved the credit of the English prentice world, +and insisted on carrying him enthroned on their shoulders back to Cheapside, +in emulation of the journeymen and all the butcher kind, who were thus +bearing home the King of Shoreditch.</p> +<p>Shouts, halloos, whistles, every jubilant noise that youth and boyhood +could invent, were the triumphant music of Stephen on his surging and +uneasy throne, as he was shifted from one bearer to another when each +in turn grew tired of his weight. Just, however, as they were +nearing their own neighbourhood, a counter cry broke out, “Witchcraft! +His arrows are bewitched by the old Spanish sorcerer! Down with +Dragons and Wizards!” And a handful of mud came full in +the face of the enthroned lad, aimed no doubt by George Bates. +There was a yell and rush of rage, but the enemy was in numbers too +small to attempt resistance, and dashed off before their pursuers, only +pausing at safe corners to shout Parthian darts of “Wizards!” +“Magic!” “Sorcerers!” “Heretics!”</p> +<p>There was nothing to be done but to collect again, and escort Stephen, +who had wiped the mud off his face, to the Dragon court, where Dennet +danced on the steps for joy, and Master Headley, not a little gratified, +promised Stephen a supper for a dozen of his particular friends at Armourers’ +Hall on the ensuing Easter Sunday.</p> +<p>Of course Stephen went in search of his brother, all the more eagerly +because he was conscious that they had of late drifted apart a good +deal. Ambrose was more and more absorbed by the studies to which +Lucas Hansen led him, and took less and less interest in his brother’s +pursuits. He did indeed come to the Sunday’s dinner according +to the regular custom, but the moment it was permissible to leave the +board he was away with Tibble Steelman to meet friends of Lucas, and +pursue studies, as if, Stephen thought, he had not enough of books as +it was. When Dean Colet preached or catechised in St. Paul’s +in the afternoon they both attended and listened, but that good man +was in failing health, and his wise discourses were less frequent.</p> +<p>Where they were at other times, Stephen did not know, and hardly +cared, except that he had a general dislike to, and jealousy of, anything +that took his brother’s sympathy away from him. Moreover +Ambrose’s face was thinner and paler, he had a strange absorbed +look, and often even when they were together seemed hardly to attend +to what his brother was saying.</p> +<p>“I will make him come,” said Stephen to himself, as he +went with swinging gait towards Warwick Inner Yard, where, sure enough, +he found Ambrose sitting at the door, frowning over some black letter +which looked most uninviting in the eyes of the apprentice, and he fell +upon his brother with half angry, half merry reproofs for wasting the +fine spring afternoon over such studies.</p> +<p>Ambrose looked up with a dreamy smile and greeted his brother; but +all the time Stephen was narrating the history of the match (and he +<i>did</i> tell the fate of each individual arrow of his own or Barlow’s) +his eyes were wandering back to the crabbed page in his hand, and when +Stephen impatiently wound up his history with the invitation to supper +on Easter Sunday, the reply was, “Nay, brother, thanks, but that +I cannot do.”</p> +<p>“Cannot!” exclaimed Stephen.</p> +<p>“Nay, there are other matters in hand that go deeper.”</p> +<p>“Yea, I know whatever concerns musty books goes deeper with +thee than thy brother,” replied Stephen, turning away much mortified.</p> +<p>Ambrose’s warm nature was awakened. He held his brother +by the arm and declared himself anything but indifferent to him, but +he owned that he did not love noise and revelry, above all on Sunday.</p> +<p>“Thou art addling thy brains with preachings!” said Stephen. +“Pray Heaven they make not a heretic of thee. But thou mightest +for once have come to mine own feast.”</p> +<p>Ambrose, much perplexed and grieved at thus vexing his brother, declared +that he would have done so with all his heart, but that this very Easter +Sunday there was coming a friend of Master Hansen’s from Holland; +who was to tell them much of the teaching in Germany, which was so enlightening +men’s eyes.</p> +<p>“Yea, truly, making heretics of them, Mistress Headley saith,” +returned Stephen. “O Ambrose, if thou wilt run after these +books and parchments, canst not do it in right fashion, among holy monks, +as of old?”</p> +<p>“Holy monks!” repeated Ambrose. “Holy monks! +Where be they?”</p> +<p>Stephen stared at him.</p> +<p>“Hear uncle Hal talk of monks whom he sees at my Lord Cardinal’s +table! What holiness is there among them? Men, that have +vowed to renounce all worldly and carnal things flaunt like peacocks +and revel like swine—my Lord Cardinal with his silver pillars +foremost of them! He poor and mortified! ’Tis verily +as our uncle saith, he plays the least false and shameful part there!”</p> +<p>“Ambrose, Ambrose, thou wilt be distraught, poring over these +matters that were never meant for lads like us! Do but come and +drive them out for once with mirth and good fellowship.”</p> +<p>“I tell thee, Stephen, what thou callest mirth and good fellowship +do but drive the pain in deeper. Sin and guilt be everywhere. +I seem to see the devils putting foul words on the tongue and ill deeds +in the hands of myself and all around me, that they may accuse us before +God. No, Stephen, I cannot, cannot come, I must go where I can +hear of a better way.”</p> +<p>“Nay,” said Stephen, “what better way can there +be than to be shriven—clean shriven—and then houselled, +as I was ere Lent, and trust to be again on next Low Sunday morn? +That’s enough for a plain lad.” He crossed himself +reverently, “Mine own Lord pardoneth and cometh to me.”</p> +<p>But the two minds, one simple and practical, the other sensitive +and speculative, did not move in the same atmosphere, and could not +understand one another. Ambrose was in the condition of excitement +and bewilderment produced by the first stirrings of the Reformation +upon enthusiastic minds. He had studied the Vulgate, made out +something of the Greek Testament, read all fragments of the Fathers +that came in his way, and also all the controversial “tractates,” +Latin or Dutch, that he could meet with, and attended many a secret +conference between Lucas and his friends, when men, coming from Holland +or Germany, communicated accounts of the lectures and sermons of Dr. +Martin Luther, which already were becoming widely known.</p> +<p>He was wretched under the continual tossings of his mind. Was +the entire existing system a vast delusion, blinding the eyes and destroying +the souls of those who trusted to it; and was the only safety in the +one point of faith that Luther pressed on all, and ought all that he +had hitherto revered to crumble down to let that alone be upheld? +Whatever he had once loved and honoured at times seemed to him a lie, +while at others real affection and veneration, and dread of sacrilege, +made him shudder at himself and his own doubts! It was his one +thought, and he passionately sought after all those secret conferences +which did but feed the flame that consumed him.</p> +<p>The elder men who were with him were not thus agitated. Lucas’s +convictions had not long been fixed. He did not court observation +nor do anything unnecessarily to bring persecution on himself, but he +quietly and secretly acted as an agent in dispersing the Lollard books +and those of Erasmus, and lived in the conviction that there would one +day be a great crash, believing himself to be doing his part by undermining +the structure, and working on undoubtingly. Abenali was not aggressive. +In fact, though he was reckoned among Lucas’s party, because of +his abstinence from all cult of saints or images, and the persecution +he had suffered, he did not join in their general opinions, and held +aloof from their meetings. And Tibble Steelman, as has been before +said, lived two lives, and that as foreman at the Dragon court, being +habitual to him, and requiring much thought and exertion, the speculations +of the reformers were to him more like an intellectual relaxation than +the business of life. He took them as a modern artisan would in +this day read his newspaper, and attend his club meeting.</p> +<p>Ambrose, however, had the enthusiastic practicalness of youth. +On that which he fully believed, he must act, and what did he fully +believe?</p> +<p>Boy as he was—scarcely yet eighteen—the toils and sports +that delighted his brother seemed to him like toys amusing infants on +the verge of an abyss, and he spent his leisure either in searching +in the Vulgate for something to give him absolute direction, or in going +in search of preachers, for, with the stirring of men’s minds, +sermons were becoming more frequent.</p> +<p>There was much talk just now of the preaching of one Doctor Beale, +to whom all the tradesmen, journeymen, and apprentices were resorting, +even those who were of no special religious tendencies. Ambrose +went on Easter Tuesday to hear him preach at St. Mary’s Spitall. +The place was crowded with artificers, and Beale began by telling them +that he had “a pitiful bill,” meaning a letter, brought +to him declaring how aliens and strangers were coming in to inhabit +the City and suburbs, to eat the bread from poor fatherless children, +and take the living from all artificers and the intercourse from merchants, +whereby poverty was so much increased that each bewaileth the misery +of others. Presently coming to his text, “<i>Cœlum +cœli Domini, terram autem dedit filiis hominis</i>” (the +Heaven of Heavens is the Lord’s, the earth hath He given to the +children of men), the doctor inculcated that England was given to Englishmen, +and that as birds would defend their nests, so ought Englishmen to defend +themselves, <i>and to hurt and grieve aliens for the common weal</i>! +The corollary a good deal resembled that of “hate thine enemy” +which was foisted by “them of the old time” upon “thou +shalt love thy neighbour.” And the doctor went on upon the +text, “<i>Pugna pro patriâ</i>,” to demonstrate that +fighting for one’s country meant rising upon and expelling all +the strangers who dwelt and traded within it. Many of these foreigners +were from the Hanse towns which had special commercial privileges, there +were also numerous Venetians and Genoese, French and Spaniards, the +last of whom were, above all, the objects of dislike. Their imports +of silks, cloth of gold, stamped leather, wine and oil, and their superior +skill in many handicrafts, had put English wares out of fashion; and +their exports of wool, tin, and lead excited equal jealousy, which Dr. +Beale, instigated as was well known by a broker named John Lincoln, +was thus stirring up into fierce passion. His sermon was talked +of all over London; blacker looks than ever were directed at the aliens, +stones and dirt were thrown at them, and even Ambrose, as he walked +along the street, was reviled as the Dutchkin’s knave. The +insults became each day more daring and outrageous. George Bates +and a skinner’s apprentice named Studley were caught in the act +of tripping up a portly old Flanderkin and forthwith sent to Newgate, +and there were other arrests, which did but inflame the smouldering +rage of the mob. Some of the wealthier foreigners, taking warning +by the signs of danger, left the City, for there could be no doubt that +the whole of London and the suburbs were in a combustible condition +of discontent, needing only a spark to set it alight.</p> +<p>It was just about this time that a disreputable clerk—a lewd +priest, as Hall calls him—a hanger-on of the house of Howard, +was guilty of an insult to a citizen’s wife as she was quietly +walking home through the Cheap. Her husband and brother, who were +nearer at hand than he guessed, avenged the outrage with such good wills +that this disgrace to the priesthood was left dead on the ground. +When such things happened, and discourses like Beale’s were heard, +it was not surprising that Ambrose’s faith in the clergy as guides +received severe shocks.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI. MAY EVE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“The rich, the poor, the old, the young,<br />Beyond the seas +though born and bred,<br />By prentices they suffered wrong,<br />When +armed thus, they gather’d head.”</p> +<p><i>Ill May Day</i>.</p> +<p>May Eve had come, and little Dennet Headley was full of plans for +going out early with her young playfellows to the meadow to gather May +dew in the early morning, but her grandmother, who was in bed under +a heavy attack of rheumatism, did not like the reports brought to her, +and deferred her consent to the expedition.</p> +<p>In the afternoon there were tidings that the Lord Mayor, Sir Thomas +Rest had been sent for to my Lord Cardinal, who just at this time, during +the building at York House, was lodging in his house close to Temple +Bar. Some hours later a message came to Master Alderman Headley +to meet the Lord Mayor and the rest of the Council at the Guildhall. +He shook himself into his scarlet gown, and went off, puffing and blowing, +and bidding Giles and Stephen take heed that they kept close, and ran +into no mischief.</p> +<p>But they agreed, and Kit Smallbones with them, that there could be +no harm in going into the open space of Cheapside and playing out a +match with bucklers between Giles and Wat Ball, a draper’s prentice +who had challenged him. The bucklers were huge shields, and the +weapons were wooden swords. It was an exciting sport, and brought +out all the youths of Cheapside in the summer evening, bawling out encouragement, +and laying wagers on either side. The curfew rang, but there were +special privileges on May Eve, and the game went on louder than ever.</p> +<p>There was far too much noise for any one to hear the town crier, +who went along jingling his bell, and shouting, “O yes! +O yes! O yes! By order of the Lord Mayor and Council, no +householder shall allow any one of his household to be abroad beyond +his gate between the hours of nine o’clock at night and seven +in the morning,” or if any of the outermost heard it, as did Ambrose +who was on his way home to his night quarters, they were too much excited +not to turn a deaf ear to it.</p> +<p>Suddenly, however, just as Giles was preparing for a master-stroke, +he was seized roughly by the shoulder and bidden to give over. +He looked round. It was an alderman, not his master, but Sir John +Mundy, an unpopular, harsh man.</p> +<p>“Wherefore?” demanded Giles.</p> +<p>“Thou shalt know,” said the alderman, seizing his arm +to drag him to the Counter prison, but Giles resisted. Wat Ball +struck at Sir John’s arm with his wooden sword, and as the alderman +shouted for the watch and city-guard, the lads on their side raised +their cry, “Prentices and Clubs! Flat-caps and Clubs!” +Master Headley, struggling along, met his colleague, with his gown torn +into shreds from his back, among a host of wildly yelling lads, and +panting, “Help, help, brother Headley!” With great +difficulty the two aldermen reached the door of the Dragon, whence Smallbones +sallied out to rescue them, and dragged them in.</p> +<p>“The boys!—the boys!” was Master Headley’s +first cry, but he might as well have tried to detach two particular +waves from a surging ocean as his own especial boys from the multitude +on that wild evening. There was no moon, and the twilight still +prevailed, but it was dark enough to make the confusion greater, as +the cries swelled and numbers flowed into the open space of Cheapside. +In the words of Hall, the chronicler, “Out came serving-men, and +watermen, and courtiers, and by XI of the chock there were VI or VII +hundreds in Cheap. And out of Pawle’s Churchyard came III +hundred which wist not of the others.” For the most part +all was invoked in the semi-darkness of the summer night, but here and +there light came from an upper window on some boyish face, perhaps full +of mischief, perhaps somewhat bewildered and appalled. Here and +there were torches, which cast a red glare round them, but whose smoke +blurred everything, and seemed to render the darkness deeper.</p> +<p>Perhaps if the tumult had only been of the apprentices, provoked +by Alderman Mundy’s interference, they would soon have dispersed, +but the throng was pervaded by men with much deeper design, and a cry +arose—no one knew from whence—that they would break into +Newgate and set free Studley and Bates.</p> +<p>By this time the torrent of young manhood was quite irresistible +by any force that had yet been opposed to it. The Mayor and Sheriffs +stood at the Guildhall, and read the royal proclamation by the light +of a wax candle, held in the trembling hand of one of the clerks; but +no one heard or heeded them, and the uproar was increased as the doors +of Newgate fell, and all the felons rushed out to join the rioters.</p> +<p>At the same time another shout rose, “Down with the aliens!” +and there was a general rush towards St. Martin’s gate, in which +direction many lived. There was, however, a pause here, for Sir +Thomas More, Recorder of London, stood in the way before St. Martin’s +gate, and with his full sweet voice began calling out and entreating +the lads to go home, before any heads were broken more than could be +mended again. He was always a favourite, and his good humour seemed +to be making some impression, when, either from the determination of +the more evil disposed, or because the inhabitants of St. Martin’s +Lane were beginning to pour down hot water, stones, and brickbats on +the dense mass of heads below them, a fresh access of fury seized upon +the mob. Yells of “Down with the strangers!” echoed +through the narrow streets, drowning Sir Thomas’s voice. +A lawyer who stood with him was knocked down and much hurt, the doors +were battered down, and the household stuff thrown from the windows. +Here, Ambrose, who had hitherto been pushed helplessly about, and knocked +hither and thither, was driven up against Giles, and, to avoid falling +and being trampled down, clutched hold of him breathless and panting.</p> +<p>“Thou here!” exclaimed Giles. “Who would +have thought of sober Ambrose in the midst of the fray?” +See here, Stevie!”</p> +<p>“Poor old Ambrose!” cried Stephen, “keep close +to us! We’ll see no harm comes to thee. ’Tis +hot work, eh?”</p> +<p>“Oh, Stephen! could I but get out of the throng to warn my +master and Master Michael!”</p> +<p>Those words seemed to strike Giles Headley. He might have cared +little for the fate of the old printer, but as he heard the screams +of the women in the houses around, he exclaimed, “Ay! there’s +the old man and the little maid! We will have her to the Dragon!”</p> +<p>“Or to mine aunt’s,” said Ambrose.</p> +<p>“Have with thee then,” said Giles: “Take his other +arm, Steve;” and locking their arms together the three fought +and forced their way from among the plunderers in St. Martin’s +with no worse mishap than a shower of hot water, which did not hurt +them much through their stout woollen coats. They came at last +to a place where they could breathe, and stood still a moment to recover +from the struggle, and vituperate the hot water.</p> +<p>Then they heard fresh howls and yells in front as well as behind.</p> +<p>“They are at it everywhere,” exclaimed Stephen. +“I hear them somewhere out by Cornhill.”</p> +<p>“Ay, where the Frenchmen live that calender worsted,” +returned Giles. “Come on; who knows how it is with the old +man and little maid?”</p> +<p>“There’s a sort in our court that are ready for aught,” +said Ambrose.</p> +<p>On they hurried in the darkness, which was now at the very deepest +of the night; now and then a torch was borne across the street, and +most of the houses had lights in the upper windows, for few Londoners +slept on that strange night. The stained glass of the windows +of the Churches beamed in bright colours from the Altar lights seen +through them, but the lads made slower progress than they wished, for +the streets were never easy to walk in the dark, and twice they came +on mobs assailing houses, from the windows of one of which, French shoes +and boots were being hailed down. Things were moderately quiet +around St. Paul’s, but as they came into Warwick Lane they heard +fresh shouts and wild cries, and at the archway heading to the inner +yard they could see that there was a huge bonfire in the midst of the +court—of what composed they could not see for the howling figures +that exulted round it.</p> +<p>“George Bates, the villain!” cried Stephen, as his enemy +in exulting ferocious delight was revealed for a moment throwing a book +on the fire, and shouting, “Hurrah! there’s for the old +sorcerer, there’s for the heretics!”</p> +<p>That instant Giles was flying on Bates, and Stephen, with equal, +if not greater fury, at one of his comrades; but Ambrose dashed through +the outskirts of the wildly screaming and shouting fellows, many of +whom were the miscreant population of the mews, to the black yawning +doorway of his master. He saw only a fellow staggering out with +the screw of the press to feed the flame, and hurried on in the din +to call “Master, art thou there?”</p> +<p>There was no answer, and he moved on to the next door, calling again +softly, while all the spoilers seemed absorbed in the fire and the combat. +“Master Michael! ’Tis I, Ambrose!”</p> +<p>“Here, my son,” cautiously answered a voice he knew for +Lucas Hansen’s.</p> +<p>“Oh, master! master!” was his low, heart-stricken cry, +as by the leaping light of a flame he saw the pale face of the old printer, +who drew him in.</p> +<p>“Yea! ’tis ruin, my son,” said Lucas. “And +would that that were the worst.”</p> +<p>The light flashed and flickered through the broken window so that +Ambrose saw that the hangings had been torn down and everything wrecked, +and a low sound as of stifled weeping directed his eyes to a corner +where Aldonza sat with her father’s head on her lap. “Lives +he? Is he greatly hurt?” asked Ambrose, awe-stricken.</p> +<p>“The life is yet in him, but I fear me greatly it is passing +fast,” said Lucas, in a low voice. “One of those lads +smote him on the back with a club, and struck him down at the poor maid’s +feet, nor hath he moved since. It was that one young Headley is +fighting with,” he added.</p> +<p>“Bates! ah! Would that we had come sooner! What! +more of this work—”</p> +<p>For just then a tremendous outcry broke forth, and there was a rush +and panic among those who had been leaping round the fire just before. +“The guard!—the King’s men!” was the sound they +presently distinguished. They could hear rough abusive voices, +shrieks and trampling of feet. A few seconds more and all was +still, only the fire remained, and in the stillness the suppressed sobs +and moans of Aldonza were heard.</p> +<p>“A light! Fetch a light from the fire!” said Lucas.</p> +<p>Ambrose ran out. The flame was lessening, but he could see +the dark bindings, and the blackened pages of the books he loved so +well. A corner of a page of St. Augustine’s Confessions +was turned towards him and lay on a singed fragment of Aldonza’s +embroidered curtain, while a little red flame was licking the spiral +folds of the screw, trying, as it were, to gather energy to do more +than blacken it. Ambrose could have wept over it at any other +moment, but now he could only catch up a brand—it was the leg +of his master’s carved chair—and run back with it. +Lucas ventured to light a lamp, and they could then see the old man’s +face pale, but calm and still, with his long white beard flowing over +his breast. There was no blood, no look of pain, only a set look +about the eyes; and Aldonza cried “Oh, father, thou art better! +Speak to me! Let Master Lucas lift thee up!”</p> +<p>“Nay, my child. I cannot move hand or foot. Let +me be thus till the Angel of Death come for me. He is very near.” +He spoke in short sentences. “Water—nay—no pain,” +he added then, and Ambrose ran for some water in the first battered +fragment of a tin pot he could find. They bathed his face and +he gathered strength after a time to say “A priest!—oh for +a priest to shrive and housel me.”</p> +<p>“I will find one,” said Ambrose, speeding out into the +court over fragments of the beautiful work for which Abenali was hated, +and over the torn, half-burnt leaves of the beloved store of Lucas. +The fire had died down, but morning twilight was beginning to dawn, +and all was perfectly still after the recent tumult, though for a moment +or two Ambrose heard some distant cries.</p> +<p>Where should he go? Priests indeed were plentiful, but both +his friends were in bad odour with the ordinary ones. Lucas had +avoided both the Lenten shrift and Easter Communion, and what Miguel +might have done, Ambrose was uncertain. Some young priests had +actually been among the foremost in sacking the dwellings of the unfortunate +foreigners, and Ambrose was quite uncertain whether he might not fall +on one of that stamp—or on one who might vex the old man’s +soul—perhaps deny him the Sacraments altogether. As he saw +the pale lighted windows of St. Paul’s, it struck him to see whether +any one were within. The light might be only from some of the +tapers burning perpetually, but the pale light in the north-east, the +morning chill, and the clock striking three, reminded him that it must +be the hour of Prime, and he said to himself, “Sure, if a priest +be worshipping at this hour, he will be a good and merciful man. +I can but try.”</p> +<p>The door of the transept yielded to his hand. He came forward, +lighted through the darkness by the gleam of the candles, which cast +a huge and awful shadow from the crucifix of the rood-screen upon the +pavement. Before it knelt a black figure in prayer. Ambrose +advanced in some awe and doubt how to break in on these devotions, but +the priest had heard his step, rose and said, “What is it, my +son? Dost thou seek sanctuary after these sad doings?”</p> +<p>“Nay, reverend sir,” said Ambrose. “’Tis +a priest for a dying man I seek;” and in reply to the instant +question, where it was, he explained in haste who the sufferer was, +and how he had received a fatal blow, and was begging for the Sacraments. +“And oh, sir!” he added, “he is a holy and God-fearing +man, if ever one lived, and hath been cruelly and foully entreated by +jealous and wicked folk, who hated him for his skill and industry.”</p> +<p>“Alack for the unhappy lads; and alack for those who egged +them on,” said the priest. “Truly they knew not what +they did. I will come with thee, my good youth. Thou hast +not been one of them?”</p> +<p>“No, truly sir, save that I was carried along and could not +break from the throng. I work for Lucas Hansen, the Dutch printer, +whom they have likewise plundered in their savage rage.”</p> +<p>“’Tis well. Thou canst then bear this,” said +the priest, taking a thick wax candle. Then reverently advancing +to the Altar, whence he took the pyx, or gold case in which the Host +was reserved, he lighted the candle, which he gave, together with his +stole, to the youth to bear before him.</p> +<p>Then, when the light fell full on his features, Ambrose with a strange +thrill of joy and trust perceived that it was no other than Dean Colet, +who had here been praying against the fury of the people. He was +very thankful, feeling intuitively that there was no fear but that Abenali +would be understood, and for his own part, the very contact with the +man whom he revered seemed to calm and soothe him, though on that solemn +errand no word could be spoken. Ambrose went on slowly before, +his dark head uncovered, the priestly stole hanging over his arm, his +hands holding aloft the tall candle of virgin wax, while the Dean followed +closely with feeble steps, looking frail and worn, but with a grave, +sweet solemnity on his face. It was a perfectly still morning, +and as they slowly paced along, the flame burnt steadily with little +flickering, while the pure, delicately-coloured sky overhead was becoming +every moment lighter, and only the larger stars were visible. +The houses were absolutely still, and the only person they met, a lad +creeping homewards after the fray, fell on his knees bareheaded as he +perceived their errand. Once or twice again sounds came up from +the city beneath, like shrieks or wailing breaking strangely on that +fair peaceful May morn; but still that pair went on till Ambrose had +guided the Dean to the yard, where, except that the daylight was revealing +more and more of the wreck around, all was as he had left it. +Aldonza, poor child, with her black hair hanging loose like a veil, +for she had been startled from her bed, still sat on the ground making +her lap a pillow for the white-bearded head, nobler and more venerable +than ever. On it lay, in the absolute immobility produced by the +paralysing blow, the fine features already in the solemn grandeur of +death, and only the movement of the lips under the white flowing beard +and of the dark eyes showing life.</p> +<p>Dean Colet said afterwards that he felt as if he had been called +to the death-bed of Israel, or of Barzillai the Gileadite, especially +when the old man, in the Oriental phraseology he had never entirely +lost, said, “I thank Thee, my God, and the God of my fathers, +that Thou hast granted me that which I had prayed for.”</p> +<p>The Dutch printer was already slightly known to the Dean, having +sold him many books. A few words were exchanged with him, but +it was plain that the dying man could not be moved, and that his confession +must he made on the lap of the young girl. Colet knelt over him +so as to be able to hear, while Lucas and Ambrose withdraw, but were +soon called back for the remainder of the service for the dying. +The old man’s face showed perfect peace. All worldly thought +and care seemed to have been crushed out of him by the blow, and he +did not even appear to think of the unprotected state of his daughter, +although he blessed her with solemn fervour immediately after receiving +the Viaticum—then lay murmuring to himself sentences which Ambrose, +who had learnt much from him, knew to be from his Arabic breviary about +palm-branches, and the twelve manner of fruits of the Tree of Life.</p> +<p>It was a strange scene—the grand, calm, patriarchal old man, +so peaceful on his dark-haired daughter’s lap in the midst of +the shattered home in the old feudal stable. All were silent a +while in awe, but the Dean was the first to move and speak, calling +Lucas forward to ask sundry questions of him.</p> +<p>“Is there no good woman,” he asked, “who could +be with this poor child and take her home, when her father shall have +passed away?”</p> +<p>“Mine uncle’s wife, sir,” said Ambrose, a little +doubtfully. “I trow she would come—since I can certify +her that your reverence holds him for a holy man.”</p> +<p>“I had thy word for it,” said the Dean. “Ah! +reply not, my son, I see well how it may be with you here. But +tell those who will take the word of John Colet that never did I mark +the passing away of one who had borne more for the true holy Catholic +faith, nor held it more to his soul’s comfort.”</p> +<p>For the Dean, a man of vivid intelligence, knew enough of the Moresco +persecutions to be able to gather from the words of Lucas and Ambrose, +and the confession of the old man himself, a far more correct estimate +of Abenali’s sufferings, and constancy to the truth, than any +of the more homebred wits could have divined. He knew, too, that +his own orthodoxy was so called in question by the narrower and more +unspiritual section of the clergy that only the appreciative friendship +of the King and the Cardinal kept him securely in his position.</p> +<p>Ambrose sped away, knowing that Perronel would be quite satisfied. +He was sure of her ready compassion and good-will, but she had so often +bewailed his running after learning and possibly heretical doctrine, +that he had doubted whether she would readily respond to a summons, +on his own authority alone, to one looked on with so much suspicion +as Master Michael. Colet intimated his intention of remaining +a little longer to pray with the dying man, and further wrote a few +words on his tablets, telling Ambrose to leave them with one of the +porters at his house as he went past St. Paul’s.</p> +<p>It was broad daylight now, a lovely May morning, such as generally +called forth the maidens, small and great, to the meadows to rub their +fresh cheeks with the silvery dew, and to bring home kingcups, cuckoo +flowers, blue bottles, and cowslips for the Maypoles that were to be +decked. But all was silent now, not a house was open, the rising +sun made the eastern windows of the churches a blaze of light, and from +the west door of St. Paul’s the city beneath seemed sleeping, +only a wreath or two of smoke rising. Ambrose found the porter +looking out for his master in much perturbation. He groaned as +he looked at the tablets, and heard where the Dean was, and said that +came of being a saint on earth. It would be the death of him ere +long! What would old Mistress Colet, his mother, say? He +would have detained the youth with his inquiries, but Ambrose said he +had to speed down to the Temple on an errand from the Dean, and hurried +away. All Ludgate Hill was now quiet, every house closed, but +here and there lay torn shreds of garments, or household vessels.</p> +<p>As he reached Fleet Street, however, there was a sound of horses’ +feet, and a body of men-at-arms with helmets glancing in the sun were +seen. There was a cry, “There’s one! That’s +one of the lewd younglings! At him!”</p> +<p>And Ambrose to his horror and surprise saw two horsemen begin to +gallop towards him, as if to ride him down. Happily he was close +to a narrow archway leading to an alley down which no war-horse could +possibly make its way, and dashing into it and round a corner, he eluded +his pursuers, and reached the bank of the river, whence, being by this +time experienced in the by-ways of London, he could easily reach Perronel’s +house.</p> +<p>She was standing at her door looking out anxiously, and as she saw +him she threw up her hands in thanksgiving to our Lady that here he +was at last, and then turned to scold him. “O lad, lad, +what a night thou hast given me! I trusted at least that thou +hadst wit to keep out of a fray and to let the poor aliens alone, thou +that art always running after yonder old Spaniard. Hey! what now? +Did they fall on him! Fie! Shame on them!—a harmless +old man like that.”</p> +<p>“Yea, good aunt, and what is more, they have slain him, I fear +me, outright.”</p> +<p>Amidst many a “good lack” and exclamation of pity and +indignation from Perronel, Ambrose told his tale of that strange night, +and entreated her to come with him to do what was possible for Abenali +and his daughter. She hesitated a little; her kind heart was touched, +but she hardly liked to leave her house, in case her husband should +come in, as he generally contrived to do in the early morning, now that +the Cardinal’s household was lodged so near her. Sheltered +as she was by the buildings of the Temple, she had heard little or nothing +of the noise of the riot, though she had been alarmed at her nephew’s +absence, and an officious neighbour had run in to tell her first that +the prentice lads were up and sacking the houses of the strangers, and +next that the Tower was firing on them, and the Lord Mayor’s guard +and the gentlemen of the Inns of Court were up in arms to put them down. +She said several times, “Poor soul!” and “Yea, it +were a shame to leave her to the old Dutchkin,” but with true +Flemish deliberation she continued her household arrangements, and insisted +that the bowl of broth, which she set on the table, should be partaken +of by herself and Ambrose before she would stir a step. “Not +eat! Now out on thee, lad! what good dost thou think thou or I +can do if we come in faint and famished, where there’s neither +bite nor sup to be had? As for me, not a foot will I budge, till +I have seen thee empty that bowl. So to it, my lad! Thou +hast been afoot all night, and lookst so grimed and ill-favoured a varlet +that no man would think thou camest from an honest wife’s house. +Wash thee at the pail! Get thee into thy chamber and put on clean +garments, or I’ll not walk the street with thee! ’Tis +not safe—thou wilt be put in ward for one of the rioters.”</p> +<p>Everybody who entered that little house obeyed Mistress Randall, +and Ambrose submitted, knowing it vain to resist, and remembering the +pursuit he had recently escaped; yet the very refreshment of food and +cleanliness revealed to him how stiff and weary were his limbs, though +he was in no mood for rest. His uncle appeared at the door just +as he had hoped Perronel was ready.</p> +<p>“Ah! there’s one of you whole and safe!” he exclaimed. +“Where is the other?”</p> +<p>“Stephen?” exclaimed Ambrose. “I saw him +last in Warwick Inner Yard.” And in a few words he explained. +Hal Randall shook his head. “May all be well,” he +exclaimed, and then he told how Sir Thomas Parr had come at midnight +and roused the Cardinal’s household with tidings that all the +rabble of London were up, plundering and murdering all who came in their +way, and that he had then ridden on to Richmond to the King with the +news. The Cardinal had put his house into a state of defence, +not knowing against whom the riot might be directed—and the jester +had not been awakened till too late to get out to send after his wife, +besides which, by that time, intelligence had come in that the attack +was directed entirely on the French and Spanish merchants and artificers +in distant parts of the city and suburbs, and was only conducted by +lads with no better weapons than sticks, so that the Temple and its +precincts were in no danger at all.</p> +<p>The mob had dispersed of its own accord by about three or four o’clock, +but by that hour the Mayor had got together a force, the Gentlemen of +the Inns of Court and the Yeomen of the Tower were up in arms, and the +Earl of Shrewsbury had come in with a troop of horse. They had +met the rioters, and had driven them in herds like sheep to the different +prisons, after which Lord Shrewsbury had come to report to the Cardinal +that all was quiet, and the jester having gathered as much intelligence +as he could, had contrived to slip into the garments that concealed +his motley, and to reach home. He gave ready consent to Perronel’s +going to the aid of the sufferers in Warwick Inner Yard, especially +at the summons of the Dean of St. Paul’s, and even to her bringing +home the little wench. Indeed, he would escort her thither himself +for he was very anxious about Stephen, and Ambrose was so dismayed by +the account he gave as to reproach himself extremely for having parted +company with his brother, and never having so much as thought of him +as in peril, while absorbed in care for Abenali. So the three +set out together, when no doubt the sober, solid appearance which Randall’s +double suit of apparel and black gown gave him, together with his wife’s +matronly and respectable look, were no small protection to Ambrose, +for men-at-arms were prowling about the streets, looking hungry to pick +up straggling victims, and one actually stopped Randall to interrogate +him as to who the youth was, and what was his errand.</p> +<p>Before St. Paul’s they parted, the husband and wife going towards +Warwick Inner Yard, whither Ambrose, fleeter of foot, would follow, +so soon as he had ascertained at the Dragon court whether Stephen was +at home.</p> +<p>Alas! at the gate he was hailed with the inquiry whether he had seen +his brother or Giles. The whole yard was disorganised, no work +going on. The lads had not been seen all night, and the master +himself had in the midst of his displeasure and anxiety been summoned +to the Guildhall. The last that was known was Giles’s rescue, +and the assault on Alderman Mundy. Smallbones and Steelman had +both gone in different directions to search for the two apprentices, +and Dennet, who had flown down unheeded and unchecked at the first hope +of news, pulled Ambrose by the sleeve, and exclaimed, “Oh! Ambrose, +Ambrose! they can never hurt them! They can never do any harm +to our lads, can they?”</p> +<p>Ambrose hoped for the same security, but in his dismay, could only +hurry after his uncle and aunt.</p> +<p>He found the former at the door of the old stable—whence issued +wild screams and cries. Several priests and attendants were there +now, and the kind Dean with Lucas was trying to induce Aldonza to relax +the grasp with which she embraced the body, whence a few moments before +the brave and constant spirit had departed. Her black hair hanging +over like a veil, she held the inanimate head to her bosom, sobbing +and shrieking with the violence of her Eastern nature. The priest +who had been sent for to take care of the corpse, and bear it to the +mortuary of the Minster, wanted to move her by force; but the Dean insisted +on one more gentle experiment, and beckoned to the kindly woman, whom +he saw advancing with eyes full of tears. Perronel knelt down +by her, persevered when the poor girl stretched out her hand to beat +her off, crying, “Off! go! Leave me my father! O father, +father, joy of my life! my one only hope and stay, leave me not! +Wake! wake, speak to thy child, O my father!”</p> +<p>Though the child had never seen or heard of Eastern wailings over +the dead, yet hereditary nature prompted her to the lamentations that +scandalised the priests and even Lucas, who broke in with “Fie, +maid, thou mournest as one who hath no hope.” But Dr. Colet +still signed to them to have patience, and Perronel somehow contrived +to draw the girl’s head on her breast and give her a motherly +kiss, such as the poor child had never felt since she, when almost a +babe, had been lifted from her dying mother’s side in the dark +stifling hold of the vessel in the Bay of Biscay. And in sheer +surprise and sense of being soothed she ceased her cries, listened to +the tender whispers and persuasions about holy men who would care for +her father, and his wishes that she should be a good maid—till +at last she yielded, let her hands be loosed, allowed Perronel to lift +the venerable head from her knee, and close the eyes—then to gather +her in her arms, and lead her to the door, taking her, under Ambrose’s +guidance, into Lucas’s abode, which was as utterly and mournfully +dismantled as their own, but where Perronel, accustomed in her wandering +days to all sorts of contrivances, managed to bind up the streaming +hair, and, by the help of her own cloak, to bring the poor girl into +a state in which she could be led through the streets.</p> +<p>The Dean meantime had bidden Lucas to take shelter at his own house, +and the old Dutchman had given a sort of doubtful acceptance.</p> +<p>Ambrose, meanwhile, half distracted about his brother, craved counsel +of the jester where to seek him.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII. ILL MAY DAY</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“With two and two together tied,<br /> Through +Temple Bar and Strand they go,<br />To Westminster, there to be tried,<br /> With +ropes about their necks also.”</p> +<p><i>Ill May Day.</i></p> +<p>And where was Stephen? Crouching, wretched with hunger, cold, +weariness, blows, and what was far worse, sense of humiliation and disgrace, +and terror for the future, in a corner of the yard of Newgate—whither +the whole set of lads, surprised in Warwick Inner Court by the law students +of the Inns of Court, had been driven like so many cattle, at the sword’s +point, with no attention or perception that he and Giles had been struggling +<i>against</i> the spoilers.</p> +<p>Yet this fact made them all the more forlorn. The others, some +forty in number, their companions in misfortune, included most of the +Barbican prentices, who were of the Eagle faction, special enemies alike +to Abenali and to the Dragon, and these held aloof from Headley and +Birkenholt, nay, reviled them for the attack which they declared had +caused the general capture.</p> +<p>The two lads of the Dragon had, in no measured terms, denounced the +cruelty to the poor old inoffensive man, and were denounced in their +turn as friends of the sorcerer. But all were too much exhausted +by the night’s work to have spirit for more than a snarling encounter +of words, and the only effect was that Giles and Stephen were left isolated +in their misery outside the shelter of the handsome arched gateway under +which the others congregated.</p> +<p>Newgate had been rebuilt by Whittington out of pity to poor prisoners +and captives. It must have been unspeakably dreadful before, for +the foulness of the narrow paved court, shut in by strong walls, was +something terrible. Tired, spent, and aching all over, and with +boyish callousness to dirt, still Giles and Stephen hesitated to sit +down, and when at last they could stand no longer, they rested, leaning +against one another. Stephen tried to keep up hope by declaring +that his master would soon get them released, and Giles alternated between +despair, and declarations that he would have justice on those who so +treated his father’s son. They dropped asleep—first +one and then the other—from sheer exhaustion, waking from time +to time to realise that it was no dream, and to feel all the colder +and more camped.</p> +<p>By and by there were voices at the gate. Friends were there +asking after their own Will, or John, or Thomas, as the case might be. +The jailer opened a little wicket-window in the heavy door, and, no +doubt for a consideration, passed in food to certain lads whom he called +out, but it did not always reach its destination. It was often +torn away as by hungry wolves. For though the felons had been +let out, when the doors were opened; the new prisoners were not by any +means all apprentices. There were watermen, husbandmen, beggars, +thieves, among them, attracted by the scent of plunder; and even some +of the elder lads had no scruple in snatching the morsel from the younger +ones.</p> +<p>Poor little Jasper Hope, a mischievous little curly-headed idle fellow, +only thirteen, just apprenticed to his brother the draper, and rushing +about with the other youths in the pride of his flat cap, was one of +the sufferers. A servant had been at the door, promising that +his brother would speedily have him released, and handing in bread and +meat, of which he was instantly robbed by George Bates and three or +four more big fellows, and sent away reeling and sobbing, under a heavy +blow, with all the mischief and play knocked out of him. Stephen +and Giles called “Shame!” but were unheeded, and they could +only draw the little fellow up to them, and assure him that his brother +would soon come for him.</p> +<p>The next call at the gate was Headley and Birkenholt—“Master +Headley’s prentices—Be they here?”</p> +<p>And at their answer, not only the window, but the door in the gate +was opened, and stooping low to enter, Kit Smallbones came in, and not +empty-handed.</p> +<p>“Ay, ay, youngsters,” said he, “I knew how it would +be, by what I saw elsewhere, so I came with a fee to open locks. +How came ye to get into such plight as this? And poor little Hope +too! A fine pass when they put babes in jail.”</p> +<p>“I’m prenticed!” said Jasper, though in a very +weak little voice.</p> +<p>“Have you had bite or sup?” asked Kit.</p> +<p>And on their reply, telling how those who had had supplies from home +had been treated, Smallbones observed, “Let them try it,” +and stood, at all his breadth, guarding the two youths and little Jasper, +as they ate, Stephen at first with difficulty, in the faintness and +foulness of the place, but then ravenously. Smallbones lectured +them on their folly all the time, and made them give an account of the +night. He said their master was at the Guildhall taking counsel +with the Lord Mayor, and there were reports that it would go hard with +the rioters, for murder and plunder had been done in many places, and +he especially looked at Giles with pity, and asked how he came to embroil +himself with Master Mundy? Still his good-natured face cheered +them, and he promised further supplies. He also relieved Stephen’s +mind about his brother, telling of his inquiry at the Dragon in the +morning. All that day the condition of such of the prisoners as +had well-to-do friends was improving. Fathers, brothers, masters, +and servants, came in quest of them, bringing food and bedding, and +by exorbitant fees to the jailers obtained for them shelter in the gloomy +cells. Mothers could not come, for a proclamation had gone out +that none were to babble, and men were to keep their wives at home. +And though there were more material comforts, prospects were very gloomy. +Ambrose came when Kit Smallbones returned with what Mrs. Headley had +sent the captives. He looked sad and dazed, and clung to his brother, +but said very little, except that they ought to be locked up together, +and he really would have been left in Newgate, if Kit had not laid a +great hand on his shoulder and almost forced him away.</p> +<p>Master Headley himself arrived with Master Hope in the afternoon. +Jasper sprang to his brother, crying, “Simon! Simon! you +are come to take me out of this dismal, evil place?” But +Master Hope—a tall, handsome, grave young man, who had often been +much disturbed by his little brother’s pranks—could only +shake his head with tears in his eyes, and, sitting down on the roll +of bedding, take him on his knee and try to console him with the hope +of liberty in a few days.</p> +<p>He had tried to obtain the boy’s release on the plea of his +extreme youth, but the authorities were hotly exasperated, and would +hear of no mercy. The whole of the rioters were to be tried three +days hence, and there was no doubt that some would be made an example +of, the only question was, how many?</p> +<p>Master Headley closely interrogated his own two lads, and was evidently +sorely anxious about his namesake, who, he feared, might be recognised +by Alderman Mundy and brought forward as a ringleader of the disturbance; +nor did he feel at all secure that the plea that he had no enmity to +the foreigners, but had actually tried to defend Lucas and Abenali, +would be attended to for a moment, though Lucas Hansen had promised +to bear witness of it. Giles looked perfectly stunned at the time, +unable to take in the idea, but at night Stephen was wakened on the +pallet that they shared with little Jasper, by hearing him weeping and +sobbing for his mother at Salisbury.</p> +<p>Time lagged on till the 4th of May. Some of the poor boys whiled +away their time with dreary games in the yard, sometimes wrestling, +but more often gambling with the dice, that one or two happened to possess, +for the dinners that were provided for the wealthier, sometimes even +betting on what the sentences would be, and who would be hanged, or +who escape.</p> +<p>Poor lads, they did not, for the most part, realise their real danger, +but Stephen was more and more beset with home-sick longing for the glades +and thickets of his native forest, and would keep little Jasper and +even Giles for an hour together telling of the woodland adventures of +those happy times, shutting his eyes to the grim stone walls, and trying +to think himself among the beeches, hollies, cherries, and hawthorns, +shining in the May sun! Giles and he were chose friends now, and +with little Jasper, said their Paters and Aves together, that they might +be delivered from their trouble. At last, on the 4th, the whole +of the prisoners were summoned roughly into the court, where harsh-hooking +men-at-arms proceeded to bind them together in pairs to be marched through +the streets to the Guildhall. Giles and Stephen would naturally +have been put together, but poor little Jasper cried out so lamentably, +when he was about to be bound to a stranger, that Stephen stepped forward +in his stead, begging that the boy might go with Giles. The soldier +made a contemptuous sound, but consented, and Stephen found that his +companion in misfortune, whose left elbow was tied to his right was +George Bates.</p> +<p>The two lads looked at each other in a strange, rueful manner, and +Stephen said, “Shake hands, comrade. If we are to die, let +us bear no ill-will.”</p> +<p>George gave a cold, limp, trembling hand. He looked wretched, +subdued, tearful, and nearly starved, for he had no kinsfolk at hand, +and his master was too angry with him, and too much afraid of compromising +himself, to have sent him any supplies. Stephen tried to unbutton +his own pouch, but not succeeding with his left hand, bade George try +with his right. “There’s a cake of bread there,” +he said. “Eat that, and thou’lt be able better to +stand up like a man, come what will.”</p> +<p>George devoured it eagerly. “Ah!” he said, in a +stronger voice, “Stephen Birkenholt, thou art an honest fellow. +I did thee wrong. If ever we get out of this plight!”</p> +<p>Here they were ordered to march, and in a long and doleful procession +they set forth. The streets were lined with men-at-arms, for all +the affections and sympathies of the people were with the unfortunate +boys, and a rescue was apprehended.</p> +<p>In point of fact, the Lord Mayor and aldermen were afraid of the +King’s supposing them to have organised the assault on their rivals, +and each was therefore desirous to show severity to any one’s +apprentices save his own; while the nobility were afraid of contumacy +on the part of the citizens, and were resolved to crush down every rioter +among them, so that they had filled the city with their armed retainers. +Fathers and mothers, masters and dames, sisters and fellow prentices, +found their doors closely guarded, and could only look with tearful, +anxious eyes, at the processions of poor youths, many of them mere children, +who were driven from each of the jails to the Guildhall. There +when all collected the entire number amounted to two hundred and seventy-eight, +though a certain proportion of these were grown men, priests, wherrymen +and beggars, who had joined the rabble in search of plunder.</p> +<p>It did not look well for them that the Duke of Norfolk and his son, +the Earl of Surrey, were joined in the commission with the Lord Mayor. +The upper end of the great hall was filled with aldermen in their robes +and chains, with the sheriffs of London and the whole imposing array, +and the Lord Mayor with the Duke sat enthroned above them in truly awful +dignity. The Duke was a hard and pitiless man, and bore the City +a bitter grudge for the death of his retainer, the priest killed in +Cheapside, and in spite of all his poetical fame, it may be feared that +the Earl of Surrey was not of much more merciful mood, while their men-at-arms +spoke savagely of hanging, slaughtering, or setting the City on fire.</p> +<p>The arraignment was very long, as there were so large a number of +names to be read, and, to the horror of all, it was not for a mere riot, +but for high treason. The King, it was declared, being in amity +with all Christian princes, it was high treason to break the truce and +league by attacking their subjects resident in England. The terrible +punishment of the traitor would thus be the doom of all concerned, and +in the temper of the Howards and their retainers, there was little hope +of mercy, nor, in times like those, was there even much prospect that, +out of such large numbers, some might escape.</p> +<p>A few were more especially cited, fourteen in number, among them +George Bates, Walter Ball, and Giles Headley, who had certainly given +cause for the beginning of the affray. There was no attempt to +defend George Bates, who seemed to be stunned and bewildered beyond +the power of speaking or even of understanding, but as Giles cast his +eyes round in wild, terrified appeal, Master Headley rose up in his +alderman’s gown, and prayed leave to be heard in his defence, +as he had witnesses to bring in his favour.</p> +<p>“Is he thy son, good Armourer Headley?” demanded the +Duke of Norfolk, who held the work of the Dragon court in high esteem.</p> +<p>“Nay, my Lord Duke, but he is in the place of one, my near +kinsman and godson, and so soon as his time be up, bound to wed my only +child! I pray you to hear his cause, ere cutting off the heir +of an old and honourable house.”</p> +<p>Norfolk and his sons murmured something about the Headley skill in +armour, and the Lord Mayor was willing enough for mercy, but Sir John +Mundy here rose: “My Lord Duke, this is the very young man who +was first to lay hands on me! Yea, my lords and sirs, ye have +already heard how their rude sport, contrary to proclamation, was the +cause of the tumult. When I would have bidden them go home, the +one brawler asks me insolently, ‘Wherefore?’ the other smote +me with his sword, whereupon the whole rascaille set on me, and as Master +Alderman Headley can testify, I scarce reached his house alive. +I ask should favour overcome justice, and a ringleader, who hath assaulted +the person of an alderman, find favour above others?”</p> +<p>“I ask not for favour,” returned Headley, “only +that witnesses be heard on his behalf, ere he be condemned.”</p> +<p>Headley, as a favourite with the Duke, prevailed to have permission +to call his witnesses; Christopher Smallbones, who had actually rescued +Alderman Mundy from the mob, and helped him into the Dragon court, could +testify that the proclamation had been entirely unheard in the din of +the youths looking on at the game. And this was followed up by +Lucas Hansen declaring that so far from having attacked or plundered +him and the others in Warwick Inner Yard, the two, Giles Headley and +Stephen Birkenholt, had come to their defence, and fallen on those who +were burning their goods.</p> +<p>On this a discussion followed between the authorities seated at the +upper end of the hall. The poor anxious watchers below could only +guess by the gestures what was being agitated as to their fate, and +Stephen was feeling it sorely hard that Giles should be pleaded for +as the master’s kinsman, and he left to so cruel a fate, no one +saying a word for him but unheeded Lucas. Finally, without giving +of judgment, the whole of the miserable prisoners, who had been standing +without food for hours, were marched back, still tied, to their several +prisons, while their guards pointed out the gibbets where they were +to suffer the next day.</p> +<p>Master Headley was not quite so regardless of his younger apprentice +as Stephen imagined. There was a sort of little council held in +his hall when he returned—sad, dispirited, almost hopeless—to +find Hal Randall anxiously awaiting him. The alderman said he +durst not plead for Stephen, lest he should lose both by asking too +much, and his young kinsman had the first right, besides being in the +most peril as having been singled out by name; whereas Stephen might +escape with the multitude if there were any mercy. He added that +the Duke of Norfolk was certainly inclined to save one who knew the +secret of Spanish sword-blades; but that he was fiercely resolved to +be revenged for the murder of his lewd priest in Cheapside, and that +Sir John Mundy was equally determined that Giles should not escape.</p> +<p>“What am I to say to his mother? Have I brought him from +her for this?” mourned Master Headley. “Ay, and Master +Randall, I grieve as much for thy nephew, who to my mind hath done nought +amiss. A brave lad! A good lad, who hath saved mine own +life. Would that I could do aught for him! It is a shame!”</p> +<p>“Father,” said Dennet, who had crept to the back of his +chair, “the King would save him! Mind you the golden whistle +that the grandame keepeth?”</p> +<p>“The maid hath hit it!” exclaimed Randall. “Master +alderman! Let me but have the little wench and the whistle to-morrow +morn, and it is done. How sayest thou, pretty mistress? +Wilt thou go with me and ask thy cousin’s life, and poor Stephen’s, +of the King?”</p> +<p>“With all my heart, sir,” said Dennet, coming to him +with outstretched hands. “Oh! sir, canst thou save them? +I have been vowing all I could think of to our Lady and the saints, +and now they are going to grant it!”</p> +<p>“Tarry a little,” said the alderman. “I must +know more of this. Where wouldst thou take my child? How +obtain access to the King’s Grace?”</p> +<p>“Worshipful sir, trust me,” said Randall. “Thou +know’st I am sworn servant to my Lord Cardinal, and that his folk +are as free of the Court as the King’s own servants. If +thine own folk will take us up the river to Richmond, and there wait +for us while I lead the maid to the King, I can well-nigh swear to thee +that she will prevail.”</p> +<p>The alderman looked greatly distressed. Ambrose threw himself +on his knees before him, and in an agony entreated him to consent, assuring +him that Master Randall could do what he promised. The alderman +was much perplexed. He knew that his mother, who was confined +to her bed by rheumatism, would be shocked at the idea. He longed +to accompany his daughter himself, but for him to be absent from the +sitting of the court might be fatal to Giles, and he could not bear +to lose any chance for the poor youths.</p> +<p>Meantime an interrogative glance and a nod had passed between Tibble +and Randall, and when the alderman looked towards the former, always +his prime minister, the answer was, “Sir, meseemeth that it were +well to do as Master Randall counselleth. I will go with Mistress +Dennet, if such be your will. The lives of two such youths as +our prentices may not lightly be thrown away, while by God’s providence +there is any means of striving to save them.”</p> +<p>Consent then was given, and it was further arranged that Dennet and +her escort should be ready at the early hour of half-past four, so as +to elude the guards who were placed in the streets; and also because +King Henry in the summer went very early to mass, and then to some out-of-door +sport. Randall said he would have taken his own good woman to +have the care of the little mistress, but that the poor little orphan +Spanish wench had wept herself so sick, that she could not be left to +a stranger.</p> +<p>Master Headley himself brought the child by back streets to the river, +and thence down to the Temple stairs, accompanied by Tibble Steelman, +and a maid-servant on whose presence her grandmother had insisted. +Dennet had hardly slept all night for excitement and perturbation, and +she looked very white, small, and insignificant for her thirteen years, +when Randall and Ambrose met her, and placed her carefully in the barge +which was to take them to Richmond. It was somewhat fresh in the +very early morning, and no one was surprised that Master Randall wore +a large dark cloak as they rowed up the river. There was very +little speech between the passengers; Dennet sat between Ambrose and +Tibble. They kept their heads bowed. Ambrose’s brow +was on one hand, his elbow on his knee, but he spared the other to hold +Dennet. He had been longing for the old assurance he would once +have had, that to vow himself to a life of hard service in a convent +would be the way to win his brother’s life; but he had ceased +to be able to feel that such bargains were the right course, or that +a convent necessarily afforded sure way of service, and he never felt +mere insecure of the way and means to prayer than in this hour of anguished +supplication.</p> +<p>When they came beyond the City, within sight of the trees of Sheen, +as Richmond was still often called, Randall insisted that Dennet should +eat some of the bread and meat that Tibble had brought in a wallet for +her. “She must look her best,” he said aside to the +foreman. “I would that she were either more of a babe or +better favoured! Our Hal hath a tender heart for a babe and an +eye for a buxom lass.”</p> +<p>He bade the maid trim up the child’s cap and make the best +of her array, and presently reached some stairs leading up to the park. +There he let Ambrose lift her out of the boat. The maid would +fain have followed, but he prevented this, and when she spoke of her +mistress having bidden her follow wherever the child went, Tibble interfered, +telling her that his master’s orders were that Master Randall +should do with her as he thought meet. Tibble himself followed +until they reached a thicket entirely concealing them from the river. +Halting here, Randall, with his nephew’s help, divested himself +of his long gown and cloak, his beard and wig, produced cockscomb and +bauble from his pouch, and stood before the astonished eyes of Dennet +as the jester!</p> +<p>She recoiled upon Tibble with a little cry, “Oh, why should +he make sport of us? Why disguise himself?”</p> +<p>“Listen, pretty mistress,” said Randall. “’Tis +no disguise, Tibble there can tell you, or my nephew. My disguise +lies there,” pointing to his sober raiment. “Thus +only can I bring thee to the King’s presence! Didst think +it was jest? Nay, verily, I am as bound to try to save my sweet +Stevie’s life, my sister’s own gallant son, as thou canst +be to plead for thy betrothed.” Dennet winced.</p> +<p>“Ay, Mistress Dennet,” said Tibble, “thou mayst +trust him, spite of his garb, and ’tis the sole hope. He +could only thus bring thee in. Go thou on, and the lad and I will +fall to our prayers.”</p> +<p>Dennet’s bosom heaved, but she looked up in the jesters dark +eyes, saw the tears in them, made an effort, put her hand in his, and +said, “I will go with him.”</p> +<p>Hal led her away, and they saw Tibble and Ambrose both fall on their +knees behind the hawthorn bush, to speed them with their prayers, while +all the joyous birds singing their carols around seemed to protest against +the cruel captivity and dreadful doom of the young gladsome spirits +pent up in the City prisons.</p> +<p>One full gush of a thrush’s song in especial made Dennet’s +eyes overflow, which the jester perceived and said, “Nay, sweet +maid, no tears. Kings brook not to be approached with blubbered +faces. I marvel not that it seems hard to thee to go along with +such as I, but let me be what I will outside, mine heart is heavy enough, +and thou wilt learn sooner or later, that fools are not the only folk +who needs must smile when they have a load within.”</p> +<p>And then, as much to distract her thoughts and prevent tears as to +reassure her, he told her what he had before told his nephews of the +inducements that had made him Wolsey’s jester, and impressed on +her the forms of address.</p> +<p>“Thou’lt hear me make free with him, but that’s +part of mine office, like the kitten I’ve seen tickling the mane +of the lion in the Tower. Thou must say, ‘An it please your +Grace,’ and thou needst not speak of his rolling in the mire, +thou wottest, or it may anger him.”</p> +<p>The girl showed that her confidence became warmer by keeping nearer +to his side, and presently she said, “I must beg for Stephen first, +for ’tis his whistle.”</p> +<p>“Blessings on thee, fair wench, for that, yet seest thou, ’tis +the other springald who is in the greater peril, and he is closer to +thy father and to thee.”</p> +<p>“He fled, when Stephen made in to the rescue of my father,” +said Dennet.</p> +<p>“The saints grant we may so work with the King that he may +spare them both,” ejaculated Randall.</p> +<p>By this time the strange pair were reaching the precincts of the +great dwelling-house, where about the wide-open door loitered gentlemen, +grooms, lacqueys, and attendants of all kinds. Randall reconnoitred.</p> +<p>“An we go up among all these,” he said, “they might +make their sport of us both, so that we might have time. Let us +see whether the little garden postern be open.”</p> +<p>Henry VIII. had no fears of his people, and kept his dwellings more +accessible than were the castles of many a subject. The door in +the wall proved to be open, and with an exclamation of joy, Randall +pointed out two figures, one in a white silken doublet and hose, with +a short crimson cloak over his shoulder, the other in scarlet and purple +robes, pacing the walk under the wall—Henry’s way of holding +a cabinet council with his prime minister on a summer’s morning.</p> +<p>“Come on, mistress, put a brave face on it!” the jester +encouraged the girl, as he led her forward, while the king, catching +sight of them, exclaimed, “Ha! there’s old Patch. +What doth he there?”</p> +<p>But the Cardinal, impatient of interruption, spoke imperiously, “What +dost thou here, Merriman? Away, this is no time for thy fooleries +and frolics.”</p> +<p>But the King, with some pleasure in teasing, and some of the enjoyment +of a schoolboy at a break in his tasks, called out, “Nay, come +hither, quipsome one! What new puppet hast brought hither to play +off on us?”</p> +<p>“Yea, brother Hal,” said the jester, “I have brought +one to let thee know how Tom of Norfolk and his crew are playing the +fool in the Guildhall, and to ask who will be the fool to let them wreak +their spite on the best blood in London, and leave a sore that will +take many a day to heal.”</p> +<p>“How is this, my Lord Cardinal?” said Henry; “I +bade them make an example of a few worthless hinds, such as might teach +the lusty burghers to hold their lads in bounds and prove to our neighbours +that their churlishness was by no consent of ours.”</p> +<p>“I trow,” returned the Cardinal, “that one of these +same hinds is a boon companion of the fool’s—<i>hinc illæ +lachrymæ</i>, and a speech that would have befitted a wise man’s +mouth.”</p> +<p>“There is work that may well make even a fool grave, friend +Thomas,” replied the jester.</p> +<p>“Nay, but what hath this little wench to say?” asked +the King, looking down on the child from under his plumed cap with a +face set in golden hair, the fairest and sweetest, as it seemed to her, +that she had ever seen, as he smiled upon her. “Methinks +she is too small to be thy love. Speak out, little one. +I love little maids, I have one of mine own. Hast thou a brother +among these misguided lads?”</p> +<p>“Not so, an please your Grace,” said Dennet, who fortunately +was not in the least shy, and was still too young for a maiden’s +shamefastness. “He is to be my betrothed. I would +say, one of them is, but the other—he saved my father’s +life once.”</p> +<p>The latter words were lost in the laughter of the King and Cardinal +at the unblushing avowal of the small, prim-faced maiden.</p> +<p>“Oh ho! So ’tis a case of true love, whereto a +King’s face must needs show grace. Who art thou, fair suppliant, +and who may this swain of thine be?”</p> +<p>“I am Dennet Headley, so please your Grace; my father is Giles +Headley the armourer, Alderman of Cheap Ward,” said Dennet, doing +her part bravely, though puzzled by the King’s tone of banter; +“and see here, your Grace!”</p> +<p>“Ha! the hawk’s whistle that Archduke Philip gave me! +What of that? I gave it—ay, I gave it to a youth that came +to mine aid, and reclaimed a falcon for me! Is’t he, child?”</p> +<p>“Oh, sir, ’tis he who came in second at the butts, next +to Barlow, ’tis Stephen Birkenholt! And he did nought! +They bore no ill-will to strangers! No, they were falling on the +wicked fellows who had robbed and slain good old Master Michael, who +taught our folk to make the only real true Damascus blades welded in +England. But the lawyers of the Inns of Court fell on them all +alike, and have driven them off to Newgate, and poor little Jasper Hope +too. And Alderman Mundy bears ill-will to Giles. And the +cruel Duke of Norfolk and his men swear they’ll have vengeance +on the Cheap, and there’ll be hanging and quartering this very +morn. Oh! your Grace, your Grace, save our lads! for Stephen saved +my father.”</p> +<p>“Thy tongue wags fast, little one,” said the King, good-naturedly, +“with thy Stephen and thy Giles. Is this same Stephen, the +knight of the whistle and the bow, thy betrothed, and Giles thy brother?”</p> +<p>“Nay, your Grace,” said Dennet, hanging her head, “Giles +Headley is my betrothed—that is, when his time is served, he will +be—father sets great store by him, for he is the only one of our +name to keep up the armoury, and he has a mother, Sir, a mother at Salisbury. +But oh, Sir, Sir! Stephen is so good and brave a had! He +made in to save father from the robbers, and he draws the best bow in +Cheapside, and he can grave steel as well as Tibble himself, and this +is the whistle your Grace wots of.”</p> +<p>Henry listened with an amused smile that grew broader as Dennet’s +voice all unconsciously became infinitely more animated and earnest, +when she began to plead Stephen’s cause.</p> +<p>“Well, well, sweetheart,” he said, “I trow thou +must have the twain of them, though,” he added to the Cardinal, +who smiled broadly, “it might perchance be more for the maid’s +peace than she wots of now, were we to leave this same knight of the +whistle to be strung up at once, ere she have found her heart; but in +sooth that I cannot do, owing well nigh a life to him and his brother. +Moreover, we may not have old Headley’s skill in weapons lost!”</p> +<p>Dennet held her hands close clasped while these words were spoken +apart. She felt as if her hope, half granted, were being snatched +from her, as another actor appeared on the scene, a gentleman in a lawyer’s +gown, and square cap, which he doffed as he advanced and put his knee +to the ground before the King, who greeted him with “Save you, +good Sir Thomas, a fair morning to you.”</p> +<p>“They told me your Grace was in Council with my Lord Cardinal,” +said Sir Thomas More; “but seeing that there was likewise this +merry company, I durst venture to thrust in, since my business is urgent.”</p> +<p>Dennet here forgot court manners enough to cry out, “O your +Grace! your Grace, be pleased for pity’s sake to let me have the +pardon for them first, or they’ll be hanged and dead. I +saw the gallows in Cheapside, and when they are dead, what good will +your Grace’s mercy do them?”</p> +<p>“I see,” said Sir Thomas. “This little maid’s +errand jumps with mine own, which was to tell your Grace that unless +there be speedy commands to the Howards to hold their hands, there will +be wailing like that of Egypt in the City. The poor boys, who +were but shouting and brawling after the nature of mettled youth—the +most with nought of malice—are penned up like sheep for the slaughter—ay, +and worse than sheep, for we quarter not our mutton alive, whereas these +poor younglings—babes of thirteen, some of them—be indicted +for high treason! Will the parents, shut in from coming to them +by my Lord of Norfolk’s men, ever forget their agonies, I ask +your Grace?”</p> +<p>Henry’s face grew red with passion. “If Norfolk +thinks to act the King, and turn the city into a shambles,”—with +a mighty oath—“he shall abye it. Here, Lord Cardinal—more, +let the free pardon be drawn up for the two lads. And we will +ourselves write to the Lord Mayor and to Norfolk that though they may +work their will on the movers of the riot—that pestilent Lincoln +and his sort—not a prentice lad shall be touched till our pleasure +be known. There now, child, thou hast won the lives of thy lads, +as thou callest them. Wilt thou rue the day, I marvel? Why +cannot some of their mothers pluck up spirit and beg them off as thou +hast done?”</p> +<p>“Yea,” said Wolsey. “That were the right +course. If the Queen were moved to pray your Grace to pity the +striplings then could the Spaniards make no plaint of too much clemency +being shown.”</p> +<p>They were all this time getting nearer the palace, and being now +at a door opening into the hall, Henry turned round. “There, +pretty maid, spread the tidings among thy gossips, that they have a +tender-hearted Queen, and a gracious King. The Lord Cardinal will +presently give thee the pardon for both thy lads, and by and by thou +wilt know whether thou thankest me for it!” Then putting +his hand under her chin, he turned up her face to him, kissed her on +each cheek, and touched his feathered cap to the others, saying, “See +that my bidding be done,” and disappeared.</p> +<p>“It must be prompt, if it be to save any marked for death this +morn,” More in a how voice observed to the Cardinal. “Lord +Edmund Howard is keen as a blood-hound on his vengeance.”</p> +<p>Wolsey was far from being a cruel man, and besides, there was a natural +antagonism between him and the old nobility, and he liked and valued +his fool, to whom he turned, saying, “And what stake hast thou +in this, sirrah? Is’t all pure charity?”</p> +<p>“I’m scarce such a fool as that, Cousin Red Hat,” +replied Randall, rallying his powers. “I leave that to Mr. +More here, whom we all know to be a good fool spoilt. But I’ll +make a clean breast of it. This same Stephen is my sister’s +son, an orphan lad of good birth and breeding—whom, my lord, I +would die to save.”</p> +<p>“Thou shalt have the pardon instantly, Merriman,” said +the Cardinal, and beckoning to one of the attendants who clustered round +the door, he gave orders that a clerk should instantly, and very briefly, +make out the form. Sir Thomas More, hearing the name of Headley, +added that for him indeed the need of haste was great, since he was +one of the fourteen sentenced to die that morning.</p> +<p>Quipsome Hal was interrogated as to how he had come, and the Cardinal +and Sir Thomas agreed that the river would be as speedy a way of returning +as by land; but they decided that a King’s pursuivant should accompany +him, otherwise there would be no chance of forcing his way in time through +the streets, guarded by the Howard retainers.</p> +<p>As rapidly as was in the nature of a high officer’s clerk to +produce a dozen lines, the precious document was indicted, and it was +carried at last to Dennet, bearing Henry’s signature and seal. +She held it to her bosom, while, accompanied by the pursuivant, who—happily +for them—was interested in one of the unfortunate fourteen, and +therefore did not wait to stand on his dignity, they hurried across +to the place where they had left the barge—Tibble and Ambrose +joining them on the way. Stephen was safe. Of his life there +could be no doubt, and Ambrose almost repented of feeling his heart +so light while Giles’s fate hung upon their speed.</p> +<p>The oars were plied with hearty good-will, but the barge was somewhat +heavy, and by and by coming to a landing-place where two watermen had +a much smaller and lighter boat, the pursuivant advised that he should +go forward with the more necessary persons, leaving the others to follow. +After a few words, the light weights of Tibble and Dennet prevailed +in their favour, and they shot forward in the little boat.</p> +<p>They passed the Temple—on to the stairs nearest Cheapside—up +the street. There was an awful stillness, only broken by heavy +knells sounding at intervals from the churches. The back streets +were thronged by a trembling, weeping people, who all eagerly made way +for the pursuivant, as he called “Make way, good people—a +pardon!”</p> +<p>They saw the broader space of Cheapside. Horsemen in armour +guarded it, but they too opened a passage for the pursuivant. +There was to be seen above the people’s heads a scaffold. +A fire burnt on it—the gallows and noosed rope hung above.</p> +<p>A figure was mounting the ladder. A boy! Oh, Heavens! +would it be too late? Who was it? They were still too far +off to see. They might only be cruelly holding out hope to one +of the doomed.</p> +<p>The pursuivant shouted aloud—“In the King’s name, +Hold!” He lifted Dennet on his shoulder, and bade her wave +her parchment. An overpowering roar arose. “A pardon! +a pardon! God save the King!”</p> +<p>Every hand seemed to be forwarding the pursuivant and the child, +and it was Giles Headley, who, loosed from the hold of the executioner, +stared wildly about him, like one distraught.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII. PARDON</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“What if;’ quoth she, ‘by Spanish blood<br />Have +London’s stately streets been wet,<br />Yet will I seek this country’s +good<br />And pardon for these young men get.’”</p> +<p>CHURCHILL.</p> +<p>The night and morning had been terrible to the poor boys, who only +had begun to understand what awaited them. The fourteen selected +had little hope, and indeed a priest came in early morning to hear the +confessions of Giles Headley and George Bates, the only two who were +in Newgate.</p> +<p>George Bates was of the stolid, heavy disposition that seems armed +by outward indifference, or mayhap pride. He knew that his case +was hopeless, and he would not thaw even to the priest. But Giles +had been quite unmanned, and when he found that for the doleful procession +to the Guildhall he was to be coupled with George Bates, instead of +either of his room-fellows, he flung himself on Stephen’s neck, +sobbing out messages for his mother, and entreaties that, if Stephen +survived, he would be good to Aldonza. “For you will wed +Dennet, and—”</p> +<p>There the jailers roughly ordered him to hold his peace, and dragged +him off to be pinioned to his fellow-sufferer. Stephen was not +called till some minutes later, and had not seen him since. He +himself was of course overshadowed by the awful gloom of apprehension +for himself, and pity for his comrades, and he was grieved at not having +seen or heard of his brother or master, but he had a very present care +in Jasper, who was sickening in the prison atmosphere, and when fastened +to his arm, seemed hardly able to walk. Leashed as they were, +Stephen could only help him by holding the free hand, and when they +came to the hall, supporting him as much as possible, as they stood +in the miserable throng during the conclusion of the formalities, which +ended by the horrible sentence of the traitor being pronounced on the +whole two hundred and seventy-eight. Poor little Jasper woke for +an interval from the sense of present discomfort to hear it, he seemed +to stiffen all over with the shock of horror, and then hung a dead weight +on Stephen’s arm. It would have dragged him down, but there +was no room to fall, and the wretchedness of the lad against whom he +staggered found vent in a surly imprecation, which was lost among the +cries and the entreaties of some of the others. The London magistracy +were some of them in tears, but the indictment for high treason removed +the poor lads from their jurisdiction to that of the Earl Marshal, and +thus they could do nothing to save the fourteen foremost victims. +The others were again driven out of the hall to return to their prisons; +the nearest pair of lads doing their best to help Stephen drag his burthen +along. In the halt outside, to arrange the sad processions, one +of the guards, of milder mood, cut the cord that bound the lifeless +weight to Stephen, and permitted the child to be laid on the stones +of the court, his collar unbuttoned, and water to be brought. +Jasper was just reviving when the word came to march, but still he could +not stand, and Stephen was therefore permitted the free use of his arms, +in order to carry the poor little fellow. Thirteen years made +a considerable load for seventeen, though Stephen’s arms were +exercised in the smithy, and it was a sore pull from the Guildhall. +Jasper presently recovered enough to walk with a good deal of support. +When he was laid on the bed he fell unto an exhausted sleep, while Stephen +kneeling, as the strokes of the knell smote on his ear, prayed—as +he had never prayed before—for his comrade, for his enemy, and +for all the unhappy boys who were being led to their death wherever +the outrages had been committed.</p> +<p>Once indeed there was a strange sound coming across that of the knell. +It almost sounded like an acclamation of joy. Could people be +so cruel, thought Stephen, as to mock poor Giles’s agonies? +There were the knells still sounding. How long he did not know, +for a beneficent drowsiness stole over him as he knelt, and he was only +awakened, at the same time as Jasper, by the opening of his door.</p> +<p>He looked up to see three figures—his brother, his uncle, his +master. Were they come to take leave of him? But the one +conviction that their faces beamed with joy was all that he could gather, +for little Jasper sprang up with a scream of terror, “Stephen, +Stephen, save me! They will cut out my heart,” and clung +trembling to his breast, with arms round his neck.</p> +<p>“Poor child! poor child!” sighed Master Headley. +“Would that I brought him the same tidings as to thee!”</p> +<p>“Is it so?” asked Stephen, reading confirmation as he +looked from the one to the other. Though he was unable to rise +under the weight of the boy, life and light were coming to his eye, +while Ambrose clasped his hand tightly, chocked by the swelling of his +heart in almost an agony of joy and thankfulness.</p> +<p>“Yea, my good lad,” said the alderman. “Thy +good kinsman took my little wench to bear to the King the token he gave +thee.”</p> +<p>“And Giles?” Stephen asked, “and the rest?”</p> +<p>“Giles is safe. For the rest—may God have mercy +on their souls.”</p> +<p>These words passed while Stephen rocked Jasper backwards and forwards, +his face hidden on his neck.</p> +<p>“Come home,” added Master Headley. “My little +Dennet and Giles cannot yet rejoice till thou art with them. Giles +would have come himself, but he is sorely shaken, and could scarce stand.”</p> +<p>Jasper caught the words, and loosing his friend’s neck, looked +up. “Oh! are we going home? Come, Stephen. Where’s +brother Simon? I want my good sister! I want nurse! +Oh! take me home!” For as he tried to sit up, he fell back +sick and dizzy on the bed.</p> +<p>“Alack! alack!” mourned Master Headley; and the jester, +muttering that it was not the little wench’s fault, turned to +the window, and burst into tears. Stephen understood it all, and +though he felt a passionate longing for freedom, he considered in one +moment whether there were any one of his fellow prisoners to whom Jasper +could be left, or who would be of the least comfort to him, but could +find no one, and resolved to cling to him as once to old Spring.</p> +<p>“Sir,” he said, as he rose to his master, “I fear +me he is very sick. Will they—will your worship give me +licence to bide with him till this ends?”</p> +<p>“Thou art a good-hearted lad,” said the alderman with +a hand on his shoulder. “There is no further danger of life +to the prentice lads. The King hath sent to forbid all further +dealing with them, and hath bidden my little maid to set it about that +if their mothers beg them grace from good Queen Katherine, they shall +have it. But this poor child! He can scarce be left. +His brother will take it well of thee if thou wilt stay with him till +some tendance can be had. We can see to that. Thanks be +to St. George and our good King, this good City is our own again!”</p> +<p>The alderman turned away, and Ambrose and Stephen exchanged a passionate +embrace, feeling what it was to be still left to one another. +The jester too shook his nephew’s hand, saying, “Boy, boy, +the blessing of such as I is scarce worth the having, but I would thy +mother could see thee this day.”</p> +<p>Stephen was left with these words and his brother’s look to +bear him through a trying time.</p> +<p>For the “Captain of Newgate” was an autocrat, who looked +on his captives as compulsory lodgers, out of whom he was entitled to +wring as much as possible—as indeed he had no other salary, nor +means of maintaining his underlings, a state of things which lasted +for two hundred years longer, until the days of James Oglethorpe and +John Howard. Even in the rare cases of acquittals, the prisoner +could not be released till he had paid his fees, and that Giles Headley +should have been borne off from the scaffold itself in debt to him was +an invasion of his privileges, which did not dispose him to be favourable +to any one connected with that affair; and he liked to show his power +and dignity even to an alderman.</p> +<p>He was found sitting in a comfortable tapestried chamber, handsomely +dressed in orange and brown, and with a smooth sleek countenance and +the appearance of a good-natured substantial citizen.</p> +<p>He only half rose from his big carved chair, and touched without +removing his cap, to greet the alderman, as he observed, without the +accustomed prefix of your worship—“So, you are come about +your prentice’s fees and dues. By St. Peter of the Fetters, +’tis an irksome matter to have such a troop of idle, mischievous, +dainty striplings thrust on one, giving more trouble, and making more +call and outcry than twice as many honest thieves and pickpurses.”</p> +<p>“Be assured, sir, they will scarce trouble you longer than +they can help,” said Master Headley.</p> +<p>“Yea, the Duke and my Lord Edmund are making brief work of +them,” quoth the jailer. “Ha!” with an oath, +“what’s that? Nought will daunt those lads till the +hangman is at their throats.”</p> +<p>For it was a real hurrah that reached his ears. The jester +had got all the boys round him in the court, and was bidding them keep +up a good heart, for their lives were safe, and their mothers would +beg them off. Their shouts did not tend to increase the captain’s +good humour, and though he certainly would not have let out Alderman +Headley’s remaining apprentice without his fee, he made as great +a favour of permission, and charged as exorbitantly, for a pardoned +man to remain within his domains as if they had been the most costly +and delightful hostel in the kingdom.</p> +<p>Master Hope, who presently arrived, had to pay a high fee for leave +to bring Master Todd, the barber-surgeon, with him to see his brother; +but though he offered a mark a day (a huge amount at that time) the +captain was obdurate in refusing to allow the patient to be attended +by his own old nurse, declaring that it was contrary to discipline, +and (what probably affected him much more) one such woman could cause +more trouble than a dozen felons. No doubt it was true, for she +would have insisted on moderate cleanliness and comfort. No other +attendant whom Mr. Hope could find would endure the disgrace, the discomfort, +and alarm of a residence in Newgate for Jasper’s sake; so that +the drapers gratitude to Stephen Birkenholt, for voluntarily sharing +the little fellow’s captivity, was great, and he gave payment +to one or two of the officials to secure the two lads being civilly +treated, and that the provisions sent in reached them duly.</p> +<p>Jasper did not in general seem very ill by day, only heavy, listless +and dull, unable to eat, too giddy to sit up, and unable to help crying +like a babe, if Stephen left him for a moment; but he never fell asleep +without all the horror and dread of the sentence coming over him. +Like all the boys in London, he had gazed at executions with the sort +of curiosity that leads rustic lads to run to see pigs killed, and now +the details came over him in semi-delirium, as acted out on himself, +and he shrieked and struggled in an anguish which was only mitigated +by Stephen’s reassurances, caresses, even scoldings. The +other youths, relieved from the apprehension of death, agreed to regard +their detention as a holiday, and not being squeamish, turned the yard +into a playground, and there they certainly made uproar, and played +pranks, enough to justify the preference of the captain for full grown +criminals. But Stephen could not join them, for Jasper would not +spare him for an instant, and he himself, though at first sorely missing +employment and exercise, was growing drowsy and heavy limbed in his +cramped life and the evil atmosphere, even the sick longings for liberty +were gradually passing away from him, so that sometimes he felt as if +he had lived here for ages and known no other life, though no sooner +did he lie down to rest, and shut his eyes, than the trees and green +glades of the New Forest rose before him, with all the hollies shining +in the summer light, or the gorse making a sheet of gold.</p> +<p>The time was not in reality so very long. On the 7th of May, +John Lincoln, the broker, who had incited Canon Peale to preach against +the foreigners, was led forth with several others of the real promoters +of the riot to the centre of Cheapside, where Lincoln was put death, +but orders were brought to respite the rest; and, at the same time, +all the armed men were withdrawn, the City began to breathe, and the +women who had been kept within doors to go abroad again.</p> +<p>The Recorder of London and several aldermen were to meet the King +at his manor at Greenwich. This was the mothers’ opportunity. +The civic dignitaries rode in mourning robes, but the wives and mothers, +sweethearts and sisters, every woman who had a youth’s life at +stake, came together, took boat, and went down the river, a strange +fleet of barges, all containing white caps, and black gowns and hoods, +for all were clad in the most correct and humble citizen’s costume.</p> +<p>“Never was such a sight,” said Jester Randall, who had +taken care to secure a view, and who had come with his report to the +Dragon court. “It might have been Ash Wednesday for the +look of them, when they landed and got into order. One would think +every prentice lad had got at least three mothers, and four or five +aunts and sisters! I trow, verily, that half of them came to look +on at the other half, and get a sight of Greenwich and the three queens. +However, be that as it might, not one of them but knew how to open the +sluices. Queen Katharine noted well what was coming, and she and +the Queens of Scotland and France sat in the great chamber with the +doors open. And immediately there’s a knock at the door, +and so soon as the usher opens it, in they come, three and three, every +good wife of them with her napkin to her eyes, and working away with +her sobs. Then Mistress Todd, the barber-surgeon’s wife, +she spoke for all, being thought to have the more courtly tongue, having +been tirewoman to Queen Mary ere she went to France. Verily her +husband must have penned the speech for her—for it began right +scholarly, and flowery, with a likening of themselves to the mothers +of Bethlehem (lusty innocents theirs, I trow!), but ere long the good +woman faltered and forgot her part, and broke out ‘Oh! madam, +you that are a mother yourself, for the sake of your own sweet babe, +give us back our sons.’ And therewith they all fell on their knees, +weeping and wringing their hands, and crying out, ‘Mercy, mercy! +For our Blessed Lady’s sake, have pity on our children!’ +till the good Queen, with the tears running down her cheeks for very +ruth, told them that the power was not in her hands, but the will was +for them and their poor sons, and that she would strive so to plead +for them with the King as to win their freedom. Meantime, there +were the aldermen watching for the King in his chamber of presence, +till forth he came, when all fell on their knees, and the Recorder spake +for them, casting all the blame on the vain and light persons who had +made that enormity. Thereupon what does our Hal but make himself +as stern as though he meant to string them all up in a line. ‘Ye +ought to wail and be sorry,’ said he, ‘whereas ye say that +substantial persons were not concerned, it appeareth to the contrary. +You did wink at the matter,’ quoth he, ‘and at this time +we will grant you neither favour nor good-will.’ However, +none who knew Hal’s eye but could tell that ’twas all very +excellent fooling, when he bade them get to the Cardinal. Therewith, +in came the three queens, hand in hand, with tears in their eyes, so +as they might have been the three queens that bore away King Arthur, +and down they went on their knees, and cried aloud ‘Dear sir, +we who are mothers ourselves, beseech you to set the hearts at ease +of all the poor mothers who are mourning for their sons.’ +Whereupon, the door being opened, came in so piteous a sound of wailing +and lamentation as our Harry’s name must have been Herod to withstand! +‘Stand up, Kate,’ said he, ‘stand up, sisters, and +hark in your ear. Not a hair of the silly lads shall be touched, +but they must bide lock and key long enough to teach them and their +masters to keep better ward.’ And then when the queens came +back with the good tidings, such a storm of blessings was never heard, +laughings and cryings, and the like, for verily some of the women seemed +as distraught for joy as ever they had been for grief and fear. +Moreover, Mistress Todd being instructed of her husband, led up Mistress +Hope to Queen Mary, and told her the tale of how her husband’s +little brother, a mere babe, lay sick in prison—a mere babe, a +suckling as it were—and was like to die there, unless the sooner +delivered, and how our Steve was fool enough to tarry with the poor +child, pardoned though he be. Then the good lady wept again, and +‘Good woman,’ saith she to Mistress Hope, ‘the King +will set thy brother free anon. His wrath is not with babes, nor +with lads like this other of whom thou speakest.’</p> +<p>“So off was she to the King again, and though he and his master +pished and pshawed, and said if one and another were to be set free +privily in this sort, there would be none to come and beg for mercy +as a warming to all malapert youngsters to keep within bounds, ‘Nay, +verily,’ quoth I, seeing the moment for shooting a fool’s +bolt among them, ‘methinks Master Death will have been a pick-lock +before you are ready for them, and then who will stand to cry mercy?’</p> +<p>The narrative was broken off short by a cry of jubilee in the court. +Workmen, boys, and all were thronging together, Kit Smallbones’ +head towering in the midst. Vehement welcomes seemed in progress. +“Stephen! Stephen!” shouted Dennet, and flew out of +the hall and down the steps.</p> +<p>“The lad himself!” exclaimed the jester, leaping down +after her.</p> +<p>“Stephen, the good boy!” said Master Headley, descending +more slowly, but not less joyfully.</p> +<p>Yes, Stephen himself it was, who had quietly walked into the court. +Master Hope and Master Todd had brought the order for Jasper’s +release, had paid the captain’s exorbitant fees for both, and, +while the sick boy was carried home in a litter, Stephen had entered +the Dragon court through the gates, as if he were coming home from an +errand; though the moment he was recognised by the little four-year +old Smallbones, there had been a general rush and shout of ecstatic +welcome, led by Giles Headley, who fairly threw himself on Stephen’s +neck, as they met like comrades after a desperate battle. Not +one was there who did not claim a grasp of the boy’s hand, and +who did not pour out welcomes and greetings, while in the midst, the +released captive looked, to say the truth, very spiritless, faded, dusty, +nay dirty. The court seemed spinning round with him, and the loud +welcomes roared in his ears. He was glad that Dennet took one +hand, and Giles the other, declaring that he must be led to the grandmother +instantly.</p> +<p>He muttered something about being in too foul trim to go near her, +but Dennet held him fast, and he was too dizzy to make much resistance. +Old Mrs. Headley was better again, though not able to do much but sit +by the fire kept burning to drive away the plague which was always smouldering +in London.</p> +<p>She held out her hands to Stephen, as he knelt down by her. +“Take an old woman’s blessing, my good youth,” she +said. “Right glad am I to see thee once more. Thou +wilt not be the worse for the pains thou hast spent on the little lad, +though they have tried thee sorely.”</p> +<p>Stephen, becoming somewhat less dazed, tried to fulfil his long cherished +intention of thanking Dennet for her intercession, but the instant he +tried to speak, to his dismay and indignation, tears choked his voice, +and he could do nothing but weep, as if, thought he, his manhood had +been left behind in the jail.</p> +<p>“Vex not thyself,” said the old dame, as she saw him +struggling with his sobs. “Thou art worn out—Giles +here was not half his own man when he came out, nor is he yet. +Nay, beset him not, children. He should go to his chamber, change +these garments, and rest ere supper-time.”</p> +<p>Stephen was fain to obey, only murmuring an inquiry for his brother, +to which his uncle responded that if Ambrose were at home, the tidings +would send him to the Dragon instantly; but he was much with his old +master, who was preparing to leave England, his work here being ruined.</p> +<p>The jester then took leave, accepting conditionally an invitation +to supper. Master Headley, Smallbones, and Tibble now knew who +he was, but the secret was kept from all the rest of the household, +lest Stephen should be twitted with the connection.</p> +<p>Cold water was not much affected by the citizens of London, but smiths’ +and armourers’ work entailed a freer use of it than less grimy +trades; and a bath and Sunday garments made Stephen more like himself, +though still he felt so weary and depressed that he missed the buoyant +joy of release to which he had been looking forward.</p> +<p>He was sitting on the steps, leaning against the rail, so much tired +that he hoped none of his comrades would notice that he had come out, +when Ambrose hurried into the court, having just heard tidings of his +freedom, and was at his side at once. The two brothers sat together, +leaning against one another as if they had all that they could wish +or long for. They had not met for more than a week, for Ambrose’s +finances had not availed to fee the turnkeys to give him entrance.</p> +<p>“And what art thou doing, Ambrose?” asked Stephen, rousing +a little from his lethargy. “Methought I heard mine uncle +say thine occupation was gone?”</p> +<p>“Even so,” replied Ambrose. “Master Lucas +will sail in a week’s time to join his brother at Rotterdam, bearing +with him what he hath been able to save out of the havoc. I wot +not if I shall ever see the good man more.”</p> +<p>“I am glad thou dost not go with him,” said Stephen, +with a hand on his brother’s leather-covered knee.</p> +<p>“I would not put seas between us,” returned Ambrose. +“Moreover, though I grieve to lose my good master, who hath been +so scurvily entreated here, yet, Stephen, this trouble and turmoil hath +brought me that which I longed for above all, even to have speech with +the Dean of St. Paul’s.”</p> +<p>He then told Stephen how he had brought Dean Colet to administer +the last rites to Abenali, and how that good man had bidden Lucas to +take shelter at the Deanery, in the desolation of his own abode. +This had led to conversation between the Dean and the printer; Lucas, +who distrusted all ecclesiastics, would accept no patronage. He +had a little hoard, buried in the corner of his stall, which would suffice +to carry him to his native home and he wanted no more; but he had spoken +of Ambrose, and the Dean was quite ready to be interested in the youth +who had led him to Abenali.</p> +<p>“He had me to his privy chamber,” said Ambrose, “and +spake to me as no man hath yet spoken—no, not even Tibble. +He let me utter all my mind, nay, I never wist before even what mine +own thoughts were till he set them before me—as it were in a mirror.”</p> +<p>“Thou wast ever in a harl,” said Stephen, drowsily using +the Hampshire word for whirl or entanglement.</p> +<p>“Yea. On the one side stood all that I had ever believed +or learnt before I came hither of the one true and glorious Mother-Church +to whom the Blessed Lord had committed the keys of His kingdom, through +His holy martyrs and priests to give us the blessed host and lead us +in the way of salvation. And on the other side, I cannot but see +the lewd and sinful and worldly lives of the most part, and hear the +lies whereby they amass wealth and turn men from the spirit of truth +and holiness to delude them into believing that wilful sin can be committed +without harm, and that purchase of a parchment is as good as repentance. +That do I see and hear. And therewith my master Lucas and Dan +Tindall, and those of the new light, declare that all has been false +even from the very outset, and that all the pomp and beauty is but Satan’s +bait, and that to believe in Christ alone is all that needs to justify +us, casting all the rest aside. All seemed a mist, and I was swayed +hither and thither till the more I read and thought, the greater was +the fog. And this—I know not whether I told it to yonder +good and holy doctor, or whether he knew it, for his eyes seemed to +see into me, and he told me that he had felt and thought much the same. +But on that one great truth, that faith in the Passion is salvation, +is the Church built, though sinful men have hidden it by their errors +and lies as befell before among the Israelites, whose law, like ours, +was divine. Whatever is entrusted to man, he said, will become +stained, soiled, and twisted, though the power of the Holy Spirit will +strive to renew it. And such an outpouring of cleansing and renewing +power is, he saith, abroad in our day. When he was a young man, +this good father, so he said, hoped great things, and did his best to +set forth the truth, both at Oxford and here, as indeed he hath ever +done, he and the good Doctor Erasmus striving to turn men’s eyes +back to the simplicity of God’s Word rather than to the arguments +and deductions of the schoolmen. And for the abuses of evil priests +that have sprung up, my Lord Cardinal sought the Legatine Commission +from our holy father at Rome to deal with them. But Dr. Colet +saith that there are other forces at work, and he doubteth greatly whether +this same cleansing can be done without some great and terrible rending +and upheaving, that may even split the Church as it were asunder—since +judgment surely awaiteth such as will not be reformed. But, quoth +he, ‘our Mother-Church is God’s own Church and I will abide +by her to the end, as the means of oneness with my Lord and Head, and +do thou the same, my son, for thou art like to be more sorely tried +than will a frail old elder like me, who would fain say his <i>Nunc +Dimittis</i>, if such be the Lord’s will, ere the foundations +be cast down.’”</p> +<p>Ambrose had gone on rehearsing all these words with the absorption +of one to whom they were everything, till it occurred to him to wonder +that Stephen had listened to so much with patience and assent, and then, +looking at the position of head and hands, he perceived that his brother +was asleep, and came to a sudden halt. This roused Stephen to +say, “Eh? What? The Dean, will he do aught for thee?”</p> +<p>“Yea,” said Ambrose, recollecting that there was little +use in returning to the perplexities which Stephen could not enter into. +“He deemed that in this mood of mine, yea, and as matters now +be at the universities, I had best not as yet study there for the priesthood. +But he said he would commend me to a friend whose life would better +show me how the new gives life to the old than any man he wots of.”</p> +<p>“One of thy old doctors in barnacles, I trow,” said Stephen.</p> +<p>“Nay, verily. We saw him t’other night perilling +his life to stop the poor crazy prentices, and save the foreigners. +Dennet and our uncle saw him pleading for them with the King.”</p> +<p>“What! Sir Thomas More?”</p> +<p>“Ay, no other. He needs a clerk for his law matters, +and the Dean said he would speak of me to him. He is to sup at +the Deanery to-morrow, and I am to be in waiting to see him. I +shall go with a lighter heart now that thou art beyond the clutches +of the captain of Newgate.”</p> +<p>“Speak no more of that!” said Stephen, with a shudder. +“Would that I could forget it!”</p> +<p>In truth Stephen’s health had suffered enough to change the +bold, high-spirited, active had, so that he hardly knew himself. +He was quite incapable of work all the next day, and Mistress Headley +began to dread that he had brought home jail fever, and insisted on +his being inspected by the barber-surgeon, Todd, who proceeded to bleed +the patient, in order, as he said, to carry off the humours contracted +in the prison. He had done the same by Jasper Hope, and by Giles, +but he followed the treatment up with better counsel, namely, that the +lads should all be sent out of the City to some farm where they might +eat curds and whey, until their strength should be restored. Thus +they would be out of reach of the sweating sickness which was already +in some of the purlieus of St. Katharine’s Docks, and must be +specially dangerous in their lowered condition.</p> +<p>Master Hope came in just after this counsel had been given. +He had a sister married to the host of a large prosperous inn near Windsor, +and he proposed to send not only Jasper but Stephen thither, feeling +how great a debt of gratitude he owed to the lad. Remembering +well the good young Mistress Streatfield, and knowing that the Antelope +was a large old house of excellent repute, where she often lodged persons +of quality attending on the court or needing country air, Master Headley +added Giles to the party at his own expense, and wished also to send +Dennet for greater security, only neither her grandmother nor Mrs. Hope +could leave home.</p> +<p>It ended, however, in Perronel Randall being asked to take charge +of the whole party, including Aldonza. That little damsel had +been in a manner confided to her both by the Dean of St. Paul’s +and by Tibble Steelman—and indeed the motherly woman, after nursing +and soothing her through her first despair at the loss of her father, +was already loving her heartily, and was glad to give her a place in +the home which Ambrose was leaving on being made an attendant on Sir +Thomas More.</p> +<p>For the interview at the Deanery was satisfactory. The young +man, after a good supper, enlivened by the sweet singing of some chosen +pupils of St. Paul’s school, was called up to where the Dean sat, +and with him, the man of the peculiarly sweet countenance, with the +noble and deep expression, yet withal, something both tender and humorous +in it.</p> +<p>They made him tell his whole life, and asked many questions about +Abenali, specially about the fragment of Arabic scroll which had been +clutched in his hand even as he lay dying. They much regretted +never having known of his existence till too late. “Jewels +lie before the unheeding!” said More. Then Ambrose was called +on to show a specimen of his own penmanship, and to write from Sir Thomas’s +dictation in English and in Latin. The result was that he was +engaged to act as one of the clerks Sir Thomas employed in his occupations +alike as lawyer, statesman, and scholar.</p> +<p>“Methinks I have seen thy face before,” said Sir Thomas, +looking keenly at him. “I have beheld those black eyes, +though with a different favour.”</p> +<p>Ambrose blushed deeply. “Sir, it is but honest to tell +you that my mother’s brother is jester to my Lord Cardinal.”</p> +<p>“Quipsome Hal Merriman! Patch as the King calleth him!” +exclaimed Sir Thomas. “A man I have ever thought wore the +motley rather from excess, than infirmity, of wit.”</p> +<p>“Nay, sir, so please you, it was his good heart that made him +a jester,” said Ambrose, explaining the story of Randall and his +Perronel in a few words, which touched the friends a good deal, and +the Dean remembered that she was in charge of the little Moresco girl. +He lost nothing by dealing thus openly with his new master, who promised +to keep his secret for him, then gave him handsel of his salary, and +bade him collect his possessions, and come to take up his abode in the +house of the More family at Chelsea.</p> +<p>He would still often see his brother in the intervals of attending +Sir Thomas to the courts of law, but the chief present care was to get +the boys into purer air, both to expedite their recovery and to ensure +them against being dragged into the penitential company who were to +ask for their lives on the 22nd of May, consisting of such of the prisoners +who could still stand or go—for jail-fever was making havoc among +them, and some of the better-conditioned had been released by private +interest. The remainder, not more than half of the original two +hundred and seventy-eight, were stripped to their shirts, had halters +hung round their necks, and then, roped together as before, were driven +through the streets to Westminster, where the King sat enthroned. +There, looking utterly miserable, they fell on their knees before him, +and received his pardon for their misdemeanours. They returned +to their masters, and so ended that Ill May-day, which was the longer +remembered because one Churchill, a ballad-monger in St. Paul’s +Churchyard, indited a poem on it, wherein he swelled the number of prentices +to two thousand, and of the victims to two hundred. Will Wherry, +who escaped from among the prisoners very forlorn, was recommended by +Ambrose to the work of a carter at the Dragon, which he much preferred +to printing.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX. AT THE ANTELOPE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen<br /> Full +many a sprightly race,<br />Disporting on thy margent green,<br /> The +paths of pleasure trace.”<br />—GRAY</p> +<p>Master Hope took all the guests by boat to Windsor, and very soon +the little party at the Antelope was in a state of such perfect felicity +as became a proverb with them all their lives afterwards. It was +an inn wherein to take one’s ease, a large hostel full of accommodation +for man and horse, with a big tapestried room of entertainment below, +where meals were taken, with an oriel window with a view of the Round +Tower, and above it a still more charming one, known as the Red Rose, +because one of the Dukes of Somerset had been wont to lodge there. +The walls were tapestried with the story of St. Genoveva of Brabant, +fresh and new on Mrs. Streatfield’s marriage; there was a huge +bed with green curtains of that dame’s own work, where one might +have said</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“Above, below, the rose of snow,<br />Twined with her blushing +foe we spread.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>so as to avoid all offence. There was also a cupboard or sideboard +of the choicer plate belonging to the establishment, and another awmry +containing appliances for chess and backgammon, likewise two large chairs, +several stools, and numerous chests.</p> +<p>This apartment was given up to Mistress Randall and the two girls, +subject however to the chance of turning out for any very distinguished +guests. The big bed held all three, and the chamber was likewise +their sitting-room, though they took their meals down stairs, and joined +the party in the common room in the evening whenever they were not out +of doors, unless there were guests whom Perronel did not think desirable +company for her charges. Stephen and Giles were quartered in a +small room known as the Feathers, smelling so sweet of lavender and +woodruff that Stephen declared it carried him back to the Forest. +Mrs. Streatfield would have taken Jasper to tend among her children, +but the boy could not bear to be without Stephen, and his brother advised +her to let it be so, and not try to make a babe of him again.</p> +<p>The guest-chamber below stairs opened at one end into the innyard, +a quadrangle surrounded with stables, outhouses, and offices, with a +gallery running round to give access to the chambers above, where, when +the Court was at Windsor, two or three great men’s trains of retainers +might be crowded together.</p> +<p>One door, however, in the side of the guest-chamber had steps down +to an orchard, full of apple and pear trees in their glory of pink bud +and white blossom, borders of roses, gillyflowers, and lilies of the +valley running along under the grey walls. There was a broad space +of grass near the houses, whence could be seen the Round Tower of the +Castle looking down in protection, while the background of the view +was filled up with a mass of the foliage of Windsor forest, in the spring +tints.</p> +<p>Stephen never thought of its being beautiful, but he revelled in +the refreshment of anything so like home, and he had nothing to wish +for but his brother, and after all he was too contented and happy even +to miss him much.</p> +<p>Master Streatfield was an elderly man, fat and easygoing, to whom +talking seemed rather a trouble than otherwise, though he was very good-natured. +His wife was a merry, lively, active woman, who had been handed over +to him by her father like a piece of Flanders cambric, but who never +seemed to regret her position, managed men and maids, farm and guests, +kept perfect order without seeming to do so, and made great friends +with Perronel, never guessing that she had been one of the strolling +company, who, nine or ten years before, had been refused admission to +the Antelope, then crowded with my Lord of Oxford’s followers.</p> +<p>At first, it was enough for the prentices to spend most of their +time in lying about on the grass under the trees. Giles, who was +in the best condition, exerted himself so far as to try to learn chess +from Aldonza, who seemed to be a proficient in the game, and even defeated +the good-natured burly parson who came every evening to the Antelope, +to imbibe slowly a tankard of ale, and hear any news there stirring.</p> +<p>She and Giles were content to spend hours over her instructions in +chess on that pleasant balcony in the shade of the house. Though +really only a year older than Dennet Headley, she looked much more, +and was so in all her ways. It never occurred to her to run childishly +wild with delight in the garden and orchard as did Dennet, who, with +little five-years-old Will Streatfield for her guide and playfellow, +rushed about hither and thither, making acquaintance with hens and chickens, +geese and goslings, seeing cows and goats milked, watching butter churned, +bringing all manner of animal and vegetable curiosities to Stephen to +be named and explained, and enjoying his delight in them, a delight +which after the first few days became more and more vigorous.</p> +<p>By and by there was punting and fishing on the river, strawberry +gathering in the park, explorations of the forest, expeditions of all +sorts and kinds, Jasper being soon likewise well enough to share in +them. The boys and girls were in a kind of fairy hand under Perronel’s +kind wing, the wandering habits of whose girlhood made the freedom of +the country far more congenial to her than it would have been to any +regular Londoner.</p> +<p>Stephen was the great oracle, of course, as to the deer respectfully +peeped at in the park, or the squirrels, the hares and rabbits, in the +forest, and the inhabitants of the stream above or below. It was +he who secured and tamed the memorials of their visit—two starlings +for Dennet and Aldonza. The birds were to be taught to speak, +and to do wonders of all kinds, but Aldonza’s bird was found one +morning dead, and Giles consoled her by the promise of something much +bigger, and that would talk much better. Two days after he brought +her a young jackdaw. Aldonza clasped her hands and admired its +glossy back and queer blue eye, and was in transports when it uttered +something between “Jack” and “good lack.” +But Dennet looked in scorn at it, and said, “That’s a bird +tamed already. He didn’t catch it. He only bought +it! I would have none such! An ugsome great thieving bird!”</p> +<p>“Nay now, Mistress Dennet,” argued Perronel. “Thou +hast thy bird, and Alice has lost hers. It is not meet to grudge +it to her.”</p> +<p>“I! Grudge it to her!” said Dennet, with a toss +of the head. “I grudge her nought from Giles Headley, so +long as I have my Goldspot that Stephen climbed the wall for, his very +self.”</p> +<p>And Dennet turned majestically away with her bird—Goldspot +only in the future—perched on her finger; while Perronel shook +her head bodingly.</p> +<p>But they were all children still, and Aldonza was of a nature that +was slow to take offence, while it was quite true that Dennet had been +free from jealousy of the jackdaw, and only triumphant in Stephen’s +prowess and her own starling.</p> +<p>The great pleasure of all was a grand stag-hunt, got up for the diversion +of the French ambassadors, who had come to treat for the espousals of +the infant Princess Mary with the baby “Dolphyne.” +Probably these illustrious personages did not get half the pleasure +out of it that the Antelope party had. Were they not, by special +management of a yeoman pricker who had recognised in Stephen a kindred +spirit, and had a strong admiration for Mistress Randall, placed where +there was the best possible view of hunters, horses, and hounds, lords +and ladies, King and ambassadors, in their gorgeous hunting trim? +Did not Stephen, as a true verdurer’s son, interpret every note +on the horn, and predict just what was going to happen, to the edification +of all his hearers? And when the final rush took place, did not +the prentices, with their gowns rolled up, dart off headlong in pursuit? +Dennet entertained some hope that Stephen would again catch some runaway +steed, or come to the King’s rescue in some way or other, but +such chances did not happen every day. Nay, Stephen did not even +follow up the chase to the death, but left Giles to do that, turning +back forsooth because that little Jasper thought fit to get tired and +out of breath, and could not find his way back alone. Dennet was +quite angry with Stephen and turned her back on him, when Giles came +in all glorious, at having followed up staunchly all day, having seen +the fate of the poor stag, and having even beheld the King politely +hand the knife to Monsieur de Montmorency to give the first stroke to +the quarry!</p> +<p>That was the last exploit. There was to be a great tilting +match in honour of the betrothal, and Master Alderman Headley wanted +his apprentices back again, and having been satisfied by a laborious +letter from Dennet, sent per carrier, that they were in good health, +despatched orders by the same means, that they were to hire horses at +the Antelope and return—Jasper coming back at the same time, though +his aunt would fain have kept him longer.</p> +<p>Women on a journey almost always rode double, and the arrangement +came under debate. Perronel, well accustomed to horse, ass, or +foot, undertook to ride behind the child, as she called Jasper, who—as +a born Londoner—knew nothing of horses, though both the other +prentices did. Giles, who, in right of his name, kindred, and +expectations, always held himself a sort of master, declared that “it +was more fitting that Stephen should ride before Mistiness Dennet.” +And to this none of the party made any objection, except that Perronel +privately observed to him that she should have thought he would have +preferred the company of his betrothed.</p> +<p>“I shall have quite enough of her by and by,” returned +Giles; then adding, “She is a good little wench, but it is more +for her honour that her father’s servant should ride before her.”</p> +<p>Perronel held her tongue, and they rode merrily back to London, and +astonished their several homes by the growth and healthful looks of +the young people. Even Giles was grown, though he did not like +to be told so, and was cherishing the down on his chin. But the +most rapid development had been in Aldonza, or Alice, as Perronel insisted +on calling her to suit the ears of her neighbours. The girl was +just reaching the borderland of maidenhood, which came all the sooner +to one of southern birth and extraction, when the great change took +her from being her father’s childish darling to be Perronel’s +companion and assistant. She had lain down on that fatal May Eve +a child, she rose in the little house by the Temple Gardens, a maiden, +and a very lovely one, with delicate, refined, beautifully cut features +of a slightly aquiline cast, a bloom on her soft brunette cheek, splendid +dark liquid eyes shaded by long black lashes, under brows as regular +and well arched as her Eastern cousins could have made them artificially, +magnificent black hair, that could hardly be contained in the close +white cap, and a lithe beautiful figure on which the plainest dress +sat with an Eastern grace. Perronel’s neighbours did not +admire her. They were not sure whether she were most Saracen, +gipsy, or Jew. In fact, she was as like Rachel at the well as +her father had been to a patriarch, and her descent was of the purest +Saracen lineage, but a Christian Saracen was an anomaly the London mind +could not comprehend, and her presence in the family tended to cast +suspicion that Master Randall himself, with his gipsy eyes, and mysterious +comings and goings, must have some strange connections. For this, +however, Perronel cared little. She had made her own way for many +years past, and had won respect and affection by many good offices to +her neighbours, one of whom had taken her laundry work in her absence.</p> +<p>Aldonza was by no means indocile or incapable. She shared in +Perronel’s work without reluctance, making good use of her slender, +dainty brown fingers, whether in cooking, household work, washing, ironing, +plaiting, making or mending the stiff lawn collars and cuffs in which +her hostess’s business lay. There was nothing that she would +not do when asked, or when she saw that it would save trouble to good +mother Perronel, of whom she was very fond, and she seemed serene and +contented, never wanting to go abroad; but she was very silent, and +Perronel declared herself never to have seen any living woman so perfectly +satisfied to do nothing. The good dame herself was industrious, +not only from thrift but from taste, and if not busy in her vocation +or in household business, was either using her distaff or her needle, +or chatting with her neighbours—often doing both at once; but +though Aldonza could spin, sew, and embroider admirably, and would do +so at the least request from her hostess, it was always a sort of task, +and she never seemed so happy as when seated on the floor, with her +dark eyes dreamily fixed on the narrow window, where hung her jackdaw’s +cage, and the beads of her rosary passing through her fingers. +At first Mistress Randall thought she was praying, but by and by came +to the conviction that most of the time “the wench was bemused.” +There was nothing to complain of in one so perfectly gentle and obedient, +and withal, modest and devout; but the good woman, after having for +some time given her the benefit of the supposition that she was grieving +for her father, began to wonder at such want of activity and animation, +and to think that on the whole Jack was the more talkative companion.</p> +<p>Aldonza had certainly not taught him the phrases he was so fond of +repeating. Giles Headley had undertaken his education, and made +it a reason for stealing down to the Temple many an evening after work +was done, declaring that birds never learnt so well as after dark. +Moreover, he had possessed himself of a chess board, and insisted that +Aldonza should carry on her instructions in the game; he brought her +all his Holy Cross Day gain of nuts, and he used all his blandishments +to persuade Mrs. Randall to come and see the shooting at the popinjay, +at Mile End.</p> +<p>All this made the good woman uneasy. Her husband was away, +for the dread of sweating sickness had driven the Court from London, +and she could only take counsel with Tibble Steelman. It was Hallowmas +Eve, and Giles had been the bearer of an urgent invitation from Dennet +to her friend Aldonza to come and join the diversions of the evening. +There was a large number of young folk in the hall—Jasper Hope +among them—mostly contemporaries of Dennet, and almost children, +all keen upon the sports of the evening, namely, a sort of indoor quintain, +where the revolving beam was decorated with a lighted candle at one +end, and at the other an apple to be caught at by the players with their +mouths, their hands being tied behind them.</p> +<p>Under all the uproarious merriment that each attempt occasioned, +Tibble was about to steal off to his own chamber and his beloved books, +when, as he backed out of the group of spectators, he was arrested by +Mistress Randall, who had made her way into the rear of the party at +the same time.</p> +<p>“Can I have a word with you, privily, Master Steelman?” +she asked.</p> +<p>Unwillingly he muttered, “Yea, so please you;” and they +retreated to a window at the dark end of the hall, where Perronel began—“The +alderman’s daughter is contracted to young Giles, her kinsman, +is she not?”</p> +<p>“Not as yet in form, but by the will of the parents,” +returned Tibble, impatiently, as he thought of the half-hour’s +reading which he was sacrificing to woman’s gossip.</p> +<p>“An it be so,” returned Perronel, “I would fain—were +I Master Headley—that he spent not so many nights in gazing at +mine Alice.”</p> +<p>“Forbid him the house, good dame.”</p> +<p>“Easier spoken than done,” returned Perronel. “Moreover, +’tis better to let the matter, such as it is, be open in my sight +than to teach them to run after one another stealthily, whereby worse +might ensue.”</p> +<p>“Have they spoken then to one another?” asked Tibble, +beginning to take alarm.</p> +<p>“I trow not. I deem they know not yet what draweth them +together.”</p> +<p>“Pish, they are mere babes!” quoth Tib, hoping he might +cast it off his mind.</p> +<p>“Look!” said Perronel; and as they stood on the somewhat +elevated floor of the bay window, they could look over the heads of +the other spectators to the seats where the young girls sat.</p> +<p>Aldonza’s beautiful and peculiar contour of head and face rose +among the round chubby English faces like a jessamine among daisies, +and at that moment she was undertaking, with an exquisite smile, the +care of the gown that Giles laid at her feet, ere making his venture.</p> +<p>“There!” said Perronel. “Mark that look on +her face! I never see it save for that same youngster. The +children are simple and guileless thus far, it may be. I dare +be sworn that she is, but they wot not where they will be led on.”</p> +<p>“You are right, dame; you know best, no doubt,” said +Tib, in helpless perplexity. “I wot nothing of such gear. +What would you do?”</p> +<p>“Have the maid wedded at once, ere any harm come of it,” +returned Perronel promptly. “She will make a good wife—there +will be no complaining of her tongue, and she is well instructed in +all good housewifery.”</p> +<p>“To whom then would you give her?” asked Tibble.</p> +<p>“Ay, that’s the question. Comely and good she is, +but she is outlandish, and I fear me ’twould take a handsome portion +to get her dark skin and Moorish blood o’erlooked. Nor hath +she aught, poor maid, save yonder gold and pearl earrings, and a cross +of gold that she says her father bade her never part with.”</p> +<p>“I pledged my word to her father,” said Tibble, “that +I would have a care of her. I have not cared to hoard, having +none to come after me, but if a matter of twenty or five-and-twenty +marks would avail—”</p> +<p>“Wherefore not take her yourself?” said Perronel, as +he stood aghast. “She is a maid of sweet obedient conditions, +trained by a scholar even like yourself. She would make your chamber +fair and comfortable, and tend you dutifully.”</p> +<p>“Whisht, good woman. ’Tis too dark to see, or you +could not speak of wedlock to such as I. Think of the poor maid!”</p> +<p>“That is all folly! She would soon know you for a better +husband than one of those young feather-pates, who have no care but +of themselves.”</p> +<p>“Nay, mistress,” said Tibble, gravely, “your advice +will not serve here. To bring that fair young wench hither, to +this very court, mind you, with a mate loathly to behold as I be, and +with the lad there ever before her, would be verily to give place to +the devil.”</p> +<p>“But you are the best sword-cutler in London. You could +make a living without service.”</p> +<p>“I am bound by too many years of faithful kindness to quit +my master or my home at the Dragon,” said Tibble. “Nay, +that will not serve, good friend.”</p> +<p>“Then what can be done?” asked Perronel, somewhat in +despair. “There are the young sparks at the Temple. +One or two of them are already beginning to cast eyes at her, so that +I dare not let her help me carry home my basket, far less go alone. +’Tis not the wench’s fault. She shrinks from men’s +eyes more than any maid I ever saw, but if she bide long with me, I +wot not what may come of it. There be rufflers there who would +not stick to carry her off!”</p> +<p>Tibble stood considering, and presently said, “Mayhap the Dean +might aid thee in this matter. He is free of hand and kind of +heart, and belike he would dower the maid, and find an honest man to +wed her.”</p> +<p>Perronel thought well of the suggestion, and decided that after the +mass on All Soul’s Day, and the general visiting of the graves +of kindred, she would send Aldonza home with Dennet, whom they were +sure to meet in the Pardon Churchyard, since her mother, as well as +Abenali and Martin Fulford lay there; and herself endeavour to see Dean +Colet, who was sure to be at home, as he was hardly recovered from an +attack of the prevalent disorder.</p> +<p>Then Tibble escaped, and Perronel drew near to the party round the +fire, where the divination of the burning of nuts was going on, but +not successfully, since no pair hitherto put in would keep together. +However, the next contribution was a snail, which had been captured +on the wall, and was solemnly set to crawl on the hearth by Dennet, +“to see whether it would trace a G or an H.”</p> +<p>However, the creature proved sullen or sleepy, and no jogging of +hands, no enticing, would induce it to crawl an inch, and the alderman, +taking his daughter on his knee, declared that it was a wise beast, +who knew her hap was fixed. Moreover, it was time for the rere +supper, for the serving-men with the lanterns would be coming for the +young folk.</p> +<p>London entertainments for women or young people had to finish very +early unless they had a strong escort to go home with, for the streets +were far from safe after dark. Giles’s great desire to convoy +her home, added to Perronel’s determination, and on All Souls’ +Day, while knells were ringing from every church in London, she roused +Aldonza from her weeping devotions at her father’s grave, and +led her to Dennet, who had just finished her round of prayers at the +grave of the mother she had never known, under the protection of her +nurse, and two or three of the servants. The child, who had thought +little of her mother, while her grandmother was alert and supplied the +tenderness and care she needed, was beginning to yearn after counsel +and sympathy, and to wonder, as she told her beads, what might have +been, had that mother lived. She took Aldonza’s hand, and +the two girls threaded their way out of the crowded churchyard together, +while Perronel betook herself to the Deanery of St. Paul’s.</p> +<p>Good Colet was always accessible to the meanest, but he had been +very ill, and the porter had some doubts about troubling him respecting +the substantial young matron whose trim cap and bodice, and full petticoats, +showed no tokens of distress. However, when she begged him to +take in her message, that she prayed the Dean to listen to her touching +the child of the old man who was slain on May Eve, he consented; and +she was at once admitted to an inner chamber, where Colet, wrapped in +a gown lined with lambskin, sat by the fire, looking so wan and feeble +that it went to the good woman’s heart and she began by an apology +for troubling him.</p> +<p>“Heed not that, good dame,” said the Dean, courteously, +“but sit thee down and let me hear of the poor child.”</p> +<p>“Ah, reverend sir, would that she were still a child—” +and Perronel proceeded to tell her difficulties, adding, that if the +Dean could of his goodness promise one of the dowries which were yearly +given to poor maidens of good character, she would inquire among her +gossips for some one to marry the girl. She secretly hoped he +would take the hint, and immediately portion Aldonza himself, perhaps +likewise find the husband. And she was disappointed that he only +promised to consider the matter and let her hear from him. She +went back and told Tibble that his device was nought, an old scholar +with one foot in the grave knew less of women than even he did!</p> +<p>However it was only four days later, that, as Mrs. Randall was hanging +out her collars to dry, there came up to her from the Temple stairs +a figure whom for a moment she hardly knew, so different was the long, +black garb, and short gown of the lawyer’s clerk from the shabby +old green suit that all her endeavours had not been able to save from +many a stain of printer’s ink. It was only as he exclaimed, +“Good aunt, I am fain to see thee here!” that she answered, +“What, thou, Ambrose! What a fine fellow thou art! +Truly I knew not thou wast of such good mien! Thou thrivest at +Chelsea!”</p> +<p>“Who would not thrive there?” said Ambrose. “Nay, +aunt, tarry a little, I have a message for thee that I would fain give +before we go in to Aldonza.”</p> +<p>“From his reverence the Dean? Hath he bethought himself +of her?”</p> +<p>“Ay, that hath he done,” said Ambrose. “He +is not the man to halt when good may be done. What doth he do, +since it seems thou hadst speech of him, but send for Sir Thomas More, +then sitting at Westminster, to come and see him as soon as the Court +brake up, and I attended my master. They held council together, +and by and by they sent for me to ask me of what conditions and breeding +the maid was, and what I knew of her father?”</p> +<p>“Will they wed her to thee? That were rarely good, so +they gave thee some good office!” cried his aunt.</p> +<p>“Nay, nay,” said Ambrose. “I have much to +learn and understand ere I think of a wife—if ever. Nay! +But when they had heard all I could tell them, they looked at one another, +and the Dean said, ‘The maid is no doubt of high blood in her +own land—scarce a mate for a London butcher or currier.”</p> +<p>“‘It were matching an Arab mare with a costard monger’s +colt,’ said my master, ‘or Angelica with Ralph Roisterdoister.’”</p> +<p>“I’d like to know what were better for the poor outlandish +maid than to give her to some honest man,” put in Perronel.</p> +<p>“The end of it was,” said Ambrose, “that Sir Thomas +said he was to be at the palace the next day, and he would strive to +move the Queen to take her countrywoman into her service. Yea, +and so he did, but though Queen Katharine was moved by hearing of a +fatherless maid of Spain, and at first spake of taking her to wait on +herself, yet when she heard the maid’s name, and that she was +of Moorish blood, she would none of her. She said that heresy +lurked in them all, and though Sir Thomas offered that the Dean or the +Queen’s own chaplain should question her on the faith, it was +all lost labour. I heard him tell the Dean as much, and thus it +is that they bade me come for thee, and for the maid, take boat, and +bring you down to Chelsea, where Sir Thomas will let her be bred up +to wait on his little daughters till he can see what best may be done +for her. I trow his spirit was moved by the Queen’s hardness! +I heard the Dean mutter, ‘<i>Et venient ab Oriente et Occidente</i>.’”</p> +<p>Perronel hooked alarmed. “The Queen deemed her heretic +in grain! Ah! She is a good wench, and of kind conditions. +I would have no ill befall her, but I am glad to be rid of her. +Sir Thomas—he is a wise man, ay, and a married man, with maidens +of his own, and he may have more wit in the business than the rest of +his kind. Be the matter instant?”</p> +<p>“Methinks Sir Thomas would have it so, since this being a holy +day, the courts be not sitting, and he is himself at home, so that he +can present the maid to his lady. And that makes no small odds.”</p> +<p>“Yea, but what the lady is makes the greater odds to the maid, +I trow,” said Perronel anxiously.</p> +<p>“Fear not on that score. Dame Alice More is of kindly +conditions, and will be good to any whom her lord commends to her; and +as to the young ladies, never saw I any so sweet or so wise as the two +elder ones, specially Mistress Margaret.”</p> +<p>“Well-a-day! What must be must!” philosophically +observed Perronel. “Now I have my wish, I could mourn over +it. I am loth to part with the wench; and my man, when he comes +home, will make an outcry for his pretty Ally; but ’tis best so. +Come, Alice, girl, bestir thyself. Here’s preferment for +thee.”</p> +<p>Aldonza raised her great soft eyes in slow wonder, and when she had +heard what was to befall her, declared that she wanted no advancement, +and wished only to remain with mother Perronel. Nay, she clung +to the kind woman, beseeching that she might not be sent away from the +only motherly tenderness she had ever known, and declaring that she +would work all day and all night rather than leave her; but the more +reluctance she showed, the more determined was Perronel, and she could +not but submit to her fate, only adding one more entreaty that she might +take her jackdaw, which was now a spruce grey-headed bird. Perronel +said it would be presumption in a waiting-woman, but Ambrose declared +that at Chelsea there were all manner of beasts and birds, beloved by +the children and by their father himself, and that he believed the daw +would be welcome. At any rate, if the lady of the house objected +to it, it could return with Mistress Randall.</p> +<p>Perronel hurried the few preparations, being afraid that Giles might +take advantage of the holiday to appear on the scene, and presently +Aldonza was seated in the boat, making no more lamentations after she +found that her fate was inevitable, but sitting silent, with downcast +head, now and then brushing away a stray tear as it stole down under +her long eyelashes.</p> +<p>Meantime Ambrose, hoping to raise her spirits, talked to his aunt +of the friendly ease and kindliness of the new home, where he was evidently +as thoroughly happy as it was in his nature to be. He was much, +in the position of a barrister’s clerk, superior to that of the +mere servants, but inferior to the young gentlemen of larger means, +though not perhaps of better birth, who had studied law regularly, and +aspired to offices or to legal practice.</p> +<p>But though Ambrose was ranked with the three or four other clerks, +his functions had more relation to Sir Thomas’s literary and diplomatic +avocations than his legal ones. From Lucas Hansen he had learnt +Dutch and French, and he was thus available for copying and translating +foreign correspondence. His knowledge of Latin and smattering +of Greek enabled him to be employed in copying into a book some of the +inestimable letters of Erasmus which arrived from time to time, and +Sir Thomas promoted his desire to improve himself, and had requested +Mr. Clements, the tutor of the children of the house, to give him weekly +lessons in Latin and Greek.</p> +<p>Sir Thomas had himself pointed out to him books calculated to settle +his mind on the truth and catholicity of the Church, and had warned +him against meddling with the fiery controversial tracts which, smuggled +in often through Lucas’s means, had set his mind in commotion. +And for the present at least beneath the shadow of the great man’s +intelligent devotion, Ambrose’s restless spirit was tranquil.</p> +<p>Of course, he did not explain his state of mind to his aunt, but +she gathered enough to be well content, and tried to encourage Aldonza, +when at length they landed near Chelsea Church, and Ambrose led the +way to an extensive pleasaunce or park, full of elms and oaks, whose +yellow leaves were floating like golden rain in the sunshine.</p> +<p>Presently children’s voices guided them to a large chestnut +tree. “Lo you now, I hear Mistress Meg’s voice, and +where she is, his honour will ever be,” said Ambrose.</p> +<p>And sure enough, among a group of five girls and one boy, all between +fourteen and nine years old, was the great lawyer, knocking down the +chestnuts with a long pole, while the young ones flew about picking +up the burrs from the grass, exclaiming joyously when they found a full +one.</p> +<p>Ambrose explained that of the young ladies, one was Mistress Middleton, +Lady More’s daughter by a former marriage, another a kinswoman. +Perronel was for passing by unnoticed; but Ambrose knew better; and +Sir Thomas, leaning on the pole, called out, “Ha, my Birkenholt, +a forester born, knowst thou any mode of bringing down yonder chestnuts, +which being the least within reach, seem in course the meetest of all.”</p> +<p>“I would I were my brother, your honour,” said Ambrose, +“then would I climb the thee.”</p> +<p>“Thou shouldst bring him one of these days,” said Sir +Thomas. “But thou hast instead brought in a fair maid. +See, Meg, yonder is the poor young girl who lost her father on Ill May +day. Lead her on and make her good cheer, while I speak to this +good dame.”</p> +<p>Margaret More, a slender, dark-eyed girl of thirteen, went forward +with a peculiar gentle grace to the stranger, saying, “Welcome, +sweet maid! I hope we shall make thee happy,” and seeing +the mournful countenance, she not only took Aldonza’s hand, but +kissed her cheek.</p> +<p>Sir Thomas had exchanged a word or two with Perronel, when there +was a cry from the younger children, who had detected the wicker cage +which Perronel was trying to keep in the background.</p> +<p>“A daw! a daw!” was the cry. “Is’t +for us?”</p> +<p>“Oh, mistress,” faltered Aldonza, “’tis mine—there +was one who tamed it for me, and I promised ever to keep it, but if +the good knight and lady forbid it, we will send it back.”</p> +<p>“Nay now, John, Cicely,” was Margaret saying, “’tis +her own bird! Wot ye not our father will let us take nought of +them that come to him? Yea, Al-don-za—is not that thy name?—I +am sure my father will have thee keep it.”</p> +<p>She led up Aldonza, making the request for her. Sir Thomas +smiled.</p> +<p>“Keep thy bird? Nay, that thou shalt. Look at him, +Meg, is he not in fit livery for a lawyer’s house? Mark +his trim legs, sable doublet and hose, and grey hood—and see, +he hath the very eye of a councillor seeking for suits, as he looketh +at the chestnuts John holdeth to him. I warrant he hath a tongue +likewise. Canst plead for thy dinner, bird?”</p> +<p>“I love Giles!” uttered the black beak, to the confusion +and indignation of Perronel.</p> +<p>The perverse bird had heard Giles often dictate this avowal, but +had entirely refused to repeat it, till, stimulated by the new surroundings, +it had for the first time uttered it.</p> +<p>“Ah! thou foolish daw! Crow that thou art! Had +I known thou hadst such a word in thy beak, I’d have wrung thy +neck sooner than have brought thee,” muttered Perronel. +“I had best take thee home without more ado.”</p> +<p>It was too late, however, the children were delighted, and perfectly +willing that Aldonza should own the bird, so they might hear it speak, +and thus the introduction was over. Aldonza and her daw were conveyed +to Dame Alice More, a stout, good-tempered woman, who had too many dependents +about her house to concern herself greatly about the introduction of +another.</p> +<p>And thus Aldonza was installed in the long, low, two-storied red +house which was to be her place of home-like service.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XX. CLOTH OF GOLD ON THE SEAMY SIDE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p> “Then you lost<br />The +view of earthly glory: men might say<br />Till this time pomp was single; +but now married<br />To one above itself.”—SHAKESPEARE.</p> +<p>If Giles Headley murmured at Aldonza’s removal, it was only +to Perronel, and that discreet woman kept it to herself.</p> +<p>In the summer of 1519 he was out of his apprenticeship, and though +Dennet was only fifteen, it was not uncommon for brides to be even younger. +However, the autumn of that year was signalised by a fresh outbreak +of the sweating sickness, apparently a sort of influenza, and no festivities +could be thought of. The King and Queen kept at a safe distance +from London, and escaped, so did the inmates of the pleasant house at +Chelsea; but the Cardinal, who, as Lord Chancellor, could not entirely +absent himself from Westminster, was four times attacked by it, and +Dean Colet, a far less robust man, had it three times, and sank at last +under it. Sir Thomas More went to see his beloved old friend, +and knowing Ambrose’s devotion, let the young man be his attendant. +Nor could those who saw the good man ever forget his peaceful farewells, +grieving only for the old mother who had lived with him in the Deanery, +and in the ninetieth year of her age, thus was bereaved of the last +of her twenty-one children. For himself, he was thankful to be +taken away from the evil times he already beheld threatening his beloved +St. Paul’s, as well as the entire Church both in England and abroad; +looking back with a sad sweet smile to the happy Oxford days, when he, +with More and Erasmus,</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“Strained the watchful eye<br />If chance the golden hours +were nigh<br />By youthful hope seen gleaming round her walls.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“But,” said he, as he laid his hand in blessing for the +last time on Ambrose’s head, “let men say what they will, +do thou cling fast to the Church, nor let thyself be swept away. +There are sure promises to her, and grace is with her to purify herself, +even though it be obscured for a time. Be not of little faith, +but believe that Christ is with us in the ship, though He seem to be +asleep.”</p> +<p>He spoke as much to his friend as to the youth, and there can be +no doubt that this consideration was the restraining force with many +who have been stigmatised as half-hearted Reformers, because though +they loved truth, they feared to lose unity.</p> +<p>He was a great loss at that especial time, as a restraining power, +trusted by the innovators, and a personal friend both of King and Cardinal, +and his preaching and catechising were sorely missed at St. Paul’s.</p> +<p>Tibble Steelman, though thinking he did not go far enough, deplored +him deeply; but Tibble himself was laid by for many days. The +epidemic went through the Dragon court, though some had it lightly, +and only two young children actually died of it. It laid a heavy +hand on Tibble, and as his distaste for women rendered his den almost +inaccessible to Bet Smallbones, who looked after most of the patients, +Stephen Birkenholt, whose nursing capacities had been developed in Newgate, +spent his spare hours in attending him, sat with him in the evenings, +slept on a pallet by his side, carried him his meals and often administered +them, and finally pulled him through the illness and its effects, which +left him much broken and never likely to be the same man again.</p> +<p>Old Mistress Headley, who was already failing, did not have the actual +disease severely, but she never again left her bed, and died just after +Christmas, sinking slowly away with little pain, and her memory having +failed from the first.</p> +<p>Household affairs had thus shipped so gradually into Dennet’s +hands that no change of government was perceptible, except that the +keys hung at the maiden’s girdle. She had grown out of the +child during this winter of trouble, and was here, there, and everywhere, +the busy nurse and housewife, seldom pausing to laugh or play except +with her father, and now and then to chat with her old friend and playfellow, +Kit Smallbones. Her childish freedom of manner had given way to +grave discretion, not to say primness, in her behaviour to her father’s +guests, and even the apprentices. It was, of course, the unconscious +reaction of the maidenly spirit, aware that she had nothing but her +own modesty to protect her. She was on a small scale, with no +pretensions to beauty, but with a fresh, honest, sensible young face, +a clear skin, and dark eyes that could be very merry when she would +let them, and her whole air and dress were trimness itself, with an +inclination to the choicest materials permitted to an alderman’s +daughter.</p> +<p>Things were going on so smoothly that the alderman was taken by surprise +when all the good wives around began to press on him that it was incumbent +on him to lose no time in marrying his daughter to her cousin, if not +before Lent, yet certainly in the Easter holidays.</p> +<p>Dennet looked very grave thereon. Was it not over soon after +the loss of the good grandmother? And when her father said, as +the gossips had told him, that she and Giles need only walk quietly +down some morning to St Faith’s and plight their troth, she broke +out into her girlish wilful manner, “Would she be married at all +without a merry wedding? No, indeed! She would not have +the thing done in a corner! What was the use of her being wedded, +and having to consort with the tedious old wives instead of the merry +wrenches? Could she not guide the house, and rule the maids, and +get in the stores, and hinder waste, and make the pasties, and brew +the possets? Had her father found the crust hard, or missed his +roasted crab, or had any one blamed her for want of discretion? +Nay, as to that, she was like to be more discreet as she was, with only +her good old father to please, than with a husband to plague her.”</p> +<p>On the other hand, Giles’s demeanour was rather that of one +prepared for the inevitable than that of an eager bridegroom; and when +orders began to pour in for accoutrements of unrivalled magnificence +for the King and the gentlemen who were to accompany him to Ardres, +there to meet the young King of France just after Whitsuntide, Dennet +was the first to assure her father that there would be no time to think +of weddings till all this was over, especially as some of the establishment +would have to be in attendance to repair casualties at the jousts.</p> +<p>At this juncture there arrived on business Master Tiptoff, husband +to Giles’s sister, bringing greetings from Mrs. Headley at Salisbury, +and inquiries whether the wedding was to take place at Whitsuntide, +in which case she would hasten to be present, and to take charge of +the household, for which her dear daughter was far too young. +Master Tiptoff showed a suspicious alacrity in undertaking the forwarding +of his mother-in-law and her stuff.</p> +<p>The faces of Master Headley and Tib Steelman were a sight, both having +seen only too much of what the housewifery at Salisbury had been. +The alderman decided on the spot that there could be no marriage till +after the journey to France, since Giles was certainly to go upon it; +and lest Mrs. Headley should be starting on her journey, he said he +should despatch a special messenger to stay her. Giles, who had +of course been longing for the splendid pageant, cheered up into great +amiability, and volunteered to write to his mother, that she had best +not think of coming, till he sent word to her that matters were forward. +Even thus, Master Headley was somewhat insecure. He thought the +dame quite capable of coming and taking possession of his house in his +absence, and therefore resolved upon staying at home to garrison it; +but there was then the further difficulty that Tibble was in no condition +to take his place on the journey. If the rheumatism seized his +right arm, as it had done in the winter, he would be unable to drive +a rivet, and there would be every danger of it, high summer though it +were; for though the party would carry their own tent and bedding, the +knights and gentlemen would be certain to take all the best places, +and they might be driven into a damp corner. Indeed it was not +impossible that their tent itself might be seized, for many a noble +or his attendants might think that beggarly artisans had no right to +comforts which he had been too improvident to afford, especially if +the alderman himself were absent.</p> +<p>Not only did Master Headley really love his trusty foreman too well +to expose him to such chances, but Tibble knew too well that there were +brutal young men to whom his contorted-visage would be an incitement +to contempt and outrage, and that if racked with rheumatism, he would +only be an incumbrance. There was nothing for it but to put Kit +Smallbones at the head of the party. His imposing presence would +keep off wanton insults, but on the other hand, he had not the moral +weight of authority possessed by Tibble, and though far from being a +drunkard, he was not proof against a carouse, especially when out of +reach of his Bet and of his master, and he was not by any means Tib’s +equal in fine and delicate workmanship. But on the other hand, +Tib pronounced that Stephen Birkenholt was already well skilled in chasing +metal and the difficult art of restoring inlaid work, and he showed +some black and silver armour, that was in hand for the King, which fully +bore out his words.</p> +<p>“And thou thinkst Kit can rule the lads!” said the alderman, +scarce willingly.</p> +<p>“One of them at least can rule himself,” said Tibble. +“They have both been far more discreet since the fright they got +on Ill May day; and, as for Stephen, he hath seemed to me to have no +eyes nor thought save for his work of late.”</p> +<p>“I have marked him,” said the master, “and have +marvelled what ailed the lad. His merry temper hath left him. +I never hear him singing to keep time with his hammer, nor keeping the +court in a roar with his gibes. I trust he is not running after +the new doctrine of the hawkers and pedlars. His brother was inclined +that way.”</p> +<p>“There be worse folk than they, your worship,” protested +Tib, but he did not pursue their defence, only adding, “but ’tis +not that which ails young Stephen. I would it were!” he +sighed to himself, inaudibly.</p> +<p>“Well,” said the good-natured alderman, “it may +be he misseth his brother. The boys will care for this raree-show +more than thou or I, Tib! We’ve seen enough of them in our +day, though verily they say this is to surpass all that ever were beheld!”</p> +<p>The question of who was to go had not been hitherto decided, and +Giles and Stephen were both so excited at being chosen that all low +spirits and moodiness were dispelled, and the work which went on almost +all night was merrily got through. The Dragon court was in a perpetual +commotion with knights, squires, and grooms, coming in with orders for +new armour, or for old to be furbished, and the tent-makers, lorimers, +mercers, and tailors had their hands equally full. These lengthening +mornings heard the hammer ringing at sunrise, and in the final rush, +Smallbones never went to bed at all. He said he should make it +up in the waggon on the way to Dover. Some hinted that he preferred +the clang of his hammer to the good advice his Bet lavished on him at +every leisure moment to forewarn him against French wine-pots.</p> +<p>The alderman might be content with the party he sent forth, for Kit +had hardly his equal in size, strength, and good humour. Giles +had developed into a tall, comely young man, who had got rid of his +country slouch, and whose tall figure, light locks, and ruddy cheeks +looked well in the new suit which gratified his love of finery, sober-hued +as it needs must be. Stephen was still bound to the old prentice +garb, though it could not conceal his good mien, the bright sparkling +dark eyes, crisp black hair, healthy brown skin, and lithe active figure. +Giles had a stout roadster to ride on, the others were to travel in +their own waggon, furnished with four powerful horses, which, if possible, +they were to take to Calais, so as to be independent of hiring. +Their needments, clothes, and tools, were packed in the waggon, with +store of lances, and other appliances of the tourney. A carter +and Will Wherry, who was selected as being supposed to be conversant +with foreign tongues, were to attend on them; Smallbones, as senior +journeyman, had the control of the party, and Giles had sufficiently +learnt subordination not to be likely to give himself dangerous airs +of mastership.</p> +<p>Dennet was astir early to see them off, and she had a little gift +for each. She began with her oldest friend. “See here, +Kit,” she said, “here’s a wallet to hold thy nails +and rivets. What wilt thou say to me for such a piece of stitchery?”</p> +<p>“Say, pretty mistress? Why this!” quoth the giant, +and he picked her up by the slim waist in his great hands, and kissed +her on the forehead. He had done the like many a time nine or +ten years ago, and though Master Headley laughed, Dennet was not one +bit embarrassed, and turned to the next traveller. “Thou +art no more a prentice, Giles, and canst wear this in thy bonnet,” +she said, holding out to him a short silver chain and medal of St. George +and the Dragon.</p> +<p>“Thanks, gentle maid,” said Giles, taking the handsome +gift a little sheepishly. “My bonnet will make a fair show,” +and he bent down as she stood on the step, and saluted her lips, then +began eagerly fastening the chain round his cap, as one delighted with +the ornament.</p> +<p>Stephen was some distance off. He had turned aside when she +spoke to Giles, and was asking of Tibble last instructions about the +restoration of enamel, when he felt a touch on his arm, and saw Dennet +standing by him. She looked up in his face, and held up a crimson +silken purse, with S. B embroidered on it with a wreath of oak and holly +leaves.</p> +<p>With the air that ever showed his gentle blood, Stephen put a knee +to the ground, and kissed the fingers that held it to him, whereupon +Dennet, a sudden burning blush overspreading her face under her little +pointed hood, turned suddenly round and ran into the house. She +was out again on the steps when the waggon finally got under weigh, +and as her eyes met Stephen’s, he doffed his flat cap with one +hand, and laid the other on his heart, so that she knew where her purse +had taken up its abode.</p> +<p>Of the Field of the Cloth of Gold not much need be said. To +the end of the lives of the spectators, it was a tale of wonder. +Indeed without that, the very sight of the pavilions was a marvel in +itself, the blue dome of Francis spangled in imitation of the sky, with +sun, moon, and stars; and the feudal castle of Henry, a three months’ +work, each surrounded with tents of every colour and pattern which fancy +could devise, with the owners’ banners or pennons floating from +the summits, and every creature, man, and horse, within the enchanted +precincts, equally gorgeous. It was the brightest and the last +full display of magnificent pseudo chivalry, and to Stephen’s +dazzled eye, seeing it beneath the slant rays of the setting sun of +June, it was a fairy tale come to life. Hal Randall, who was in +attendance on the Cardinal, declared that it was a mere surfeit of jewels +and gold and silver, and that a frieze jerkin or leathern coat was an +absolute refreshment to the sight. He therefore spent all the +time he was off duty in the forge far in the rear, where Smallbones +and his party had very little but hard work, mending, whetting, furbishing, +and even changing devices. Those six days of tilting when “every +man that stood, showed like a mine,” kept the armourers in full +occupation night and day, and only now and then could the youths try +to make their way to some spot whence they could see the tournament.</p> +<p>Smallbones was more excited by the report of fountains of good red +and white wines of all sorts, flowing perpetually in the court of King +Henry’s splended mock castle; but fortunately one gulp was enough +for an English palate nurtured on ale and mead, and he was disgusted +at the heaps of country folk, men-at-arms, beggars and vagabonds of +all kinds, who swilled the liquor continually, and, in loathsome contrast +to the external splendours, lay wallowing on the ground so thickly that +it was sometimes hardly possible to move without treading on them.</p> +<p>“I stumbled over a dozen,” said the jester, as he strolled +into the little staked inclosure that the Dragon party had arranged +round their tent for the prosecution of their labours, which were too +important to all the champions not to be respected. “Lance +and sword have not laid so many low in the lists as have the doughty +Baron Burgundy and the heady knight Messire Sherris Sack.”</p> +<p>“Villain Verjuice and Varlet Vinegar is what Kit there calls +them,” said Stephen, looking up from the work he was carrying +on over a pan of glowing charcoal.</p> +<p>“Yea,” said Smallbones, intermitting his noisy operations, +“and the more of swine be they that gorge themselves on it. +I told Jack and Hob that ’twould be shame for English folk to +drown themselves like French frogs or Flemish hogs.”</p> +<p>“Hogs!” returned Randall. “A decent Hampshire +hog would scorn to be lodged as many a knight and squire and lady too +is now, pigging it in styes and hovels and haylofts by night, and pranking +it by day with the best!”</p> +<p>“Sooth enough,” said Smallbones. “Yea, we +have had two knights and their squires beseeching us for leave to sleep +under our waggon! Not an angel had they got among the four of +them either, having all their year’s income on their backs, and +more too. I trow they and their heirs will have good cause to +remember this same Field of Gold.”</p> +<p>“And what be’st thou doing, nevvy?” asked the jester. +“Thy trade seems as brisk as though red blood were flowing instead +of red wine.”</p> +<p>“I am doing my part towards making the King into Hercules,” +said Stephen, “though verily the tailor hath more part therein +than we have; but he must needs have a breastplate of scales of gold, +and that by to-morrow’s morn. As Ambrose would say, ‘if +he will be a pagan god, he should have what’s-his-name, the smith +of the gods, to work for him.’”</p> +<p>“I heard of that freak,” said the jester. “There +be a dozen tailors and all the Queen’s tirewomen frizzling up +a good piece of cloth of gold for the lion’s mane, covering a +club with green damask with pricks, cutting out green velvet and gummed +silk for his garland! In sooth, these graces have left me so far +behind in foolery that I have not a jest left in my pouch! So +here I be, while my Lord Cardinal is shut up with Madame d’Angoulême +in the castle—the real old castle, mind you—doing the work, +leaving the kings and queens to do their own fooling.”</p> +<p>“Have you spoken with the French King, Hal?” asked Smallbones, +who had become a great crony of his, since the anxieties of May Eve.</p> +<p>“So far as I may when I have no French, and he no English! +He is a comely fellow, with a blithe tongue and a merry eye, I warrant +you a chanticleer who will lose nought for lack of crowing. He’ll +crow louder than ever now he hath given our Harry a fall.”</p> +<p>“No! hath he?” and Giles, Stephen, and Smallbones, all +suspended their work to listen in concern.</p> +<p>“Ay marry, hath he! The two took it into their royal +noddles to try a fall, and wrestled together on the grass, when by some +ill hap, this same Francis tripped up our Harry, so that he was on the +sward for a moment. He was up again forthwith, and in full heart +for another round, when all the Frenchmen burst in gabbling; and, though +their King was willing to play the match out fairly, they wouldn’t +let him, and my Lord Cardinal said something about making ill blood, +whereat our King laughed and was content to leave it. As I told +him, we have given the French falls enough to let them make much of +this one.”</p> +<p>“I hope he will yet give the mounseer a good shaking,” +muttered Smallbones.</p> +<p>“How now, Will! Who’s that at the door? We +are on his grace’s work and can touch none other man’s were +it the King of France himself, or his Constable, who is finer still.”</p> +<p>By way of expressing “No admittance except on business,” +Smallbones kept Will Wherry in charge of the door of his little territory, +which having a mud wall on two sides, and a broad brook with quaking +banks on a third, had been easily fenced on the fourth, so as to protect +tent, waggon, horses, and work from the incursions of idlers. +Will however answered, “The gentleman saith he hath kindred here.”</p> +<p>“Ay!” and there pushed in, past the lad a tall, lean +form, with a gay but soiled short cloak over one shoulder, a suit of +worn buff, a cap garnished with a dilapidated black and yellow feather, +and a pair of gilt spurs. “If this be as they told me, where +Armourer Headley’s folk lodge—I have here a sort of a cousin. +Yea, yonder’s the brave lad who had no qualms at the flash of +a good Toledo in a knight’s fist. How now, my nevvy! +Is not my daughter’s nevvy—mine?”</p> +<p>“Save your knighthood!” said Smallbones. “Who +would have looked to see you here, Sir John? Methought you were +in the Emperor’s service!”</p> +<p>“A stout man-at-arms is of all services,” returned Fulford. +“I’m here with half Flanders to see this mighty show, and +pick up a few more lusty Badgers at this encounter of old comrades. +Is old Headley here?”</p> +<p>“Nay, he is safe at home, where I would I were,” sighed +Kit.</p> +<p>“And you are my young master his nephew, who knew where to +purvey me of good steel,” added Fulford, shaking Giles’s +hand. “You are fain, doubtless, you youngsters, to be forth +without the old man. Ha! and you’ve no lack of merry company.”</p> +<p>Harry Randall’s first impulse had been to look to the right +and left for the means of avoiding this encounter, but there was no +escape; and he was moreover in most fantastic motley, arrayed in one +of the many suits provided for the occasion. It was in imitation +of a parrot, brilliant grass-green velvet, touched here and there with +scarlet, yellow, or blue. He had been only half disguised on the +occasion of Fulford’s visit to his wife, and he perceived the +start of recognition in the eyes of the Condottiere, so that he knew +it would be vain to try to conceal his identity.</p> +<p>“You sought Stephen Birkenholt,” he said. “And +you’ve lit on something nearer, if so be you’ll acknowledge +the paraquito that your Perronel hath mated with.”</p> +<p>The Condottiere burst into a roar of laughter so violent that he +had to lean against the mud wall, and hold his sides. “Ha, +ha! that I should be father-in-law to a fool!” and then he set +off again. “That the sober, dainty little wench should have +wedded a fool! Ha! ha! ha!”</p> +<p>“Sir,” cried Stephen hotly, “I would have you to +know that mine uncle here, Master Harry Randall, is a yeoman of good +birth, and that he undertook his present part to support your own father +and child! Methinks you are the last who should jeer at and insult +him!”</p> +<p>“Stephen is right,” said Giles. “This is +my kinsman’s tent, and no man shall say a word against Master +Harry Randall therein.”</p> +<p>“Well crowed, my young London gamebirds,” returned Fulford, +coolly. “I meant no disrespect to the gentleman in green. +Nay, I am mightily beholden to him for acting his part out and taking +on himself that would scarce befit a gentleman of a company—<i>impedimenta</i>, +as we used to say in the grammar school. How does the old man?—I +must find some token to send him.”</p> +<p>“He is beyond the reach of all tokens from you save prayers +and masses,” returned Randall, gravely.</p> +<p>“Ay? You say not so? Old gaffer dead?” +And when the soldier was told how the feeble thread of life had been +snapped by the shock of joy on his coming, a fit of compunction and +sorrow seized him. He covered his face with his hands and wept +with a loudness of grief that surprised and touched his hearers; and +presently began to bemoan himself that he had hardly a mark in his purse +to pay for a mass; but therewith he proceeded to erect before him the +cross hilt of poor Abenali’s sword, and to vow thereupon that +the first spoil and the first ransom, that it should please the saints +to send him, should be entirely spent in masses for the soul of Martin +Fulford. This tribute apparently stilled both grief and remorse, +for looking up at the grotesque figure of Randall, he said, “Methought +they told me, master son, that you were in the right quarters for beads +and masses and all that gear—a varlet of Master Butcher-Cardinal’s, +or the like—but mayhap ’twas part of your fooling.”</p> +<p>“Not so,” replied Randall. “’Tis to +the Cardinal that I belong,” holding out his sleeve, where the +scarlet hat was neatly worked, “and I’ll brook no word against +his honour.”</p> +<p>“Ho! ho! Maybe you looked to have the hat on your own +head,” quoth Fulford, waxing familiar, “if your master comes +to be Pope after his own reckoning. Why, I’ve known a Cardinal +get the scarlet because an ape had danced on the roof with him in his +arms!”</p> +<p>“You forget! I’m a wedded man,” said Randall, +who certainly, in private life, had much less of the buffoon about him +than his father-in-law.</p> +<p>“<i>Impedimentum</i> again,” whistled the knight. +“Put a halter round her neck, and sell her for a pot of beer.”</p> +<p>“I’d rather put a halter round my own neck for good and +all,” said Hal, his face reddening; but among other accomplishments +of his position, he had learnt to keep his temper, however indignant +he felt.</p> +<p>“Well—she’s a knight’s daughter, and preferments +will be plenty. Thou’lt make me captain of the Pope’s +guard, fair son—there’s no post I should like better. +Or I might put up with an Italian earldom or the like. Honour +would befit me quite as well as that old fellow, Prosper Colonna; and +the Badgers would well become the Pope’s scarlet and yellow liveries.”</p> +<p>The Badgers, it appeared, were in camp not far from Gravelines, whence +the Emperor was watching the conference between his uncle-in-law and +his chief enemy; and thence Fulford, who had a good many French acquaintance, +having once served under Francis I., had come over to see the sport. +Moreover, he contrived to attach himself to the armourer’s party, +in a manner that either Alderman Headley himself, or Tibble Steelman, +would effectually have prevented; but which Kit Smallbones had not sufficient +moral weight to hinder, even if he had had a greater dislike to being +treated as a boon companion by a knight who had seen the world, could +appreciate good ale, and tell all manner of tales of his experiences.</p> +<p>So the odd sort of kindred that the captain chose to claim with Stephen +Birkenholt was allowed, and in right of it, he was permitted to sleep +in the waggon; and thereupon his big raw-boned charger was found sharing +the fodder of the plump broad-backed cart horses, while he himself, +whenever sport was not going forward for him, or work for the armourers, +sat discussing with Kit the merits or demerits of the liquors of all +nations, either in their own yard or in some of the numerous drinking +booths that had sprung up around.</p> +<p>To no one was this arrangement so distasteful as to Quipsome Hal, +who felt himself in some sort the occasion of the intrusion, and yet +was quite unable to prevent it, while everything he said was treated +as a joke by his unwelcome father-in-law. It was a coarse time, +and Wolsey’s was not a refined or spiritual establishment, but +it was decorous, and Randall had such an affection and respect for the +innocence of his sister’s young son, that he could not bear to +have him exposed to the company of one habituated to the licentiousness +of the mercenary soldier. At first the jester hoped to remove +the lads from the danger, for the brief remainder of their stay, by +making double exertion to obtain places for them at any diversion which +might be going on when their day’s work was ended, and of these, +of course, there was a wide choice, subordinate to the magnificent masquing +of kings and queens. On the last midsummer evening, while their +majesties were taking leave of one another, a company of strolling players +were exhibiting in an extemporary theatre, and here Hal incited both +the youths to obtain seats. The drama was on one of the ordinary +and frequent topics of that, as of all other times, and the dumb show +and gestures were far more effective than the words, so that even those +who did not understand the language of the comedians, who seemed to +be Italians, could enter into it, especially as it was interspersed +with very expressive songs.</p> +<p>An old baron insists on betrothing his daughter and heiress to her +kinsman freshly knighted. She is reluctant, weeps, and is threatened, +singing afterwards her despair (of course she really was a black-eyed +boy). That song was followed by a still more despairing one from +the baron’s squire, and a tender interview between them followed.</p> +<p>Then came discovery, the baron descending as a thunderbolt, the banishment +of the squire, the lady driven at last to wed the young knight, her +weeping and bewailing herself under his ill-treatment, which extended +to pulling her about by the hair, the return of the lover, notified +by a song behind the scenes, a dangerously affectionate meeting, interrupted +by the husband, a fierce clashing of swords, mutual slaughter by the +two gentlemen, and the lady dying of grief on the top of her lover.</p> +<p>Such was the argument of this tragedy, which Giles Headley pronounced +to be very dreary pastime, indeed he was amusing himself with an exchange +of comfits with a youth who sat next him all the time—for he had +found Stephen utterly deaf to aught but the tragedy, following every +gesture with eager eyes, lips quivering, and eyes filling at the strains +of the love songs, though they were in their native Italian, of which +he understood not a word. He rose up with a heavy groan when all +was over, as if not yet disenchanted, and hardly answered when his uncle +spoke to him afterwards. It was to ask whether the Dragon party +were to return at once to London, or to accompany the Court to Gravelines, +where, it had just been announced, the King intended to pay a visit +to his nephew, the Emperor.</p> +<p>Neither Stephen nor Giles knew, but when they reached their own quarters +they found that Smallbones had received an intimation that there might +be jousts, and that the offices of the armourers would be required. +He was very busy packing up his tools, but loudly hilarious, and Sir +John Fulford, with a flask of wine beside him, was swaggering and shouting +orders to the men as though he were the head of the expedition.</p> +<p>Revelations come in strange ways. Perhaps that Italian play +might be called Galeotto to Stephen Birkenholt. It affected him +all the more because he was not distracted by the dialogue, but was +only powerfully touched by the music, and, in the gestures of the lovers, +felt all the force of sympathy. It was to him like a kind of prophetic +mirror, revealing to him the true meaning of all he had ever felt for +Dennet Headley, and of his vexation and impatience at seeing her bestowed +upon a dull and indifferent lout like her kinsman, who not only was +not good enough for her, but did not even love her, or accept her as +anything but his title to the Dragon court. He now thrilled and +tingled from head to foot with the perceptions that all this meant love—love +to Dennet; and in every act of the drama he beheld only himself, Giles, +and Dennet. Watching at first with a sweet fascination, his feelings +changed, now to strong yearning, now to hot wrath, and then to horror +and dismay. In his troubled sleep after the spectacle, he identified +himself with the lover, sang, wooed, and struggled in his person, woke +with a start of relief, to find Giles snoring safely beside him, and +the watch-dog on his chest instead of an expiring lady. He had +not made unholy love to sweet Dennet, nor imperilled her good name, +nor slain his comrade. Nor was she yet wedded to that oaf, Giles! +But she would be in a few weeks, and then! How was he to brook +the sight, chained as he was to the Dragon court—see Giles lord +it over her, and all of them, see her missing the love that was burning +for her elsewhere. Stephen lost his boyhood on that evening, and, +though force of habit kept him like himself outwardly, he never was +alone, without feeling dazed, and torn in every direction at once.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI. SWORD OR SMITHY</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“Darest thou be so valiant as to play the coward with thy indenture, +and to show it a fair pair of heels and run from it?”</p> +<p>SHAKESPEARE.</p> +<p>Tidings came forth on the parting from the French King that the English +Court was about to move to Gravelines to pay a visit to the Emperor +and his aunt, the Duchess of Savoy. As it was hoped that jousts +might make part of the entertainment, the attendance of the Dragon party +was required. Giles was unfeignedly delighted at this extension +of holiday, Stephen felt that it deferred the day—would it be +of strange joy or pain?—of standing face to face with Dennet; +and even Kit had come to tolerate foreign parts more with Sir John Fulford +to show him the way to the best Flemish ale!</p> +<p>The knight took upon himself the conduct of the Dragons. He +understood how to lead them by routes where all provisions and ale had +not been consumed; and he knew how to swagger and threaten so as to +obtain the best of liquor and provisions at each <i>kermesse</i>—at +least so he said, though it might be doubted whether the Flemings might +not have been more willing to yield up their stores to Kit’s open, +honest face and free hand.</p> +<p>However, Fulford seemed to consider himself one with the party; and +he beguiled the way by tales of the doings of the Badgers in Italy and +Savoy, which were listened to with avidity by the lads, distracting +Stephen from the pain at his heart, and filling both with excitement. +They were to have the honour of seeing the Badgers at Gravelines, where +they were encamped outside the city to serve as a guard to the great +inclosure that was being made of canvas stretched on the masts of ships +to mark out the space for a great banquet and dance.</p> +<p>The weather broke however just as Henry, his wife and his sister, +entered Gravelines; it rained pertinaciously, a tempestuous wind blew +down the erection, and as there was no time to set it up again, the +sports necessarily took place in the castle and town hall. There +was no occasion for the exercise of the armourer’s craft, and +as Charles had forbidden the concourse of all save invited guests, everything +was comparatively quiet and dull, though the entertainment was on the +most liberal scale. Lodgings were provided in the city at the +Emperor’s expense, and wherever an Englishman was quartered each +night, the imperial officers brought a cast of fine manchet bread, two +great silver pots with wine, a pound of sugar, white and yellow candles, +and a torch. As Randall said, “Charles gave solid pudding +where Francis gave empty praise”!</p> +<p>Smallbones and the two youths had very little to do, save to consume +these provisions and accept the hospitality freely offered to them at +the camp of the Badgers, where Smallbones and the Ancient of the troop +sat fraternising over big flagons of Flemish ale, which did not visibly +intoxicate the honest smith, but kept him in the dull and drowsy state, +which was his idea of the <i>dolce far niente</i> of a holiday. +Meanwhile the two youths were made much of by the warriors, Stephen’s +dexterity with the bow and back-sword were shown off and lauded, Giles’s +strength was praised, and all manner of new feats were taught them, +all manner of stories told them; and the shrinking of well-trained young +citizens from these lawless me “full of strange oaths and bearded +like the pard,” and some very truculent-looking, had given way +to judicious flattery, and to the attractions of adventure and of a +free life, where wealth and honour awaited the bold.</p> +<p>Stephen was told that the gentleman in him was visible, that he ought +to disdain the flat cap and blue gown, that here was his opportunity, +and that among the Badgers he would soon be so rich, famous, glorious, +as to wonder that he had ever tolerated the greasy mechanical life of +a base burgher. Respect to his oaths to his master—Sir John +laughed the scruple to scorn; nay, if he were so tender, he could buy +his absolution the first time he had his pouch full of gold.</p> +<p>“What shall I do?” was the cry of Stephen’s heart. +“My honour and my oath. They bind me. <i>She</i> would +weep. My master would deem me ungrateful, Ambrose break his heart. +And yet who knows but I should do worse if I stayed, I shall break my +own heart if I do. I shall not see—I may forget. No, +no, never! but at least I shall never know the moment when the lubber +takes the jewel he knows not how to prize! Marches—sieges—there +shall I quell this wild beating! I may die there. At least +they will allay this present frenzy of my blood.”</p> +<p>And he listened when Fulford and Will Marden, a young English man-at-arms +with whom he had made friends, concerted how he should meet them at +an inn—the sign of the Seven Stars—in Gravelines, and there +exchange his prentice’s garb for the buff coat and corslet of +a Badger, with the Austrian black and yellow scarf. He listened, +but he had not promised. The sense of duty to his master, the +honour to his word, always recurred like “first thoughts,” +though the longing to escape, the restlessness of hopeless love, the +youthful eagerness for adventure and freedom, swept it aside again and +again.</p> +<p>He had not seen his uncle since the evening of the comedy, for Hal +had travelled in the Cardinal’s suite, and the amusements being +all within doors, jesters were much in request, as indeed Charles V. +was curious in fools, and generally had at least three in attendance. +Stephen, moreover, always shrank from his uncle when acting professionally. +He had learnt to love and esteem the man during his troubles, but this +only rendered the sight of his buffoonery more distressing, and as Randall +had not provided himself with his home suit, they were the more cut +off from one another. Thus there was all the less to counteract +or show the fallacy of Fulford’s recruiting blandishments.</p> +<p>The day had come on the evening of which Stephen was to meet Fulford +and Marden at the Seven Stars and give them his final answer, in time +to allow of their smuggling him out of the city, and sending him away +into the country, since Smallbones would certainly suspect him to be +in the camp, and as he was still an apprentice, it was possible, though +not probable, that the town magistrates might be incited to make search +on inquiry, as they were very jealous of the luring away of their apprentices +by the Free Companies, and moreover his uncle might move the Cardinal +and the King to cause measures to be taken for his recovery.</p> +<p>Ill at ease, Stephen wandered away from the hostel where Smallbones +was entertaining his friend, the Ancient. He had not gone far +down the street when a familiar figure met his eye, no other than that +of Lucas Hansen, his brother’s old master, walking along with +a pack on his back. Grown as Stephen was, the old man’s +recognition was as rapid as his own, and there was a clasp of the hand, +an exchange of greeting, while Lucas eagerly asked after his dear pupil, +Ambrose.</p> +<p>“Come in hither, and we can speak more at ease,” said +Lucas, leading the way up the common staircase of a tall house, whose +upper stories overhung the street. Up and up, Lucas led the way +to a room in the high peaked roof, looking out at the back. Here +Stephen recognised a press, but it was not at work, only a young friar +was sitting there engaged in sewing up sheets so as to form a pamphlet. +Lucas spoke to him in Flemish to explain his own return with the English +prentice.</p> +<p>“Dost thou dwell here, sir?” asked Stephen. “I +thought Rotterdam was thine home.”</p> +<p>“Yea,” said Lucas, “so it be, but I am sojourning +here to aid in bearing about the seed of the Gospel, for which I walk +through these lands of ours. But tell me of thy brother, and of +the little Moorish maiden?”</p> +<p>Stephen replied with an account of both Ambrose and Aldonza, and +likewise of Tibble Steelman, explaining how ill the last had been in +the winter, and that therefore he could not be with the party.</p> +<p>“I would I had a token to send him,” said Lucas; “but +I have nought here that is not either in the Dutch or the French, and +neither of those tongues doth he understand. But thy brother, +the good Ambrose, can read the Dutch. Wilt thou carry him from +me this fresh tractate, showing how many there be that make light of +the Apostle Paul’s words not to do evil that good may come?”</p> +<p>Stephen had been hearing rather listlessly, thinking how little the +good man suspected how doubtful it was that he should bear messages +to Ambrose. Now, on that sore spot in his conscience, that sentence +darted like an arrow, the shaft finding “mark the archer little +meant,” and with a start, not lost on Lucas, he exclaimed “Saith +the holy Saint Paul that?”</p> +<p>“Assuredly, my son. Brother Cornelis, who is one whose +eyes have been opened, can show you the very words, if thou hast any +Latin.”</p> +<p>Perhaps to gain time, Stephen assented, and the young friar, with +a somewhat inquisitive look, presently brought him the sentence “<i>Et +non faciamus mala ut veniant bona</i>.”</p> +<p>Stephen’s Latin was not very fresh, and he hardly comprehended +the words, but he stood gazing with a frown of distress on his brow, +which made Lucas say, “My son, thou art sorely bestead. +Is there aught in which a plain old man can help thee, for thy brother’s +sake? Speak freely. Brother Cornelis knows not a word of +English. Dost thou owe aught to any man?”</p> +<p>“Nay, nay—not that,” said Stephen, drawn in his +trouble and perplexity to open his heart to this incongruous confidant, +“but, sir, sir, which be the worst, to break my pledge to my master, +or to run into a trial which—which will last from day to day, +and may be too much for me—yea, and for another—at last?”</p> +<p>The colour, the trembling of limb, the passion of voice, revealed +enough to Lucas to make him say, in the voice of one who, dried up as +he was, had once proved the trial, “’Tis love, thou wouldst +say?”</p> +<p>“Ay, sir,” said Stephen, turning away, but in another +moment bursting forth, “I love my master’s daughter, and +she is to wed her cousin, who takes her as her father’s chattel! +I wist not why the world had grown dark to me till I saw a comedy at +Ardres, where, as in a mirror, ’twas all set forth—yea, +and how love was too strong for him and for her, and how shame and death +came thereof.”</p> +<p>“Those players are good for nought but to wake the passions!” +muttered Lucas.</p> +<p>“Nay, methought they warned me,” said Stephen. +“For, sir,”—he hid his burning face in his hands as +he leant on the back of a chair—“I wot that she has ever +liked me better, far better than him. And scarce a night have +I closed an eye without dreaming it all, and finding myself bringing +evil on her, till I deemed ’twere better I never saw her more, +and left her to think of me as a forsworn runagate rather than see her +wedded only to be flouted—and maybe—do worse.”</p> +<p>“Poor lad!” said Lucas; “and what wouldst thou +do?”</p> +<p>“I have not pledged myself—but I said I would consider +of—service among Fulford’s troop,” faltered Stephen.</p> +<p>“Among those ruffians—godless, lawless men!” exclaimed +Lucas.</p> +<p>“Yea, I know what you would say,” returned Stephen, “but +they are brave men, better than you deem, sir.”</p> +<p>“Were they angels or saints,” said Lucas, rallying his +forces, “thou hast no right to join them. Thine oath fetters +thee. Thou hast no right to break it and do a sure and certain +evil to avoid one that may never befall! How knowst thou how it +may be? Nay, if the trial seem to thee over great, thine apprenticeship +will soon be at an end.”</p> +<p>“Not for two years”</p> +<p>“Or thy master, if thou spakest the whole truth, would transfer +thine indentures. He is a good man, and if it be as thou sayest, +would not see his child tried too sorely. God will make a way +for the tempted to escape. They need not take the devil’s +way.”</p> +<p>“Sir,” said Stephen, lifting up his head, “I thank +you. Thus was what I needed. I will tell Sir John Fulford +that I ought never to have heeded him.”</p> +<p>“Must thou see him again?”</p> +<p>“I must. I am to give him his answer at the Seven Stars. +But fear not me, Master Lucas, he shall not lead me away.” +And Stephen took a grateful leave of the little Dutchman, and charged +himself with more messages for Ambrose and Tibble than his overburdened +spirit was likely to retain.</p> +<p>Lucas went down the stairs with him, and as a sudden thought, said +at the foot of them, “’Tis at the Seven Stars thou meetest +this knight. Take an old man’s counsel. Taste no liquor +there.”</p> +<p>“I am no ale bibber,” said Stephen.</p> +<p>“Nay, I deemed thee none—but heed my words—captains +of landsknechts in <i>kermesses</i> are scarce to be trusted. +Taste not.”</p> +<p>Stephen gave a sort of laugh at the precaution, and shook himself +loose. It was still an hour to the time of meeting, and the Ave-bell +was ringing. A church door stood open, and for the first time +since he had been at Gravelines he felt that there would be the calm +he needed to adjust the conflict of his spirits, and comprehend the +new situation, or rather the recurrence to the old one. He seemed +to have recovered his former self, and to be able to perceive that things +might go on as before, and his heart really leapt at finding he might +return to the sight of Dennet and Ambrose and all he loved.</p> +<p>His wishes were really that way; and Fulford’s allurements +had become very shadowy when he made his way to the Seven Stars, whose +vine-covered window allowed many loud voices and fumes of beer and wine +to escape into the summer evening air.</p> +<p>The room was perhaps cleaner than an English one would have been, +but it was reeking with heat and odours, and the forest-bred youth was +unwilling to enter, but Fulford and two or three Badgers greeted him +noisily and called on him to partake of the supper they had ready prepared.</p> +<p>“No, sir knight, I thank you,” said Stephen. “I +am bound for my quarters, I came but to thank you for your goodness +to me, and to bid you farewell.”</p> +<p>“And how as to thy pledge to join us, young man?” demanded +Fulford sternly.</p> +<p>“I gave no pledge,” said Stephen. “I said +I would consider of it.”</p> +<p>“Faint-hearted! ha! ha!” and the English Badgers translated +the word to the Germans, and set them shouting with derision.</p> +<p>“I am not faint-hearted,” said Stephen; “but I +will not break mine oath to my master.”</p> +<p>“And thine oath to me? Ha!” said Fulford.</p> +<p>“I sware you no oath, I gave you no word,” said Stephen.</p> +<p>“Ha! Thou darest give me the lie, base prentice. +Take that!”</p> +<p>And therewith he struck Stephen a crushing blow on the head, which +felled him to the ground. The host and all the company, used to +pot-house quarrels, and perhaps playing into his hands, took little +heed; Stephen was dragged insensible into another room, and there the +Badgers began hastily to divest him of his prentice’s gown, and +draw his arms into a buff coat.</p> +<p>Fulford had really been struck with his bravery, and knew besides +that his skill in the armourer’s craft would be valuable, so that +it had been determined beforehand that he should—by fair means +or foul—leave the Seven Stars a Badger.</p> +<p>“By all the powers of hell, you have struck too hard, sir. +He is sped,” said Marden anxiously.</p> +<p>“Ass! tut!” said Fulford. “Only enough to +daze him till he be safe in our quarters—and for that the sooner +the better. Here, call Anton to take his heels. We’ll +get him forth now as a fellow of our own.”</p> +<p>“Hark! What’s that?”</p> +<p>“Gentlemen,” said the host hurrying in, “here be +some of the gentlemen of the English Cardinal, calling for a nephew +of one of them, who they say is in this house.”</p> +<p>With an imprecation, Fulford denied all connection with gentlemen +of the Cardinal; but there was evidently an invasion, and in another +moment, several powerful-looking men in the crimson and black velvet +of Wolsey’s train had forced their way into the chamber, and the +foremost, seeing Stephen’s condition at a glance, exclaimed loudly, +“Thou villain! traitor! kidnapper! This is thy work.”</p> +<p>“Ha! ha!” shouted Fulford, “whom have we here? +The Cardinal’s fool a masquing! Treat us to a caper, quipsome +sir?”</p> +<p>“I’m more like to treat you to the gyves,” returned +Randall. “Away with you! The watch are at hand. +Were it not for my wife’s sake, they should bear you off to the +city jail; the Emperor should know how you fill your ranks.”</p> +<p>It was quite true. The city guard were entering at the street +door, and the host hurried Fulford and his men, swearing and raging, +out at a back door provided for such emergencies. Stephen was +beginning to recover by this time. His uncle knelt down, took +his head on his shoulder, and Lucas washed off the blood and administered +a drop of wine. His first words were:</p> +<p>“Was it Giles? Where is she?”</p> +<p>“Still going over the play!” thought Lucas. “Nay, +nay, lad. ’Twas one of the soldiers who played thee this +scurvy trick! All’s well now. Thou wilt soon be able +to quit this place.”</p> +<p>“I remember now,” said Stephen, “Sir John said +I gave him the lie when I said I had given no pledge. But I had +not!”</p> +<p>“Thou hast been a brave fellow, and better broken head than +broken troth,” said his uncle.</p> +<p>“But how came you here,” asked Stephen. “In +the nick of time?”</p> +<p>It was explained that Lucas, not doubting Stephen’s resolution, +but quite aware of the tricks of landsknecht captains with promising +recruits in view, had gone first in search of Smallbones, but had found +him and the Ancient so deeply engaged in potations from the liberal +supply of the Emperor to all English guests, that there was no getting +him apart, and he was too much muddled to comprehend if he could have +been spoken with.</p> +<p>Lucas then, in desperation, betook himself to the convent where Wolsey +was magnificently lodged. Ill May Day had made him, as well as +others, well acquainted with the relationship between Stephen and Randall, +though he was not aware of the further connection with Fulford. +He hoped, even if unable to see Randall, to obtain help on behalf of +an English lad in danger, and happily he arrived at a moment when State +affairs were going on, and Randall was refreshing himself by a stroll +in the cloister. When Lucas had made him understand the situation, +his dismay was only equalled by his promptitude. He easily obtained +the loan of one of the splendid suits of scarlet and crimson, guarded +with black velvet a hand broad, which were worn by the Cardinal’s +secular attendants—for he was well known by this time in the household +to be very far from an absolute fool, and indeed had done many a good +turn to his comrades. Several of the gentlemen, indignant at the +threatened outrage on a young Englishman, and esteeming the craftsmen +of the Dragon, volunteered to accompany him, and others warned the watch.</p> +<p>There was some difficulty still, for the burgher guards, coming up +puffing and blowing, wanted to carry off the victim and keep him in +ward to give evidence against the mercenaries, whom they regarded as +a sort of wolves, so that even the Emperor never durst quarter them +within one of the cities. The drawn swords of Randall’s +friends however settled that matter, and Stephen, though still dizzy, +was able to walk. Thus leaning on his uncle, he was escorted back +to the hostel.</p> +<p>“The villain!” the jester said on the way, “I mistrusted +him, but I never thought he would have abused our kindred in this fashion. +I would fain have come down to look after thee, nevvy, but these kings +and queens are troublesome folk. The Emperor—he is a pale, +shame-faced, solemn lad. Maybe he museth, but he had scarce a +word to say for himself. Our Hal tried clapping on the shoulder, +calling him fair coz, and the like, in his hearty fashion. Behold, +what doth he but turn round with such a look about the long lip of him +as my Lord of Buckingham might have if his scullion made free with him. +His aunt, the Duchess of Savoy, is a merry dame, and a wise! She +and our King can talk by the ell, but as for the Emperor, he speaketh +to none willingly save Queen Katharine, who is of his own stiff Spanish +humour, and he hath eyes for none save Queen Mary, who would have been +his empress had high folk held to their word. And with so tongue-tied +a host, and the rain without, what had the poor things to do by way +of disporting themselves with but a show of fools. I’ve +had to go through every trick and quip I learnt when I was with old +Nat Fire-eater. And I’m stiffer in the joints and weightier +in the heft than I was in those days when I slept in the fields, and +fasted more than ever Holy Church meant. But, heigh ho! +I ought to be supple enough after the practice of these three days. +Moreover, if it could loose a fool’s tongue to have a king and +queen for interpreters, I had them—for there were our Harry and +Moll catching at every gibe as fast as my brain could hatch it, and +rendering it into French as best thy might, carping and quibbling the +while underhand at one another’s renderings, and the Emperor sitting +by in his black velvet, smiling about as much as a felon at the hangman’s +jests. All his poor fools moreover, and the King’s own, +ready to gnaw their baubles for envy! That was the only sport +I had! I’m wearier than if I’d been plying Smallbones’ +biggest hammer. The worst of it is that my Lord Cardinal is to +stay behind and go on to Bruges as ambassador, and I with him, so thou +must bear my greetings to thy naunt, and tell her I’m keeping +from picking up a word of French or Flemish lest this same Charles should +take a fancy to me and ask me of my master, who would give away his +own head to get the Pope’s fool’s cap.”</p> +<p>“<i>Wer da? Qui va là</i>?” asked a voice, +and the summer twilight revealed two figures with cloaks held high and +drooping Spanish hats; one of whom, a slender, youthful figure, so far +as could be seen under his cloak, made inquiries, first in Flemish, +then in French, as to what ailed the youth. Lucas replied in the +former tongue, and one of the Englishmen could speak French. The +gentleman seemed much concerned, asked if the watch had been at hand, +and desired Lucas to assure the young Englishman that the Emperor would +be much distressed at the tidings, asked where he was lodged, and passed +on.</p> +<p>“Ah ha!” muttered the jester, “if my ears deceive +me now, I’ll never trust them again! Mynheer Charles knows +a few more tricks than he is fain to show off in royal company. +Come on, Stevie! I’ll see thee to thy bed. Old Kit +is too far gone to ask after thee. In sooth, I trow that my sweet +father-in-law set his Ancient to nail him to the wine pot. And +Master Giles I saw last with some of the grooms. I said nought +to him, for I trow thou wouldst not have him know thy plight! +I’ll be with thee in the morning ere thou partest, if kings, queens, +and cardinals roar themselves hoarse for the Quipsome.”</p> +<p>With this promise Hal Randall bestowed his still dulled and half-stunned +nephew carefully on the pallet provided by the care of the purveyors. +Stephen slept dreamily at first, then soundly, and woke at the sound +of the bells of Gravelines to the sense that a great crisis in his life +was over, a strange wild dream of evil dispelled, and that he was to +go home to see, hear, and act as he could, with a heartache indeed, +but with the resolve to do his best as a true and honest man.</p> +<p>Smallbones was already afoot—for the start for Calais was to +be made on that very day. The smith was fully himself again, and +was bawling for his subordinates, who had followed his example in indulging +in the good cheer, and did not carry it off so easily. Giles, +rather silent and surly, was out of bed, shouting answers to Smallbones, +and calling on Stephen to truss his points. He was in a mood not +easy to understand, he would hardly speak, and never noticed the marks +of the fray on Stephen’s temple—only half hidden by the +dark curly hair. This was of course a relief, but Stephen could +not help suspecting that he had been last night engaged in some revel +about which he desired no inquiries.</p> +<p>Randall came just as the operation was completed. He was in +a good deal of haste, having to restore the groom’s dress he wore +by the time the owner had finished the morning toilet of the Lord Cardinal’s +palfreys. He could not wait to inquire how Stephen had contrived +to fall into the hands of Fulford, his chief business being to put under +safe charge a bag of coins, the largesse from the various princes and +nobles whom he had diverted—ducats, crowns, dollars, and angels +all jingling together—to be bestowed wherever Perronel kept her +store, a matter which Hal was content not to know, though the pair cherished +a hope some day to retire on it from fooling.</p> +<p>“Thou art a good lad, Steve,” said Hal. “I’m +right glad thou leavest this father of mine behind thee. I would +not see thee such as he—no, not for all the gold we saw on the +Frenchmen’s backs.”</p> +<p>This was the jester’s farewell, but it was some time before +the waggon was under way, for the carter and one of the smiths were +missing, and were only at noon found in an alehouse, both very far gone +in liquor, and one with a black eye. Kit discoursed on sobriety +in the most edifying manner, as at last he drove heavily along the street, +almost the last in the baggage train of the king and queens—but +still in time to be so included in it so as to save all difficulty at +the gates. It was, however, very late in the evening when they +reached Calais, so that darkness was coming on as they waited their +turn at the drawbridge, with a cart full of scullions and pots and pans +before them, and a waggon-load of tents behind. The warders in +charge of the gateway had orders to count over all whom they admitted, +so that no unauthorised person might enter that much-valued fortress. +When at length the waggon rolled forward into the shadow of the great +towered gateway on the outer side of the moat, the demand was made, +who was there? Giles had always insisted, as leader of the party, +on making reply to such questions, and Smallbones waited for his answer, +but none was forthcoming. Therefore Kit shouted in reply, “Alderman +Headley’s wain and armourers. Two journeymen, one prentice, +two smiths, two waggoners.”</p> +<p>“Seven!” rejoined the warder. “One—two—three—four—five. +Ha! your company seems to be lacking.”</p> +<p>“Giles must have ridden on,” suggested Stephen, while +Kit, growling angrily, called on the lazy fellow, Will Wherry, to wake +and show himself. But the officials were greatly hurried, and +as long as no dangerous person got into Calais, it mattered little to +them who might be left outside, so they hurried on the waggon into the +narrow street.</p> +<p>It was well that it was a summer night, for lodgings there were none. +Every hostel was full and all the houses besides. The earlier +comers assured Kit that it was of no use to try to go on. The +streets up to the wharf were choked, and he might think himself lucky +to have his waggon to sleep in. But the horses! And food? +However, there was one comfort—English tongues answered, if it +was only with denials.</p> +<p>Kit’s store of travelling money was at a low ebb, and it was +nearly exhausted by the time, at an exorbitant price, he had managed +to get a little hay and water for the horses, and a couple of loaves +and a haunch of bacon among the five hungry men. They were quite +content to believe that Master Giles had ridden on before and secured +better quarters and viands, nor could they much regret the absence of +Will Wherry’s wide mouth.</p> +<p>Kit called Stephen to council in the morning. His funds would +not permit waiting for the missing ones, if he were to bring home any +reasonable proportion of gain to his master. He believed that +Master Headley would by no means risk the whole party loitering at Calais, +when it was highly probable that Giles might have joined some of the +other travellers, and embarked by himself.</p> +<p>After all, Kit’s store had to be well-nigh expended before +the horses, waggon, and all, could find means to encounter the miseries +of the transit to Dover. Then, glad as he was to be on his native +soil, his spirits sank lower and lower as the waggon creaked on under +the hot sun towards London. He had actually brought home only +four marks to make over to his master; and although he could show a +considerable score against the King and various nobles, these debts +were not apt to be promptly discharged, and what was worse, two members +of his party and one horse were missing. He little knew how narrow +an escape he had had of losing a third!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII. AN INVASION</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“What shall be the maiden’s fate?<br />Who shall be the +maiden’s mate?”</p> +<p>SCOTT.</p> +<p>No Giles Headley appeared to greet the travellers, though Kit Smallbones +had halted at Canterbury, to pour out entreaties to St. Thomas, and +the vow of a steel and gilt reliquary of his best workmanship to contain +the old shoe, which a few years previously had so much disgusted Erasmus +and his companion.</p> +<p>Poor old fellow, he was too much crest-fallen thoroughly to enjoy +even the gladness of his little children; and his wife made no secret +of her previous conviction that he was too dunderheaded not to run into +some coil, when she was not there to look after him. The alderman +was more merciful. Since there had been no invasion from Salisbury, +he had regretted the not having gone himself to Ardres, and he knew +pretty well that Kit’s power lay more in his arms than in his +brain. He did not wonder at the small gain, nor at the having +lost sight of the young man, and confidently expected the lost ones +soon to appear.</p> +<p>As to Dennet, her eyes shone quietly, and she took upon herself to +send down to let Mistress Randall know of her nephew’s return, +and invite her to supper to hear the story of his doings. The +girl did not look at all like a maiden uneasy about her lost lover, +but much more like one enjoying for the moment the immunity from a kind +of burthen; and, as she smiled, called for Stephen’s help in her +little arrangements, and treated him in the friendly manner of old times, +he could not but wonder at the panic that had overpowered him for a +time like a fever of the mind.</p> +<p>There was plenty to speak of in the glories of the Field of the Cloth +of Gold, and the transactions with the knights and nobles; and Stephen +held his peace as to his adventure, but Dennet’s eyes were sharper +than Kit’s. She spied the remains of the bruise under his +black curly hair; and while her father and Tib were unravelling the +accounts from Kit’s brain and tally-sticks, she got the youth +out into the gallery, and observed, “So thou hast a broken head. +See here are grandmother’s lily-leaves in strong waters. +Let me lay one on for thee. There, sit down on the step, then +I can reach.”</p> +<p>“’Tis well nigh whole now, sweet mistress,” said +Stephen, complying however, for it was too sweet to have those little +fingers busy about him, for the offer to be declined.</p> +<p>“How gatst thou the blow?” asked Dennet. “Was +it at single-stick? Come, thou mayst tell me. ’Twas +in standing up for some one.”</p> +<p>“Nay, mistress, I would it had been.”</p> +<p>“Thou hast been in trouble,” she said, leaning on the +baluster above him. “Or did ill men set on thee?”</p> +<p>“That’s the nearest guess,” said Stephen. +“’Twas that tall father of mine aunt’s, the fellow +that came here for armour, and bought poor Master Michael’s sword.”</p> +<p>“And sliced the apple on thine hand. Ay?”</p> +<p>“He would have me for one of his Badgers.”</p> +<p>“Thee! Stephen!” It was a cry of pain as +well as horror.</p> +<p>“Yea, mistress; and when I refused, the fellow dealt me a blow, +and laid me down senseless, to bear me off willy nilly, but that good +old Lucas Hansen brought mine uncle to mine aid—”</p> +<p>Dennet clasped her hands. “O Stephen, Stephen! +Now I know how good the Lord is. Wot ye, I asked of Tibble to +take me daily to St. Faith’s to crave of good St. Julian to have +you all in his keeping, and saith he on the way, ‘Methinks, mistress, +our dear Lord would hear you if you spake to Him direct, with no go-between.’ +I did as he bade me, Stephen, I went to the high Altar, and prayed there, +and Tibble went with me, and lo, now, He hath brought you back safe. +We will have a mass of thanksgiving on the very morn.”</p> +<p>Stephen’s heart could not but bound, for it was plain enough +for whom the chief force of these prayers had been offered.</p> +<p>“Sweet mistress,” he said, “they have availed me +indeed. Certes, they warded me in the time of sore trial and temptation.”</p> +<p>“Nay,” said Dennet, “thou <i>couldst</i> not have +longed to go away from hence with those ill men who live by slaying +and plundering?”</p> +<p>The present temptation was to say that he had doubted whether this +course would not have been for the best both for himself and for her; +but he recollected that Giles might be at the gate, and if so, he should +feel as if he had rather have bitten out his tongue than have let Dennet +know the state of the case, so he only answered—</p> +<p>“There be sorer temptations in the world for us poor rogues +than little home-biding house crickets like thee wot of, mistress. +Well that ye can pray for us without knowing all!”</p> +<p>Stephen had never consciously come so near love-making, and his honest +face was all one burning glow with the suppressed feeling, while Dennet +lingered till the curfew warned them of the lateness of the hour, both +with a strange sense of undefined pleasure in the being together in +the summer twilight.</p> +<p>Day after day passed on with no news of Giles or Will Wherry. +The alderman grew uneasy, and sent Stephen to ask his brother to write +to Randall, or to some one else in Wolsey’s suite, to make inquiries +at Bruges. But Ambrose was found to have gone abroad in the train +of Sir Thomas More, and nothing was heard till their return six weeks +later, when Ambrose brought home a small packet which had been conveyed +to him through one of the Emperor’s suite. It was tied up +with a long tough pale wisp of hair, evidently from the mane or tail +of some Flemish horse, and was addressed, “To Master Ambrose Birkenholt, +menial clerk to the most worshipful Sir Thomas More, Knight, Under Sheriff +of the City of London. These greeting—”</p> +<p>Within, when Ambrose could open the missive, was another small parcel, +and a piece of brown coarse paper, on which was scrawled—</p> +<p>“Good Ambrose Birkenholt,—I pray thee to stand my friend, +and let all know whom it may concern, that when this same billet comes +to hand, I shall be far on the march to High Germany, with a company +of lusty fellows in the Emperor’s service. They be commanded +by the good knight, Sir John Fulford.</p> +<p>“If thou canst send tidings to my mother, bid her keep her +heart up, for I shall come back a captain, full of wealth and honour, +and that will be better than hammering for life—or being wedded +against mine own will. There never was troth plight between my +master’s daughter and me, and my time is over, so I be quit with +them, and I thank my master for his goodness. They shall all hear +of me some of these days. Will Wherry is my groom, and commends +him to his mother. And so, commending thee and all the rest to +Our Lady and the saints,</p> +<p>“Thine to command,</p> +<p>“GILES HEADLEY,</p> +<p>“<i>Man-at-Arms in the Honourable Company of Sir John Fulford, +Knight</i>.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>On a separate strip was written—</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“Give this packet to the little Moorish maid, and tell her +that I will bring her better by and by, and mayhap make her a knight’s +lady; but on thy life, say nought to any other.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>It was out now! Ambrose’s head was more in Sir Thomas’s +books than in real life at all times, or he would long ago have inferred +something—from the jackdaw’s favourite phrase—from +Giles’s modes of haunting his steps, and making him the bearer +of small tokens—an orange, a simnel cake, a bag of walnuts or +almonds to Mistress Aldonza, and of the smiles, blushes, and thanks +with which she greeted them. Nay, had she not burst into tears +and entreated to be spared when Lady More wanted to make a match between +her and the big porter, and had not her distress led Mistress Margaret +to appeal to her father, who had said he should as soon think of wedding +the silver-footed Thetis to Polyphemus. “Tilley valley! +Master More,” the lady had answered, “will all your fine +pagan gods hinder the wench from starving on earth, and leading apes +in hell.”</p> +<p>Margaret had answered that Aldonza should never do the first, and +Sir Thomas had gravely said that he thought those black eyes would lead +many a man on earth before they came to the latter fate.</p> +<p>Ambrose hid the parcel for her deep in his bosom before he asked +permission of his master to go to the Dragon court with the rest of +the tidings.</p> +<p>“He always was an unmannerly cub,” said Master Headley, +as he read the letter. “Well, I’ve done my best to +make a silk purse of a sow’s ear! I’ve done my duty +by poor Robert’s son, and if he will be such a fool as to run +after blood and wounds, I have no more to say! Though ’tis +pity of the old name! Ha! what’s this? ‘Wedded +against my will—no troth plight.’ Forsooth, I thought +my young master was mighty slack. He hath some other matter in +his mind, hath he? Run into some coil mayhap with a beggar wench! +Well, we need not be beholden to him. Ha, Dennet, my maid!”</p> +<p>Dennet screwed up her little mouth, and looked very demure, but she +twinkled her bright eyes, and said, “My heart will not break, +sir; I am in no haste to be wed.”</p> +<p>Her father pinched her cheek and said she was a silly wench; but +perhaps he marked the dancing step with which the young mistress went +about her household cares, and how she was singing to herself songs +that certainly were not “Willow! willow!”</p> +<p>Ambrose had no scruple in delivering to Aldonza the message and token, +when he overtook her on the stairs of the house at Chelsea, carrying +up a lapful of roses to the still-room, where Dame Alice More was rejoicing +in setting her step-daughters to housewifely tasks.</p> +<p>There came a wonderful illumination and agitation over the girl’s +usually impassive features, giving all that they needed to make them +surpassingly beautiful.</p> +<p>“Woe is me!” was, however, her first exclamation. +“That he should have given up all for me! Oh! if I had thought +it!” But while she spoke as if she were shocked and appalled, +her eyes belied her words. They shone with the first absolute +certainty of love, and there was no realising as yet the years of silent +waiting and anxiety that must go by, nay, perhaps an entire lifetime +of uncertainty of her lover’s truth or untruth, life or death.</p> +<p>Dame Alice called her, and in a rambling, maundering way, charged +her with loitering and gadding with the young men; and Margaret saw +by her colour and by her eyes that some strange thing had happened to +her. Margaret had, perhaps, some intuition; for was not her heart +very tender towards a certain young barrister by name Roper whom her +father doubted as yet, because of his Lutheran inclinations. By +and by she discovered that she needed Aldonza to comb out her long dark +hair, and ere long, she had heard all the tale of the youth cured by +the girl’s father, and all his gifts, and how Aldonza deemed him +too great and too good for her (poor Giles!) though she knew she should +never do more than look up to him with love and gratitude from afar. +And she never so much as dreamt that he would cast an eye on her save +in kindness. Oh yes, she knew what he had taught the daw to say, +but then she was a child, she durst not deem it more. And Margaret +More was more kind and eager than worldly wise, and she encouraged Aldonza +to watch and wait, promised protection from all enforced suits and suitors, +and gave assurances of shelter as her own attendant as long as the girl +should need it.</p> +<p>Master Headley, with some sighing and groaning, applied himself to +write to the mother at Salisbury what had become of her son; but he +had only spent one evening over the trying task, when just as the supper +bell was ringing, with Master Hope and his wife as guests, there were +horses’ feet in the court, and Master Tiptoff appeared, with a +servant on another horse, which carried besides a figure in camlet, +on a pillion. No sooner was this same figure lifted from her steed +and set down on the steps, while the master of the house and his daughter +came out to greet her, than she began, “Master Alderman Headley, +I am here to know what you have done with my poor son!”</p> +<p>“Alack, good cousin!”</p> +<p>“Alack me no alacks,” she interrupted, holding up her +riding rod. “I’ll have no dissembling, there hath +been enough of that, Giles Headley. Thou hast sold him, soul and +body, to one of yon cruel, bloodthirsty plundering, burning captains, +that the poor child may be slain and murthered! Is this the fair +promises you made to his father—wiling him away from his poor +mother, a widow, with talking of teaching him the craft, and giving +him your daughter! My son, Tiptoff here, told me the spousal was +delayed and delayed, and he doubted whether it would ever come off, +but I thought not of this sending him beyond seas, to make merchandise +of him. And you call yourself an alderman! The gown should +be stript off the back of you, and shall be, if there be any justice +in London for a widow woman.”</p> +<p>“Nay, cousin, you have heard some strange tale,” said +Master Headley, who, much as he would have dreaded the attack beforehand, +faced it the more calmly and manfully because the accusation was so +outrageous.</p> +<p>“Ay, so I told her,” began her son-in-law, “but +she hath been neither to have nor to hold since the—”</p> +<p>“And how should I be to have or to hold by a nincompoop like +thee,” she said, turning round on him, “that would have +me sit down and be content forsooth, when mine only son is kidnapped +to be sold to the Turks or to work in the galleys, for aught I know.”</p> +<p>“Mistress!” here Master Hope’s voice came in, “I +would counsel you to speak less loud, and hear before you accuse. +We of the City of London know Master Alderman Headley too well to hear +him railed against.”</p> +<p>“Ah! you’re all of a piece,” she began; but by +this time Master Tiptoff had managed at least to get her into the hall, +and had exchanged words enough with the alderman to assure himself that +there was an explanation, nay, that there was a letter from Giles himself. +This the indignant mother presently was made to understand—and +as the alderman had borrowed the letter in order to copy it for her, +it was given to her. She could not read, and would trust no one +but her son-in-law to read it to her. “Yea, you have it +very pat,” she said, “but how am I to be assured ’tis +not all writ here to hoodwink a poor woman like me.”</p> +<p>“’Tis Giles’s hand,” averred Tiptoff.</p> +<p>“And if you will,” added the alderman, with wonderful +patience, “to-morrow you may speak with the youth who received +it. Come, sit down and sup with us, and then you shall learn from +Smallbones how this mischance befel, all from my sending two young heads +together, and one who, though a good fellow, could not hold all in rule.”</p> +<p>“Ay—you’ve your reasons for anything,” she +muttered, but being both weary and hungry, she consented to eat and +drink, while Tiptoff, who was evidently ashamed of her violence, and +anxious to excuse it, managed to explain that a report had been picked +up at Romsey, by a bare-footed friar from Salisbury, that young Giles +Headley had been seen at Ghent by one of the servants of a wool merchant, +riding with a troop of Free Companions in the Emperor’s service. +All the rest was deduced from this intelligence by the dame’s +own imagination.</p> +<p>After supper she was invited to interrogate Kit and Stephen, and +her grief and anxiety found vent in fierce scolding at the misrule which +had permitted such a villain as Fulford to be haunting and tempting +poor fatherless lads. Master Headley had reproached poor Kit for +the same thing, but he could only represent that Giles, being a freeman, +was no longer under his authority. However, she stormed on, being +absolutely convinced that her son’s evasion was every one’s +fault but his own. Now it was the alderman for misusing him, overtasking +the poor child, and deferring the marriage, now it was that little pert +poppet, Dennet, who had flouted him, now it was the bad company he had +been led into—the poor babe who had been bred to godly ways.</p> +<p>The alderman was really sorry for her, and felt himself to blame +so far as that he had shifted the guidance of the expedition to such +an insufficient head as poor Smallbones, so he let her rail on as much +as she would, till the storm exhausted itself, and she settled into +the trust that Giles would soon grow weary and return. The good +man felt bound to show her all hospitality, and the civilities to country +cousins were in proportion to the rarity of their visits. So Mrs. +Headley stayed on after Tiptoff’s return to Salisbury, and had +the best view feasible of all the pageants and diversions of autumn. +She saw some magnificent processions of clergy, she was welcomed at +a civic banquet and drank of the loving cup, and she beheld the Lord +Mayor’s Show in all its picturesque glory of emblazoned barges +on the river. In fact, she found the position of denizen of an +alderman’s household so very agreeable that she did her best to +make it a permanency. Nay, Dennet soon found that she considered +herself to be waiting there and keeping guard till her son’s return +should establish her there, and that she viewed the girl already as +a daughter—for which Dennet was by no means obliged to her! +She lavished counsel on her hostess, found fault with the maidens, criticised +the cookery, walked into the kitchen and still-room with assistance +and directions, and even made a strong effort to possess herself of +the keys.</p> +<p>It must be confessed that Dennet was saucy! It was her weapon +of self-defence, and she considered herself insulted in her own house.</p> +<p>There she stood, exalted on a tall pair of pattens before the stout +oaken table in the kitchen where a glowing fire burned; pewter, red +and yellow earthenware, and clean scrubbed trenchers made a goodly show, +a couple of men-cooks and twice as many scullions obeyed her behests—only +the superior of the two first ever daring to argue a point with her. +There she stood, in her white apron, with sleeves turned up, daintily +compounding her mincemeat for Christmas, when in stalked Mrs. Headley +to offer her counsel and aid—but this was lost in a volley of +barking from the long-backed, bandy-legged, turnspit dog, which was +awaiting its turn at the wheel, and which ran forward, yapping with +malign intentions towards the dame’s scarlet-hosed ankles.</p> +<p>She shook her petticoats at him, but Dennet tittered even while declaring +that Tray hurt nobody. Mrs. Headley reviled the dog, and then +proceeded to advise Dennet that she should chop her citron finer. +Dennet made answer “that father liked a good stout piece of it.” +Mistress Headley offered to take the chopper and instruct her how to +compound all in the true Sarum style.</p> +<p>“Grammercy, mistress, but we follow my grand-dame’s recipe!” +said Dennet, grasping her implement firmly.</p> +<p>“Come, child, be not above taking a lesson from thine elders! +Where’s the goose? What?” as the girl looked amazed, +“where hast thou lived not to know that a live goose should be +bled into the mincemeat?”</p> +<p>“I have never lived with barbarous, savage folk,” said +Dennet—and therewith she burst into an irrepressible fit of laughter, +trying in vain to check it, for a small and mischievous elf, freshly +promoted to the office of scullion, had crept up and pinned a dish-cloth +to the substantial petticoats, and as Mistress Headley whisked round +to see what was the matter, like a kitten after its tail, it followed +her like a train, while she rushed to box the ears of the offender, +crying,</p> +<p>“You set him on, you little saucy vixen! I saw it in +your eyes. Let the rascal be scourged.”</p> +<p>“Not so,” said Dennet, with prim mouth and laughing eyes. +“Far be it from me! But ’tis ever the wont of the +kitchen, when those come there who have no call thither.”</p> +<p>Mistress Headley flounced away, dish-cloth and all, to go whimpering +to the alderman with her tale of insults. She trusted that her +cousin would give the pert wench a good beating. She was not a +whit too old for it.</p> +<p>“How oft did you beat Giles, good kinswoman?” said Dennet +demurely, as she stood by her father.</p> +<p>“Whisht, whisht, child,” said her father, “this +may not be! I cannot have my guest flouted.”</p> +<p>“If she act as our guest, I will treat her with all honour +and courtesy,” said the maiden; “but when she comes where +we look not for guests, there is no saying what the black guard may +take it on them to do.”</p> +<p>Master Headley was mischievously tickled at the retort, and not without +hope that it might offend his kinswoman into departing; but she contented +herself with denouncing all imaginable evils from Dennet’s ungoverned +condition, with which she was prevented in her beneficence from interfering +by the father’s foolish fondness. He would rue the day!</p> +<p>Meantime if the alderman’s peace on one side was disturbed +by his visitor, on the other, suitors for Dennet’s hand gave him +little rest. She was known to be a considerable heiress, and though +Mistress Headley gave every one to understand that there was a contract +with Giles, and that she was awaiting his return, this did not deter +more wooers than Dennet ever knew of, from making proposals to her father. +Jasper Hope was offered, but he was too young, and besides, was a mercer—and +Dennet and her father were agreed that her husband must go on with the +trade. Then there was a master armourer, but he was a widower +with sons and daughters as old as Dennet, and she shook her head and +laughed at the bare notion. There also came a young knight who +would have turned the Dragon court into a tilt-yard, and spent all the +gold that long years of prudent toil had amassed.</p> +<p>If Mistress Headley deemed each denial the result of her vigilance +for her son’s interests, she was the more impelled to expatiate +on the folly of leaving a maid of sixteen to herself, to let the household +go to rack and ruin; while as to the wench, she might prank herself +in her own conceit, but no honest man would soon look at her for a wife, +if her father left her to herself, without giving her a good stepmother, +or at least putting a kinswoman in authority over her.</p> +<p>The alderman was stung. He certainly had warmed a snake on +his hearth, and how was he to be rid of it? He secretly winked +at the resumption of a forge fire that had been abandoned, because the +noise and smoke incommoded the dwelling-house, and Kit Smallbones hammered +his loudest there, when the guest might be taking her morning nap; but +this had no effect in driving her away, though it may have told upon +her temper; and good-humoured Master Headley was harassed more than +he had ever been in his life.</p> +<p>“It puts me past my patience,” said he, turning into +Tibble’s special workshop one afternoon. “Here hath +Mistress Hillyer of the Eagle been with me full of proposals that I +would give my poor wench to that scapegrace lad of hers, who hath been +twice called to account before the guild, but who now, forsooth, is +to turn over a new leaf.”</p> +<p>“So I wis would the Dragon under him,” quoth Tibble.</p> +<p>“I told her ’twas not to be thought of, and then what +does the dame but sniff the air and protest that I had better take heed, +for there may not be so many who would choose a spoilt, misruled maid +like mine. There’s the work of yonder Sarum woman. +I tell thee, Tib, never was bull in the ring more baited than am I.”</p> +<p>“Yea, sir,” returned Tib, “there’ll be no +help for it till our young mistress be wed.”</p> +<p>“Ay! that’s the rub! But I’ve not seen one +whom I could mate with her—let alone one who would keep up the +old house. Giles would have done that passably, though he were +scarce worthy of the wench, even without—” An expressive +shake of the head denoted the rest. “And now if he ever +come home at all, ’twill be as a foul-mouthed, plundering scarecrow, +like the kites of men-at-arms, who, if they lose not their lives, lose +all that makes an honest life in the Italian wars. I would have +writ to Edmund Burgess, but I hear his elder brother is dead, and he +is driving a good traffic at York. Belike too he is wedded.”</p> +<p>“Nay,” said Tibble, “I could tell of one who would +be true and faithful to your worship, and a loving husband to Mistress +Dennet, ay, and would be a master that all of us would gladly cleave +to. For he is godly after his lights, and sound-hearted, and wots +what good work be, and can do it.”</p> +<p>“That were a son-in-law, Tib! Of who speakest thou? +Is he of good birth?”</p> +<p>“Yea, of gentle birth and breeding.”</p> +<p>“And willing? But that they all are. Wherefore +then hath he never made suit?”</p> +<p>“He hath not yet his freedom.”</p> +<p>“Who be it then?”</p> +<p>“He that made this elbow-piece for the suit that Queen Margaret +ordered for the little King of Scots,” returned Tibble, producing +an exquisite miniature bit of workmanship.</p> +<p>“Stephen Birkenholt! The fool’s nephew! Mine +own prentice!”</p> +<p>“Yea, and the best worker in steel we have yet turned out. +Since the sickness of last winter hath stiffened my joints and dimmed +mine eyes, I had rather trust dainty work such as this to him than to +myself.”</p> +<p>“Stephen! Tibble, hath he set thee on to this?”</p> +<p>“No, sir. We both know too well what becometh us; but +when you were casting about for a mate for my young mistress, I could +not but think how men seek far, and overlook the jewel at their feet.”</p> +<p>“He hath nought! That brother of his will give him nought.”</p> +<p>“He hath what will be better for the old Dragon and for your +worship’s self, than many a bag of gold, sir.”</p> +<p>“Thou sayst truly there, Tib. I know him so far that +he would not be the ingrate Jack to turn his back on the old master +or the old man. He is a good lad. But—but—I’ve +ever set my face against the prentice wedding the master’s daughter, +save when he is of her own house, like Giles. Tell me, Tibble, +deemst thou that the varlet hath dared to lift his eyes to the lass?”</p> +<p>“I wot nothing of love!” said Tibble, somewhat grimly. +“I have seen nought. I only told your worship where a good +son and a good master might be had. Is it your pleasure, sir, +that we take in a freight of sea-coal from Simon Collier for the new +furnace? His is purest, if a mark more the chaldron.”</p> +<p>He spoke as if he put the recommendation of the son and master on +the same line as that of the coal. Mr. Headley answered the business +matters absently, and ended by saying he would think on the council.</p> +<p>In Tibble’s workroom, with the clatter of a forge close to +them, they had not heard a commotion in the court outside. Dennet +had been standing on the steps cleaning her tame starling’s cage, +when Mistress Headley had suddenly come out on the gallery behind her, +hotly scolding her laundress, and waving her cap to show how ill-starched +it was.</p> +<p>The bird had taken fright and flown to the tree in the court; Dennet +hastened in pursuit, but all the boys and children in the court rushing +out after her, her blandishments had no chance, and “Goldspot” +had fluttered on to the gateway. Stephen had by this time come +out, and hastened to the gate, hoping to turn the truant back from escaping +into Cheapside; but all in vain, it flew out while the market was in +full career, and he could only call back to her that he would not lose +sight of it.</p> +<p>Out he hurried, Dennet waiting in a sort of despair by the tree for +a time that seemed to her endless, until Stephen reappeared under the +gate, with a signal that all was well. She darted to meet him. +“Yea, mistress, here he is, the little caitiff. He was just +knocked down by this country lad’s cap—happily not hurt. +I told him you would give him a tester for your bird.”</p> +<p>“With all my heart!” and Dennet produced the coin. +“Oh! Stephen, are you sure he is safe? Thou bad Goldspot, +to fly away from me! Wink with thine eye—thou saucy rogue! +Wottest thou not but for Stephen they might be blinding thy sweet blue +eyes with hot needles?”</p> +<p>“His wing is grown since the moulting,” said Stephen. +“It should be cut to hinder such mischances.”</p> +<p>“Will you do it? I will hold him,” said Dennet. +“Ah! ’tis pity, the beauteous green gold-bedropped wing—that +no armour of thine can equal, Stephen, not even that for the little +King of Scots. But shouldst not be so silly a bird, Goldie, even +though thou hast thine excuse. There! Peck not, ill birdling. +Know thy friends, Master Stare.”</p> +<p>And with such pretty nonsense the two stood together, Dennet in her +white cap, short crimson kirtle, little stiff collar, and white bib +and apron, holding her bird upside down in one hand, and with the other +trying to keep his angry beak from pecking Stephen, who, in his leathern +coat and apron, grimed, as well as his crisp black hair, with soot, +stood towering above her, stooping to hold out the lustrous wing with +one hand while he used his smallest pair of shears with the other to +clip the pen-feathers.</p> +<p>“See there, Master Alderman,” cried Mistress Headley, +bursting on him from the gallery stairs. “Be that what you +call fitting for your daughter and your prentice, a beggar lad from +the heath? I ever told you she would bring you to shame, thus +left to herself. And now you see it.”</p> +<p>Their heads had been near together over the starling, but at this +objurgation they started apart, both crimson in the cheeks, and Dennet +flew up to her father, bird in hand, crying, “O father, father! +suffer her not. He did no wrong. He was cutting my bird’s +wing.”</p> +<p>“I suffer no one to insult my child in her own house,” +said the alderman, so much provoked as to be determined to put an end +to it all at once. “Stephen Birkenholt, come here.”</p> +<p>Stephen came, cap in hand, red in the face, with a strange tumult +in his heart, ready to plead guilty, though he had done nothing, but +imagining at the moment that his feelings had been actions.</p> +<p>“Stephen,” said the alderman, “thou art a true +and worthy lad! Canst thou love my daughter?”</p> +<p>“I—I crave your pardon, sir, there was no helping it,” +stammered Stephen, not catching the tone of the strange interrogation, +and expecting any amount of terrible consequences for his presumption.</p> +<p>“Then thou wilt be a faithful spouse to her, and son to me? +And Dennet, my daughter, hast thou any distaste to this youth—though +he bring nought but skill and honesty”</p> +<p>“O, father, father! I—I had rather have him than +any other!”</p> +<p>“Then, Stephen Birkenholt and Dennet Headley, ye shall be man +and wife, so soon as the young man’s term be over, and he be a +freeman—so he continue to be that which he seems at present. +Thereto I give my word, I, Giles Headley, Alderman of the Chepe Ward, +and thereof ye are witnesses, all of you. And God’s blessing +on it.”</p> +<p>A tremendous hurrah arose, led by Kit Smallbones, from every workman +in the court, and the while Stephen and Dennet, unaware of anything +else, flew into one another’s arms, while Goldspot, on whom the +operation had been fortunately completed, took refuge upon Stephen’s +head.</p> +<p>“O, Mistress Dennet, I have made you black all over!” +was Stephen’s first word.</p> +<p>“Heed not, I ever loved the black!” she cried, as her +eyes sparkled.</p> +<p>“So I have done what was to thy mind, my lass?” said +Master Headley, who, without ever having thought of consulting his daughter, +was delighted to see that her heart was with him.</p> +<p>“Sir, I did not know fully—but indeed I should never +have been so happy as I am now.”</p> +<p>“Sir,” added Stephen, putting his knee to the ground, +“it nearly wrung my heart to think of her as belonging to another, +though I never durst utter aught”—and while Dennet embraced +her father, Stephen sobbed for very joy, and with difficulty said in +broken words something about a “son’s duty and devotion.”</p> +<p>They were broken in upon by Mistress Headley, who, after standing +in mute consternation, fell on them in a fury. She understood +the device now! All had been a scheme laid amongst them for defrauding +her poor fatherless child, driving him away, and taking up this beggarly +brat. She had seen through the little baggage from the first, +and she pitied Master Headley. Rage was utterly ungovernable in +those days, and she actually was flying to attack Dennet with her nails +when the alderman caught her by the wrists; and she would have been +almost too much for him, had not Kit Smallbones come to his assistance, +and carried her, kicking and screaming like a naughty child, into the +house. There was small restraint of temper in those days even +in high life, and below it, there was some reason for the employment +of the padlock and the ducking stool.</p> +<p>Floods of tears restored the dame to some sort of composure; but +she declared she could stay no longer in a house where her son had been +ill-used and deceived, and she had been insulted. The alderman +thought the insult had been the other way, but he was too glad to be +rid of her on any terms to gainsay her, and at his own charge, undertook +to procure horse and escort to convey her safely to Salisbury the next +morning. He advised Stephen to keep out of her sight for the rest +of the day, giving leave of absence, so that the youth, as one treading +on air, set forth to carry to his brother, his aunt, and if possible, +his uncle, the intelligence that he could as yet hardly believe was +more than a happy dream.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII. UNWELCOME PREFERMENT</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now<br />To be thy lord and +master. Seek the king!<br />That sun I pray may never set.”<br />SHAKESPEARE.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Matters flowed on peaceably with Stephen and Dennet. The alderman +saw no reason to repent his decision, hastily as it had been made. +Stephen gave himself no unseemly airs of presumption, but worked on +as one whose heart was in the business, and Dennet rewarded her father’s +trust by her discretion.</p> +<p>They were happily married in the summer of 1522, as soon as Stephen’s +apprenticeship was over; and from that time, he was in the position +of the master’s son, with more and more devolving on him as Tibble +became increasingly rheumatic every winter, and the alderman himself +grew in flesh and in distaste to exertion.</p> +<p>Ambrose meanwhile prospered with his master, and could easily have +obtained some office in the law courts that would have enabled him to +make a home of his own; but if he had the least inclination to the love +of women, it was all merged in a silent distant worship of “sweet +pale Margaret, rare pale Margaret,” the like-minded daughter of +Sir Thomas More—an affection which was so entirely devotion at +a shrine, that it suffered no shock when Sir Thomas at length consented +to his daughter’s marriage with William Roper.</p> +<p>Ambrose was the only person who ever received any communication from +Giles Headley. They were few and far between, but when Stephen +Gardiner returned from his embassy to Pope Clement VII., who was then +at Orvieto, one of the suite reported to Ambrose how astonished he had +been by being accosted in good English by one of the imperial men-at-arms, +who were guarding his Holiness in actual though unconfessed captivity. +This person had sent his commendations to Ambrose, and likewise a laborious +bit of writing, which looked as if he were fast forgetting the art. +It bade Ambrose inform his mother and all his friends and kin that he +was well and coming to preferment, and inclosed for Aldonza a small +mother-of-pearl cross blessed by the Pope. Giles added that he +should bring her finer gifts by and by.</p> +<p>Seven years’ constancy! It gave quite a respectability +to Giles’s love, and Aldonza was still ready and patient while +waiting in attendance on her beloved mistress.</p> +<p>Ambrose lived on in the colony at Chelsea, sometimes attending his +master, especially on diplomatic missions, and generally acting as librarian +and foreign secretary, and obtaining some notice from Erasmus on the +great scholar’s visit to Chelsea. Under such guidance, Ambrose’s +opinions had settled down a good deal; and he was a disappointment to +Tibble, whose views advanced proportionably as he worked less, and read +and thought more. He so bitterly resented and deplored the burning +of Tindal’s Bible that there was constant fear that he might bring +on himself the same fate, especially as he treasured his own copy and +studied it constantly. The reform that Wolsey had intended to +effect when he obtained the legatine authority seemed to fall into the +background among political interests, and his efforts had as yet no +result save the suppression of some useless and ill-managed small religious +houses to endow his magnificent project of York College at Oxford, with +a feeder at Ipswich, his native town.</p> +<p>He was waiting to obtain the papacy, when he would deal better with +the abuses. Randall once asked him if he were not waiting to be +King of Heaven, when he could make root and branch work at once. +Hal had never so nearly incurred a flogging!</p> +<p>And in the meantime another influence was at work, an influence only +heard of at first in whispered jests, which made loyal-hearted Dennet +blush and look indignant, but which soon grew to sad earnest, as she +could not but avow, when she beheld the stately pomp of the two Cardinals, +Wolsey and Campeggio, sweep up to the Blackfriars Convent to sit in +judgment on the marriage of poor Queen Katharine.</p> +<p>“Out on them!” she said. “So many learned +men to set their wits against one poor woman!” And she heartily +rejoiced when they came to no decision, and the Pope was appealed to. +As to understanding all the explanations that Ambrose brought from time +to time, she called them quirks and quiddities, and left them to her +father and Tibble to discuss in their chimney corners.</p> +<p>They had seen nothing of the jester for a good while, for he was +with Wolsey, who was attending the King on a progress through the midland +shires. When the Cardinal returned to open the law courts as Chancellor +at the beginning of the autumn term, still Randall kept away from home, +perhaps because he had forebodings that he could not bear to mention.</p> +<p>On the evening of that very day, London rang with the tidings that +the Great Seal had been taken from the Cardinal, and that he was under +orders to yield up his noble mansion of York House and to retire to +Esher; nay, it was reported that he was to be imprisoned in the Tower, +and the next day the Thames was crowded with more than a thousand boats +filled with people, expecting to see him landed at the Traitors’ +Gate, and much disappointed when his barge turned towards Putney.</p> +<p>In the afternoon, Ambrose came to the Dragon court. Even as +Stephen figured now as a handsome prosperous young freeman of the City, +Ambrose looked well in the sober black apparel and neat ruff of a lawyer’s +clerk—clerk indeed to the first lawyer in the kingdom, for the +news had spread before him that Sir Thomas More had become Lord Chancellor.</p> +<p>“Thou art come to bear us word of thy promotion—for thy +master’s is thine own,” said the alderman heartily as he +entered, shaking hands with him. “Never was the Great Seal +in better hands.”</p> +<p>“’Tis true indeed, your worship,” said Ambrose, +“though it will lay a heavy charge on him, and divert him from +much that he loveth better still. I came to ask of my sister Dennet +a supper and a bed for the night, as I have been on business for him, +and can scarce get back to Chelsea.”</p> +<p>“And welcome,” said Dennet. “Little Giles +and Bess have been wearying for their uncle.”</p> +<p>“I must not toy with them yet,” said Ambrose, “I +have a message for my aunt. Brother, wilt thou walk down to the +Temple with me before supper?”</p> +<p>“Yea, and how is it with Master Randall?” asked Dennet. +“Be he gone with my Lord Cardinal?”</p> +<p>“He is made over to the King,” said Ambrose briefly. +“’Tis that which I must tell his wife.”</p> +<p>“Have with thee, then,” said Stephen, linking his arm +into that of his brother, for to be together was still as great an enjoyment +to them as in Forest days. And on the way, Ambrose told what he +had not been willing to utter in full assembly in the hall. He +had been sent by his master with a letter of condolence to the fallen +Cardinal, and likewise of inquiry into some necessary business connected +with the chancellorship. Wolsey had not time to answer before +embarking, but as Sir Thomas had vouched for the messenger’s ability +and trustiness, he had bidden Ambrose come into his barge, and receive +his instructions. Thus Ambrose had landed with him, just as a +messenger came riding in haste from the King, with a kind greeting, +assuring his old friend that his seeming disgrace was only for a time, +and for political reasons, and sending him a ring in token thereof. +The Cardinal had fallen on his knees to receive the message, had snatched +a gold chain and precious relic from his own neck to reward the messenger, +and then, casting about for some gift for the King, “by ill luck,” +said Ambrose, “his eye lit upon our uncle, and he instantly declared +that he would bestow Patch, as the Court chooses to call him, on the +King. Well, as thou canst guess, Hal is hotly wroth at the treatment +of his lord, whom he truly loveth; and he flung himself before the Cardinal, +and besought that he might not be sent from his good lord. But +the Cardinal was only chafed at aught that gainsaid him; and all he +did was to say he would have no more ado, he had made his gift. +‘Get thee gone,’ he said, as if he had been ordering off +a horse or dog. Well-a-day! it was hard to brook the sight, and +Hal’s blood was up. He flatly refused to go, saying he was +the Cardinal’s servant, but no villain nor serf to be thus made +over without his own will.”</p> +<p>“He was in the right there,” returned Stephen, hotly.</p> +<p>“Yea, save that by playing the fool, poor fellow, he hath yielded +up the rights of a wise man. Any way, all he gat by it was that +the Cardinal bade two of the yeomen lay hands on him and bear him off. +Then there came on him that reckless mood, which, I trow, banished him +long ago from the Forest, and brought him to the motley. He fought +with them with all his force, and broke away once—as if that were +of any use for a man in motley!—but he was bound at last, and +borne off by six of them to Windsor!”</p> +<p>“And thou stoodst by, and beheld it!” cried Stephen.</p> +<p>“Nay, what could I have done, save to make his plight worse, +and forfeit all chance of yet speaking to him?”</p> +<p>“Thou wert ever cool! I wot that I could not have borne +it,” said Stephen.</p> +<p>They told the story to Perronel, who was on the whole elated by her +husband’s promotion, declaring that the King loved him well, and +that he would soon come to his senses, though for a wise man, he certainly +had too much of the fool, even as he had too much of the wise man for +the fool.</p> +<p>She became anxious, however, as the weeks passed by without hearing +of or from him, and at length Ambrose confessed his uneasiness to his +kind master, and obtained leave to attend him on the next summons to +Windsor.</p> +<p>Ambrose could not find his uncle at first. Randall, who used +to pervade York House, and turn up everywhere when least expected, did +not appear among the superior serving-men and secretaries with whom +his nephew ranked, and of course there was no access to the state apartments. +Sir Thomas, however, told Ambrose that he had seen Quipsome Hal among +the other jesters, but that he seemed dull and dejected. Then +Ambrose beheld from a window a cruel sight, for the other fools, three +in number, were surrounding Hal, baiting and teasing him, triumphing +over him in fact, for having formerly outshone them, while he stood +among them like a big dog worried by little curs, against whom he disdained +to use his strength. Ambrose, unable to bear this, ran down stairs +to endeavour to interfere; but before he could find his way to the spot, +an arrival at the gate had attracted the tormentors, and Ambrose found +his uncle leaning against the wall alone. He looked thin and wan, +the light was gone out of his black eyes, and his countenance was in +sad contrast to his gay and absurd attire. He scarcely cheered +up when his nephew spoke to him, though he was glad to hear of Perronel. +He said he knew not when he should see her again, for he had been unable +to secure his suit of ordinary garments, so that even if the King came +to London, or if he could elude the other fools, he could not get out +to visit her. He was no better than a prisoner here, he only marvelled +that the King retained so wretched a jester, with so heavy a heart.</p> +<p>“Once thou wast in favour,” said Ambrose. “Methought +thou couldst have availed thyself of it to speak for the Lord Cardinal.”</p> +<p>“What? A senseless cur whom he kicked from him,” +said Randall. “’Twas that took all spirit from me, +boy. I, who thought he loved me, as I love him to this day. +To send me to be sport for his foes! I think of it day and night, +and I’ve not a gibe left under my belt!”</p> +<p>“Nay,” said Ambrose, “it may have been that the +Cardinal hoped to secure a true friend at the King’s ear, as well +as to provide for thee.”</p> +<p>“Had he but said so—”</p> +<p>“Nay, perchance he trusted to thy sharp wit.”</p> +<p>A gleam came into Hal’s eyes. “It might be so. +Thou always wast a toward lad, Ambrose, and if so, I was cur and fool +indeed to baulk him.”</p> +<p>Therewith one of the other fools danced back exhibiting a silver +crown that had just been flung to him, mopping and mowing, and demanding +when Patch would have wit to gain the like. Whereto Hal replied +by pointing to Ambrose and declaring that that gentleman had given him +better than fifty crowns. And that night, Sir Thomas told Ambrose +that the Quipsome one had recovered himself, had been more brilliant +than ever and had quite eclipsed the other fools.</p> +<p>On the next opportunity, Ambrose contrived to pack in his cloak-bag, +the cap and loose garment in which his uncle was wont to cover his motley. +The Court was still at Windsor; but nearly the whole of Sir Thomas’s +stay elapsed without Ambrose being able to find his uncle. Wolsey +had been very ill, and the King had relented enough to send his own +physician to attend him. Ambrose began to wonder if Hal could +have found any plea for rejoining his old master; but in the last hour +of his stay, he found Hal curled up listlessly on a window seat of a +gallery, his head resting on his hand.</p> +<p>“Uncle, good uncle! At last! Thou art sick?”</p> +<p>“Sick at heart, lad,” said Hal, looking up. “Yea, +I took thy counsel. I plucked up a spirit, I made Harry laugh +as of old, though my heart smote me, as I thought how he was wont to +be answered by my master. I even brooked to jest with the night-crow, +as my own poor lord called this Nan Boleyn. And lo you now, when +his Grace was touched at my lord’s sickness, I durst say there +was one sure elixir for such as he, to wit a gold Harry; and that a +King’s touch was a sovereign cure for other disorders than the +King’s evil. Harry smiled, and in ten minutes more would +have taken horse for Esher, had not Madam Nan claimed his word to ride +out hawking with her. And next, she sendeth me a warning by one +of her pert maids, that I should be whipped, if I spoke to his Grace +of unfitting matters. My flesh could brook no more, and like a +born natural, I made answer that Nan Boleyn was no mistress of mine +to bid me hold a tongue that had spoken sooth to her betters. +Thereupon, what think you, boy? The grooms came and soundly flogged +me for uncomely speech of my Lady Anne! I that was eighteen years +with my Lord Cardinal, and none laid hand on me! Yea, I was beaten; +and then shut up in a dog-hole for three days on bread and water, with +none to speak to, but the other fools jeering at me like a rogue in +a pillory.”</p> +<p>Ambrose could hardly speak for hot grief and indignation, but he +wrung his uncle’s hand, and whispered that he had hid the loose +gown behind the arras of his chamber, but he could do no more, for he +was summoned to attend his master, and a servant further thrust in to +say, “Concern yourself not for that rogue, sir, he hath been saucy, +and must mend his manners, or he will have worse.”</p> +<p>“Away, kind sir,” said Hal, “you can do the poor +fool no further good! but only bring the pack about the ears of the +mangy hound.” And he sang a stave appropriated by a greater +man than he—</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“Then let the stricken deer go weep,<br />The hart ungalled +play.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The only hope that Ambrose or his good master could devise for poor +Randall was that Sir Thomas should watch his opportunity and beg the +fool from the King, who might part with him as a child gives away the +once coveted toy that has failed in its hands; but the request would +need circumspection, for all had already felt the change that had taken +place in the temper of the King since Henry had resolutely undertaken +that the wrong should be the right; and Ambrose could not but dread +the effect of desperation on a man whose nature had in it a vein of +impatient recklessness.</p> +<p>It was after dinner, and Dennet, with her little boy and girl, was +on the steps dispensing the salt fish, broken bread, and pottage of +the Lenten meal to the daily troop who came for her alms, when, among +them, she saw, somewhat to her alarm, a gipsy man, who was talking to +little Giles. The boy, a stout fellow of six, was astride on the +balustrade, looking up eagerly into the face of the man, who began imitating +the note of a blackbird. Dennet, remembering the evil propensities +of the gipsy race, called hastily to her little son to come down and +return to her side; but little Giles was unwilling to move, and called +to her, “O mother, come! He hath a bird-call!” +In some perturbation lest the man might be calling her bird away, Dennet +descended the steps. She was about to utter a sharp rebuke, but +Giles held out his hand imploringly, and she paused a moment to hear +the sweet full note of the “ouzel cock, with orange tawny bill” +closely imitated on a tiny bone whistle. “He will sell it +to me for two farthings,” cried the boy, “and teach me to +sing on it like all the birds—”</p> +<p>“Yea, good mistress,” said the gipsy, “I can whistle +a tune that the little master, ay, and others, might be fain to hear.”</p> +<p>Therewith, spite of the wild dress, Dennet knew the eyes and the +voice. And perhaps the blackbird’s note had awakened echoes +in another mind, for she saw Stephen, in his working dress, come out +to the door of the shop where he continued to do all the finer work +which had formerly fallen to Tibble’s share.</p> +<p>She lifted her boy from his perch, and bade him take the stranger +to his father, who would no doubt give him the whistle. And thus, +having without exciting attention, separated the fugitive from the rest +of her pensioners, she made haste to dismiss them.</p> +<p>She was not surprised that little Giles came running back to her, +producing unearthly notes on the instrument, and telling her that father +had taken the gipsy into his workshop, and said they would teach him +bird’s songs by and by.</p> +<p>“Steve, Steve,” had been the first words uttered when +the boy was out of hearing, “hast thou a smith’s apron and +plenty of smut to bestow on me? None can tell what Harry’s +mood may be, when he finds I’ve given him the slip. That +is the reason I durst not go to my poor dame.”</p> +<p>“We will send to let her know. I thought I guessed what +black ouzel ’twas! I mind how thou didst make the like notes +for us when we were no bigger than my Giles!”</p> +<p>“Thou hast a kind heart, Stephen. Here! Is thy +furnace hot enough to make a speedy end of this same greasy gipsy doublet? +I trust not the varlet with whom I bartered it for my motley. +And a fine bargain he had of what I trust never to wear again to the +end of my days. Make me a smith complete, Stephen, and then will +I tell thee my story.”</p> +<p>“We must call Kit into counsel, ere we can do that fully,” +said Stephen.</p> +<p>In a few minutes Hal Randall was, to all appearance, a very shabby +and grimy smith, and then he took breath to explain his anxiety and +alarm. Once again, hearing that the Cardinal was to be exiled +to York, he had ventured on a sorry jest about old friends and old wine +being better than new; but the King, who had once been open to plain +speaking, was now incensed, threatened and swore at him! Moreover, +one of the other fools had told him, in the way of boasting, that he +had heard Master Cromwell, formerly the Cardinal’s secretary, +informing the King that this rogue was no true “natural” +at all, but was blessed (or cursed) with as good an understanding as +other folks, as was well known in the Cardinal’s household, and +that he had no doubt been sent to serve as a spy, so that he was to +be esteemed a dangerous person, and had best be put under ward.</p> +<p>Hal had not been able to discover whether Cromwell had communicated +his name, but he suspected that it might be known to that acute person, +and he could not tell whether his compeer spoke out of a sort of good-natured +desire to warn him, or simply to triumph in his disgrace, and leer at +him for being an impostor. At any rate, being now desperate, he +covered his parti-coloured raiment with the gown Ambrose had brought, +made a perilous descent from a window in the twilight, scaled a wall +with the agility that seemed to have returned to him, and reached Windsor +Forest.</p> +<p>There, falling on a camp of gipsies, he had availed himself of old +experiences in his wild Shirley days, and had obtained an exchange of +garb, his handsome motley being really a prize to the wanderers. +Thus he had been able to reach London; but he did not feel any confidence +that if he were pursued to the gipsy tent he would not be betrayed.</p> +<p>In this, his sagacity was not at fault, for he had scarcely made +his explanation, when there was a knocking at the outer gate, and a +demand to enter in the name of the King, and to see Alderman Sir Giles +Headley. Several of the stout figures of the yeomen of the King’s +guard were seen crossing the court, and Stephen, committing the charge +of his uncle to Kit, threw off his apron, washed his face and went up +to the hall, not very rapidly, for he suspected that since his father-in-law +knew nothing of the arrival, he would best baffle the inquiries by sincere +denials.</p> +<p>And Dennet, with her sharp woman’s wit, scenting danger, had +whisked herself and her children out of the hall at the first moment, +and taken them down to the kitchen, where modelling with a batch of +dough occupied both of them.</p> +<p>Meantime the alderman flatly denied the presence of the jester, or +the harbouring of the gipsy. He allowed that the jester was of +kin to his son-in-law, but the good man averred in all honesty that +he knew nought of any escape, and was absolutely certain that no such +person was in the court. Then, as Stephen entered, doffing his +cap to the King’s officer, the alderman continued, “There, +fair son, this is what these gentlemen have come about. Thy kinsman, +it seemeth, hath fled from Windsor, and his Grace is mightily incensed. +They say he changed clothes with a gipsy, and was traced hither this +morn, but I have told them the thing is impossible.”</p> +<p>“Will the gentlemen search?” asked Stephen. The +gentlemen did search, but they only saw the smiths in full work; and +in Smallbones’ forge, there was a roaring glowing furnace, with +a bare-armed fellow feeding it with coals, so that it fairly scorched +them, and gave them double relish for the good wine and beer that was +put out on the table to do honour to them.</p> +<p>Stephen had just with all civility seen them off the premises when +Perronel came sobbing into the court. They had visited her first, +for Cromwell had evidently known of Randall’s haunts; they had +turned her little house upside down, and had threatened her hotly in +case she harboured a disloyal spy, who deserved hanging. She came +to consult Stephen, for the notion of her husband wandering about, as +a sort of outlaw, was almost as terrible as the threat of his being +hanged.</p> +<p>Stephen beckoned her to a store-room full of gaunt figures of armour +upon blocks, and there brought up to her his extremely grimy new hand!</p> +<p>There was much gladness between them, but the future had to be considered. +Perronel had a little hoard, the amount of which she was too shrewd +to name to any one, even her husband, but she considered it sufficient +to enable him to fulfil the cherished scheme of his life, of retiring +to some small farm near his old home, and she was for setting off at +once. But Harry Randall declared that he could not go without +having offered his services to his old master. He had heard of +his “good lord” as sick, sad, and deserted by those whom +he had cherished, and the faithful heart was so true in its loyalty +that no persuasion could prevail in making it turn south.</p> +<p>“Nay,” said the wife, “did he not cast thee off +himself, and serve thee like one of his dogs? How canst thou be +bound to him?”</p> +<p>“There’s the rub!” sighed Hal. “He +sent me to the King deeming that he should have one full of faithful +love to speak a word on his behalf, and I, brutish oaf as I was, must +needs take it amiss, and sulk and mope till the occasion was past, and +that viper Cromwell was there to back up the woman Boleyn and poison +his Grace’s ear.”</p> +<p>“As if a man must not have a spirit to be angered by such treatment.”</p> +<p>“Thou forgettest, good wife. No man, but a fool, and +to be entreated as such! Be that as it may, to York I must. +I have eaten of my lord’s bread too many years, and had too much +kindness from him in the days of his glory, to seek mine own ease now +in his adversity. Thou wouldst have a poor bargain of me when +my heart is away.”</p> +<p>Perronel saw that thus it would be, and that this was one of the +points on which, to her mind, her husband was more than half a veritable +fool after all.</p> +<p>There had long been a promise that Stephen should, in some time of +slack employment, make a visit to his old comrade, Edmund Burgess, at +York; and as some new tools and patterns had to be conveyed thither, +a sudden resolution was come to, in family conclave, that Stephen himself +should convey them, taking his uncle with him as a serving-man, to attend +to the horses. The alderman gave full consent, he had always wished +Stephen to see York, while he himself, with Tibble Steelman, was able +to attend to the business; and while he pronounced Randall to have a +heart of gold, well worth guarding, he still was glad when the risk +was over of the King’s hearing that the runaway jester was harboured +at the Dragon. Dennet did not like the journey for her husband, +for to her mind it was perilous, but she had had a warm affection for +his uncle ever since their expedition to Richmond together, and she +did her best to reconcile the murmuring and wounded Perronel by praises +of Randall, a true and noble heart; and that as to setting her aside +for the Cardinal, who had heeded him so little, such faithfulness only +made her more secure of his true-heartedness towards her. Perronel +was moreover to break up her business, dispose of her house, and await +her husband’s return at the Dragon.</p> +<p>Stephen came back after a happy month with his friend, stored with +wondrous tales and descriptions which would last the children for a +month. He had seen his uncle present himself to the Cardinal at +Cawood Castle. It had been a touching meeting. Hal could +hardly restrain his tears when he saw how Wolsey’s sturdy form +had wasted, and his round ruddy cheeks had fallen away, while the attitude +in which he sat in his chair was listless and weary, though he fitfully +exerted himself with his old vigour.</p> +<p>Hal on his side, in the dark plain dress of a citizen, was hardly +recognisable, for not only had he likewise grown thinner, and his brown +cheeks more hollow, but his hair had become almost white during his +miserable weeks at Windsor, though he was not much over forty years +old.</p> +<p>He came up the last of a number who presented themselves for the +Archiepiscopal blessing, as Wolsey sat under a large tree in Cawood +Park. Wolsey gave it with his raised fingers, without special +heed, but therewith Hal threw himself on the ground, kissed his feet, +and cried, “My lord, my dear lord, your pardon.”</p> +<p>“What hast done, fellow? Speak!” said the Cardinal. +“Grovel not thus. We will be merciful.”</p> +<p>“Ah! my lord,” said Randall, lifting himself up, but +with clasped hands and tearful eyes, “I did not serve you as I +ought with the King, but if you will forgive me and take me back—”</p> +<p>“How now? How couldst thou serve me? What!”—as +Hal made a familiar gesture—“thou art not the poor fool; +Quipsome Patch? How comest thou here? Methought I had provided +well for thee in making thee over to the King.”</p> +<p>“Ah! my lord, I was fool, fool indeed, but all my jests failed +me. How could I make sport for your enemies?”</p> +<p>“And thou hast come, thou hast left the King to follow my fallen +fortunes?” said Wolsey. “My poor boy, he who is sitting +in sackcloth and ashes needs no jester.”</p> +<p>“Nay, my lord, nor can I find one jest to break! Would +you but let me be your meanest horse-boy, your scullion!” +Hal’s voice was cut short by tears as the Cardinal abandoned to +him one hand. The other was drying eyes that seldom wept.</p> +<p>“My faithful Hal!” he said, “this is love indeed!”</p> +<p>And Stephen ere he came away had seen his uncle fully established, +as a rational creature, and by his true name, as one of the personal +attendants on the Cardinal’s bed-chamber, and treated with the +affection he well deserved. Wolsey had really seemed cheered by +his affection, and was devoting himself to the care of his hitherto +neglected and even unvisited diocese, in a way that delighted the hearts +of the Yorkshiremen.</p> +<p>The first idea was that Perronel should join her husband at York, +but safe modes of travelling were not easy to be found, and before any +satisfactory escort offered, there were rumours that made it prudent +to delay. As autumn advanced, it was known that the Earl of Northumberland +had been sent to attach the Cardinal of High Treason. Then ensued +other reports that the great Cardinal had sunk and died on his way to +London for trial; and at last, one dark winter evening, a sorrowful +man stumbled up the steps of the Dragon, and as he came into the bright +light of the fire, and Perronel sprang to meet him, he sank into a chair +and wept aloud.</p> +<p>He had been one of those who had lifted the broken-hearted Wolsey +from his mule in the cloister of Leicester Abbey, he had carried him +to his bed, watched over him, and supported him, as the Abbot of Leicester +gave him the last Sacraments. He had heard and treasured up those +mournful words which are Wolsey’s chief legacy to the world, “Had +I but served my God, as I have served my king, He would not have forsaken +me in my old age.” For himself, he had the dying man’s +blessing, and assurance that nothing had so much availed to cheer in +these sad hours as his faithful love.</p> +<p>Now, Perronel might do what she would with him—he cared not.</p> +<p>And what she did was to set forth with him for Hampshire, on a pair +of stout mules with a strong serving-man behind them.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV. THE SOLDIER</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“Of a worthy London prentice<br /> My purpose +is to speak,<br />And tell his brave adventures<br /> Done +for his country’s sake.<br />Seek all the world about<br /> And +you shall hardly find<br />A man in valour to exceed<br /> A +prentice’ gallant mind.”</p> +<p><i>The Homes of a London Prentice</i>.</p> +<p>Six more years had passed over the Dragon court, when, one fine summer +evening, as the old walls rang with the merriment of the young boys +at play, there entered through the gateway a tall, well-equipped, soldierly +figure, which caught the eyes of the little armourer world in a moment. +“Oh, that’s a real Milan helmet!” exclaimed the one +lad.</p> +<p>“And oh, what a belt and buff coat!” cried another.</p> +<p>The subject of their admiration advanced muttering, “As if +I’d not been away a week,” adding, “I pray you, pretty +lads, doth Master Alderman Headley still dwell here?”</p> +<p>“Yea, sir, he is our grandfather,” said the elder boy, +holding a lesser one by the shoulder as he spoke.</p> +<p>“Verily! And what may be your names?”</p> +<p>“I am Giles Birkenholt, and this is my little brother, Dick.”</p> +<p>“Even as I thought. Wilt thou run in to your grandsire, +and tell him?”</p> +<p>The bigger boy interrupted, “Grandfather is going to bed. +He is old and weary, and cannot see strangers so late. ’Tis +our father who heareth all the orders.”</p> +<p>“And,” added the little one, with wide open grave eyes, +“Mother bade us run out and play and not trouble father, because +uncle Ambrose is so downcast because they have cut off the head of good +Sir Thomas More.”</p> +<p>“Yet,” said the visitor, “methinks your father +would hear of an old comrade. Or stay, where be Tibble Steelman +and Kit Smallbones?”</p> +<p>“Tibble is in the hall, well-nigh as sad as uncle Ambrose,” +began Dick; but Giles, better able to draw conclusions, exclaimed, “Tibble! +Kit! You know them, sir! Oh! are you the Giles Headley that +ran away to be a soldier ere I was born? Kit! Kit! see here—” +as the giant, broader and perhaps a little more bent, but with little +loss of strength, came forward out of his hut, and taking up the matter +just where it had been left fourteen years before, demanded as they +shook hands, “Ah! Master Giles, how couldst thou play me +such a scurvy trick?”</p> +<p>“Nay, Kit, was it not best for all that I turned my back to +make way for honest Stephen?”</p> +<p>By this time young Giles had rushed up the stair to the hall, where, +as he said truly, Stephen was giving his brother such poor comfort as +could be had from sympathy, when listening to the story of the cheerful, +brave resignation of the noblest of all the victims of Henry VIII. +Ambrose had been with Sir Thomas well-nigh to the last, had carried +messages between him and his friends during his imprisonment, had handed +his papers to him at his trial, had been with Mrs. Roper when she broke +through the crowd and fell on his neck as he walked from Westminster +Hall with the axe-edge turned towards him; had received his last kind +farewell, counsel, and blessing, and had only not been with him on the +scaffold because Sir Thomas had forbidden it, saying, in the old strain +of mirth, which never forsook him, “Nay, come not, my good friend. +Thou art of a queasy nature, and I would fain not haunt thee against +thy will.”</p> +<p>All was over now, the wise and faithful head had fallen, because +it would not own the wrong for the right; and Ambrose had been brought +home by his brother, a being confounded, dazed, seeming hardly able +to think or understand aught save that the man whom he had above all +loved and looked up to was taken from him, judicially murdered, and +by the King. The whole world seemed utterly changed to him, and +as to thinking or planning for himself, he was incapable of it; indeed, +he looked fearfully ill. His little nephew came up to his father’s +knee, pausing, though open-mouthed, and at the first token of permission, +bursting out, “Oh! father! Here’s a soldier in the +court! Kit is talking to him. And he is Giles Headley that +ran away. He has a beauteous Spanish leathern coat, and a belt +with silver bosses—and a morion that Phil Smallbones saith to +be of Milan, but I say it is French.”</p> +<p>Stephen had no sooner gathered the import of this intelligence than +he sprang down almost as rapidly as his little boy, with his welcome. +Nor did Giles Headley return at all in the dilapidated condition that +had been predicted. He was stout, comely, and well fleshed, and +very handsomely clad and equipped in a foreign style, with nothing of +the lean wolfish appearance of Sir John Fulford. The two old comrades +heartily shook one another by the hand in real gladness at the meeting. +Stephen’s welcome was crossed by the greeting and inquiry whether +all was well.</p> +<p>“Yea. The alderman is hale and hearty, but aged. +Your mother is tabled at a religious house at Salisbury.”</p> +<p>“I know. I landed at Southampton and have seen her.”</p> +<p>“And Dennet,” Stephen added with a short laugh, “she +could not wait for you.”</p> +<p>“No, verily. Did I not wot well that she cared not a +fico for me? I hoped when I made off that thou wouldst be the +winner, Steve, and I am right glad thou art, man.”</p> +<p>“I can but thank thee, Giles,” said Stephen, changing +to the familiar singular pronoun. “I have oft since thought +what a foolish figure I should have cut had I met thee among the Badgers, +after having given leg bail because I might not brook seeing thee wedded +to her. For I was sore tempted—only thou wast free, and +mine indenture held me fast.”</p> +<p>“Then it was so! And I did thee a good turn! For +I tell thee, Steve, I never knew how well I liked thee till I was wounded +and sick among those who heeded neither God nor man! But one word +more, Stephen, ere we go in. The Moor’s little maiden, is +she still unwedded?”</p> +<p>“Yea,” was Stephen’s answer. “She is +still waiting-maid to Mistress Roper, daughter to good Sir Thomas More; +but alack, Giles, they are in sore trouble, as it may be thou hast heard—and +my poor brother is like one distraught.”</p> +<p>Ambrose did indeed meet Giles like one in a dream. He probably +would have made the same mechanical greeting, if the Emperor or the +Pope had been at that moment presented to him; but Dennet, who had been +attending to her father, made up all that was wanting in cordiality. +She had always had a certain sense of shame for having flouted her cousin, +and, as his mother told her, driven him to death and destruction, and +it was highly satisfactory to see him safe and sound, and apparently +respectable and prosperous.</p> +<p>Moreover, grieved as all the family were for the fate of the admirable +and excellent More, it was a relief to those less closely connected +with him to attend to something beyond poor Ambrose’s sorrow and +his talk, the which moreover might be perilous if any outsider listened +and reported it to the authorities as disaffection to the King. +So Giles told his story, sitting on the gallery in the cool of the summer +evening, and marvelling over and over again how entirely unchanged all +was since his first view of the Dragon court as a proud, sullen, raw +lad twenty summers ago. Since that time he had seen so much that +the time appeared far longer to him than to those who had stayed at +home.</p> +<p>It seemed that Fulford had from the first fascinated him more than +any of the party guessed, and that each day of the free life of the +expedition, and of contact with the soldiery, made a return to the monotony +of the forge, the decorous life of a London citizen, and the bridal +with a child, to whom he was indifferent, seem more intolerable to him. +Fulford imagining rightly that the knowledge of his intentions might +deter young Birkenholt from escaping, enjoined strict secrecy on either +lad, not intending them to meet till it should be too late to return, +and therefore had arranged that Giles should quit the party on the way +to Calais, bringing with him Will Wherry, and the horse he rode.</p> +<p>Giles had then been enrolled among the Badgers. He had little +to tell about his life among them till the battle of Pavia, where he +had had the good fortune to take three French prisoners; but a stray +shot from a fugitive had broken his leg during the pursuit, and he had +been laid up in a merchant’s house at Pavia for several months. +He evidently looked back to the time with gratitude, as having wakened +his better associations, which had been well-nigh stifled during the +previous years of the wild life of a soldier of fortune. His host’s +young daughter had eyes like Aldonza, and the almost forgotten possibility +of returning to his love a brave and distinguished man awoke once more. +His burgher thrift began to assert itself again, and he deposited a +nest-egg from the ransoms of his prisoners in the hands of his host, +who gave him bonds by which he could recover the sum from Lombard correspondents +in London.</p> +<p>He was bound by his engagements to join the Badgers again, or he +would have gone home on his recovery; and he had shared in the terrible +taking of Rome, of which he declared that he could not speak—with +a significant look at Dennet and her children, who were devouring his +words. He had, however, stood guard over a lady and her young +children whom some savage Spaniards were about to murder, and the whole +family had overpowered him with gratitude, lodged him sumptuously in +their house, and shown themselves as grateful to him as if he had given +them all the treasure which he had abstained from seizing.</p> +<p>The sickness brought on by their savage excesses together with the +Roman summer had laid low many of the Badgers. When the Prince +of Orange drew off the army from the miserable city, scarce seven score +of that once gallant troop were in marching order, and Sir John Fulford +himself was dying. He sent for Giles, as less of a demon than +most of the troop, and sent a gold medal, the only fragment of spoil +remaining to him, to his daughter Perronel. To Giles himself Fulford +bequeathed Abenali’s well-tested sword, and he died in the comfortable +belief—so far as he troubled himself about the matter at all—that +there were special exemptions for soldiers.</p> +<p>The Badgers now incorporated themselves with another broken body +of Landsknechts, and fell under the command of a better and more conscientious +captain. Giles, who had been horrified rather than hardened by +the experiences of Rome, was found trustworthy and rose in command. +The troop was sent to take charge of the Pope at Orvieto, and thus it +was that he had fallen in with the Englishmen of Gardiner’s suite, +and had been able to send his letter to Ambrose. Since he had +found the means of rising out of the slough, he had made up his mind +to continue to serve till he had won some honour, and had obtained enough +to prevent his return as a hungry beggar.</p> +<p>His corps became known for discipline and valour. It was trusted +often, was in attendance on the Emperor, and was fairly well paid. +Giles was their “ancient” and had charge of the banner, +nor could it be doubted that he had flourished. His last adventure +had been the expedition to Tunis, when 20,000 Christian captives had +been set free from the dungeons and galleys, and so grand a treasure +had been shared among the soldiery that Giles, having completed the +term of service for which he was engaged, decided on returning to England, +before, as he said, he grew any older, to see how matters were going.</p> +<p>“For the future,” he said, “it depended on how +he found things. If Aldonza would none of him, he should return +to the Emperor’s service. If she would go with him, he held +such a position that he could provide for her honourably. Or he +could settle in England. For he had a good sum in the hands of +Lombard merchants; having made over to them spoils of war, ransoms, +and arrears when he obtained them; and having at times earned something +by exercising his craft, which he said had been most valuable to him. +Indeed he thought he could show Stephen and Tibble a few fresh arts +he had picked up at Milan.</p> +<p>Meantime his first desire was to see Aldonza. She was still +at Chelsea with her mistress, and Ambrose, to his brother’s regret, +went thither every day, partly because he could not keep away, and partly +to try to be of use to the family. Giles might accompany him, +though he still looked so absorbed in his trouble that it was doubtful +whether he had really understood what was passing, or that he was wanted +to bring about an interview between his companion and Aldonza.</p> +<p>The beautiful grounds at Chelsea, in their summer beauty, looked +inexpressibly mournful, deprived of him who had planted and cherished +the trees and roses. As they passed along in the barge, one spot +after another recalled More’s bright jests or wise words; above +all, the very place where he had told his son-in-law Roper that he was +merry, not because he was safe, but because the fight was won, and his +conscience had triumphed against the King he loved and feared.</p> +<p>Giles told of the report that the Emperor had said he would have +given a hundred of his nobles for one such councillor as More, and the +prospect of telling this to the daughters had somewhat cheered Ambrose. +They found a guard in the royal livery at the stairs to the river, and +at the door of the house, but these had been there ever since Sir Thomas’s +apprehension. They knew Ambrose Birkenholt, and made no objection +to his passing in and leaving his companion to walk about among the +borders and paths, once so trim, but already missing their master’s +hand and eye.</p> +<p>Very long it seemed to Giles, who was nearly despairing, when a female +figure in black came out of one of the side doors, which were not guarded, +and seemed to be timidly looking for him. Instantly he was at +her side.</p> +<p>“Not here,” she said, and in silence led the way to a +pleached alley out of sight of the windows. There they stood still. +It was a strange meeting of two who had not seen each other for fourteen +years, when the one was a tall, ungainly youth, the other well-nigh +a child. And now Giles was a fine, soldierly man in the prime +of life, with a short, curled beard, and powerful, alert bearing, and +Aldonza, though the first flower of her youth had gone by, yet, having +lived a sheltered and far from toilsome life, was a really beautiful +woman, gracefully proportioned, and with the delicate features and clear +olive skin of the Andalusian Moor. Her eyes, always her finest +feature, were sunken with weeping, but their soft beauty could still +be seen. Giles threw himself on his knee and grasped at her hand.</p> +<p>“My love!—my only love!” he cried.</p> +<p>“Oh! how can I think of such matters now—now, when it +is thus with my dear mistress,” said Aldonza, in a mournful voice, +as though her tears were all spent—yet not withholding her hand.</p> +<p>“You knew me before you knew her,” said Giles. +“See, Aldonza, what I have brought back to you.”</p> +<p>And he half drew the sword her father had made. She gave a +gasp of delight, for well she knew every device in the gold inlaying +of the blade, and she looked at Giles with eyes fall of gratitude.</p> +<p>“I knew thou wouldst own me,” said Giles. “I +have fought and gone far from thee, Aldonza. Canst not spare one +word for thine old Giles?”</p> +<p>“Ah, Giles—there is one thing which if you will do for +my mistress, I would be yours from—from my heart of hearts.”</p> +<p>“Say it, sweetheart, and it is done.”</p> +<p>“You know not. It is perilous, and may be many would +quail. Yet it may be less perilous for you than for one who is +better known.”</p> +<p>“Peril and I are well acquainted, my heart.” She +lowered her voice as her eyes dilated, and she laid her hand on his +arm. “Thou wottest what is on London Bridge gates?”</p> +<p>“I saw it, a sorry sight.”</p> +<p>“My mistress will not rest till that dear and sacred head, +holy as any blessed relic, be taken down so as not to be the sport of +sun and wind, and cruel men gaping beneath. She cannot sleep, +she cannot sit or stand still, she cannot even kiss her child for thinking +of it. Her mind is set on taking it down, yet she will not peril +her husband. Nor verily know I how any here could do the deed.”</p> +<p>“Ha! I have scaled a wall ere now. I bare our banner +at Goletta, with the battlements full of angry Moors, not far behind +the Emperor’s.”</p> +<p>“You would? And be secret? Then indeed nought would +be overmuch for you. And this very night—”</p> +<p>“The sooner the better.”</p> +<p>She not only clasped his hand in thanks, but let him raise her face +to his, and take the reward he felt his due. Then she said she +must return, but Ambrose would bring him all particulars. Ambrose +was as anxious as herself and her mistress that the thing should be +done, but was unfit by all his habits, and his dainty, scholarly niceness, +to render such effectual assistance as the soldier could do. Giles +offered to scale the gate by night himself, carry off the head, and +take it to any place Mrs. Roper might appoint, with no assistance save +such as Ambrose could afford. Aldonza shuddered a little at this, +proving that her heart had gone out to him already, but with this he +had to be contented, for she went back into the house, and he saw her +no more. Ambrose came back to him, and, with something more like +cheerfulness than he had yet seen, said, “Thou art happy, Giles.”</p> +<p>“More happy than I durst hope—to find her—”</p> +<p>“Tush! I meant not that. But to be able to do the +work of the holy ones of old who gathered the remnants of the martyrs, +while I have indeed the will, but am but a poor craven! It is +gone nearer to comfort that sad-hearted lady than aught else.”</p> +<p>It appeared that Mrs. Roper would not be satisfied unless she herself +were present at the undertaking, and this was contrary to the views +of Giles, who thought the further off women were in such a matter the +better. There was a watch at the outer entrance of London Bridge, +the trainbands taking turns to supply it, but it was known by experience +that they did not think it necessary to keep awake after belated travellers +had ceased to come in; and Sir Thomas More’s head was set over +the opposite gateway, looking inwards at the City. The most suitable +hour would be between one and two o’clock, when no one would be +stirring, and the summer night would be at the shortest. Mrs. +Roper was exceedingly anxious to implicate no one, and to prevent her +husband and brother from having any knowledge of an act that William +Roper might have prohibited, as if she could not absolutely exculpate +him, it might be fatal to him. She would therefore allow no one +to assist save Ambrose, and a few more devoted old servants, of condition +too low for anger to be likely to light upon them. She was to +be rowed with muffled oars to the spot, to lie hid in the shadow of +the bridge till a signal like the cry of the pee-wit was exchanged from +the bridge, then approach the stairs at the inner angle of the bridge +where Giles and Ambrose would meet her.</p> +<p>Giles’s experience as a man-at-arms stood him in good stead. +He purchased a rope as he went home, also some iron ramps. He +took a survey of the arched gateway in the course of the afternoon, +and shutting himself into one of the worksheds with Ambrose, he constructed +such a rope ladder as was used in scaling fortresses, especially when +seized at night by surprise. He beguiled the work by a long series +of anecdotes of adventures of the kind, of all of which Ambrose heard +not one word. The whole court, and especially Giles number three, +were very curious as to their occupation, but nothing was said even +to Stephen, for it was better, if Ambrose should be suspected, that +he should be wholly ignorant, but he had—they knew not how—gathered +somewhat. Only Ambrose was, at parting for the night, obliged +to ask him for the key of the gate.</p> +<p>“Brother,” then he said, “what is this work I see? +Dost think I can let thee go into a danger I do not partake? I +will share in this pious act towards the man I have ever reverenced.”</p> +<p>So at dead of night the three men stole out together, all in the +plainest leathern suits. The deed was done in the perfect stillness +of the sleeping City, and without mishap or mischance. Stephen’s +strong hand held the ladder securely and aided to fix it to the ramps, +and just as the early dawn was touching the summit of St. Paul’s +spire with a promise of light, Giles stepped into the boat, and reverently +placed his burden within the opening of a velvet cushion that had been +ripped up and deprived of part of the stuffing, so as to conceal it +effectually. The brave Margaret Roper, the English Antigone, well +knowing that all depended on her self-control, refrained from aught +that might shake it. She only raised her face to Giles and murmured +from dry lips, “Sir, God must reward you!” And Aldonza, +who sat beside her, held out her hand.</p> +<p>Ambrose was to go with them to the priest’s house, where Mrs. +Roper was forced to leave her treasure, since she durst not take it +to Chelsea, as the royal officers were already in possession, and the +whole family were to depart on the ensuing day. Stephen and Giles +returned safely to Cheapside.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV. OLD HAUNTS</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“O the oak, and the birch, and the bonny holly tree,<br />They +flourish best at home in my own countree.”</p> +<p>When the absence of the barbarous token of the execution was discovered, +suspicion instantly fell on the More family, and Margaret, her husband, +and her brother, were all imprisoned. The brave lady took all +upon herself, and gave no names of her associates in the deed, and as +Henry VIII. still sometimes had better moods, all were soon released.</p> +<p>But that night had given Ambrose a terrible cough, so that Dennet +kept him in bed two days. Indeed he hardly cared to rise from +it. His whole nature, health, spirits, and mind, had been so cruelly +strained, and he was so listless, so weak, so incapable of rousing himself, +or turning to any fresh scheme of life, that Stephen decided on fulfilling +a long-cherished plan of visiting their native home and seeing their +uncle, who had, as he had contrived to send them word, settled down +on a farm which he had bought with Perronel’s savings, near Romsey. +Headley, who was lingering till Aldonza could leave her mistress and +decide on any plan, undertook to attend to the business, and little +Giles, to his great delight, was to accompany them.</p> +<p>So the brothers went over the old ground. They slept in the +hostel at Dogmersfield where the Dragon mark and the badge of the Armourers’ +Company had first appeared before them. They found the very tree +where the alderman had been tied, and beneath which Spring lay buried, +while little Giles gazed with ecstatic, almost religious veneration, +and Ambrose seemed to draw in new life with the fresh air of the heath, +now becoming rich with crimson bells. They visited Hyde Abbey, +and the well-clothed, well-mounted travellers received a better welcome +than had fallen to the lot of the hungry lads. They were shown +the grave of old Richard Birkenholt in the cloister, and Stephen left +a sum to be expended in masses for his behoof. They looked into +St. Elizabeth’s College, but the kind warden was dead, and a trembling +old man who looked at them through the wicket hoped they were not sent +from the Commissioners. For the visitation of the lesser religious +houses was going on, and St. Elizabeth’s was already doomed. +Stephen inquired at the White Hart for Father Shoveller, and heard that +he had grown too old to perform the office of a bailiff, and had retired +to the parent abbey. The brothers therefore renounced their first +scheme of taking Silkstede in their way, and made for Romsey. +There, under the shadow of the magnificent nunnery, they dined pleasantly +by the waterside at the sign of Bishop Blaise, patron of the woolcombers +of the town, and halted long enough to refresh Ambrose, who was equal +to very little fatigue. It amused Stephen to recollect how mighty +a place he had once thought the little town.</p> +<p>Did mine host know Master Randall? What, Master Randall of +Baddesley? He should think so! Was not the good man or his +good wife here every market day, with a pleasant word for every one! +Men said he had had some good office about the Court, as steward or +the like—for he was plainly conversant with great men, though +he made no boast. If these guests were kin of his, they were welcome +for his sake.</p> +<p>So the brothers rode on amid the gorse and heather till they came +to a broad-spreading oak tree, sheltering a farmhouse built in frames +of heavy timber, filled up with bricks set in zigzag patterns, with +a high-pitched roof and tall chimneys. Barns and stacks were near +it, and fields reclaimed from the heath were waving with corn just tinged +with the gold of harvest. Three or four cows, of the tawny hue +that looked so home-like to the brothers, were being released from the +stack-yard after being milked, and conducted to their field by a tall, +white-haired man in a farmer’s smock with a little child perched +on his shoulder, who gave a loud jubilant cry at the sight of the riders. +Stephen, pushing on, began the question whether Master Randall dwelt +there, but it broke off half way into a cry of recognition on either +side, Harry’s an absolute shout. “The lads, the lads! +Wife, wife! ’tis our own lads!”</p> +<p>And as Perronel, more buxom and rosy than London had ever made her, +came forth from her dairy, and there was a mêlée of greetings, +and Stephen would have asked what homeless little one the pair had adopted, +he was cut short by an exulting laugh. “No more adopted +than thy Giles there, Stephen. ’Tis our own boy, Thomas +Randall! Yea, and if he have come late, he is the better loved, +though I trow Perronel there will ever look on Ambrose as her eldest +son.”</p> +<p>“And by my troth, he needs good country diet and air!” +cried Perronel. “Thou hast had none to take care of thee, +Ambrose. They have let thee pine and dwine over thy books. +I must take thee in hand.”</p> +<p>“’Tis what I brought him to thee for, good aunt,” +said Stephen, smiling.</p> +<p>Great was the interchange of news over the homely hearty meal. +It was plain that no one could be happier, or more prosperous in a humble +way, than the ex-jester and his wife; and if anything could restore +Ambrose it would surely be the homely plenty and motherly care he found +there.</p> +<p>Stephen heard another tale of his half-brother. His wife had +soon been disgusted by the loneliness of the verdurer’s lodge, +and was always finding excuses for going to Southampton, where she and +her daughter had both caught the plague, imported in some Eastern merchandise, +and had died. The only son had turned out wild and wicked, and +had been killed in a broil which he had provoked: and John, a broken-down +man, with no one to enjoy the wealth he had accumulated, had given up +his office as verdurer, and retired to an estate which he had purchased +on the skirts of the Forest.</p> +<p>Stephen rode thither to see him, and found him a dying man, tyrannised +over and neglected by his servants, and having often bitterly regretted +his hardness towards his young brothers. All that Stephen did +for him he received as tokens of pardon, and it was not possible to +leave him until, after a fortnight’s watching, he died in his +brother’s arms. He had made no will, and Ambrose thus inherited +a property which made his future maintenance no longer an anxiety to +his brother.</p> +<p>He himself seemed to care very little for the matter. To be +allowed to rest under Perronel’s care, to read his Erasmus’ +Testament, and attend mass on Sundays at the little Norman church, seemed +all that he wished. Stephen tried to persuade him that he was +young enough at thirty-five to marry and begin life again on the fair +woodland river-bordered estate that was his portion, but he shook his +head. “No, Stephen, my work is over. I could only +help my dear master, and that is at an end. Dean Colet is gone, +Sir Thomas is gone, what more have I to do here? Old ties are +broken, old bonds severed. Crime and corruption were protested +against in vain; and, now that judgment is beginning at the house of +God, I am thankful that I am not like to live to see it.”</p> +<p>Perronel scolded and exhorted him, and told him he would be stronger +when the hot weather was over, but Ambrose only smiled, and Stephen +saw a change in him, even in this fortnight, which justified his forebodings.</p> +<p>Stephen and his uncle found a trustworthy bailiff to manage the estate, +and Ambrose remained in the house where he could now be no burthen. +Stephen was obliged to leave him and take home young Giles, who had, +he found, become so completely a country lad, enjoying everything to +the utmost, that he already declared that he would much rather be a +yeoman and forester than an armourer, and that he did not want to be +apprenticed to that black forge.</p> +<p>This again made Ambrose smile with pleasure as he thought of the +boy as keeping up the name of Birkenholt in the Forest. The one +wish he expressed was that Stephen would send down Tibble Steelman to +be with him. For in truth they both felt that in London Tib might +at any time be laid hands on, and suffer at Smithfield for his opinions. +The hope of being a comfort to Ambrose was perhaps the only idea that +could have counterbalanced the sense that he ought not to fly from martyrdom; +and as it proved, the invitation came only just in time. Three +days after Tibble had been despatched by the Southampton carrier in +charge of all the comforts Dennet could put together, Bishop Stokesley’s +grim “soumpnour” came to summon him to the Bishop’s +court, and there could be little question that he would have courted +the faggot and stake. But as he was gone out of reach, no further +inquiries were made after him.</p> +<p>Dennet had told her husband that she had been amazed to find how, +in spite of a very warm affection for her, her husband, and children, +her father hankered after the old name, and grieved that he could not +fulfil his old engagement to his cousin Robert. Giles Headley +had managed the business excellently during Stephen’s absence, +had shown himself very capable, and gained good opinions from all. +Rubbing about in the world had been very good for him; and she verily +believed that nothing would make her father so happy as for them to +offer to share the business with Giles. She would on her part +make Aldonza welcome, and had no fears of not agreeing with her. +Besides—if little Giles were indeed to be heir to Testside was +not the way made clear?</p> +<p>So thus it was. The alderman was very happy in the arrangement, +and Giles Headley had not forfeited his rights to be a freeman of London +or a member of the Armourers’ Guild. He married Aldonza +at Michaelmas, and all went well and peacefully in the household. +Dennet never quitted her father while he lived; but Stephen struggled +through winter roads and floods, and reached Baddesley in time to watch +his brother depart in peace, his sorrow and indignation for his master +healed by the sense of his martyrdom, and his trust firm and joyful. +“If this be, as it is, dying of grief,” said Hal Randall, +“surely it is a blessed way to die!”</p> +<p>A few winters later Stephen and Dennet left Giles Headley in sole +possession of the Dragon, with their second son as an apprentice, while +they themselves took up the old forest life as Master and Mistress Birkenholt +of Testside, where they lived and died honoured and loved.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<p>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES ***</p> +<pre> + +******This file should be named arpn10h.htm or arpn10h.zip****** +Corrected EDITIONS of our EBooks get a new NUMBER, arpn11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, arpn10ah.htm + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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