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THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES 
 
Printed by Richard Clay <fc Sons, Limited, London. 
 Two Volumes, Crown Svo, August, 18S4. 
 Reprinted, One Volume, Crown 8vo, 1886, 1887. 
 New Edition 1889. 
 
This book is due at the WALTER R. DAVIS LIBRARY on 
 the last date stamped under "Date Due." If not on hold it 
 may be renewed by bringing it to the library. 
 
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 DATE RET 
 DUE 
 
 fJUN 1 5 
 
 1996 
 
 
 
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See there. Master Alderman ! "—Page 312, 
 
^ ,f)7 
 
 THE 
 
 ARMOURER'S PRENTICES 
 
 CHARLOTTE M. TONGE 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY W. J. HENNESSY 
 
 MACMILLAN AND CO. 
 
 AND NEW YORK 
 
 1889 
 
 The Right of Translation is Reserved 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 I have attempted here to sketch citizen life in the 
 early Tudor days, aided therein by Stowe's Survey of 
 London, supplemented by Mr. Loftie's excellent history, 
 and Dr. Burton's English Merchants. 
 
 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 apprentice- 
 ship in London. Evil May Day is closely described 
 in Hall's Chronicle. 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 Pictorial History of 
 
viii PREFACE. 
 
 England tells of Barlow, the archer, dubbed by 
 Henry VIII. the King of Shoreditch. 
 
 Historic Winchester 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. 
 
 The Moresco's Arabic Gospel and Breviary are 
 mentioned in Lady Calcott's History of Spain,, hut 
 she does not give her authority. Nor can I go 
 further than Knight's Pictorial History 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 Kegent's Park, the marsh 
 was probably deep enough in places for the ad- 
 venture there. Brand's Popular Antiquities 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. 
 
 Seebohm's Oxford Reformers and the Life of Sir 
 Thomas More, written by William Koper, are my other 
 authorities, though I touched somewhat unwillingly 
 on ground already lighted up by Miss Manning in her 
 Household of Sir Thomas More. 
 
 Gait's Life of Cardinal Wolsey afforded the de- 
 
PEEFACE. ix 
 
 scription of his household taken from his faithful 
 Cavendish, and likewise the story of Patch the Foal. 
 In fact, a large portion of the whole book was built 
 on that anecdote. 
 
 ■ 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 pieces justificatives. 
 
 C. M. Yongk 
 
 August 1st, 1884 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ] PAGE 
 
 THE VERDURER's LODGE , 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE GRANGE OF SILKSTEDE 13 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 KINSMEN AND STRANGERS 24 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 a hero's fall 39 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE DRAGON COURT 49 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A SUNDAY IN THE CITY 63 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 YORK HOUSE 77 
 
x " CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 PAGE 
 4UIPSOME HAL 39 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ARMS SPIRITUAL AND TEMPORAL 102 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 TWO VOCATIONS 112 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 AT DI ME GRENADA . . , . 130 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A KING IN A QUAGMIRE 142 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A LONDON HOLIDAY 157 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 THE KNIGHT OF THE BADGER 170 
 
 CHAPTER XT. 
 
 HEAVE HALF A BRICK AT HIM 184 
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 MAT EVE 194 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ILL MAY DAT 210 
 
CONTENTS. xm 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 PAGE 
 PARDON 229 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 AT THE ANTELOPE 246 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 CLOTH OF GOLD ON THE SEAMY SIDE 264 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 SWORD OR SMITHY 281 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 AN INVASION * 297 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 UNWELCOME PREFERMENT v ..... . 315 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE SOLDIER 331 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 OLD HAUNTS 343 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 "See there, Master Alderman " Front. Page 312 
 
 "Ha! Ha!" laughed Henry, "hast found him out, 
 
 lads?" „ 153 
 
 " And see here, your Grace!" ,, 224 
 
THE 
 
 AEMOUEEE'S PRENTICES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE VEKDURER's LODGE. 
 
 " Give me the poor allottery my father left me by testament, with 
 that I will go buy me fortunes." 
 " Get you with him, you old dog." 
 
 As You Like It. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 
 B 
 
2 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 
I.] THE VERDTJREH'S LODGE. 3 
 
 hair, and honest open faces, the younger ruddy and sun- 
 burnt, 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. 
 
 " 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. 
 
 " Come, Stephen, Stephen ; 'tis time to play the 
 man ! What are we to do out in the world if you weep 
 and wail ? " 
 
 " She might have let us stay for the month's mind," 
 r was heard from Stephen. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " 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 " 
 
 " 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/' 
 
 " 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 " 
 
 " Hist ! hist ! " said the more prudent Ambrose. 
 
 " 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 
 
 B 2 
 
4 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 " That's womanish," said Ambrose. 
 
 " Who'll be the woman when the time comes for 
 drawing cold steel ? " cried Stephen, sitting up. 
 
 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. 
 
 "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/' 
 
 " Thanks, brother John," said Ambrose, somewhat 
 sarcastically, "but where Stephen goes I go." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " My father looked higher for his son than a pricker's 
 office," returned Ambrose. 
 
 " That do I wot," said John, " and therefore, 'tis for 
 his own good that I would send him forth. His god- 
 father, our uncle Birkenholt, he will assuredly provide 
 for him, and set him forth " 
 
 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." 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
I.] THE VERDUREH'S LODGE. 5 
 
 John made a helpless gesture, and at a renewed 
 call, went indoors. 
 
 " 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. ,, 
 
 "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." 
 
 " I would not stop short at Winchester," said Stephen. 
 " London for me, where uncle Randall will find us 
 preferment ! " 
 
 " And what wilt do for Spring ! " 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 " I doubt me whether the poor old hound will brook 
 the journey." 
 
 " Then I'll carry him ! " 
 
 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. 
 
 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 re- 
 sented his fathers 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 
 
6 THE AKMOUREK'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 connected with the timher which was yearly cut in the 
 Forest to supply material for the shipping, He had 
 wedded the daughter of a person engaged in law busi- 
 ness 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 com- 
 mendation 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 every- 
 thing else went to their brother. 
 
 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 Birken- 
 holt'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 
 
i.] THE VERDURER'S LODGE. 7 
 
 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. 
 
 The boys possessed two uncles, one on each side of 
 the house. Their fathers 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 Win- 
 chester, 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 brothers 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 The two brothers, who were about seven and six 
 years old at the time of his flight, had a lively recollec- 
 tion of his charms as a playmate, and of their mothers 
 grief for him, and refusal to believe any ill of her Hal. 
 
8 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 succes- 
 sion 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. 
 
 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, inter- 
 spersed 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. 
 
THE VERDURER'S LODGE. 9 
 
 " 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. " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " 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 ! " 
 
 " Nay," said Ambrose, who could not bring himself 
 to thank her, " I go with Stephen, mistress ; I would 
 mend my scholarship ere I teach." 
 
 "As you please," said Mistress Maud, shrugging her 
 shoulders, " only never say that a fair offer was not 
 made to you." 
 
 "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." 
 
 "Portions, quotha?" returned John. "Boy, they be 
 not due to you till you be come to years of discretion." 
 
 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." 
 
 And Ambrose muttered something about " my Lord 
 of Beaulieu." 
 
 "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." 
 
 " That being so," said Ambrose turning to Stephen, 
 
10 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 " we will to Beaulieu, and see what counsel my lord 
 will give us." 
 
 " Yea, do, like the vipers ye are, and embroil us with 
 my Lord of Beaulieu," cried Maud from the fire. 
 
 " See," said John, in his more caressing fashion, " it 
 is not well to carry family tales to strangers, and — 
 and — " 
 
 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 ! " 
 
 " 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 parch- 
 ments at Southampton, for not a man or beast in the 
 Forest will give thee good day." 
 
 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 ? " 
 
 " I would have thee do a brothers honest part, John 
 
i.] THE VERDURER'S LODGE. 11 
 
 Birkenholt. A loving part I say not. Thou wert 
 always like a very popple for hardness, and smooth- 
 ness, ay, and slipperiness. Heigh ho ! But what is 
 right by the lads, thou slialt do." 
 
 John cowered under her eye as he had done at six years 
 old, and faltered, "I only seek to do them right, nurse." 
 
 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." 
 
 " We would not stay here if you paid us for it/' 
 returned Stephen. 
 
 t€ And whither would you go ? " asked John. 
 
 " To Winchester first, to seek counsel with our uncle 
 Birkenholt. Then to London, where uncle Randall will 
 help us to our fortunes." 
 
 " Gipsy Hal ! He is more like to help you to a halter," 
 sneered John, sotto voce, and Joan herself observed, 
 " Their uncle at Winchester will show them better than 
 to run after that there go-by-chance." 
 
 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. 
 
 Nurse Joan had fought their battles, but with the 
 sore heart of one who was parting with her darlings 
 
12 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. t. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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." 
 
 " Prentice ! " cried Stephen, scornfully. 
 
 " Ay, ay. As good blood as thine has been prenticed," 
 returned Joan. " Better so than be a cut-throat sword- 
 and-bu elder 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." 
 
 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 unaccus- 
 tomed 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. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE GRANGE OF SILKSTEDE. 
 
 " All Itchen's valley lay, 
 St. Catherine's breezy side and the woodlands far away, 
 The huge Cathedral sleeping in venerable gloom, 
 The modest College tower, and the bedesmen's Norman home." 
 
 Lord Selborne. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 Moreover, contrary to their expectation, their elder 
 
14 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 Ki chard 
 Birkenholt find them some employment at Winchester, 
 where they, or at least Ambrose, might even obtain 
 admission into the famous college of St. Mary. 
 
 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. 
 
 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." 
 
 " He goes with us," said Stephen. 
 
 " He ! Thou It never have the folly ! The old hound 
 is half blind and past use. No man will take thee in 
 with him after thee." 
 
 "Then they shall not take me in," said Stephen. 
 " I'll not leave him to be hanged by thee." 
 
 " Who spoke of hanging him ! " 
 
 "Thy wife will soon, if she hath not already." 
 
 " 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." 
 
il] THE GEANGE OF SILKSTEDE. 15 
 
 " Then I'll carry him," said Stephen, doggedly. 
 
 " What hast thou to say to that device, Ambrose ? " 
 asked Jolm, appealing to the elder and wiser. 
 
 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 sen- 
 tencing him, no mor<3 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, some- 
 times 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 some- 
 what 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. 
 
 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 ale- 
 house 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 
 
16 THE AKMOUEEE'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 them- 
 selves 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 " Winchester must be nigh. The sun is getting 
 low," said Stephen. 
 
 " We will ask. The good folk will at least give us 
 an answer," said Ambrose wearily. 
 
 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 
 
ii.] THE GKANGE OF SILKSTEDE. 17 
 
 of the day's work, and doffing his cap, Ambrose asked 
 whether Winchester were near. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " We he from the Forest, so please your reverence, 
 "and are bound for Hyde Abbey, where our uncle, 
 Master Richard Birkenholt, dwells." 
 
 " And oh, sir," added Stephen, " may we crave a 
 drop of water for our dog ? " 
 
 The monk smiled as he looked at Spring, who had 
 flung himself down to take advantage of the halt, hang- 
 ing 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." 
 
 "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." 
 
 " 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, " Birken- 
 holt ! 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." 
 
 The tired boys were heartily glad to accept the invi- 
 tation, 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 
 
 c 
 
18 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. fcHAP. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 monas- 
 tery, 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 laborare est orare. 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." 
 
 Then they took their first night's rest away from 
 
ii.] THE GKANGE OF SILKSTEDE. 19 
 
 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 promis- 
 cuously among their sheep-dogs on the floor of the 
 refectory. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 
 c 2 
 
20 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 the river side, having been removed from the neigh- 
 bourhood of the Minster, because the brethren of St. 
 Grimbald could not agree with those of St. Syvithun'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 
 others ears. 
 
 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 fathers 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." 
 
 " 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. 
 
 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 
 iriargin 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 
 
II.] THE GKANGE OF SILKSTEDE. 21 
 
 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 be- 
 stowed 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 Soon they came in sight of a large extent of mon- 
 astic 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. 
 
 " Long bows ! " exclaimed Stephen. " Who be 
 they ? " 
 
 " 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 bcnedicite, fair sirs. St. Austin's grace 
 be with you ! " 
 
 Through a gate between two little red octagonal 
 towers, Brother Bulpett led the two visitors, and called 
 to another of the monks, "Benedicite, Father Segrim, 
 here be two striplings wanting speech of old Birken- 
 holt." ^ * 8 P 
 
 " Looking after dead men s shoes, I trow," muttered 
 Father Segrim, with a sour look at the lads, as he led 
 
22 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " How fares it with you, uncle ? " ventured Ambrose. 
 
 " Who be ye ? I know none of you/' muttered the 
 old man, shaking his head still more. 
 
 " We are Ambrose and Stephen from the Forest," 
 shouted Ambrose. 
 
 " Ah ! Steve ! poor Stevie ! The accursed boar has 
 rent his goodly face so as I would never have known 
 him. Poor Steve ! Rest his soul ! " 
 
 The old man began to weep, while his nephews recol- 
 lected 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 ? " 
 
 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 
 
il] THE GRANGE OF SILKSTEDE. 23 
 
 at Southampton, John might stay at home, but he 
 would win fame and honour in Gascony. 
 
 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 disso- 
 lute old men-at-arms without all their idle kin making 
 an excuse to come and pay their devoirs. These corro- 
 dies are a heavy charge and a weighty abuse, and if 
 there be the visitation the kings majesty speaks of, 
 they will be one of the first matters to be amended." 
 
 Wherewith Stephen and Ambrose found themselves 
 walked out of the cloister of St. Grimbald, and the 
 gates shut behind them. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 KINSMEN AND STEANGERS. 
 
 " The reul of St. Maure and of St. Beneit 
 Because that it was old and some deale streit 
 This ilke monk let old things pace ; 
 He held ever of the new World the trace." 
 
 Chaucer. 
 
 " The churls ! " exclaimed Stephen. 
 
 " Poor old man ! " said Ambrose ; "I hope they are 
 good to him ! " 
 
 " To think that thus ends all that once was gallant 
 talk of fighting under Talbot's banner/' sighed Stephen, 
 thoughtful for a moment. " Howe ver, there's a good 
 deal to come first." 
 
 " Yea, and what next ? " said the elder brother. 
 
 " On to uncle Hal. I ever looked most to him. He 
 will purvey me to a page's place in some noble house- 
 hold, 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." 
 
 "Which way lies the road to London?" 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " Tush ! A grudged crust sticks in the gullet," 
 returned Stephen. " Come on, Ambrose, I marked 
 
chap, iil] KINSMEN AND STBANGERS 25 
 
 the sign of the White Hart by the market-place. 
 There will be a welcome there for foresters/' 
 
 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 Am- 
 brose 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. 
 
 " How now, my sons ? " said a full cheery voice, and 
 to their joy, they found themselves pushed up against 
 Father Shoveller. 
 
 " Returned already ! Did you get scant welcome at 
 Hyde ? Here, come where we can get a free breath, 
 and tell me/' 
 
 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. 
 
 "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/' 
 
 " Lay platters for me and these two young gentle- 
 men/' said the Augustinian. " Ye be my guests, ye 
 wot," he added, "since ye tarried not for meat at Hyde." 
 
 "Nor did they ask us," exclaimed Stephen; "lubbers 
 and idlers were the best words they had for us." 
 
 "Ho! ho! That's the way with the brethren of 
 St. Grimbald ! And your uncle ? " 
 
 " Alas, sir, he doteth with age," said Ambrose. "He 
 took Stephen for his own brother, dead under King 
 Harry of Windsor." 
 
 " So ! I had heard somewhat of his age and sick- 
 ness. Who was it who thrust you out ? " 
 
 " A lean brother with a thin red beard, and a shrewd, 
 puckered visage/' 
 
20 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap, 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " He said the king spake of a visitation to abolish 
 corrodies from religious houses," said Ambrose. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " Alack, kind father, there's no more home for us in 
 the Forest," said Ambrose. 
 
 " Me thought ye had a brother ? " 
 
 " Yea ; but our brother hath a wife." 
 
 " Ho ! ho ! And the wife will none of you ? " 
 
 " She would have kept Ambrose to teach her boy 
 his primer," said Stephen ; " but she would none of 
 Spring nor of me." 
 
 "We hoped to receive counsel from our uncle at 
 Hyde," added Ambrose. 
 
 " Have ye no purpose now ? " inquired the Father, 
 his jolly good-hurnoured face showing much concern. 
 
 " Yea," manfully returned Stephen. " 'Twas what 
 I ever hoped to do, to fare on and seek our fortune 
 in London." 
 
 " Ha ! To pick up gold and silver like Dick Whit- 
 tington. 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 ? " 
 
 " Yea, that have we, sir," cried Stephen ; " our 
 mother's own brother, Master Randall, hath come to 
 
in.] KINSMEN AND STRANGERS. 27 
 
 preferment there in my Lord Archbishop of York's 
 household, and hath sent us tokens from time to time, 
 which we will show you." 
 
 "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. Cer- 
 tainly 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. 
 
 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 pud- 
 ding and cake kind which had never dawned on their 
 
28 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 exchang- 
 ing signs across Father Shoveller's solid person, they 
 simultaneously rose, and began to thank him and say 
 they must pursue their journey. 
 
 "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 ? " 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 
in.] KINSMEN AND STRANGERS. 29 
 
 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." 
 
 " Sir, we thank you, but we should be on our 
 way," said Ambrose, incited by Stephens impatient 
 gestures. 
 
 " Tut, tut. Fair and softly, my son, or more haste 
 may be worse speed. Methought ye had somewhat to 
 show me." 
 
 Stephens 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. Swithuns 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. 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 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 Cran- 
 bury. But you are just as like to meet with some 
 
30 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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." 
 
 " 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. 
 
 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 Arch- 
 bishop 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 pros- 
 pering 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 house- 
 hold, 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. 
 
 " 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 
 
in.] KINSMEN AND STEANGERS. 31 
 
 be to sing Nones — sinner that I am, to have said no 
 Hours since the morn, being letted with lawful 
 business." 
 
 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 Springs 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 fol- 
 lowed 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. 
 
 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 concern- 
 ing a kinsman in the household of my Lord Archbishop 
 of York. The warder scratched his head, and bethink- 
 ing himself that Eastcheap Jockey was the reverend 
 father s man, summoned a horse-boy to call that worthy. 
 
 " Where was he ? " 
 
32 THE AKMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 " Sitting over his pottle in the Hall/' was the reply, 
 and the monk, with a laugh savouring little of asceti- 
 cism, 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 com- 
 manders 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. 
 
 "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/' 
 
 " And to-night, good Father ? " inquired Ambrose. 
 
 " That will I see to, if ye will follow me." 
 
in.] KINSMEN AND STRANGERS. 33 
 
 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. 
 
 " What matter is it of his ? And why should he 
 make us lose a whole day ? " grumbled Stephen. 
 
 " What special gain would a day be to us?" sighed 
 Ambrose. <c I am thankful that any should take heed 
 for us." 
 
 "Ay, you love leading-strings," returned Stephen. 
 " Where is he going now ? All out of our way ! " 
 
 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. 
 
 " It would be better for Spring to have a little more 
 rest," thought Stephen, thus mitigating his own long- 
 ing to escape from the monks and friars, of whom 
 Winchester seemed to be full. 
 
 They had a kindly welcome in the pretty little col- 
 lege 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 commend- 
 ing 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. 
 
 St. Elizabeth's College was a hundred years older 
 
 D 
 
34 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 super- 
 annuated 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 Praise of Folly. 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. 
 
 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 
 
in.] KINSMEN AND STRANGERS. 35 
 
 the Warden of St. Elizabeth's had brought them in for 
 an hours sport. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 fathers 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. 
 
 Whereat on^ 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. 
 
 " Who be thine uncle ? M demanded a thin, squeaky 
 voice. " I have brothers likewise in my Lord of York's 
 meine." 
 
 D 2 
 
36 THE ARMOUREK'S PKENTICES. [chap. 
 
 " Mine uncle is Captain Harry Randall, of Shirley/* 
 quoth Stephen magnificently, scornfully surveying 
 the small proportions of the speaker. " What is thy 
 brother ? " 
 
 " 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 comp- 
 troller of my lord's household, and waits at the second 
 table, and I know every one of the captains." 
 
 " He'll say next he knows every one of the Seven 
 Worthies," cried another boy, for Stephen was becoming 
 a popular character. 
 
 " And all the paladins to boot. Come on, little 
 Rowley ! " was the cry. 
 
 " 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 ! " 
 
 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 be^innin^ to rinof, 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 After some conversation with the elder Wykehamist, 
 the Warden called Ambrose and put him through an 
 examination on his attainments, which proved so satis- 
 factory, that it ended in an invitation to the brothers 
 
in.] KINSMEN AND STRANGEKS. 37 
 
 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. 
 
 The Warden had no doubt that he could be appren- 
 ticed 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." 
 
 " 'Tis what Nurse Joan held to be best for us 
 both," said Ambrose. 
 
 " 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 blacE gown and a shaven crown, I 
 shall on with Spring and come to preferment. Maybe 
 thouTt next hear of me when I have got some fat 
 canonry for thee." 
 
 "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." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 So the kind offer was declined, but Ambrose was 
 grieved to see that the Warden thought him foolish, and 
 perhaps ungrateful. 
 
 Nevertheless the good man gave them a letter to the 
 Reverend Master Al worthy, 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 
 
38 THE AKMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. hi. 
 
 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 bless- 
 ing, 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. Tanquam agnus inter 
 lupos. Alack i " 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A HERO'S FALL. 
 
 " These four came all afront and mainly made at me. I made no 
 more ado, but took their seven points on my target — thus — " 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 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 dis- 
 tressfully, 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 The travellers reached Alton in the cool of the even- 
 ing, 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. 
 
40 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 
iv.] A HERO'S FALL. 41 
 
 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, 
 rnore's the pity. Thou canst do no more for him, and 
 we shall soon be in his case if we dally here." 
 
 " 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 — " 
 
 " 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 ! " 
 
 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' ex- 
 perience, but quite astray in the heath, and ready to 
 come at the masters 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." 
 
 " You would make better speed without us, sir," said 
 Stephen, hankering to remain beside poor Spring. 
 
 " D'ye think Giles Headley the man to leave two 
 children, that have maybe saved my life as well as my 
 
42 THE AKMOUEER'S PEENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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/' 
 
 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. 
 
 A figure came out in the road to meet them, crying, 
 " Master ! master ! is it you ? and without scathe ? 
 Oh, the saints be praised ! " 
 
 " Ay, Tibbie, '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 ? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " I wish they may not be in league with them," said 
 Master Heaclley. " 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 ? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " '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 ! " 
 
 They were by this time near the porch of a large 
 country hostel, from the doors and large bay window 
 of which lig[ht streamed out. And as the casement 
 
iv.] A HERO'S FALL. 43 
 
 was open, those without could both see and hear all 
 that was passing within. 
 
 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 : — 
 
 "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/' 
 
 " 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?" 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 " 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. 
 
 " I am afraid he is past ransom," said the youth, 
 shaking his head. li 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 ! " 
 
 <k 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 
 
44 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 showing an arm which was actually being bound up, and 
 the youth declaring that he rode off to bring help. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " Nay, sir, the odds — " began the youth. 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " There are odds between going forward and 
 backward," said Master Headley, dryly. " Ha ! Art 
 hurt? Thou bleedst," he exclaimed, laying his hand 
 on Stephens shoulder, and drawing him to the 
 light. 
 
 "'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. 
 
 " 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 Tibbie, 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, 
 
iv.] A HERO'S FALL. 45 
 
 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." 
 
 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. 
 
 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 Tibbie, 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 
 
46 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 question in an affirmative tone, " Ye be of gentle 
 blood, young sirs ? " 
 
 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. 
 
 " Birkenholt," said Tibbie, meditatively. " He bear- 
 eth 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/' 
 
 To which the brothers returned by displaying the 
 handles of their knives, both of which bore the pierced 
 and courant buck. 
 
 u 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." 
 
 " Verily," said Ambrose, " our uncle Richard Birken- 
 holt fought at Bosworth under Sir Richard Pole's 
 banner." 
 
 " A tall and stalwart esquire, methinks," said Master 
 Headley. " Is he the kinsman you seek ? " 
 
 "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." 
 
 " Is he clerk or layman ? My Lord of York enter- 
 taineth enow of both," said Master Headley. 
 
 " Lay assuredly, sir," returned Stephen ; " I trust 
 to him to find me some preferment as page or the 
 like." 
 
 " Know'st thou the man, Tibbie ? " inquired the 
 master. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " Then will we go forward together, my young 
 
iv.] A HERO'S FALL. 47 
 
 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 be- 
 longed to the brave craft of armourers ? " 
 
 " 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, Kobert 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." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 The host chimed in with tales of the thieves and 
 outlaws who then, and indeed for many later genera- 
 tions, infested Bagshot heath, and the wild moorland 
 tracks around. He seemed to think that the travellers 
 had had a hairs-breadth escape, and that a few seconds' 
 more delay might have revealed the weakness of the 
 rescuers and have been fatal to them. 
 
 However there was no danger so near the village in 
 the morning, and, somewhat to Stephen's annoyance, 
 
48 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. iv. 
 
 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 Tibbie, the 
 singed foreman, offered to do it for him, and made a 
 much more sightly inscription than he could have done. 
 Master Head ley's sword was found honourably broken 
 under the tree, and was reserved to form a base for 
 his intended ex voto. 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 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE DRAGON COURT. 
 
 "A citizen 
 Of credit and renown ; 
 A trainband captain eke was lie 
 Of famous London town." 
 
 Cowper. 
 
 In spite of his satisfaction at the honourable obse- 
 quies 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. 
 
 Besides the two Giles Headleys, the party consisted of 
 Tibbie, 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 ap- 
 peared in process of time that the two namesakes, be- 
 sides being godfather and godson, were cousins, and that 
 Robert, the father of the younger one, had, after his 
 apprenticeship in the paternal establishment at Salis- 
 bury, served for a couple of years in the London work- 
 shop of his kinsman to learn the latest improvements in 
 
 E 
 
50 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 Loudon 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. 
 
 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 Lon- 
 don, 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 con- 
 sultation to carry on with his foreman, Tibbie, whose 
 quiet-looking brown animal was evidently on the best 
 
v.] THE DRAGON COURT. 51 
 
 of terms with Poppet. By daylight Tibbie 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 ? " 
 
 " Yea, sir. Wry-mouthed Tibbie, as they call him, 
 was a sturdy fellow till he got a fall 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." 
 
 o < 
 
 u As we heard last night/' said Stephen. 
 
 " Moreover in the spital he learnt to write and cast 
 accompts like a very scrivener, and the master trusts 
 him more than any, except maj^be Kit Smallbones, 
 the head smith." 
 
 " What will Smallbones think of the new prentice ! " 
 said one of the other men. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 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. 
 
 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, re- 
 membering how ill his beloved Poppet had brooked 
 the ferry, decided to keep to the south of the river by 
 a causeway across Lambeth marsh, wdiich 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 meine would not be far to seek. Then came 
 
 E 2 
 
52 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 four- 
 square, four-turreted Tower acting, as it has been well 
 said, as a padlock to a chain, and the rivers 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 Tibbie 
 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 
 Head ley's steed. 
 
 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 con- 
 vent gardens, now past churches, while the country 
 lads felt bewildered with the numbers passing to and 
 fro, and the air was full of bells. 
 
 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. 
 
 " We must e'en return thanks for our safe journey 
 
v.J THE DRAGON COURT. 53 
 
 and great deliverance," he said to his young com- 
 panions, 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 whole place was full of stir. Old women sat with 
 baskets of rosaries and little crosses, or images of saints, 
 
54 THE AKMOUKER'S PEENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 com- 
 panions 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. 
 
 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 in- 
 stant she was lifted in Master Headley's arms, and 
 was clinging round his neck, while he kissed and 
 
 i> 
 
v.] THE DEAGON COURT. 55 
 
 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." 
 
 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. 
 
 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 convolu- 
 tions of the twp dragons forming the supports of the 
 handrail on either side. Here stood, cap in hand, 
 showing his thick curly hair, and with open front, dis- 
 playing 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 tilt- 
 ing 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 Tibbie 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." 
 
 n He shall see me when it suiteth me," said Mr, 
 
56 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap 
 
 Headley coolly. " He wotteth well that Hillyer hath 
 none who can burnish plate armour like Tibbie here." 
 
 "Moreover the last iron we had from that knave 
 Mepham is nought. It works short under the hammer." 
 
 " That shall be seen to, Kit. The rest of the budget 
 to-morrow. I must on to my mother." 
 
 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 ! " 
 
 "Thanks, good mistress," returned Giles. "I am 
 thought to have a pretty taste in the fancy part of the 
 trade. My Lord of Montagu — " 
 
 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 present- 
 ing the two young Birkenholts to her. " Brave boys 1 
 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." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " Would that thou couldst, little mistress," said 
 Stephen. " My poor brave Spring ! " 
 
 "Was he thine own ? Tell me all about him/' said 
 Dennet, somewhat imperiously. 
 
 She stood between the two strangers looking eagerly 
 up with sorrowfully interested eyes, while Stephen, out 
 
v.] THE DRAGON COURT. 57 
 
 of his full neart, told of his faithful comradeship with 
 his hound from the infancy of both. Her father mean- 
 while was exchanging serious converse with her grand- 
 mother, and Giles rinding himself left in the background, 
 began : " Come hither, pretty coz, and I will tell thee 
 of my Lady of Salisbury's dainty little hounds/' 
 
 " I care not for dainty little hounds," returned 
 Dennet ; (i I want to hear of the poor faithful dog that 
 flew at the wicked robber." 
 
 "A mighty stir about a mere chance," muttered 
 Giles. 
 
 " I know what you did," said Dennet, turning her 
 bright brown eyes full upon him. " You took to your 
 heels/' 
 
 Her look and little nod were so irresistibly comical 
 that the two brothers could not help laughing ; where- 
 upon Giles Headley turned upon them in a passion. 
 
 " What mean ye by this insolence, you beggars' brats 
 picked up on the heath ? " 
 
 "Better born than thou, braggart and coward that 
 thou art ! " broke forth Stephen, while Master Headley 
 exclaimed, u How now, lads ? No brawling here ! " 
 
 Three voices spoke at once. 
 
 " They were insolent." 
 
 " He reviled our birth." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 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." 
 
 " How now, boy ! Said I not ye were my guests ? " 
 
 " Yea, sir, and thanks ; but we can give no cause for 
 being called beggars nor beggars' brats." 
 
 " What beggary is there in being guests, my young 
 
58 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 1 prentice 
 from a country town hath not learnt to rule his tongue." 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 " No churl/' returned Ambrose, " if manners makyth 
 man, as we saw at Winchester." 
 
 " Then what do they make of that cowardly clown, 
 his cousin ? " 
 
 Ambrose laughed, but said, " Prove we our gentle 
 blood at least by not brawling with the fellow. Master 
 Heaclley will soon teach him to know his place." 
 
 " 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 Small- 
 bones is come out to the fountain in the middle of the 
 
v.] THE DRAGON COURT. 59 
 
 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." 
 
 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 tw T o sitting on a 
 bench under a large elm-tree beside the central well, 
 enjoying each his tankard of ale. A few more w T ere 
 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. Tw^o 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 
 
60 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 estab- 
 lishment 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, w^hicrr 
 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 Head ley to take their places 
 
v.l THE DRAGON COURT. 61 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " I never did so at home ! " cried Giles, in his loud, 
 hasty voice. 
 
 " I trow not," dryly observed one of the guests. 
 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." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 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 
 
62 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. v. 
 
 general hunger enough prevailing to make Mistress 
 Headley' s fat capon the most interesting contemplation 
 for the present. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A SUNDAY IN THE CITY. 
 
 " The rod of Heaven has touched them all, 
 The word from Heaven is spoken : 
 Rise, shine and sing, thou captive thrall, 
 Are not thy fetters broken ? " 
 
 Keble. 
 
 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 ; bub the men who stood about were in holiday 
 attire : and the brothers assumed their best clothes. 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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 
 
64 THE AEMOUREK'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 then told them that if they would tarry till the next 
 day in searching out their uncle ; they could have the 
 company of Tibbie 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. 
 
 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 neces- 
 sarily 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. 
 
 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 devo- 
 tion than the demeanour of any one around. When 
 the Ite missa est was pronounced, and all rose up, 
 Stephen touched him and he rose, looking about, 
 bewildered. 
 
 " So please . you, young sir, I can show you another 
 sort of thing by and by," said in his ear Tibbie 
 Steelman, who had come in late, and marked his 
 attitude. 
 
 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 
 
vi.] A SUNDAY IN THE CITY. 65 
 
 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. 
 
 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 holi- 
 day, 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. 
 
 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." 
 
 Ambrose could trust his brother under the care of 
 
66 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 Edmund Burgess, and resolved on a double amount 
 of repetitions of the appointed intercessions for the 
 departed. 
 
 He was watching the party of youths set off, all 
 except Giles Headley, who sulkily refused the invita- 
 tions, 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. 
 
 " You are not for such gear, sir," said a voice at his 
 ear, and he saw the scathed face of Tibbie Steelman 
 beside him. 
 
 " Never greatly so, Tibbie," answered Ambrose. 
 "And my heart is too heavy for it now." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 Ambrose held out his hand. It was the first really 
 sympathetic word he had heard since he had left Nurse 
 Joan. 
 
 " 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 De profundis in peace ? " 
 
 "Mayhap," returned Tibbie, "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." 
 
 " 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. 
 
 " And so it is, lad, so it is," said Tibbie, with a strange 
 light on his distorted features. 
 
 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 ! 
 
vi.] A SUNDAY IN THE CITY. 67 
 
 The hour was still early, there was a whole summer 
 afternoon before them ; and Tibbie, 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 com- 
 ments on the way in which their priests too often 
 perverted them. 
 
 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. 
 
 Ambrose was horrified at the stave that met his ears, 
 and asked how such profanity could be allowed. Tibbie 
 shrugged his shoulders, and cited the old saying, " The 
 nearer the church" — adding, " Truth hath a voice, and 
 will out." 
 
 " But surely this is not the truth ? " 
 
 " 'Tis mighty like it, sir, though it might be spoken 
 in a more seemly fashion." 
 
 " What's this ? " demanded Ambrose. " 'Tis a noble 
 house." 
 
 " That's the Bishop's palace, sir — a man that hath 
 much to answer for." 
 
 " Liveth he so ill a life then ? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 Tibbie muttered this to himself, unheeded by 
 Ambrose, and then presently crossing the church- 
 yard, where a grave was being filled up, with nume- 
 rous 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 
 
 F 2 
 
G8 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 which the bier had rested still standing in the narrow 
 nave. 
 
 It was intensely still and cool, a fit place indeed for 
 Ambrose's filial devotions, while Tibbie 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 fathers 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 fixea 
 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 
 m 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. 
 
 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 repe- 
 tition 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 
 
vi.] A SUNDAY IN THE CITY. CD 
 
 fresh group ; staring at it with fixed gaze, while his 
 lips moved in the unconscious hope of something con- 
 soling ; till at last, hearing- some uncontrollable sobs, 
 Tibbie 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/' 
 
 Two centuries earlier, nay, even one, Ambrose would 
 have been encouraged to follow out his purpose. As it 
 was, Tibbie gave a little dry cough and said, u Come 
 along with me, sir, and 111 show you another sort 
 of way." 
 
 " 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. 
 
 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 ? " 
 
 " I would fain hold my brother to the only path of 
 safety." 
 
 Again Tibbie 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." 
 
 For Tibbie was no impulsive Italian, but a sober- 
 
70 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 pro- 
 portion 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. 
 
 " Is there a procession toward ? or a relic to be 
 displayed ? " asked Ambrose, trying to recollect whose 
 feast-day it might be. 
 
 Tibbie screwed up his mouth in an extraordinary 
 smile as he said. tc Relic quotha ? yea, the soothest relic 
 there be of the Lord and Master of us all." 
 
 " Methought the true Cross was always displayed on 
 the High Altar," said Ambrose, as all turned to a side 
 aisle of the noble nave. 
 
 " Rather say hidden," muttered Tibbie. " Thou shalt 
 have it displayed, young sir, but neither in wood nor 
 gilded shrine. See, here he comes who setteth it forth." 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 
vl] A SUNDAY IN THE CITY. 71 
 
 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 repeti- 
 tion 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. 
 
 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 Tibbie 
 Steelman and his companion. 
 
 Omnis qui facit peccatum, servus est peccati, followed 
 by the rendering in English, " Whosoever doeth sin is 
 sins 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," per- 
 severed 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. 
 
 But his attention was soon caught. Sinfulness stood 
 
72 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 before him not as the liability to penalty for trans- 
 gressing 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 ? u The bond thrall abideth 
 not in the house for ever, but the Son abideth ever. 
 Si ergo Films liberavit, verb liberi eritis" " 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 from sin. 
 
 It was an era in his life, and Tibbie 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. Tibbie saw that he was like one 
 in another world, and gently led him away. 
 
 " Who is he ? What is he ? Is he an angel from 
 Heaven?" demanded the boy, a little wildly, as they 
 neared the southern door. 
 
 " If an angel be a messenger of God, I trow he is 
 
vi.] A SUNDAY IN THE CITY. 73 
 
 one/' said Tibbie. " But men call him Dr. Colet. He 
 is JDean of St. Paul's Minster, and dwelleth in the 
 house you see below there." 
 
 "And are such words as these to be heard every 
 Sunday ? " 
 
 " On most Sundays doth he preach here in the nave 
 to all sorts of folk." 
 
 " I must — I must hear it again ! " exclaimed 
 Ambrose. 
 
 "Ay, ay," said Tibbie, regarding him with a well- 
 pleased face. "You are one with whom it works." 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 "Master doth come by times," said Tibbie, in the 
 tone of irony that was hard to understand. " He 
 owneth the dean as a rare preacher." 
 
 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." 
 
 Tibbie 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. 
 
 Ambrose's mind was made up on one point. What- 
 ever 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, 
 
74 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " I would not be seen in the street with that scare- 
 crow," murmured Giles. "If my mother could have 
 guessed that he was to be set over me, I had never 
 come here." 
 
 " Surely you knew that he was foreman." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 "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." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 "But how could you be a wise master without 
 learning the craft?" 
 
 "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 Salis- 
 bury's train." 
 
 "You mi^ht have had rougher usa^e there than 
 
vl] A SUNDAY IN THE CITY. 75 
 
 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/ 5 
 
 " Ay, that's all very well for you, who are certain of 
 a great man's house." 
 
 " 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 ! " 
 
 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. 
 
 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 worship- 
 ful 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 im- 
 pression 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 con- 
 sequence was the being banished from the table and 
 sent to bed. 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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 
 
76 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. vt. 
 
 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 hell 
 have beaten the brewers fellow/' 
 
 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 ! " 
 
 And down she rushed, quite oblivious of her disgrace, 
 and Ambrose presently saw her uplifted in Kit Small- 
 bones' brawny arms to utter her congratulations. 
 
 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 Arch- 
 bishop as was my Lord of York, there was a tilt-yard 
 at York House. Ambrose, equally full of his new feel- 
 ings, 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 de- 
 lighted him in his own line of scholarship, from which 
 Stephen had happily escaped a year ago ! 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 YORK HOUSE. 
 
 " Then hath, he servants five or six score, 
 
 Some behind and some before ; 
 A marvellous great company 
 Of which are lords and gentlemen, 
 With many grooms and yeomen 
 And also knaves among them." 
 
 Contemporary Poem on Wolsey. 
 
 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 in- 
 vested 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. Tibbie 
 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 White- 
 hall, then the residence of the Archbishop of York, 
 the king's prime adviser, Thomas Wolsey. 
 
 "Look you, Tib," said the kind-hearted armourer, 
 " if those lads find not jtheir 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." 
 
 Tibbie nodded entire assent, but when the boys 
 
78 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 appeared in their mourniDg 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. 
 
 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." 
 
 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." 
 
 (i What, both of us, little maid ? " said Ambrose, 
 laughing, as he stooped to receive the kiss her rosy lips 
 tendered to him. 
 
 " Not but what she would have royal example," 
 muttered Tibbie aside. 
 
 Dennet put her head on one side, as considering. 
 u 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." 
 
 " 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. 
 
vil] YOKE HOUSE. 79 
 
 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. 
 
 Tibbie 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 Tibbie 
 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." 
 
 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 noti- 
 fied, as it drew near the stone steps giving entrance to 
 the gardens, with an avenue of trees leading up to the 
 principal entrance. 
 
 Four or five yeomen ran down the steps, calling out 
 to Tibbie 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. 
 
 Tibbie followed the man who had undertaken to 
 conduct him through a path that led to the offices of 
 
80 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 the great house, bidding the boys keep with him, and 
 asking for their uncle Master Harry Randall. 
 
 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 
 111 show it thee." 
 
 Private rooms were seldom enjoyed, even by knights 
 and gentlemen, in such a household, and Sir Thomas 
 could only conduct Tibbie 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 Tibbie ventured to mention 
 the inquiry for Randall. 
 
 " I wot of no such fellow" returned Sir Thomas, " you 
 had best go to the comptroller, who keeps all the names." 
 
 Tibbie 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. 
 
 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 Tibbie's account in a big book, 
 and sent a message to the cofferer to bring the amount. 
 Then Tibbie 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, some- 
 what dismayed to find how little, on interrogation, he 
 really knew. 
 
vil] YORK HOUSE. 81 
 
 " Was he a yeoman of the guard, or in attendance on 
 one of my lord's nobles in waiting ? " 
 
 " We thought he had been a yeoman," said Ambrose. 
 
 " See," said the comptroller, stimulated by a fee 
 administered by Tibbie, " 'tis just dinner time, and I 
 must go to attend on my Lord Archbishop ; but do you, 
 Tibbie, 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." 
 
 Tibbie 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 Tibbie, from some great ecclesiastical 
 ceremony, and dinner would be served instantly. 
 
 " 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 ! " 
 
 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, 
 
 G 
 
82 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 clear- 
 sighted and shrewd an observer as Tibbie would have 
 detected a weakness of purpose about the mouth. 
 
 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. 
 
 " Thou likest thy food well enough thyself, quipsome 
 one," muttered Half. 
 
 " Hast found one who doth not, Ealf ? 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 Wrymouth? '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 ? " 
 
 " At Salisbury, good Merry man." 
 
 " Have the Wilts men raked the moon yet out of the 
 pond ? Did they lend thee their rake, Tib, that thou 
 hast rakad up a couple of green Forest palmer worms, 
 or be they the sons of the man in the moon, raked out 
 and all astray ? " 
 
 " Mayhap, for we met them with dog and bush," said 
 Tibbie, "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 meine. Knowest thou 
 such a fellow ? " 
 
 "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 
 
vii,] YORK HOUSE. 83 
 
 for consideration. "What's your name, my Forest 
 flies?" 
 
 " Birkenholt, sir," answered Ambrose, " but our uncle 
 is Harry Randall." 
 
 "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." 
 
 " 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. 
 
 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 linea- 
 ments. 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 ? 
 
 At the same moment Quipsome Hal sprang forward, 
 exclaiming, "How now, brother and namesake ? Where- 
 fore this coil ? Hath cloth of gold wearied yet of cloth 
 
 G 2 
 
84 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 of frieze ? Is she willing to own her right to this ? " as 
 he held out his bauble. 
 
 " 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 ! " 
 
 " Sore ! that's well said, friend Hal. Thou art making 
 progress in mine art ! Sore be the eyes wherein thou 
 wouldst throw dust." 
 
 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 Archbishops 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." 
 
 Therewith the Archbishop, in his purple robes, ap- 
 peared 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 Tibbie and his two young com- 
 panions 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, 
 
vii.] YORK HOUSE. 85 
 
 and anxious enough to be thankful to keep near a 
 familiar face on any terms, and to feel as if Tibbie were 
 an old friend, though he had only known him for five 
 days. 
 
 Why the King had come had not transpired, but there 
 was a whisper that despatches from Scotland were con- 
 cerned in it. The meal was a lengthy one, but at last 
 the Kings 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 West- 
 minster. 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." 
 
 Wherewith, affecting to expect a stroke from the 
 King's whip, he doubled himself up, performed the con- 
 tortion now called turning a coachwheel, then, recover- 
 ing 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. 
 
 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 Half 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 Eandall, 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 
 
86 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 of the stable. He will make you free of all the taverns 
 in Eastchepe." 
 
 And so on, accompanying each remark with a panto- 
 mime 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 Eandall 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. 
 
 "And mine uncle was from the New Forest in 
 Hampshire," he said. 
 
 " Maybe he went by the name of Shirley," added 
 Stephen, "'tis where his home was." 
 
 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. 
 
 " You must e'en come back with me, young masters," 
 said Tibbie, " and see what my master can do for you." 
 
 " 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 nunks of yours ? " he added. 
 " I think I should," said Ambrose. " I remember 
 
vil] YORK HOUSE. 87 
 
 best how he used to carry me on his shoulder to cull 
 mistletoe for Christmas." 
 
 " Ah, ha ! A proper fellow of his inches now, with 
 yellow hair ? " 
 
 " Nay," said Ambrose, " I mind that his hair was 
 black, and his eyes as black as sloes — or as thine own, 
 Master Jester." 
 
 The jester tumbled over into a more extraordinary 
 attitude than before, while Stephen said — 
 
 " John was wont to twit us with being akin to Gipsy 
 Hal." 
 
 " I mean a man sad and grave as the monks of 
 Beaulieu," said the jester. 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " Nay ! is he in need, or distress ? " cried the brothers. 
 
 * Poor Hal ! " returned the fool, shaking his head 
 with mournfulness in his voice. 
 
 " Oh, take us to him, good — good jester," cried 
 Ambrose. st . We are young and strong. We will work 
 for him." 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 " Of course," cried Ambrose. " He is our mothers 
 brother. We must care for him." 
 
 " Master Headley will give us work, mayhap," 
 said Stephen, turning to Tibbie. " I could clean the 
 furnaces." 
 
 " Ah, ha ! I see fools' caps must hang thick as beech 
 
88 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. vii. 
 
 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/' 
 
 " But how shall we know him ? " 
 
 " D'ye think a pair of green caterpillars like you cant 
 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. 
 
 " Is he to be trusted ? " asked Tibbie of the comp- 
 troller. 
 
 " 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." 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 QUIPSOME HAL. 
 
 " The sweet and bitter fool 
 Will presently appear, 
 The one in motley here 
 
 The other found out there." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 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. 
 
 By this rose-tree stood the two young Birkenholts. 
 Edmund Burgess having, by his masters 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. 
 
 They stood together earnestly watching for the 
 
90 THE AKMOUKER'S PRENTICES, [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 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 ap- 
 proaching 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." 
 
 u And even so am I," was the answer, in a grave, quiet 
 tone, " or rather to meet twain." 
 
 Ambrose looked up into a pair of dark eyes, and 
 exclaimed " Stevie, Stevie, 'tis he. 'Tis uncle Hal." 
 
 " Ay, 'tis all you're like to have for him," answered 
 Harry Eandall, 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?" 
 
 " Two years agone come Lammastide," answered 
 Stephen. "There was a deadly creeping fever and 
 ague through the Forest. We two sickened, and Am- 
 brose 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 w r as ' 
 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 w r as the same man 
 
viil] QUIPSOME HAL. 91 
 
 again, and only twelve days after last Pasch-tide he was 
 taken with a fit and never spake again." 
 
 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. 
 
 "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." 
 
 " Richard Birkenholt was a sturdy old comrade ! 
 Methinks he would give- Master Jack a pieoe of his 
 mind." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " Shoveller — what, a Shoveller of Cranbury ? How 
 fell ye in with him ? " 
 
 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." 
 
 " No ill-luck in thee, good, kind uncle," said Stephen, 
 catching at his hand with the sense of comfort that 
 kindred blood gives. 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 " We deemed he was but jesting," said Stephen. 
 "Ah!"- 
 
 For a sudden twinkle in the black eyes, an involun- 
 tary twist of the muscles of the face, were a sudden 
 
92 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 " Yes, lads. Can you brook the thought !— Harry 
 Randall is the poor fool ! " 
 
 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 " 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. 
 
 "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." 
 
 " O no," said Stephen. "She always thought thou 
 — thou hadst some high preferment in — — " 
 
 "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 ? " 
 
 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 111 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 
 
viil] QUIPSOME HAL. 93 
 
 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 glee- 
 men. 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 pass- 
 ably 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." 
 
 "Methinks 'twere better than this present/' said 
 Stephen rather gruffly. 
 
 " 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 
 
94 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 V 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " 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 Bur- 
 gundy 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 hini 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 
 
viii.] QUIPSOME HAL. 95 
 
 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 pledg- 
 ing 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.' " 
 
 " Oh, uncle, I wot now what thou didst ! " cried 
 Stephen. 
 
 "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 
 
9G THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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, where- 
 with 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 ? n 
 
 " uncle ! Father would have honoured thee ! " 
 cried Stephen. 
 
 " Why didst thou not bring her down to the Forest ? " 
 said Ambrose. 
 
 "I conned over the thought," said Randall, "but 
 there was no way of living. I w r ist 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." 
 
 " I'd forgotten that," said Stephen. 
 
 " 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 
 Mcrryman, and it were not well that ye should come in 
 there as akin to the poor fool." 
 
viii.] QUIPSOME HAL. 97 
 
 " No," said Stephen, emphatically. 
 
 " Your father left you twenty crowns apiece ? " 
 
 " Ay, but John hath all save four of them." 
 
 " For that there's remedy. What saidst thou of the 
 Cheapside armourer? His fellow, the Wrymouth, 
 seemed to have a care of you. Ye made in to the 
 rescue with poor old Spring." - 
 
 " 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." 
 
 "Well said, my good lad!" cried Hal. "What 
 sayest thou, Stevie ? " 
 
 " I had liefer be a man-at-arms." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 "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." 
 
 " Whittington was a gentleman," said Ambrose. 
 
 " I am sick of Whittington," muttered Stephen. 
 
 " 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 
 
 H 
 
98 THE AEMOURER'S PEENTICES. [chap. 
 
 and sober, and high in his trust, and therein they are 
 not far out." 
 
 In truth, though Harry Eandall 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 con- 
 siderable doubts whether Tibbie 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. 
 
 Ambrose was considering whether he had better give 
 his uncle a hint, lest concealment should excite suspi- 
 cion ; 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. 
 
 " Here they be ! here be the poor lads, Pernel mine." 
 She held out her hand, and offered a round comfort- 
 able cheek to each, saying, " Welcome to London, 
 young gentlemen." 
 
 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 
 
viil] QUIPSOME HAL. 99 
 
 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 pil- 
 lows. To him Randall went at once, saying, " So, 
 gaffer, how goes it ? You see I have brought com- 
 pany, my poor sister's sons — rest her soul ! " 
 
 Gaffer Martin mumbled something to them incom- 
 prehensible, 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 incum- 
 brance. 
 
 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. 
 
 He explained to her his views on the armourer, to 
 w r hich 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. 
 
 h 2 
 
100 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 " Will the armourer take both of you ? " asked 
 Mistress Randall. 
 
 "Nay, it was only for Stephen we devised it," said 
 Ambrose. 
 
 " And what wilt thou do ?" 
 
 " I wish to be a scholar," said Ambrose. 
 
 " 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 ! " 
 
 "I had rather study than thrive," said Ambrose 
 rather dreamily. 
 
 " He wotteth not what he saith," cried Stephen. 
 
 "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 excel- 
 lent fooling do they make, that my lord sits holding 
 his sides." 
 
 " The Dean of St. Paul's ! " said Ambrose, experi- 
 encing a shock. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 "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." 
 
 " Could I get admittance to that school ? " exclaimed 
 Ambrose. 
 
 "Thou art a big fellow for a school," said his 
 
viil] QUIPSOME HAL. 101 
 
 uncle, looking him over. " However, faint heart never 
 won fair lady." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 "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." 
 
 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. 
 
 u 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." 
 
 "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. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ARMS SPIRITUAL AND TEMPORAL; 
 
 *' For him was leifer to have at his bedde's hedde 
 Twenty books clothed in blacke or redde 
 Of Aristotle and his philosophie 
 Than robes riche or fiddle or psalterie." 
 
 Chaucer. 
 
 Master Headley was found spending the summer 
 evening in the bay window of the hall. Tibbie 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 unfold- 
 ing, down to the very last farthing, the entire account 
 of payments and receipts during his masters 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. 
 
 On the return of the two boys with such an appar- 
 ently 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, 
 
en. ix.] ARMS SPIRITUAL AND TEMPORAL. 103 
 
 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. 
 
 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 Tibbie should 
 recognise Quipsome Hal ! 
 
 However, Tibbie was at this moment entirely en- 
 grossed 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. 
 
 He showed himself quite satisfied with what Randall 
 chose to tell of himself as a well known "housekeeper" 
 close to the Temple, his Avife 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. 
 
 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 
 
104 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 undertook to get a letter so written and conveyed to 
 John Birkenholt that he should nob 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. 
 
 This settled, Randall could stay no longer, but he 
 called both nephews into the court with him. " Ye can 
 write a letter ? " he said. 
 
 "Ay, sure, both of us; but Ambrose is the best 
 scribe/' said Stephen. 
 
 " 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. Til 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." 
 
 " I wished to do so," said Ambrose. " It irked me to 
 have taken no leave of the good Fathers." 
 
 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. 
 
 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 dis- 
 gust ; 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 fold- 
 
ix.] AEMS SPIRITUAL AND TEMPORAL. 105 
 
 ing 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. 
 
 The summer twilight, however, lasted long after this 
 time of grace, and when Tibbie had completed his 
 accountant's work, and Smallbones' deep voiced " Good- 
 night, 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, 
 Tibbie ? I need thy counsel/' 
 
 " Come hither, sir," said the foreman, muttering to 
 himself, " Methought 'twas working in him ! The 
 leaven ! the leaven ! " 
 
 Tibbie led the way up one of the side stairs into the 
 open gallery, where he presently opened a door, ad- 
 mitting 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 Tibbie in considera- 
 tion 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 Tibbie had 
 not been a superior workman, he might still have been 
 free to do almost anything he chose. Tibbie gave his 
 visitor the stool, and himself sat down on the chest, 
 saying : " So you have found your uncle, sir." 
 
 "Ay," said Ambrose, pausing in some expectation 
 that Tibbie 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. 
 
 "Tibbie ! " said Ambrose, with a long gasp, "I must 
 
106 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap, 
 
 find means to hear more of him thou tookedst me to on 
 Sunday." 
 
 " None ever truly tasted of that well without longing 
 to come back to it," quoth Tibbie. " But hath not thy 
 kinsman done aught for thee ? " 
 
 " Nay," said Ambrose, " save to offer me a lodging 
 with his wife, a good and kindly lavender at the 
 Temple." 
 
 Tibbie nodded. 
 
 " 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, Tibbie. What like is he ? " 
 
 " I cannot tell, sir," said Tibbie. " The canons are 
 rich and many, and a poor smith like me wots little of 
 their fashions. 
 
 " Is it true," again asked Ambrose, " that the Dean 
 — he who spake those words yesterday — hath a school 
 here for young boys ? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " Then they are taught this same doctrine ? " . 
 
 u 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." 
 
 " Is it likely that this same Alworthy could obtain me 
 entrance there ? " 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 Tibbie nodded, and Ambrose, sitting there in the 
 
ix.] AKMS SPIRITUAL AND TEMPORAL. 107 
 
 dark, was moved to pour forth • all his heart, the ex- 
 perience of many an ardent soul in those spirit search- 
 ing 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 boy- 
 hood 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 ! " 
 
 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. 
 
 Father Shoveller, kindly as he was, was a mere yeo- 
 man 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 salva- 
 tion seemed invaded by evil and danger, and under the 
 bondage of death, whose terrible dance continued to 
 haunt him. 
 
103 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 " I saw it, I saw it," he said, " all over those halls at 
 York House. I seemed to behold the grisly shape stand- 
 ing 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?" 
 
 " Yea," said Tibbie, " into the glorious freedom of 
 God's children, " 
 
 " Thou knowst it. Thou knowst it, Tibbie. It seems 
 to me that life is no life, but living death, without that 
 freedom ! " And I must hear of it, and know whether it 
 is mine, yea, and Stephen's, and all whom I love. O 
 Tibbie, I would beg my bread rather than not have that 
 freedom ever before mine eyes." 
 
 " Hold it fast ! hold it fast, dear sir," said Tibbie, 
 holding out his hands with tears in his eyes, and his 
 face working in a manner that happily Ambrose could 
 not see. 
 
 " But how — how ? The barefoot friar said that for an 
 Ave 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." 
 
 " Fond inventions of pardon-mongers," muttered 
 Tibbie. 
 
 " And is one not free when the priest hath assoilsied 
 him ? " added Ambrose. 
 
 " If, and if — " said Tibbie. " But none 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 ! " 
 
 His tone was such that Ambrose could have believed 
 
ix.] ARMS SPIRITUAL AND TEMPORAL. 109 
 
 him some devout almost inspired hermit rather than the 
 acute skilful artisan he appeared at other times ; and in 
 fact, Tibbie 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 thought- 
 ful 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. 
 
 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 en- 
 deavour 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. 
 
 " And what wouldst thou do, young sir ? " presently 
 inquired Tibbie. 
 
 " That I came to ask thee, good Tibbie. 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." 
 
 Tibbie writhed and wriggled himself about in con- 
 sideration. " I would I wist how to take thee to the 
 Dean himself," he said, " but I am but a poor man, and 
 
110 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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, me seemeth 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 ? " 
 
 " I could once, but my voice is nought at this present. 
 If I could but be a servitor at St. Paul's School V s 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " I should dwell among books ! " 
 
 " 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 coulclst expound the faith to others." 
 
 " Good Tibbie, kind Tibbie, I knew thou couldst aid 
 me ! Wilt thou speak to this Master Hansen for me ? " 
 
 Tibbie, 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. 
 
 " 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 
 Tibbie could not be spared for another working hour. 
 
 Ambrose, as he rose to bid his friend good-night, 
 
ix.] ARMS SPIRITUAL AND TEMPORAL. til 
 
 could not help saying that he marvelled that one such 
 as he could turn his mind to such vanities as the 
 tilt-yard required. 
 
 " Nay," said Tibbie, " '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 con- 
 tinue 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. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 TWO VOCATIONS. 
 
 " The smith, a mighty man is he 
 "With large and sinewy hands ; 
 And the muscles of his brawny arms 
 Are strong as iron bands." 
 
 Longfellow. 
 
 Stephen's first thought in the morning was whether 
 the ex voto effigy of poor Spring was put in hand, while 
 Ambrose thought of Tibbie'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. 
 
 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. Mate- 
 rials 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. 
 
 He was a long time about it. There were two letters 
 to write, and the wording of them needed to be very 
 
chap, x.] TWO VOCATIONS. 113 
 
 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. 
 
 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." 
 
 " The lazy lubber ! " cried Ambrose. " But did none 
 see thee, or couldst not call out for redress ? " 
 
 " 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/' 
 
 " That's true," said Ambrose, " and he might make 
 it the worse for thee." 
 
 " I would I were as big as he," sighed Stephen, " I 
 would soon show him which was the better man/' 
 
 Perhaps the grinding match had not been as unob- 
 served 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." 
 
 " Even so," replied Giles, " and I have been at work 
 like this long enough, ay, and too long ! " 
 
 " Thy turn was a matter of three hours this morning," 
 
 I 
 
114 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 replied Kit — not coolly, for nobody was cool in his den, 
 but with a brevity which provoked a laugh. 
 
 "I shall see what my cousin the master saith!" 
 cried Giles in great wrath. 
 
 " Ay, that thou wilt," returned Kit, " if thou dost 
 loiter over thy business, and hast not those bars ready 
 when called for/" 
 
 " He never meant me to be put on work like this, with 
 a hammer that breaks mine arm." 
 
 " What ! crying out for that ! " 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 ? " 
 
 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. Tibbie was meanwhile busy over the gild- 
 ing 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 Tibbie, 
 " 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. 
 
 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. 
 
x.] TWO VOCATIONS. 115 
 
 " Give it here/' said the young man. 
 
 " I would give it to his reverence himself," said 
 Ambrose. 
 
 " His reverence is taking his after-dinner nap and 
 may not be disturbed," said the man. 
 
 " Then I will wait," said Ambrose. 
 
 The door was shut in his face, but it was the shady 
 side of the court, and he sat doAvn 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. 
 
 "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 me- 
 thinks he robs me ! What canst do, thou stripling ? " 
 
 "I can read Latin, sir, and know the Greek 
 alphabeta." 
 
 " Tush ! I want no scholar more than enough to serve 
 my mass. Canst sing ? " 
 
 "Not now ; but I hope to do so again." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 I 2 
 
116 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [cKAr. 
 
 " Boy," said Alwortliy, " 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." 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 " Ha ! " exclaimed the canon, " this is your sort, is 
 it ? Ill have nought to do with it ! Preaching, preach- 
 ing ! 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 ! " 
 
 " Sir, I am beholden to you, but my mind is set on 
 study." 
 
 " What kin art thou to a fool ? " cried the minor 
 canon, so startling Ambrose that he had almost an- 
 swered, 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 Deans 
 sermons !" 
 
x.] TWO VOCATIONS. 117 
 
 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." 
 
 " How may that be, reverend sir," said Ambrose, 
 " when the holy Apostles and the Fathers spake and 
 wrote in the Greek ? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 "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." 
 
 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. 
 
 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 Tibbie'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. 
 
 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 pro- 
 ceeding from it, which took from him all inclination to 
 find his way to the quieter and inner portions of the 
 sanctury. 
 
 Then he recollected the little Pardon Church, where 
 he had seen the Dance of Death on the walls; and 
 
118 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 crossing the burial-ground he "entered, and, as he ex- 
 pected, 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 con- 
 vents ? If he had only heard of it from Tibbie 
 Wrymouth, 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. 
 
 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 com- 
 paring the paintings with some others, which one of 
 them had evidently seen. If he had known it, it 
 was with the Dance of Death on the bridge of 
 Lucerne. 
 
 " 1 question," said a voice that Ambrose had heard 
 before, " whether these terrors be- wholesome for men's 
 souls." 
 
X] TWO VOCATIONS. 119 
 
 u For priests' pouches, they be," said the other, with 
 something of a foreign accent. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 "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." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " These are strange times," returned Erasmus. " Me- 
 thinks 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 w r ater- 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 ? " 
 
 "It may be so," returned Colet. "What read we ? 
 * The net brake ' even in the Masters 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." 
 
 " And," returned Erasmus, " I see wherefore thou 
 hast made thy children at St. Paul's one hundred and 
 fifty and three." 
 
 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, 
 
120 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 iEgis, 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 
 
X.] TWO VOCATIONS. 121 
 
 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 yel- 
 low 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 Tibbie Steelman the armourer. 
 
 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." 
 
 " I am," said Ambrose ; " but gentle blood needs at 
 times to work for bread, and Tibbie let me hope that I 
 might find both livelihood for the body and for the soul 
 with you, sir." 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 Ambrose folded his hands with a gesture of earnest- 
 ness, 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." 
 
 " 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." 
 
122 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 " I forgot that you English herren are not so puffed 
 up with pride and scorn like our Dutch nobles," re- 
 turned the printer. " Canst live sparingly, and lie 
 hard, and see that thou keepst the house clean, not 
 like these English swine ? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " What is thine uncle ? " 
 
 " He hath a post in the meine 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." 
 
 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. 
 
 " That is well ! " said the printer ; " and hast thou 
 any Greek ? " 
 
 "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." 
 
 " 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 Dialogues of Plato, and it might even be 
 the sacred Gospel itself, which the great Doctor, Master 
 
x.] TWO VOCATIONS. 125 
 
 Erasmus, is even now collating from the best authorities 
 in the universities. ,, 
 
 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 i It is the very opportunity 
 I seek." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " 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 oppor- 
 tunity." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 11 Nay, sir," returned Ambrose, "I wot that Tibbie 
 Steelman would never send me to one who would not 
 truly give me what I need." 
 
 " Tibbie 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. Never- 
 theless, 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 ? " 
 
 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 
 
124 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 arrange- 
 ment still showed what the place had been. 
 
 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 work- 
 shop. 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 opera- 
 tion the whole strength of the establishment was re- 
 quired. 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 
 
x.] TWO VOCATIONS. 125 
 
 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. 
 
 The methodical master insisted however on making 
 terms with the boy's relations ; and with some mis- 
 givings 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. 
 
 Ambrose need not have doubted. The Dutch blood 
 on either side was stirred ; and the good housewife 
 commanded the little printers 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 Kandall, who would keep his 
 clothes and linen in order. 
 
 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 Tibbie'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 Tibbie ; besides that, it prevented him 
 from burthening Mistress Randall, whom he really 
 
126 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 liked, though he could not see her husband, either in 
 his motley or his plain garments, without a shudder of 
 repulsion. 
 
 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 neigh- 
 bour, by which they took turns to keep guard against 
 thieves. 
 
 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 
 Grammar, 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. 
 
 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 compart- 
 ments in order, whilst he returned to the stall. The 
 customers requiring his personal attention were gener- 
 ally late ones. When all this was accomplished, and 
 
x.] TWO VOCATIONS. 127 
 
 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. 
 
 Will Wherry showed unconcealed amazement that 
 this should be the taste of his companion. He him- 
 self 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 thern out. He did not so much object to the 
 Dutch, but the Spaniards — no words could express his 
 horror of them. 
 
 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 
 
128 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 seen a pair of large dark eyes so like those of a terri- 
 fied 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. 
 
 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." 
 
 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 inex- 
 haustible 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. 
 
 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 JEnchiridion Militis 
 Christiani 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. 
 
x.] TWO VOCATIONS. 129 
 
 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 mag- 
 nificent 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, some- 
 what aquiline features ; and behind him Ambrose 
 thought he caught a glimpse of the shy fawn he had 
 seen in the morning. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 AY DI ME GRENADA. 
 
 ; In sooth it was a thing to weep 
 If then as now the level plain 
 Beneath was spreading like the deep, 
 
 The broad unruffled main. 
 If like a watch-tower of the sun 
 
 Above, the Alpuxarras rose, 
 Streaked, when the dying day was done, 
 With evening's roseate snows." 
 
 Archbishop Trench. 
 
 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, w T as at 
 least ten days nearer to Midsummer than our present 
 month. 
 
 How the two queens and all their court had gone 
 a-maying on Shooters 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 Whit sun holiday was the great 
 excitement to the whole population, for, with all its 
 
chap. XL] AY DI ME GRENADA. 131 
 
 faults, the Court of bluff King Hal was thoroughly 
 genial, and every one, gentle and simple, might 
 participate in his pleasures. 
 
 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 Small- 
 bones 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 Tibbie there 
 chooses to be cumbered with a useless lubber like 
 thee." 
 
 " 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. 
 
 "If folks cocker malapert lads at Sarum we know 
 better here," was the answer. 
 
 " I shall ask the master, my kinsman/' returned the 
 youth. 
 
 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. Tibbie 
 Steelman would indeed go to one of the attendants' 
 tents at the further end of the lists, where repairs to 
 
 K 2 
 
132 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES, [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 In fact, Tibbie 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 over- 
 bearing 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, Tibbie coolly re- 
 turned 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. 
 
 Stephen went joyously in the plainest of attire, 
 though Tibbie 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. 
 
 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 oppor- 
 tunity of nodding to her friends in the plainer barge in 
 the rear. 
 
 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 
 Aveapons had not been purposely blunted, and if the 
 
*r.j AY Dl ME GRENADA 133 
 
 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. Tibbie 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 dis- 
 dained foreign princes to wed her true love, an honest 
 Englishman. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 
134 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 
 old, was tonsured, and had a little scholar's gown. 
 "That," said Edmund, "is my Lady Countess of 
 Salisbury, of whom Giles Headiey prates so much." 
 
 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. 
 
 To escape from the sight almost consoled him when, 
 in the pause after the first courses had been run, Tibbie 
 told him and Burgess to return, and send Headiey 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. 
 
 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 mans 
 scholarship that she had small doubt that he would be 
 found poring over a book in Warwick Inner Yard. 
 
 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 church- 
 goers, and the largesses scattered among the people on 
 public occasions, and these were for the most part 
 
xi.] AY DI ME GRENADA. 135 
 
 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 bent as it leant 
 against the wall, her rosy lips half open, her long black 
 plaits on her shoulders. 
 
 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 alpha- 
 bet that he had ever dreamt of. What were they 
 doing to his brother ? He was absolutely in an en- 
 chanters den. Was it a pixy at the door, guarding 
 it ? " Ambrose ! " he cried aloud. 
 
 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. 
 
 Lucas rose up as Ambrose spoke. 
 
 " Thy brother ? " said he. 
 
 " Yea — come in search of me," said Ambrose. 
 
 " Thou hadst best go forth with him," said Lucas. 
 
 " It is not well that youth should study over long," 
 said the old man. " Thou hast aided us w^ell, but do 
 thou now unbend the bow. Peace be with thee, my son." 
 
 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 ? " 
 
136 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 Ambrose laughed merrily. " Not so. It is holy lore 
 that those good men are reading." 
 
 " 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 Credo ? " 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 ! " 
 
 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. 
 
 " But what is it, then ? " 
 
 u 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." 
 
 Stephen did not however look mollified. "Sword- 
 blades ! 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 can only get the better by 
 sorcery." 
 
 " How thou dost harp upon sorcery ! " exclaimed 
 
Ml.] AY DI ME GRENADA. 137 
 
 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." 
 
 " 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 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 !" 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 " 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 mar- 
 velled that he did not writhe and flee when he came 
 within the Minster, but Ned Burgess said he . was a 
 christened man." 
 
 " Moors be not all black, neither be they all wor- 
 shippers of Mahound," replied Ambrose. 
 
 However, as Ambrose's information, though a few 
 degrees more correct and intelligent than his brothers, 
 was not complete, it will be better not to give the 
 history of Lucas's strange visitors in his words. 
 
 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 
 
138 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 inter- 
 course both in the way of traffic and of courtesy, nor 
 had the bitter persecution and distrust of new con- 
 verts 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 in- 
 terests, he had become sufficiently convinced of Chris- 
 tian truth not to take part with his own people in 
 the final struggle. Still, however, the inbred abhor- 
 rence of idolatry had influenced his manner of wor- 
 ship, and when, after half a life-time, Granada had 
 fallen, and the Inquisition had begun to take cogni- 
 sance 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 Seiiora. 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 perse- 
 cuted ; and the efforts of the good Bishop of Gra- 
 nada, 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 
 
xi.] AY DI ME GKENADA. 139 
 
 that heresy lurked in the vernacular, and perhaps 
 that objections to popular practices might be 
 strengthened. 
 
 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 Chris- 
 tianity 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 Sefior 
 Miguel, and had been entertained by him in his beauti- 
 ful 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 tit for nothing but wine, was excessive, and 
 
140 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. chap.] 
 
 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 in- 
 capable 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 per- 
 fection was a work of infinite skill, labour, and industry, 
 but they were so costly, that their price, and an occa- 
 sional 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 appren- 
 tices, 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. 
 
 As much of this as Ambrose knew or understood he 
 told to Stephen, who listened in a good deal of be- 
 wilderment, 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? 
 
 "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, 
 
XL] AY DI ME GKENADA. 141 
 
 and for better certainty of its correctness, Master Michael 
 was comparing it with his Arabic version, while I over- 
 looked the Latin/' 
 
 "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 ? " 
 
 " 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 Tibbie Steelman what he 
 thinks thereof/' 
 
 " Tibbie 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 out- 
 skirts, 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." 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A KING IN A QUAGMIRE. 
 
 For my pastance 
 Hunt, sing, and dance, 
 My heart is set 
 All godly sport 
 To my comfort. 
 "Who shall me let ? 
 The King's Balade, attributed to Henry VIII. 
 
 Life was a rough, hearty thing in the early six- 
 teenth century, strangely divided between thought and 
 folly, hardship and splendour, misery and merriment, 
 toil and sport. 
 
 The youths in the armourer's household had ex- 
 perienced 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 Tibbie Steelman and Kit Smallbones, 
 though he might always appear on the scene, and he 
 had a wonderful knowledge of what was going on. 
 
 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 Tibbie 
 Steelman and Kit Smallbones had no notion of favouring 
 their master's cousin. 
 
 Poor fellow, he was very miserable in those first 
 
chap, xii.] A KING IN A QUAGMIRE. 143 
 
 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. 
 
 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 redoubt- 
 able 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, esprit de corps 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. 
 
 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 
 
144 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [cha- 
 
 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. 
 
 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 in- 
 structions 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. 
 
 Mutual promises were interchanged between him and 
 his master, Stephen on his knees ; the indentures were 
 signed, for Quipsome Hal could with much ado pro- 
 duce 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 ap- 
 prentices, such as Tibbie Steelman and Kit Smallbones, 
 were invited, sitting at a lower table, while the masters 
 had the higher one on the dais, and a third was re- 
 served 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 
 
xii.] A KING IN A QUAGMIRE. 145 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 There was drinking of toasts, and among the fore- 
 most 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 betray- 
 ing his knowledge of the domestic policy of the house- 
 hold, 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 mes- 
 senger on his landing 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. 
 
 L 
 
146 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 Master Headley, however, suspected nothing, and in- 
 vited 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. 
 
 Tibbie 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 Tibbie, 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, Tibbie had no more conscientious 
 scruple against making the figure, than in moulding a 
 little straight-tailed lion for Lord Harry Percy's helmet. 
 
 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 beauti- 
 fully modelled in bronze with all Tibbie's best skill. 
 
 Hal Randall and Ambrose had both come up from 
 the little home where Perronel presided, for the hour 
 w T as 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 
 
xii.] A KING IN A QUAGMIRE. 147 
 
 man wondrous wise and understanding, and declared 
 Stephen happy in the possession of such a kinsman. 
 
 " And whither away now, youngsters ? " he said, as 
 he rose from table. 
 
 " To St. John's Wood ! The good greenwood, uncle," 
 said Ambrose. 
 
 " Thou too, Ambrose ? " said Stephen joyfully. " For 
 once away from thine ink and thy books ! " 
 
 "Ay," said Ambrose, "mine heart warms to the 
 woodlands once more. Uncle, would that thou couldst 
 come." 
 
 " 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 ! " 
 
 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. 
 
 " Giles has promised me none," said Dennet, with a 
 pouting lip, "nor Ambrose." 
 
 " Why sure, little mistress, thou'lt have enough to 
 crack thy teeth on ! " said Edmund Burgess. 
 
 "They ought 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. 
 
 Giles, who looked on Dennet as a kind of needful 
 appendage to the Dragon, a piece of property of his 
 
 L 2 
 
148 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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." 
 
 " Is she thy master's daughter ? " demanded Dennet, 
 who could admit the claims of another princess. 
 
 " Nay, my master hath no children, but she dwelleth 
 near him." 
 
 "I will send her some, and likewise of mine own 
 comfits and cakes," said Mistress Dennet. " Only thou 
 must bring all to me first." 
 
 Ambrose laughed and said, " It's a bargain then, 
 little mistress ? " 
 
 " 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. 
 
 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 
 Hoii«e, 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 
 
xii.] A KING IN A QUAGMIRE. 149 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 Above all things the London prentices were pugna- 
 cious, 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 wei*e 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. 
 
 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 bis hostility to Stephen, 
 or by envy at the capful of juicy blackberries, carefully 
 
150 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 ! " 
 
 Ambrose was no fighter, but in defence of the bag 
 that w r as 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. 
 
 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 pommelling that 
 made him hastily turn about, with cries of " Two 
 against one ! " 
 
 "Not at all," said Stephen. "Stand by, Ambrose; 
 I'll give the coward his deserts." 
 
 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. 
 
 " Thou must purchase it ! " said Stephen. " Thy 
 bag of nuts, in return for the berries thou hast 
 wasted ! " 
 
 Peaceable Ambrose would have remonstrated, but 
 Stephen was implacable. He cut the string, and cap- 
 tured the bag, then with a parting kick bade Bates go 
 after his comrades, for his Eagle was nought but a 
 thieving kite. 
 
 Bates made off pretty quickly, but the two brothers 
 tarried a little to see how much damage the blackberries 
 
xil] A KING IN A QUAGMIRE. 151 
 
 had suffered, and to repair the losses as they descended 
 into the bog by gathering some choice dewberries. 
 
 " I marvel these fine fellows 'scaped our company," 
 said Stephen presently. 
 
 11 Are we in the right track, thinkst thou ? Here is 
 a pool I marked not before," said Ambrose anxiously. 
 
 " Nay, we cant 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." 
 
 " That may be. Only where is the safe footing ? " 
 said Ambrose. " I wish we had not lost sight of the 
 others ! " 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 " Hark, they are shouting for us." 
 
 " 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 
 bank built up of sods ? the nearer sloped down gradually, 
 
152 THE ABMOUKER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 ? " 
 
 "Not nigh, I fear," said Ambrose, beholding with 
 some dismay the breadth of the shoulders which were 
 all that appeared above the turbid water. 
 
 " 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 ! " 
 
 There was a great struggle, an absolute effort for 
 life, and but for the osier stump Ambrose would cer- 
 tainly 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. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 Ambrose blew a loud shrill call, but it seemed to 
 reach no one but Stephen, whom he presently saw 
 dashing towards them. 
 
 " 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 
 
' Ha ! Ha ! ' laughed Henry, ' hast found him out, lads ? ' "—Page 153. 
 
xil] A KING IN A QUAGMIRE. 153 
 
 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." 
 
 i 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. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 ~" 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 ! " 
 
 There was an imperative tone about him that sur- 
 prised 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. 
 
 He whispered to Stephen " 'Tis the King ! " 
 
 " 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, 
 
154 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap 
 
 but we know our good city of London tco well to break 
 thy indentures. And thou " 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 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 ycru, 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 ! " 
 
 He handed the purse to Stephen — a velvet bag 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 
xtl] A KING IN A QUAGMIKE. 155 
 
 to deliver up his nuts to Cermet and claim her promise 
 of sending a share to Aldonza. 
 
 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 
 Stephens brawls with George Bates. 
 
 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 grand- 
 mother 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. 
 
 "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 Eandall, shall he send in this same token, and 
 make his petition ? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " Sure our King is of a more generous mould ! " 
 exclaimed Mrs. Headley. 
 
 " 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 flounder- 
 ing like a hog in a salt marsh. Ha ! ha ! " and Quip- 
 some 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 
 
156 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES, [chap. xn. 
 
 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." 
 
 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-cheeked apples, and a handful of comfits, for the 
 poor little maid who never tasted fruit or sweets. 
 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A LONDON HOLIDAY. 
 
 " Up then spoke the apprentices tall 
 Living in London, one and all." 
 
 Old Ballad. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 
158 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 Tibbie 
 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 raree show. 
 
 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 spiritual- 
 ised 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 per- 
 sonally 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 him- 
 self shall be abased, and he that humbleth himself be 
 exalted. The preacher concluded with a strong per- 
 sonal exhortation to do righteousness and justice alike 
 to rich and poor, joined with truth and mercy, setting 
 God always before him. 
 
 The sermon ended, Wolsey knelt at the altar, and 
 Archbishop Wareham, who, like his immediate pre- 
 
xiii.] A LONDON HOLIDAY. 159 
 
 decessors, held legatine authority, performed the act of 
 investiture, placing the scarlet hat with its many loops 
 and tassels on his brother primate's head, after which 
 a magnificent Te Deum rang through the beautiful 
 church, and the procession of prelates, peers, and eccle- 
 siastics of all ranks in their richest array formed to 
 escort the new Cardinal to banquet at his palace with 
 the King and Queen. 
 
 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 sym- 
 bolism 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. 
 
 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 ? "lis open house, and I can 
 find thee a seat without disclosing the kinship that sits 
 so sore on thy brother. Where is he ? " 
 
 " I have not seen him this day." 
 
 "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 hon6urable 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 
 
160 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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." 
 
 " Deafening the spiritual ears far more, it may be," 
 said Ambrose, " since humiles exaltawrint." 
 
 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." 
 
 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. 
 
 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 ? " 
 f " 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. 
 
 The comrade lifted a cudgel, but there was a general 
 cry of "My Lord Cardinal's jester, lay not a finger 
 on him ! " 
 
 But Harry Randall was not one to brook immunity 
 
xiii.] A LONDON HOLIDAY. 161 
 
 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." 
 
 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. 
 
 But here again my Lord Cardinal's fool was a privi- 
 leged 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. 
 
 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 ! " 
 
 There was a kicking, struggling mass of blue backs 
 and yellpw legs before him, from out of which came 
 " Yah ! Down with the Eagles ! Cowards ! Kites ! 
 Cockneys 1 ." There were plenty of boys, men, women 
 
 M 
 
162 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 with children in their arms hallooing on, " Well done, 
 Eagle!" "Go it, Dragon 1" 
 
 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 
 mSUe. 
 
 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 un- 
 expected 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 tre- 
 mendous 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 un- 
 expected 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. 
 
 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 w r ere some way from home, and Giles was the 
 biggest and heaviest of them all. 
 
 "Would that Kit Smallbones were here I" said 
 Stephen, preparing to take the feet, while Edmund 
 took the shoulders. 
 
 " 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 
 
xni.] A LONDON HOLIDAY. 163 
 
 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." 
 
 Edmund listened. " There's reason in that," he said. 
 " Dost know this leech, Ambrose ? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " Have w r ith thee, then," returned Edmund, " the 
 rather that Giles is no small weight, and the guard 
 might come on us ere we reached the Dragon." 
 
 " 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 fathers 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. 
 
 " 'Tis clean against prentice statutes to wear one, is it 
 not ? " asked Ambrose. 
 
 "Ay," returned Stephen ; "yet none of us but would 
 stand up for our own comrade against those meddling 
 fellows of the Eagle." 
 
 " But," added Edmund, Cc we must beware the guard, 
 for if they looked into the cause of the fray, our master 
 might he called on to give Giles a whipping in the 
 Company's hall, this being a second offence of going 
 abroad in these vanities." 
 
 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 
 
 M 2 
 
164 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chat. 
 
 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." 
 
 Therewith he murmured a few words in an unknown 
 tongue, which, as Ambrose understood, were an invoca- 
 tion 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. 
 
 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 Moham- 
 medanism 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. 
 
 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 r while their 
 companion began to show signs of returning life. 
 
 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; 
 
 
xiil] A LONDON HOLIDAY. 165 
 
 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 ! 
 
 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. 
 
 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 ! She ! " 
 
 And she, 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 
 
106 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 It seemed to him a long time before Master 
 Headley's ruddy face, full of anxiety, appeared at the 
 door. 
 
 Blows were, of course, no uncommon matter; per- 
 haps 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. 
 
 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 beard ; 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, 
 
xiii.] A LONDON HOLIDAY. 167 
 
 Speaking English perfectly, though with a foreign 
 accent, Abenali informed Master Headley that his 
 young kinsman would by Heavens blessing soon 
 recover without injury to the eye, though perhaps a 
 scar might remain. 
 
 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." 
 
 u 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. 
 
 Abenali thereupon intreated that he might be left 
 to his care 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 Titble 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. 
 
 " Though he hath no license to practise it here," 
 threw in Master Headley, sotto voce ; 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 
 
168 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 But Abenali with a grace that removed all air of 
 offence from his manner, returned thanks for the inten- 
 tion, 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. 
 
 " '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 wdth Abraham under the oak tree, as we saw 
 him in the miracle play ! " 
 
 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. 
 
 It was with great trepidation that the good old dame 
 ventured, but the result was that she was fairly sub- 
 dued by Abenali's patriarchal dignity. She had never 
 seen any manners to equal his, not even when King 
 Edward the Fourth had come to her fathers house at 
 the Barbican, chucked her under the chin, and called 
 her a dainty duck ! 
 
 It was Aldonza, however, who specially touched her 
 
sin.] A LONDON HOLIDAY. 169 
 
 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. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE KNIGHT OF THE BADGER. 
 
 " I am a gentleman of a company." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 be- 
 cause 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, 
 
chap, xiv.] THE KNIGHT OF THE BADGER 171 
 
 strange light in his eyes, and exclaimed, " My son ! 
 thy scent is to my nostrils as the court of my fathers 
 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. 
 
 u 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 
 fathers 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 ! 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 ? " 
 
 Giles knew not what to make of this outburst. He 
 kept it to himself as too strange to be told. The heads 
 cff 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. 
 
 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 Tibbie 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 ho 
 
172 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 ! 
 
 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 Tibbie 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." 
 
 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 6f 
 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 pro- 
 vide 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 
 
xiv.] THE KNIGHT OF THE BADGER. 173 
 
 of their metal, and this made him demand whether 
 Master Headley could provide him with the like. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 soldiers 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. 
 
 " No danger for him who winceth not/' said the 
 knight. 
 
 Master Headley, a very peaceful citizen in his com- 
 position 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." 
 
 Of course this renewed the dismay and excitement, 
 and both Tibbie and his master entreated Stephen 
 to give up the undertaking if he felt the least misgiv- 
 ing as to his own steadiness, arguing that they should 
 not think him any more a craven than they did Kit 
 
174 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 Smallbones or Edmund Burgess. But Stephen's mind 
 was made up, his spirit was high, and he was resolved 
 to go through with it. 
 
 He held out his open hand, a rosy-cheeked 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." 
 
 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 A 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. 
 
xiv.] THE KNIGHT OF THE BADGER. 175 
 
 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 Tibbie 
 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. 
 
 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 Tibbie, for it was always a perilous thing to 
 carry a sum of money through the London streets. 
 Tibbie 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. 
 
 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 impos- 
 sible, even if Abenali himself would have consented to 
 give up his comparative seclusion and live in a crowd 
 and turmoil. 
 
 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 Tibbie moreover asked questions and begged 
 
176 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 Tibbie 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. 
 
 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 hun- 
 dred 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 ? " 
 
 " I feared it might be thus," said Tibbie. 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 It was a good while since Tibbie had been called a 
 young man, and as he listened to the flowing Eastern 
 periods in their foreign enunciation, he was for a mo- 
 ment afraid that the price of the secret was that he 
 should become the old Moors son-in-law ! His seared 
 and scarred youth had precluded marriage, and he 
 
xiv.] THE KNIGHT OF THE BADGER. 177 
 
 entertained the low opinion of women frequent in men 
 of superior intellect among the uneducated. Besides, 
 the possibilities of giving umbrage to Church authori- 
 ties 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 guardian- 
 ship 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. 
 
 The jealousy of the Eagle was proportionately in- 
 creased. Alderman Itillyeo, the head of the Eagle, 
 was friendly enough to Mr. Headley, but it was undeni- 
 able 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. 
 
 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 ? " 
 
 "Fulford— Sir John Fulford " said Ambrose. " What? 
 I thought not of it, is not that Gaffer's name ? " 
 
 " Fulford, yea ! Mayhap — " and Perronel sat down 
 and gave an odd sort of laugh of agitation—" mayhap 
 'tis mine own father." 
 
 " Shouldst thou know him, good aunt?" cried 
 Ambrose, much excited. 
 
178 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 " 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 recked 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 ? " 
 
 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 
 sons 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 hus- 
 band's profession should not be explained. It would be 
 quite enough to say that he was of the Lord Cardinal's 
 household. 
 
 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." 
 
 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 ? " 
 
xiv.] THE KNIGHT OF THE BADGER 179 
 
 " Not so, sir/' said Stephen, " but I have been bidden 
 to ask if thou hast found thy father ? " 
 
 " 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 com- 
 rades enough, bumpkins that could drink with an 
 honest soldier when they saw him, but not one that 
 ever heard the name of Fulford." 
 
 "Sir," said Stephen, " I know an old man named 
 Fulford. His granddaughter is my uncle's wife, and 
 they dwell by the Temple." 
 
 The intelligence seemed more startling and less grati- 
 fying 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 in- 
 terest 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. 
 
 Stephen explained that she was wedded to one of the 
 Lord Cardinal's meine. 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 Stephen had to explain, somewhat to the disappoint- 
 ment 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, 
 
 N 2 
 
180 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 So permission was asked for Stephen to show the 
 way to Master Randall's, and granted somewhat re- 
 luctantly, 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." 
 
 - "Ay!" said Tibbie, perhaps with a memory of the 
 old fable, " better be the trusty mastiff than the 
 wolf." 
 
 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. 
 
 Stephen was flattered, but scarcely tempted. The 
 hard selfishness and want of affection of the Condot- 
 tiere shocked him, while he looked about, hoping some 
 
xiv.] THE KNIGHT OF THE BADGER. 181 
 
 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 appren- 
 tices, 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. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " He might not have found it so easy. Our train- 
 bands are sturdy enough," said Stephen, whose esprit de 
 corps 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 be once fleshed ! " 
 
 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 
 
182 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 and bands from a line across to the opposite wall. He 
 could only call out, " Good naunt, here he be ! n 
 
 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 band, 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." 
 
 He gave a kind of embrace, while she gave a kind pf 
 gasp of "Welcome, sir," and glanced somewhat re- 
 proachfully 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. 
 
 " 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. 
 
 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 greet- 
 ings, regretting that he had not found his father 
 sooner, when his pouch was full, lamenting the change 
 
xiv.] THE KNIGHT OF THE BADGER. 183 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 Perronel had hurried back to her grandfathers side 
 to endeavour to compose him after the shock of glad- 
 ness. 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. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 HEAVE HALF A BRICK AT HIM:. 
 
 " For strangers then did so increase, 
 By reason of King Henry's queen, 
 And privileged in many a place 
 
 To dwell, as was in London seen. 
 Poor tradesmen had small dealing then 
 And who but strangers bore the bell, 
 "Which was a grief to Englishmen 
 To see them here in London dwell." 
 Ill May Day, by Churchill, a Contemporary Poet. 
 
 Time passed on, and Edmund Burgess, who had been 
 sent from York to learn the perfection of his craft, com- 
 pleted 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. 
 
 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. 
 
chap, xv.] HEAVE HALF A BRICK AT HIM. 185 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 ecstacy ; 
 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. 
 
186 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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/' 
 
 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 disappoint- 
 ment 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 ! D'ye hear ? The 
 other Hal is asking for thee." 
 
 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, turn- 
 ing round to observe in an encouraging voice, " Pluck 
 up a heart, man ! One would think Hal was going to 
 cut off thine head 1" 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 ! Hell mend his ways, good my 
 lord, if your grace will pardon him this time." 
 
 " 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?" 
 
 " Seventeen, an it please your grace," said Stephen, in 
 the gruff voice of his age. 
 
 " And thy name ? " 
 
 " Stephen Birkenholt, my liege," and lie wondered 
 whether he would be recognised; but Henry only 
 said — 
 
xv.] HEAVE HALF A BRICK AT HIM. 187 
 
 " Methinks I've seen those sloe-black eyes before. 
 Or is it only that the lad is thy very marrow, quipsome 
 one?" 
 
 "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 1 1 Hell never have wit for mine office, but 
 will come in second there likewise." 
 
 " 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 ! " 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 ! " 
 
 There was nothing to be done but to collect again, 
 
188 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 brothers pursuits. He did indeed come to the Sun- 
 day's dinner according to the regular custom, but the 
 moment it was permissible to leave the board he was 
 away with Tibbie 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. 
 
 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 
 brothers sympathy away from him. Moreover Am- 
 brose's face was thinner and paler, he had a strange 
 absorbed look, and often even when they were to- 
 gether seemed hardly to attend to what his brother 
 was saying. 
 
 " 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. 
 
 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 did tell the fate of each 
 
xv.] HEAVE HALF A BRICK AT HIM. 189 
 
 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." 
 
 " Cannot ! " exclaimed Stephen. 
 
 " Nay, there are other matters in hand that go 
 deeper." 
 
 " Yea, I know whatever concerns musty books goes 
 deeper with thee than thy brother," replied Stephen, 
 turning away much mortified. 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 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. 
 
 "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 ? " 
 
 " Holy monks ! " repeated Ambrose. " Holy monks ! 
 Where be they ? " 
 
 Stephen stared at him. 
 
 " 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 fore- 
 most of them ! He poor and mortified ! "lis verily 
 
190 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 as our uncle saith, lie plays the least false and shameful 
 part there ! " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 "Nay," said Stephen, iC 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." 
 
 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 be- 
 wilderment produced by the first stirrings of the 
 Reformation upon enthusiastic minds. He had studied 
 the Vulgate, made out something of the Greek Testa- 
 ment, 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, com- 
 municated accounts of the lectures and sermons of 
 Dr. Martin Luther, which already were becoming widely 
 known. 
 
 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 
 
xv.] HEAVE HALF A BRICK AT HIM 191 
 
 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. 
 
 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 unneces- 
 sarily 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 him- 
 self to be doing his part by undermining the structure, 
 and working on undoubtingly. Abenali was not aggres- 
 sive. 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 Tibbie 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. 
 
 Ambrose, however, had the enthusiastic practicalness 
 of youth. On that which he fully believed, he must 
 act, and what did he fully believe ? 
 
 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. 
 
192 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 There was much talk just now of the preaching of 
 one Doctor Beale, to whom all the tradesmen, journey- 
 men, 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 father- 
 less 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, Ccelum cceli 
 Domini, terrain autem dedit filiis hominis" (the Heaven 
 of Heavens is the Lord's, the earth hath He given to 
 the children of men), the doctor inculcated that Eng- 
 land was given to Englishmen, and that as birds would 
 defend their nests, so ought Englishmen to defend 
 themselves, and to hurt and grieve aliens for the common 
 weal ! 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, " Pngna 'pro 
 patrid," 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 com- 
 mercial 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 
 
xv.] HEAVE HALF A BEICK AT HIM. 193 
 
 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 out- 
 rageous. George Bates and a skinners 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. 
 
 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. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 MAY EVE. 
 
 " The rich, the poor, the old, the young, 
 Beyond the seas though born and bred, 
 By prentices they suffered wrong, 
 When armed thus they gather' d head." 
 
 Ill May Day, 
 
 May Eve had come, and little Dennet Headley was 
 full of plans for going out early with her young play- 
 fellows 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. 
 
 In the afternoon there were tidings that the Lord 
 Mayor, Sir Thomas Best, had been sent for to my 
 Lord Cardinal, who just at this time, during the build- 
 ing 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. 
 
 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 
 
chap, xvl] MAY EVE. 195 
 
 bucklers between Giles and Wat Ball, a drapers pren- 
 tice 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 en- 
 couragement, 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. 
 
 There was far too much noise for any one to hear the 
 town crier, who went along jingling his bell, and shout- 
 ing, " 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 " Wherefore ? " demanded Giles. 
 
 "Thou shalt know," said the alderman, seizing his 
 arm to drag him to the Counter prison, but Giles 
 resisted. Wat Ball struck at Sir Johns 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. 
 
 " The boys ! — the boys ! " was Master Headley's first 
 cry, but he might as well have tried to detach two 
 
 o 2 
 
196 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 chron- 
 icler, " Out came serving-men, and watermen, and 
 courtiers, and by XI of the clock there were VI or 
 VII hundreds in Cheap. And out of Pawle's Church- 
 yard came III hundred which wist not of the others." 
 For the most part all was involved 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 ap- 
 palled. Here and there were torches, which cast a red 
 glare round them, but whose smoke blurred everything, 
 and seemed to render the darkness deeper. 
 
 Perhaps if the tumult had only been of the appren- 
 tices, 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. 
 
 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 ; 
 bat 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. 
 
 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, Re- 
 corder of London, stood in the way before St. Martins 
 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 a#ain. He 
 
XVi.] MAY EVE. 197 
 
 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 help- 
 lessly 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. 
 
 " Thou here ! " exclaimed Giles. " Who would have 
 thought of sober Ambrose in the midst of the fray ? 
 See here, Stevie !" 
 
 " Poor old Ambrose ! " cried Stephen, " keep close 
 to us ! We'll see no harm comes to thee. 'Tis hot 
 work, eh ? " 
 
 " Oh, Stephen ! could I but get out of the throng to 
 warn my master and Master Michael ! " 
 
 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 ! " 
 
 " Or to mine aunt's," said Ambrose. 
 
 " 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. Martins 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. 
 
198 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 Then they heard fresh howls and yells in front as 
 well as behind. 
 
 "They are at it everywhere," exclaimed Stephen. 
 " I hear them somewhere out by Cornhill." 
 
 "Ay, where the Frenchmen live that calender 
 worsted/' returned Giles. " Come on ; who knows how 
 it is with the old man and little maid ? " 
 
 " There's a sort in our court that are ready for 
 aught," said Ambrose. 
 
 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 leading 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. 
 
 " 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 ! " 
 
 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 
 
xvl] MAY EVE. 199 
 
 flame, and hurried on in the din to call " Master, art 
 thou there ? " 
 
 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 ! " 
 
 " Here, my son," cautiously answered a voice he knew 
 for Lucas Hansen's. 
 
 " 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. 
 
 "Yea! 'tis ruin, my son," said Lucas. " And would 
 that that were the worst." 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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. 
 
 11 Bates ! ah ! Would that we had come sooner ! 
 What ! more of this work — " 
 
 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 distin- 
 guished. They could hear rough abusive voices, shrieks 
 and trampling of feet. A few seconds more and all was 
 still, only the fire remained, ^nd in the stillness the 
 suppressed sobs and moans of Aldonza were heard. 
 
 " A light ! Fetch a light from the fire ! " said Lucas. 
 
 Ambrose ran out. The flame was lessening, but he 
 could see the dark bindings, and the blackened pages of 
 
200 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 the books lie 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!" 
 
 " Nay, my child. I cannot move hand or foot. Let 
 me lie 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." 
 
 " 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. 
 
 Where should he go ? Priests indeed were plentiful, 
 but both his friends were in bad odour with the ordi- 
 nary 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 dwell- 
 ings 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 
 
XVI.] MAY EYE. 201 
 
 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 per- 
 petually, 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." 
 
 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 huo;e 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 ? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " '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 
 
202 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 candle, which he gave, together with his stole, to the 
 youth to bear before him. 
 
 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 c%me 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. 
 
 Dean Colet said afterwards that he felt as if he had 
 
xvi.] MAY EVE. 203 
 
 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." 
 
 The Dutch printer was already slightly known to the 
 Dean, having sold him many books. A fev words were 
 exchanged with him, but it was plain thac the dying 
 man could not be moved, and that his confession must 
 be made on the lap of the young girl. Colet knelt over 
 him so as to be able to hear, while Lucas and Ambrose 
 withdrew, 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 Viati- 
 cum — 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " 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 
 
204 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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." 
 
 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 con- 
 fession 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 friend- 
 ship of the King and the Cardinal kept him securely in 
 his position. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 sleep- 
 ing, 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 
 
xvl] MAY EVE. 205 
 
 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. 
 
 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 ! " 
 
 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. 
 
 She was standing at her door looking out anxiously, 
 and as she saw him she threw up her hands in thanks- 
 giving 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." 
 
 " Yea, good aunt, and what is more, they have slain 
 him, I fear me, outright." 
 
 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 
 
206 THE ARMOURERS PRENTICES. [chap 
 
 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 build- 
 ings 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 a Yea, it were a shame to leave her 
 to the old Dutchkin," but with true Flemish delibera- 
 tion 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 earnest 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." 
 
 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. 
 
 " Ah ! there's one of you whole and safe ! " he 
 exclaimed. " Where is the other ? " 
 
 " Stephen ? " exclaimed Ambrose. " I saw him last 
 
xvi.] MAY EVE. 207 
 
 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. 
 
 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 con- 
 trived 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 
 
208 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 appearance which Randall's double suit of apparel arid 
 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. 
 
 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 ascer- 
 tained at the Dragon court whether Stephen was at 
 home. 
 
 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 Been all night, and the master himself had in 
 the midst of his displeasure and anxiety been sum- 
 moned 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 ? " 
 
 Ambrose hoped for the same security, but in his 
 dismay, could only hurry after his uncle and aunt. 
 
 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 mo- 
 ments before the brave and constant spirit had depaxted. 
 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 
 
xvi.] MAY EVE. 209 
 
 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. Per- 
 ronel knelt down by her, persevered when the poor g?rl 
 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 !" 
 
 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 mothers 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 persua- 
 sions 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 Per- 
 ronel 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 con- 
 trivances, 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. 
 
 The Dean meantime had bidden Lucas to take shelter 
 at his own house, and the old Dutchman had given a 
 sort of doubtful acceptance. 
 
 Ambrose, meanwhile, half distracted about his brother, 
 craved counsel of the jester where to seek him. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 ILL MAY DAY. 
 
 " With two and two together tied, 
 
 Through Temple Bar and Strand they go, 
 To "Westminster, there to be tried, 
 With ropes about their necks also." 
 
 Ill May Lay. 
 
 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 against the spoilers. 
 
 Yet this fact made them all the more forlorn. The 
 others, some forty in number, their companions in mis- 
 fortune, 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. 
 
 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 
 
chap, xvii.] ILL MAY DAY. 211 
 
 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. 
 
 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 some- 
 thing 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 alter- 
 nated between despair, and declarations that he would 
 have justice on those who so treated his fathers 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 cramped. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 
 p 2 
 
212 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 ho 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. 
 
 The next call at the gate was Headley and Birken- 
 holt — " Master Headley's prentices — Be they here ? " 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " I'm prenticed ! " said Jasper, though in a very weak 
 little voice. 
 
 " Have you had bite or sup ? " asked Kit. 
 
 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 
 faint loss 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 Stephens mind about his brother, 
 
xvil] ILL MAY DAY. 213 
 
 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. 
 
 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, hand- 
 some, grave young man, who had often been much 
 disturbed by his little brothers pranks — could only 
 shake his hea'd 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. 
 
 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 ? 
 
 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 dis- 
 turbance ; 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 
 
214 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 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, some- 
 times even betting on what the sentences would be, and 
 Avho would be hanged, or who escape. 
 
 Poor lads, they did not, for the most part, realise their 
 real danger, but Stephen was more and more beset with 
 homansick 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 ad- 
 ventures of those happy times, shutting his eyes to the 
 grim stone Avails, and trying to think himself among the 
 beeches, hollies, cherries, and hawthorns, shining in the 
 May sun ! Giles and he were close 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 sum- 
 moned roughly into the court, where harsh-looking 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. 
 
 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/' 
 
xvil] ILL MAY DAY. 215 
 
 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 un- 
 button 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 thouTt be able 
 better to stand up like a man, come what will." 
 
 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 " 
 
 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. 
 
 In point of fact, the Lord Mayor and aldermen were 
 afraid of the Kings 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. 
 
 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 
 
21G THE AKMOUKER'S PEENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 hangiDg, slaughtering, or setting the 
 City on fire. 
 
 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 pro- 
 spect that, out of such large numbers, some might escape. 
 
 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 begin- 
 ning 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 bis defence, as he had 
 witnesses to bring in his favour. 
 
 " Is he thy son, good Armourer Headley ? " demanded 
 the Duke of Norfolk, who held the work of the Dragon 
 court in high esteem. 
 
 " 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/' 
 
xyil] ILL MAY DAY. 217 
 
 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 pro- 
 clamation, 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 
 swoid, 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 ? " 
 
 " I ask not for favour," returned Headley, " only that 
 witnesses be heard on his behalf, ere he be condemned/' 
 
 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 de- 
 fence, and fallen on those who were burning their goods. 
 
 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. 
 
218 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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 ! " 
 
 " 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 ?" 
 
 " The maid hath hit it ! " exclaimed Randall. " Mas- 
 ter 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 ? " 
 
 " 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 ! " 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 " Worshipful sir, trust me," said Randall. " Thou 
 
xvii ] ILL MAY DAY, 219 
 
 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." 
 
 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. 
 
 Meantime an interrogative glance and a nod had 
 passed between Tibbie and Randall, and when the 
 alderman looked towards the former, always his prime 
 minister, the answer was, " Sir, me seemeth 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." 
 
 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. 
 
 Master Headley himself brought the child by back 
 streets to the river, and thence down to the Temple 
 stairs, accompanied by Tibbie Steelman, and a maid- 
 servant on whose presence her grandmother had 
 
220 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 insisted. Dennet had hardly slept all night for ex- 
 citement 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 Tibbie. 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 more insecure of the way and means to 
 prayer than in this hour of anguished supplication. 
 
 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 Tibbie 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." 
 
 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, Tibbie interfered, telling her that his master's 
 orders were that Master Randall should do with her as 
 he thought meet. Tibbie himself followed until they 
 reached a thicket entirely concealing them from the 
 river. Halting here, Randall, with his nephew's help, 
 
xvii.] ILL MAY DAY. 221 
 
 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 ! 
 
 She recoiled upon Tibbie with a little cry, " Oh, 
 why should he make sport of us ? Why disguise 
 himself?" 
 
 tc Listen, pretty mistress/' said Randall. "Tis no 
 disguise, Tibbie 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. 
 
 " Ay, Mistress Dennet," said Tibbie, " 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." 
 
 Dennet's bosom heaved, but she looked up in the 
 jester's dark eyes, saw the tears in them, made an 
 effort, put her hand in his, and said, " I will go with 
 him." 
 
 Hal led her away, and they saw Tibbie 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. 
 
 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." 
 
 And then, as much to distract her thoughts and 
 
222 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 "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 w T ottest, or it may 
 anger him." 
 
 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." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " He fled, when Stephen made in to the rescue of 
 my father," said Dennet. 
 
 " The saints grant we may so work with the King 
 that he may spare them both," ejaculated Randall. 
 
 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. 
 
 " An we go up among all these," he said, " they 
 might make their sport of us both, so that we might 
 lose time. Let us see whether the little garden postern 
 be open." 
 
 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 w r all — Henry's way of holding a cabinet 
 council with his prime minister on a summer's 
 morning. 
 
 " Come on, mistress, put a brave face on it ! " the 
 
xvil] ILL MAY DAY. 223 
 
 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 ? " 
 
 But the Cardinal, impatient of interruption, spoke 
 imperiously, " What dost thou here, Merriman ? Away, 
 this is no time for thy fooleries and frolics." 
 
 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 { 
 
 " 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/' 
 
 ' ' 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.'' 
 
 " I trow/' returned the Cardinal, "that one of these 
 same hinds is a boon companion of the fool's — hinc illce 
 lachrymce, and a speech that would have befitted a wise 
 man's mouth." 
 
 " There is work that may well make even a fool 
 grave, friend Thomas," replied the jester. 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 " 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 
 
224 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 betrothed. I would say, one of them is, but the other 
 — he saved my father's life once." 
 
 The latter words were lost in the laughter of the 
 King and Cardinal at the unblushing avowal of the 
 small, prim-faced maiden. 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 " 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 ! " 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " 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 ?" 
 
 " 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 see here, your Grace ! " — Page 224. 
 
xvil] ILL MAY DAY. 22b 
 
 and he has a mother, Sir, a mother at Salisbury. But 
 oh, Sir, Sir ! Stephen is so good and brave a lad ! 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 Tibbie himself, and this is the whistle your 
 Grace wots of." 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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 ! " 
 
 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." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 Dennet here forgot court manners enough to cry out, 
 " your Grace ! your Grace, be pleased for pity's sak& 
 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 ? " 
 
 " I see," said Sir Thomas. " This little maid's errand 
 jumps with mine own, which was to tell your Grace that 
 
 Q 
 
226 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap, 
 
 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 in- 
 dicted for high treason ! Will the parents, shut in from 
 coming to them by my Lord of Norfolks men, ever 
 forget their agonies, I ask your Grace ? " 
 
 Henry's face grew red with passion. " If Norfolk 
 thinks to act the King, and turn the city into a sham- 
 bles," — 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 ? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 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. 
 
XVil.] ILL MAY DAY. 227 
 
 " It must be prompt, if it be to save any marked for 
 death this morn/' More in a low voice observed to the 
 Cardinal. " Lord Edmund Howard is keen as a blood- 
 hound on his vengeance/' 
 
 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 ? " 
 
 u I'm scarce such a fool as that, Cousin Eed 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." 
 
 u Thou shalt have the pardon instantly, Merriman," 
 said the Cardinal, and beckoning to one of the attend- 
 ants 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. 
 
 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 ac- 
 company him, otherwise there would be no chance of 
 forcing his way in time through the streets, guarded by 
 the Howard retainers. 
 
 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 unfor- 
 tunate fourteen, and therefore did not wait to stand on 
 his dignity, they hurried across to the place where they 
 had left the barge — Tibbie and Ambrose joining them 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 THE AKMOUEER'S PRENTICES, [chap. xvii. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 Tibbie and Dennet prevailed in their favour, and 
 they shot forward in the little boat. 
 
 They passed the Temple — on to the stairs nearest 
 Cheapside — up the street. There was an awful still- 
 ness, 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 ! " 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 ! " 
 
 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. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 PARDON. 
 
 " 'What if,' quoth she, ' by Spanish blood 
 Have London's stately streets been wet, 
 Yet will I seek this country's good 
 And pardon for these young men get.' " 
 
 Churchill. 
 
 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 in- 
 deed a priest came in early morning to hear the confes- 
 sions of Giles Headley and George Bates, the only two 
 who were in Newgate. 
 
 George Bates was of the stolid, heav} 7 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 pro- 
 cession to the Guildhall he was to be coupled with 
 George Bates, instead of either of his room-fellows, he 
 flung himself on Stephens 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 ' 
 
 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 
 
230 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 stag- 
 gered 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 fore- 
 most 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 unbut- 
 toned, 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 lecovered enough to walk with a good deal of 
 
Xviii.] PARDON. 231 
 
 support. When he was laid on the bed he fell into 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. 
 
 Once indeed there was a strange sound coming across 
 that of the knell. It almost sounded like an acclama- 
 tion 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 bene- 
 ficent drowsiness stole over him as he knelt, and he was 
 only awakened, at the same time as Jasper, by the 
 opening of his door. 
 
 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, c< Stephen, Stephen, 
 save me ! They will cut out my heart/' and clung 
 trembling to his breast, with arms round his neck. 
 
 " Poor child ! poor child I " sighed Master Headley. 
 " Would that I brought him the same tidings as to 
 thee ! " 
 
 " 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, choked by the swelling of his heart in almost 
 an agony of joy and thankfulness. 
 
 " Yea, my good lad," said the alderman. " Thy good 
 kinsman took my little wench to bear to the King the 
 token he gave thee." 
 
 " And Giles ? " Stephen asked, " and the rest ? " 
 
 " Giles is safe. For the rest — may God have mercy 
 on their souls." 
 
 These words passed while Stephen rocked Jasper 
 backwards and forwards, his face hidden on his neck. 
 'Come home," added Master Headley. " My little 
 
232 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap 
 
 Dennet and Giles cannot yet rejoice till thou art with 
 them. Giles would have come himself, but he is sorely 
 &haken, and could scarce stand." 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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 onoe to old 
 Spring. 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 " 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 ! " 
 
 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, u Boy, boy, the 
 blessing of such as I is scarce worth the having, but I 
 would thy mother could see thee this day." 
 
xviil] PARDON. 233 
 
 Stephen was left with these words and his brothers 
 look to bear him through a trying time. 
 
 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 main- 
 taining 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 He only half rose from his big carved chair, and 
 touched without removing his cap, to greet the alder- 
 man, 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, mis- 
 chievous, dainty striplings thrust on one,, giving more 
 trouble, and making more call and outcry than twice as 
 many honest thieves and pickpurses." 
 
 " Be assured, sir, they will scarce trouble you longer 
 than they can help," said Master Headley. 
 
 " Yea, the Duke and my Lord Edmund are making 
 brief work of them," quoth the jailer. "Ha 1" with an 
 oath, " what's that ? Nought will daunt those lads till 
 the hangman is at their throats/' 
 
 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. Theii 
 
234 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap 
 
 shouts did not tend to increase the captains 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. 
 
 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 Jaspers sake; 
 so that the draper's 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. 
 
 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 with- 
 out 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 him- 
 self, 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 
 
xviil] PARDON 235 
 
 into a playground, and there they certainly made 
 uproar, and played pranks, enough to justify the prefer- 
 ence 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. 
 
 The time was not in reality so very long. On the 
 7th of May, John Lincoln, the broker, who had incited 
 Canon Beale to preach against the foreigners, was led 
 forth with several others of the real promoters of the 
 riot to the centre of Gheapside, where Lincoln was put 
 to death, but orders were brought to respite the rest ; 
 and, at the same time, all the armed men were with- 
 drawn, the City began to breathe, and the women who 
 had been kept within doors to go abroad again. 
 
 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 citizens costume. 
 
 " 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 
 
236 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 inno- 
 cents 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 con- 
 cerned, it appeareth to the contrary. You did wink at 
 the matter/ quoth he, ' and at this time we will grant 
 
xviil] PARDON. 237 
 
 you neither favour nor goodwill/ 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/ 
 
 " 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 warning 
 to all malapert youngsters to keep within bounds, ' Nay, 
 verily/ quoth I, seeing the moment for shooting a fool's 
 bolt among them, c me thinks Master Death will have 
 
238 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [cua*. 
 
 been a pick-lock before you are ready for them, and 
 then who will stand to cry mercy ? ' " 
 
 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. 
 
 "The lad himself!" exclaimed the jester, leaping 
 down after her. 
 
 " Stephen, the good boy ! " said Master Headley, 
 descending more slowly, but not less joyfully. 
 
 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 Stephens 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 She held out her hands to Stephen, as he knelt down 
 
xviii ] PARDON. 239 
 
 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." 
 
 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. 
 
 "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." 
 
 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. 
 
 The jester then took leave, accepting conditionally an 
 invitation to supper. Master Headley, Smallbones, and 
 Tibbie 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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, 
 
240 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 " And what art thou doing, Ambrose ? " asked Stephen, 
 rousing a little from his lethargy. " Methought I heard 
 mine uncle say thine occupation was gone ? " 
 
 "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." 
 
 "I am glad thou dost not go with him," said 
 Stephen, with a hand on his brother's leather-covered 
 knee. 
 
 " I would not put seas between us," returned Am- 
 brose. " 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." 
 
 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. 
 
 " He had me to his privy chamber," said Ambrose, 
 " and spake to me as no man hath yet spoken — no, not 
 even Tibbie. 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." 
 
xviii.] PAKDON. 241 
 
 " Thou wast ever in a harl," said Stephen, drowsily. 
 using the Hampshire word for whirl or entanglement. 
 
 " 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 holi- 
 ness 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 sim- 
 plicity of God's Word rather than to the arguments and 
 
 B 
 
242 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 judg- 
 ment surely await eth 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 Nunc Dimittis, if such be the Lord's will, ere 
 the foundations be cast down/ " 
 
 Ambrose had gone on rehearsing all these words with 
 the absorption of one to w r hom 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 ? " 
 
 " 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." • 
 
 " One of thy old doctors in barnacles, I trow," said 
 Stephen. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " What ! Sir Thomas More ? " 
 
xviii.] PAEDOK 243 
 
 "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." 
 
 t( Speak no more of that ! " said Stephen, with a 
 shudder. " Would that I could forget it ! " 
 
 In truth Stephen's health had suffered enough to 
 change the bold, high-spirited, active lad, so that he 
 hardly knew himself. He was quite incapable of work 
 all the next day, and Mistress Heaclley began to dread 
 that he had brought home jail fever, and insisted on his 
 being inspected by the barber-surgeon, Todd, who pro- 
 ceeded 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 purliSus of St. Katharine's Docks, and must 
 be specially dangerous in their lowered condition. 
 
 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 at- 
 tending 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. 
 
 It ended, however, in Perronel Randall being asked 
 to take charge of the whole party, including Aldonza. 
 
 B 2 
 
244 THE ARMOUKEE S PEENTICES. [chap. 
 
 That little damsel had been in a manner confided to her 
 both by the Dean of St. Paul's and by Tibbie 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. 
 
 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, 
 w 7 as 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. 
 
 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 penman- 
 ship, and to write from Sir Thomas's dictation in Eng- 
 lish 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. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 Ambrose blushed deeply. " Sir, it is but honest to 
 tell you that my mother's brother is jester to my Lord 
 Cardinal." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " Nay, sir, so please you, it was his good heart that 
 made him a jester," said Ambrose, explaining the story 
 r >f ftanfJall and his Perronel in a few words, which 
 
xviil] PARDON. 245 
 
 touched the friends a good deal, and the Dean remem- 
 bered 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. 
 
 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 111 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. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 AT THE ANTELOPE. 
 
 " Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen 
 Full many a sprightly race, 
 Disporting on thy margent green, . 
 The paths of pleasure trace." 
 
 — Gray. 
 
 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 enter- 
 tainment 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. StreatfiekTs marriage ; there was a huge bed with 
 green curtains of that dame's own work, where one 
 might have said 
 
 " Above, below, the rose of snow, 
 Twined with her blushing foe we spread," 
 
 so as to avoid all offence. There was also a cupboard 
 or sideboard of the choicer plate belonging to the esta- 
 blishment, and another awmry containing appliances 
 
ch. xix.] AT THE ANTELOPE. 247 
 
 for chess and backgammon, likewise two large chairs, 
 several stools, and numerous chests. 
 
 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 desir- 
 able 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. 
 
 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 mens trains 
 of retainers might be crowded together. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
US THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 Master Streatfield was an elderly man, fat and easy- 
 going, 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. 
 
 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, ex- 
 erted 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 
xtx.] AT THE ANTELOPE. 24S 
 
 boys and girls were in a kind of fairy land 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. 
 
 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 1" 
 
 "Nay now, Mistress Dennet," argued Perronel. 
 " Thou hast thy bird, and Alice has lost hers. It is 
 not meet to grudge it to her." 
 
 "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." 
 
 And Dennet turned majestically away with. her bird 
 — Goldspot only in the future — perched on her finger ; 
 while Perronel shook her head bodingly. 
 
 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. 
 
 The great pleasure of all was a grand stag-hunt, got 
 up for the diversion of the French ambassadors, who 
 
250 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 Kings 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 ! 
 
 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. 
 
 Women on a journey almost always rode double, and 
 the arrangement came under debate. Perronel, well 
 
xix.] AT THE ANTELOPE. 251 
 
 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 Mistress 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. 
 
 " I shall have quite enough of her by and by," re- 
 turned Giles ; then adding, " She is a good little wench, 
 but it is more for her honour that her fathers servant 
 should ride before her/' 
 
 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 border- 
 land 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 fea- 
 tures 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 
 
252 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES, [chap 
 
 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. 
 
 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, 
 
xix. J " AT THE ANTELOPE. 253 
 
 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. 
 
 Aldonza had certainly not taught him the phrases he 
 was so fond of repeating. Giles Headley had under- 
 taken 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 blandish- 
 ments to persuade Mrs. Randall to come and see the 
 shooting at the popinjay, at Mile End. 
 
 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 Tibbie 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 de- 
 corated 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. 
 
 Under all the uproarious merriment that each at- 
 tempt occasioned, Tibbie 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. 
 
 "Can I have a word with you, privily, Master 
 Steelman?" she asked. 
 
 Unwillingly he muttered, "Yea, so please you;" 
 
254 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 ? " 
 
 " Not as yet in form, but by the will of the parents," 
 returned Tibbie, impatiently, as he thought of the 
 half-hour's reading which he was sacrificing to woman's 
 gossip. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " Forbid him the house, good dame." 
 
 "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." 
 
 " Have they spoken then to one another ? " asked 
 Tibbie, beginning to take alarm. 
 
 " I trow not. I deem they know not yet what 
 draweth them together." 
 
 " Pish, they are mere babes ! " quoth Tib, hoping he 
 might cast it off his mind. 
 
 " 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " You are right, dame ; you know best, no doubt," 
 said Tib, in helpless perplexity. " I wot nothing of 
 such gear. What would you do ? " 
 
xix.] AT THE ANTELOPE. 255 
 
 " 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 house- 
 wifery." 
 
 " To whom then would you give her ? " asked 
 Tibbie. 
 
 "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." 
 
 " I pledged my word to her father," said Tibbie, 
 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 " 
 
 "Wherefore not take her yourself?" said Perronel, 
 as he stood aghast. " She is a maid of sweet obe- 
 dient conditions, trained by a scholar even like yourself. 
 She would make your chamber fair and comfortable, 
 and tend you dutifully." 
 
 " Whisht, good woman. 'Tis too dark to see, or you 
 could not speak of wedlock to such as I. Think of the 
 poor maid ! " 
 
 u 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." 
 
 " Nay, mistress," said Tibbie, 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." 
 
 " But you are the best sword-cutler in London. You 
 could make a living without service." 
 
 "I am bound by too many years of faithful kind- 
 ness to quit my master or my home at the Dragon," 
 said Tibbie. " Nay, that will not serve, good friend." 
 
 " Then what can be done ? " asked Perronel, some- 
 
256 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 what 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 ! " 
 
 Tibbie stood considering, and presently said, " May- 
 hap 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." 
 
 Perronel thought well of the suggestion, and de- 
 cided that after the mass on All Soul's Day, and 
 the general visiting of the graves of kindred, she 
 would send Alclonza 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 re- 
 covered from an attack of the prevalent disorder. 
 
 Then Tibbie 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." 
 
 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 rcre 
 supper, for the serving-men with the lanterns would be 
 coming for the young folk. 
 
 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 
 
xix.] AT THE ANTELOPE. 257 
 
 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 
 fathers 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 " Heed not that, good dame/' said the Dean, cour- 
 teously, "but sit thee down and let me hear of the 
 poor child." 
 
 " 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 
 
258 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 husband. And she was disappointed that he only 
 promised to consider the matter and let her hear from 
 him. She went back and told Tibbie that his device 
 was nought, an old scholar with one foot in the grave 
 knew less of women than even he did ! 
 
 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 lawyers 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 ! " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " From his reverence the Dean ? Hath he bethought 
 himself of her ? " 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 " Will they wed her to thee ? That were rarely good, 
 so they gave thee some good office ! " cried his aunt. 
 
 " 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/ " 
 
Xix.] AT THE ANTELOPE. 259 
 
 "'It were matching an Arab mare with a costard 
 monger's colt/ said my master, ' or Angelica with Ralph 
 Roisterdoister.' " 
 
 " I'd like to know what were better for the poor 
 outlandish maid than to give her to some honest man," 
 put in Perronel. 
 
 " 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 country- 
 woman 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, wherfe 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, ' M venient ah 
 Oriente et Occidente' " 
 
 Perronel looked 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 ? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 "Yea, but what the lady is makes the greater odds 
 to the maid, I trow," said Perronel anxiously. 
 
 "Fear not on that score. Dame Alice More is of 
 
 S 2 
 
260 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 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 de- 
 clared 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 Eandall. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 hapjDy 
 as it was in his nature to be. He was much, in the 
 
xix.] AT THE ANTELOPE. 261 
 
 position of a barristers 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 Sir Thomas had himself pointed out to him books 
 calculated to settle his mind on the truth and Catho- 
 licity 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 And sure enough, among a group of five girls and 
 one boy, all between fourteen and nine years old, was 
 
262 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 " I would I were my brother, your honour," said 
 Ambrose, " then would I climb the tree." 
 
 " Thou shouldst bring him one of these days/' said 
 Sir Thomas. " But thou hast instead brought us a fair 
 maid. See, Meg, yonder is the poor young girl who 
 lost her father on 111 May day. Lead her on and make 
 her good cheer, while I speak to this good dame." 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 " A daw ! a daw ! " was the cry. " Is't for us ? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " 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." 
 
xix.] AT THE ANTELOPE. 263 
 
 She led up Aldonza, making the request for her. Sir 
 Thomas smiled. 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 " I love Giles ! " uttered the black beak, to the con- 
 fusion and indignation of Perronel. 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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." l 
 
 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. 
 
 And thus Aldonza was installed in the long, low, 
 two-storied red house which was to be her place of 
 home-like service. 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 CLOTH OF GOLD ON THE SEAMY SIDE. 
 
 " Then you lost 
 The view of earthly glory : men might say 
 Till this time pomp was single ; but now married 
 To one above itself." — Shakespeare. 
 
 If Giles Headley murmured at Aldonza's removal, 
 it was only to Perronel, and that discreet woman kept 
 it to herself. 
 
 In the summer of 1519 he was out of his apprentice- 
 ship, 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 fare- 
 wells, 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- 
 
oh. xx] CLOTH OF GOLD ON THE SEAMY SIDE. 265 
 
 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, 
 
 " Strained the watchful eye 
 If chance the golden hours were nigh 
 By youthful hope seen gleaming round her walls." 
 
 "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 thy- 
 self 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." 
 
 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. 
 
 He was a great loss at that especial time, as a 
 restraining power, trusted by the innovators, and a per- 
 sonal friend both of King and Cardinal, and his preach- 
 ing and catechising were sorely missed at St. Paul's. 
 
 Tibbie Steelman, though thinking he did not go far 
 enough, deplored him deeply; but Tibbie 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 Tibbie, and as his distaste for women ren- 
 dered his den almost inaccessible to Bet Smallbones, 
 who looked after most of the patients, Stephen Birken- 
 holt, 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 
 
266 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 effects, which left him much broken and never likely 
 to be the same man again. 
 
 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, sink- 
 ing slowly away with little pain, and her memory 
 having failed from the first. 
 
 Household affairs had thus slipped so gradually into 
 Dennet's hands that no change of government was 
 perceptible, except that the keys hung at the maidens 
 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 Small- 
 bones. 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 pre- 
 tensions 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 I 
 
xx.] CLOTH OF GOLD ON THE SEAMY SIDE. 267 
 
 She would not have the thing done in a corner ! What 
 was the use of her being wedded, and having to con- 
 sort with the tedious old wives instead of the merry 
 wenches ? 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." 
 
 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 thnnk 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 
268 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 Tibbie 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 bed- 
 ding, 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 im- 
 provident to afford, especially if the alderman himself 
 were absent. 
 
 Not only did Master Headley really love his trusty 
 foreman too well to expose him to such chances, but 
 Tibbie 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 Tibbie, 
 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 
 
xx.] CLOTH OF GOLD ON THE SEAMY SIDE. 269 
 
 showed some black and silver armour, that was in hand 
 for the King, which fully bore out his words. 
 
 "And thou thinkst Kit can rule the lads !" said the 
 alderman, scarce willingly. 
 
 il One of them at least can rule himself," said Tibbie. 
 " They have both been far more discreet since the 
 fright they got on 111 May day ; and, as for Stephen, he 
 hath seemed to me to have no eyes nor thought save 
 for his work of late." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " There be worse folk than they, your worship," pro- 
 tested 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. 1 
 
 " 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 ! " 
 
 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, ana 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 
 
270 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 his Bet lavished on him at every leisure moment to 
 forewarn him against French wine-pots. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 stitch ery ? " 
 
 " 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. 
 
xx.] CLOTH OF GOLD ON THE SEAMY SIDE. 271 
 
 " Thanks, gentle maid," said Giles, taking the hand- 
 some 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. . 
 
 Stephen was some distance off. He had turned aside 
 when she spoke to Giles, and was asking of Tibbie 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 within a 
 wreath of oak and holly leaves. 
 
 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 
 Stephens, he doffed his flat cap with one hand, 1 and 
 laid the other on his heart, so that she knew where her 
 purse had taken up its abode. 
 
 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 Kandall, 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 
 
272 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 leathern coat was an absolute refreshment to the sight. 
 He therefore spent all the time he was off duty in the 
 fo»ge far in the rear, where Smallbones and his party 
 had very little but hard work, mending, whetting, fur- 
 bishing, 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. 
 
 Smallbones was more excited by the report of foun- 
 tains 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. 
 
 "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." 
 
 " 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. 
 
 " Yea," said Smallbones, intermitting his noisy ope- 
 rations, "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." 
 
 " Hogs ! " returned Randall. " A decent Hampshire 
 hog would scorn to be lodged as many a knight and 
 
xx.] CLOTH OF GOLD ON THE SEAMY SIDE. 273 
 
 squire and lady too is now, pigling it in styes and 
 hovels and haylofts by night, and pranking it by day 
 with the best ! " 
 
 "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." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " 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, f if he will 
 be a pagan god, he should have what's-his-name^ the 
 smith of the gods, to work for him/ " 
 
 " 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'Angouleme in the castle — the real old castle, mind 
 you — doing the work, leaving the kings and queens to 
 do their own fooling." 
 
 "Have you spoken with the French King, Hal?" 
 asked Smallbones, who had become a great crony of 
 his, since the anxieties of May Eve. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 T 
 
274 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap, 
 
 " No ! hath he ? " and Giles, Stephen, and Smallbones, 
 all suspended their work to listen in concern. 
 
 " 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/' 
 
 "I hope he will yet give the mounseer a good 
 shaking," muttered Smallbones. 
 
 "How now, Willi 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." 
 
 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." 
 
 " 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 ? 
 
 "Save your knighthood!" said Smallbones. "Who 
 
xx.] CLOTH OF GOLD ON THE SEAMY SIDE. 275 
 
 would have looked to see you here, Sir John? Me- 
 thought you were in the Emperor s service ! " 
 
 " 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?" 
 
 " Nay, he is safe at home, where I would I were," 
 sighed Kit. 
 
 "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." 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 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!" 
 
 " Sir," cried Stephen hotly, si 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 ! 
 
 t2 
 
276 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 Methinks you are the last who should jeer at and insult 
 him!" 
 
 " Stephen is right," said Giles. " This is my kins- 
 man s tent, and no man shall say a word against Master 
 Harry Randall therein." 
 
 " Well crowed, my young London gamebirds," re- 
 turned 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 — impedi- 
 menta, as we used to say in the grammar school. How 
 does the old man ? — I must find some token to send 
 him." 
 
 " He is beyond the reach of all tokens from you save 
 prayers and masses," returned Randall, gravely. 
 
 " 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 pre- 
 sently 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." 
 
 "Not so," replied Randall. "'Tis to the Cardinal 
 that I belong," holding out his sleeve, where the scarlet 
 hat was neatly worked, " and 111 brook no word against 
 his honour." 
 
 li Ho ! ho ! Maybe you looked to have the hat on 
 
xx.] CLOTH OF GOLD ON THE SEAMY SIDE. 277 
 
 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 ! " 
 
 " You forget ! I'm a wedded man/' said Eandall, 
 who certainly, in private life, had much less of the 
 buffoon about him than his father-in-law. 
 
 " Impedimentum again/' whistled the knight. " Put 
 a halter round her neck, and sell her for a pot of beer/' 
 
 " Td 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. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 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 con- 
 trived to attach himself to the armourer's party, in a 
 manner that either Alderman Headley himself, or 
 Tibbie 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. 
 
 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 
 
278 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 horses, while he himself, whenever sport was not going 
 forward for him, or work for the armourers, sat dis- 
 cussing 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. 
 
 To no one was this arrangement so distasteful as to 
 Quipsome Hal, who felt himself in some sort the oc- 
 casion 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 estab- 
 lishment, but it was decorous, and Randall had such an 
 affection and respect for the innocence of his sisters 
 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 remain- 
 der 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. 
 
 An old baron insists on betrothing his daughter and 
 heiress to her kinsman freshly knighted. She is re- 
 luctant, 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 
 
xx.] CLOTH OF GOLD ON THE SEAMY SIDE. 279 
 
 from the baron's squire, and a tender interview between 
 them followed. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 traged}', 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 Eevelations come in strange ways. Perhaps that 
 Italian play might be called Galeotto to Stephen 
 Birkenholt. It affected him all the more because he 
 
280 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [ch. xx. 
 
 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 perception 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. 
 
CHAPTER XXL 
 
 SWORD OR SMITHY. 
 
 " 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 1 " 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 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 unfeign- 
 edly 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 ! 
 
 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 
 kermesse — 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. 
 
 However, Fulford seemed to consider himself one 
 with the party; and he beguiled the way by tales 
 
282 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 The weather broke however just as Henry, his wife 
 and his sister, entered Gravelines ; it rained pertina- 
 ciously, 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 Eandall said, "Charles gave solid 
 pudding where Francis gave empty praise " ! 
 
 Smallbones and the two youths had very little to do, 
 save to consume these provisions and accept the hospi- 
 tality 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 
 dolce far niente 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 men " full of strange oaths 
 
xxi.] SWORD OR SMITHY. 283 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 " What shall I do ? " was the cry of Stephen's heart. 
 " My honour and my oath. They bind me. She 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." 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 
284 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 Eandall 
 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. 
 
 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 cer- 
 tainly 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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 ou,t 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 
 
xxl] SWORD OR SMITHY. 285 
 
 as to form a pamphlet. Lucas spoke to him in Flemish 
 to explain his own return with the English prentice. 
 
 "Dost thou dwell here, sir?" asked Stephen. "I 
 thought Rotterdam was thine home." 
 
 "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 ? " 
 
 Stephen replied with an account of both Ambrose 
 and Aldonza, and likewise of Tibbie Steelman, explain- 
 ing how ill the last had been in the winter, and that 
 therefore he could not be with the party. 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 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, lie 
 exclaimed " Saith the holy Saint Paul that ? " 
 
 " Assuredly, my son. Brother Cornelis, who is one 
 whose eyes have been opened, can show you the very 
 words, if thou hast any Latin." 
 
 Perhaps to gain time, Stephen assented, and the 
 young friar, with a somewhat inquisitive look, pre- 
 sently brought him the sentence " Et non faciamus 
 mala ut veniant bona! 9 
 
 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 
 
2S6 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 sake? Speak freely. Brother Cornelis knows not a 
 word of English. Dost thou owe aught to any man ? " 
 
 "Nay, nay — not that," said Stephen, drawn in his 
 trouble and perplexity to open his heart to this in- 
 congruous 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 — } r ea, and for another — at last ? " 
 
 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 ? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 "Those players are good for nought but to wake the 
 passions ! " muttered Lucas. 
 
 " Nay, meth ought they warned me," said Stephen. 
 " For, sir," — he hid his burning face in his hands as he 
 1 int on the back of a chair — "I wot that she has ever 
 hked 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." 
 
 " Poor lad !" said Lucas ; " and what wouldst thou do ?" 
 
 "I have not pledged myself — but I said I would consi- 
 der of — service among Fulford's troop," faltered Stephen. 
 
 " Among those ruffians — godless, lawless men ! " 
 exclaimed Lucas. 
 
 " Yea, I know what you would say," returned 
 Stephen, "but they are brave men, better than you 
 deem, sir." 
 
Xxl] SWORD OR SMITHY. 287 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " Not for two years." 
 
 "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." 
 
 " Sir," said Stephen, lifting up his head, " I thank 
 you. This was what I needed. I will tell Sir John 
 Fulford that I ought never to have heeded him." 
 
 " Must thou see him again ? " 
 
 " 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 Tibbie than his overburdened 
 spirit was likely to retain. 
 
 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." 
 
 "I am no ale bibber," said Stephen. 
 
 " Nay, I deemed thee none — but heed my words — 
 captains of landsknechts in Jcermesses are scarce to be 
 trusted. Taste not." 
 
 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 com- 
 prehend the new situation, or rather the recurrence to 
 the old one. He seemed to have recovered his former 
 
288 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 "'No, sir knight, I thank you " said Stephen. il I am 
 bound for my quarters, I came but to thank you for 
 your goodness to me, and to bid you farewell." 
 
 "And how as to thy pledge to join us, young man ? " 
 demanded Fulford sternly. 
 
 " I gave no pledge," said Stephen. a I said I would 
 consider of it." 
 
 " Faint-hearted ! ha ! ha !" and the English Badgers 
 translated the word to the Germans, and set them 
 shouting with derision. 
 
 "I am not faint-hearted," said Stephen; "but I will 
 not break mine oath to m}^ master." 
 
 " And thine oath to me ? Ha ! " said Fulford. 
 
 " I sware you no oath, I gave you no word," said 
 Stephen. 
 
 " Ha ! Thou darest give me the lie, base prentice. 
 Take that!" 
 
 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. 
 
xxi.J SWOED OK SMITHY. 289 
 
 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. 
 
 " By all the powers of hell, you have struck too hard, 
 sir. He is sped," said Harden anxiously. 
 
 " 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. Well get him forth now as a fellow of our 
 own. 
 
 11 Hark ! What's that ? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 With an imprecation, Fulford denied all connection 
 with gentlemen of the Cardinal ; but there was evi- 
 dently 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." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! " shouted Fulford, " whom have we here ? 
 The Cardinal's fool a masquing ! Treat us to a caper, 
 quipsome sir ? " 
 
 " I'm more like to treat you to the gyves," returned 
 Eandall. " 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." 
 
 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 
 
 u 
 
290 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 and administered a drop of wine. His first words were : 
 " Was it Giles ? Where is she ? " 
 
 "Still going over the pay !" 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/' 
 
 " I remember now," said Stephen, " Sir John said I 
 gave him the lie when I said I had given no pledge. 
 But I had nob ! " 
 
 " Thou hast been a brave fellow, and better broken 
 head than broken troth," said his uncle. 
 
 "But how came you here," asked Stephen. " in the 
 nick of time ? " 
 
 It was explained that Lucas, not doubting Stephens 
 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. 
 
 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 con- 
 nection 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 
 
xxl] SWORD OR SMITHY. 291 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 " The villain I " the jester said on the way, " I mis- 
 trusted 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. IVe had to go through every trick and quip I 
 learnt when I was with old Nat Fire-eater. And I'm 
 stiff er in the joints and weightier in the heft than I 
 was in those days when I slept in the fields, and fasted 
 
 U 2 
 
292 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap 
 
 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 
 Smailbones' 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." 
 
 " Wer da ? Qui va la ? " 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 con- 
 cerned, asked if the watch had been at hand, and de- 
 sired Lucas to assure the young Englishman that the 
 Emperor would be much distressed at the tidings, asked 
 where he was lodged, and passed on. 
 
 " 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 
 
xxi.] SWOED OH SMITHY. 293 
 
 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 them- 
 selves hoarse for the Quipsome." 
 
 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. 
 
 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 subor- 
 dinates, 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. 
 
 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 pal- 
 freys. 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 
 
294 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 he had diverted — ducats, crowns, dollars, and angels all 
 jingling together — to be bestowed wherever Perron el 
 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. 
 
 " 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/' 
 
 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 Smalibones 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/' 
 
 " Seven!" rejoined the warder. "One — two — 
 three — four — five. Ha ! your company seems to be 
 lacking." 
 
xxl] SWORD OR SMITHY. 295 
 
 •'Giles must have ridden on," suggested Stephen, 
 while Kit, growling angrily, called on the lazv 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 Kit's store of travelling money w T as 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. 
 
 Kit called Stephen to council in the morning. His 
 funds would not permit w T aiting 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. 
 
 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 
 
298 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [ch. xxi. 
 
 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 I 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 AN INVASION. 
 
 " What shall be the maiden's fate ? 
 Who shall be the maiden's mate ? " 
 
 Scott. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 con- 
 fidently expected the lost ones soon to appear. 
 
 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 
 
298 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 un- 
 ravelling 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 grand- 
 mother's lily-leaves in strong waters. Let me lay one 
 on for thee. There, sit down on the step, then I can 
 reach." 
 
 "'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. 
 
 " How gatst thou the blow ? " asked Dennet. "Was 
 it at single-stick ? Come, thou mayst tell me. 'Twas 
 in standing up for some one." 
 
 " Nay, mistress, I would it had been." 
 
 "Thou hast been in trouble," she said, leaning on 
 the baluster above him, " Or did ill men set on. 
 thee ? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " And sliced the apple on thine hand. Ay ? " 
 
 " He would have me for one of his Badgers." 
 
 " Thee ! Stephen ! " It was a cry of pain as well as 
 horror. 
 
 " Yea, mistress ; and when I refused, the fellow dealt 
 
xxii.] AN INVASION. 299 
 
 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 " 
 
 Dermet clasped her hands. " Stephen, Stephen ! 
 Now I know how good the Lord is. Wot ye, I asked 
 of Tibbie 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 Tibbie went with me, 
 and lo, now, He hath brought you back safe. We will 
 have a mass of thanksgiving on the very mom." 
 
 Stephen's heart could not but bound, for it was plain 
 enough for whom the chief force of these prayers had 
 been offered. 
 
 " Sweet mistress," he said, " they have availed me 
 indeed. Certes, they warded me in the time of sore 
 trial and temptation." 
 
 " Nay," said Dennet, " thou couhlst not have longed 
 to go away from hence with those ill men who live by 
 slaying and plundering ? " 
 
 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 — 
 
 " 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 !" 
 
 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. 
 
300 THE AEMOTJKER'S PRENTICES. [cha£. 
 
 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 Kandall, 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 con- 
 veyed 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 — " 
 
 . Within, when Ambrose could open the missive, was 
 another small parcel, and a piece of brown coarse paper, 
 on which was scrawled — 
 
 "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. 
 
 " 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, 
 
 " Thine to command, 
 
 " Giles Headley, 
 
 " Man-at-Arms in the Honourable Company 
 of Sir John Fitiford, Knight." 
 
xxii.] AN INVASION. 301 
 
 On a separate strip was written — 
 
 " 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." 
 
 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." 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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 \ 
 
302 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 Run into some coil mayhap with a beggar wench ! 
 Well, we need not be beholden to him. Ha, Dennet, 
 my maid ! " 
 
 . 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." 
 
 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 house- 
 hold cares, and how she was singing to herself songs 
 that certainly were not " Willow ! willow ! " 
 
 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. 
 
 There came a wonderful illumination and agitation 
 over the girl's usually impassive features, giving all 
 that they needed to make them surpassingly beautiful, 
 
 "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. 
 
 Dame Alice called her, and in a rambling, maunder- 
 ing 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 
 
xxii.] AN INVASION. 303 
 
 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 pro- 
 tection from all enforced suits and suitors, and gave 
 assurances of shelter as her own attendant as long as 
 the girl should need it. 
 
 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 ! " 
 
 " Alack, good cousin ! " 
 
 " 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 
 
304 THE ARMOURER'S PKENTICES. [chap. 
 
 merchandise of him. And you call yourself an alder- 
 man ! The gown should be stript off the back of you, 
 and shall be, if there be any justice in London for a 
 widow woman." 
 
 "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. 
 
 " Ay, so I told her," began her son-in-law, " but she 
 hath been neither to have nor to hold since the — " 
 
 "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." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " 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 bor- 
 rowed 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/' 
 
 " 'Tis Giles's hand," averred Tiptoff. 
 
 " And if you will," added the alderman, with won- 
 derful patience, " to-morrow you may speak with the 
 youth who received it. Come, sit down and sup with 
 
xxil] AN INVASION. 305 
 
 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." 
 
 " Ay — you've your reasons for anything," she mut- 
 tered, 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. 
 
 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 autho- 
 rity. However, she stormed on, being absolutely con- 
 vinced 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. 
 
 The alderman was really sorry for her, and felt him- 
 self 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 
 
 x 
 
306 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 Mayors 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. 
 
 It must be confessed that Dennet was saucy ! It was 
 her weapon of self-defence, and she considered herself 
 insulted in her own house. 
 
 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 earthen- 
 ware, 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 com- 
 pounding 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. 
 
 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 
 
xxil] AN INVASION S07 
 
 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. 
 
 " Grammercy, mistress, but we follow my grand- 
 dame's recipe ! " said Dennet, grasping her implement 
 firmly. 
 
 u 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 mince-meat ? " 
 
 " I have never lived with barbarous, savage folk," 
 said Dennet — and therewith she burst into an irre- 
 pressible 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, 
 
 " You set him on, you little saucy vixen ! I saw it in 
 your eyes. Let the rascal be scourged." 
 
 " Not so," said Dennet, with prim mouth and laugh- 
 ing eyes. " Far be it from me ! But 'tis ever the 
 wont of the kitchen, when those come there who have 
 no call thither." 
 
 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. 
 
 " How oft did you beat Giles, good kinswoman ? " said 
 Dennet demurely, as she stood by her father. 
 
 " Whisht, whisht, child," said her father, " this may 
 not be ! I cannot have my guest flouted." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 Master Headley was mischievously tickled at the 
 
 x 2 
 
308 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 un- 
 governed condition, with which she was prevented in 
 her beneficence from interfering by the father's foolish 
 fondness. He would rue the day ! 
 
 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 con- 
 siderable 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 w r ooers 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. 
 
 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 her- 
 self, without giving her a good stepmother, or at least 
 putting a kinswoman in authority over her. 
 
 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 Smallbone^ 
 hammered his loudest there, when the guest might be 
 taking her morning nap; but this had no effect in 
 
xxii.] AN INVASION. 309 
 
 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. 
 
 " It puts me past my patience," said he, turning into 
 Tibbie'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." 
 
 " So I wis would the Dragon under him," quoth 
 Tibbie. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " Yea, sir," returned Tib, " there'll be no help for it 
 till our young mistress be wed." 
 
 " 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 pass- 
 ably, 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." 
 
 "Nay," said Tibbie, "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/' 
 
310 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap 
 
 " That were a son-in-law, Tib ! Of who speakest 
 thou ? Is he of good birth ? " 
 
 " Yea, of gentle birth and breeding." 
 
 "And willing? But that they all are. Wherefore 
 then hath he never made suit ? " 
 
 " He hath not yet his freedom." 
 
 "Who be it then? " 
 
 " He that made this elbow-piece for the suit that 
 Queen Margaret ordered for the little King of Scots," - 
 returned Tibbie, producing an exquisite miniature bit 
 of workmanship. 
 
 " Stephen Birkenholt ! The fool's nephew ! Mine 
 own prentice ! " 
 
 " 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 timn to myself." 
 
 " Stephen ! Tibbie, hath he set thee on to this ? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " He hath nought ! That brother of his will give 
 him nought." 
 
 " He hath what will be better for the old Dragon 
 and for your worship's self, than many a bag of 
 gold, sir." 
 
 " Thou sayst truly there, Tib. I know him so far 
 that he would not be the in grate 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, Tibbie, deemst 
 thou that the varlet hath dared to lift his eyes to 
 the lass?" 
 
 " I wot nothing of love ! " said Tibbie, 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 
 
xxii.] AN INVASION 311 
 
 of sea-coal from Simon Collier for the new furnace? 
 His is purest, if a mark more the chaldron." 
 
 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. 
 
 In Tibbie'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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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, mis- 
 tress, 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." 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 "His wing is grown since the moulting," said 
 Stephen. " It should be cut to hinder such mischances." 
 
 " Will you do it? I will hold him," said Dennet. 
 
312 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 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." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 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. 
 
 " Stephen," said the alderman, " thou art a true and 
 worthy lad ! Canst thou love my daughter ? " 
 
 "I — I crave your pardon, sir, there was no helping 
 it," stammered Stephen, not catching the tone of the 
 
xxil] AN INVASION. 313 
 
 strange interrogation, and expecting any amount of 
 terrible consequences for his presumption. 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 " O, father, father ! I — I had rather have him than 
 any other ! " 
 
 " Then, Stephen Birkenholt and Dennet Headley, ye 
 shall be man and wife, so soon as the youDg 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." 
 
 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. 
 
 u 0, Mistress Dennet, I have made you black all over ! " 
 was Stephen's first word. 
 
 u Heed not, I ever loved the black ! " she cried, as 
 her eyes sparkled. 
 
 " 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. 
 
 " Sir, I did not know fully— but indeed I should 
 never have been so happy as I am now." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 They were broken in upon by Mistress Headley, who, 
 
314 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [on. xxn. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 UNWELCOME PREFERMENT. 
 
 " I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now 
 To be thy lord and master. Seek the king t 
 That sun 1 pray may never set." 
 
 Shakespeahe. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 Tibbie 
 became increasingly rheumatic every winter, and the 
 alderman himself grew in flesh and in distaste to 
 exertion. 
 
 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 Hoper, 
 
316 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 , 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 Tibbie, wdiose views 
 advanced proportionably as he worked less, and read 
 and thought more. He so bitterly resented and de- 
 plored 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 towm. . 
 
xxiil] UNWELCOME PREFERMENT. 317 
 
 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 ! 
 
 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 indig- 
 nant, 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. 
 
 " 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 Tibbie to discuss in their 
 chimney corners. 
 
 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 fore- 
 bodings that he could not bear to mention. 
 
 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. 
 
 In the afternoon, Ambrose came to the Dragon court. 
 
318 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 Even as Stephen figured now as a handsome pros- 
 perous 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. 
 
 "Thou art come to bear lis word of thy promotion 
 — for thy masters is thine own," said the alderman 
 heartily as he entered, shaking hands with him. 
 " Never was the Great Seal in better hands." 
 
 " '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." 
 
 "And welcome," said Dennet. "Little Giles and 
 Bess have been wearying for their uncle." 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 "Yea, and how is it with Master Randall?" asked 
 Dennet. " Be he gone with my Lord Cardinal ? " 
 
 " He is made over to the King," said Ambrose briefly. 
 " 'Tis that which I must tell his wife." 
 
 " 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 
 
xxiil] UNWELCOME PREFERMENT. 319 
 
 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 re- 
 ceive the message, had snatched a gold chain and 
 precious relic from his own neck to reward the mes- 
 senger, 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." 
 
 " He was in the right there," returned Stephen, 
 hotly. 
 
 " 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 ! " 
 
 " And thou stoodst by, and beheld it ! " cried Stephen. 
 
 "Nay, what could I have done, save to make his 
 plight worse, and forfeit all chance of yet speaking 
 to him ? " 
 
 " Thou wert ever cool ! I wot that I could not have 
 borne it," said Stephen. 
 
320 THE AEMOUKER'S PEENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 Ambrose could not find his uncle at first. Randall, 
 who used to pervade York House, and turn up every- 
 where 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 Am- 
 brose 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. Am- 
 brose, 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 
 
xxiii.] UNWELCOME PEEFEtlMENT. 32l 
 
 the King retained so wretched a jester, with so heavy 
 a heart. 
 
 "Once thou wast in favour/' said Ambrose. "Me- 
 thought thou couldst have availed thyself of it to speak 
 for the Lord Cardinal." 
 
 " What ? A senseless cur whom he kicked from 
 him," said Eandall. " '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 ! " 
 
 "Nay," said Ambrose, "it may have been that the 
 Cardinal hoped to secure a true friend at the Kings 
 ear, as well as to provide for thee." 
 
 "Had he but said so " 
 
 u Nay, perchance he trusted to thy sharp wit." 
 
 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." 
 
 Therewith one of the other fools danced back ex- 
 hibiting 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 gentle- 
 man 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. 
 
 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. 
 
322 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 " Uncle, good uncle ! At last ! Thou art sick ? " 
 
 " 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. There- 
 upon, 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." 
 
 Ambrose could hardly speak for hot grief and indig- 
 nation, 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 sum- 
 moned 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." 
 
 "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— 
 
xxiil] UNWELCOME PREFERMENT. 323 
 
 " Then let the stricken deer go weep, 
 The hart ungalled play." 
 
 The only hope that Ambrose or his good master 
 could devise for poor Eandall 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. 
 
 It was after dinner, and Dennet, with her little boy 
 and girl, was on the steps dispensing the salt fish, 
 broken brea'd, 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 I " 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 " 
 
 " Yea, good mistress," said the gipsy, " I can whistle 
 a tune that the little master, ay, and others, might be 
 fain to hear." 
 
 Therewith, spite of the wild dress, Dennot knew the 
 
 y 2 
 
324 THE A'RMOUJRJSR'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 Tibbie's share. 
 
 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. 
 
 She was not surprised that little Giles came running 
 back to her, producing unearthly notes on the instru- 
 ment, and telling her that father had taken the gipsy 
 into his workshop, and said they would teach him bird's 
 songs by and by. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " 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 ! " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " We must call Kit into counsel, ere we can do that 
 fully," said Stephen. 
 
 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 
 
xxiii.] UNWELCOME PREFERMENT. 325 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 In this, his sagacity was not at fault, for he had 
 scarcely made his explanation, when there was a knock- 
 ing 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 
 
326 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chai\ 
 
 father-in-law knew nothing of the arrival, he would best 
 baffle the inquiries by sincere denials. 
 
 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. 
 
 Meantime the alderman flatly denied the presence of 
 the jester, or the harbouring of the gipsy. He allowed 
 tharfc the jester was of km 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 con- 
 tinued, " 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." 
 
 " Will the gentlemen search ? " asked Stephen. 
 
 The gentlemen did search, but they only saw the 
 smiths in lull 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. 
 
 Stephen had just with all civility seen them off the pre- 
 mises 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. 
 
 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 ! 
 
xxiil] UNWELCOME PREFERMENT. 327 
 
 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 
 Eandall 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. 
 
 " Nay," said the wife, " did he not cast thee off him- 
 self, and serve thee like one of his dogs ! How canst 
 thou be bound to him ? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " As if a man must not have a spirit to be angered 
 by such treatment." 
 
 " Thou forge ttest, 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." 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 
328 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 Tibbie 
 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 lest 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 He came up the last of a number who presented 
 themselves for the Archiepiscopal blessing, as Wolsey 
 
xxiii.] UNWELCOME PREFERMENT. 329 
 
 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." 
 
 " What hast done, fellow ? Speak ! " said the 
 Cardinal. " Grovel not thus. We will be merciful." 
 
 " 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 — " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " Ah ! my lord, I was fool, fool indeed, but all my 
 jests failed me. How could I make sport for your 
 enemies ? " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 "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. 
 
 " My faithful Hal ! " he said, " this is love 
 indeed ! " 
 
 And Stephen ere he came aw r ay 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 affec- 
 tion 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. 
 
 The first idea was that Perronel should join her 
 
330 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES, [ch. xxiil 
 
 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. 
 
 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 mans blessing, and assurance that nothing 
 had so much availed to cheer in these sad hours as his 
 faithful love. 
 
 Now, Perronel might do what she would with him — 
 he cared not. 
 
 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. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE SOLDIER. 
 
 cs Of a worthy London prentice 
 My purpose is to speak, 
 And tell his brave adventures 
 Done for his country's sake. 
 Seek all the world about 
 
 And you shall hardly find 
 A man in valour to exceed 
 A prentice' gallant mind." 
 
 The Homes of a London Prentice, 
 
 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. 
 
 " And oh. what a belt and buff coat ! " cried 
 another. 
 
 The subject of their admiration advanced muttering, 
 "As if Td not been away a week," adding, il I pray you, 
 pretty lads, doth Master Alderman Headley still dwell 
 here ? * 
 
 " Yea, sir, he is our grandfather," said the elder 
 boy, holding a lesser one by the shoulder as he spoke. 
 
 " Verily ! And what may be your names ? " 
 
 " I am Giles Birkenholt, and this is my little brother, 
 Dick." 
 
332 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 "Even as I thought. Wilt thou run in to your 
 grandsire, and tell him ? " 
 
 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/' 
 
 "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." 
 
 " Yet," said the visitor, " methinks your father would 
 hear of an old comrade. Or stay, where be Tibbie 
 Steelman and Kit Smallbones ? " 
 
 " Tibbie is in the hall, well-nigh as sad as uncle 
 Ambrose," began Dick ; but Giles, better able to draw 
 conclusions, exclaimed, " Tibbie ! 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 for- 
 ward 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 ? " 
 
 " Nay, Kit, was it not best for all that I turned my 
 back to make way for honest Stephen ? " 
 
 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 
 
xxiv.] THE SOLDIER 333 
 
 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." 
 
 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 Small- 
 bones saith to be of Milan, but I say it is French." 
 
 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 appear- 
 ance of Sir John Fulford. The two old comrades 
 heartily shook one another by the hand in real glad- 
 ness at the meeting. Stephen's welcome was crossed 
 by the greeting and inquiry whether all was well. 
 
 " Yea. The alderman is hale and hearty, but 
 aged. Your mother is tabled at a religious house 
 at Salisbury.' ' 
 
 "I know. I landed at Southampton and have 
 seen her." 
 
 "And Dennet," Stephen added with a short laugh, 
 " she could not wait for you." 
 
334 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " I can but thank thee, Giles," said Stephen, chang- 
 ing 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." 
 
 " 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 un wedded ? " 
 
 "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." 
 
 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. 
 
 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 outsidei 
 listened and reported it to the authorities as disaffec- 
 tion to the King. So Giles told his story, sitting on the 
 
xxiv.) THE SOLDIER. 335 
 
 gallery in the cool of the summer evening, and marvel- 
 ling 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 associa- 
 tions, 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 de- 
 posited 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. 
 
 He was bound by his engagements to join the 
 
336 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 them- 
 selves as grateful to him as if he had given them all 
 the treasure which he had abstained from seizing. 
 
 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 him- 
 self about the matter at all — that there were special 
 exemptions for soldiers. 
 
 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 trust- 
 worthy 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. 
 
 His corps became known for discipline and valour. 
 It was trusted often, was in attendance on the Emperor, 
 
xxiv.] THE SOLDIER. 337 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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 Avar, 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 Tibbie 
 a few fresh arts he had picked up at Milan. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 
 
 z 
 
338 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 conscience had triumphed against the King he loved 
 and feared. 
 
 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 ob- 
 jection 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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 hei 
 hand. 
 
 " My love ! — my only love ! " he cried. 
 
 " 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. 
 
xxiv.] THE SOLDIER. 339 
 
 "You knew me before you knew her," said Giles. 
 " See, Aldonza, what I have brought back to you." 
 
 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 full of gratitude. 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 " Ah, Giles — there is one thing which if you will do 
 for my mistress, I would be yours from — from my heart 
 of hearts." 
 
 " Say it, sweetheart, and it is done." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " 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 ? " 
 
 " I saw it, a sorry sight." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " You would ? And be secret ? Then indeed 
 nought would be overmuch for you. And this very 
 night " 
 
 " The sooner the better." 
 
 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 
 
 z 2 
 
340 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap, 
 
 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." 
 
 " More happy than I durst hope — to find her " 
 
 " 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." 
 
 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 
 
xxiv.] THE SOLDIER 341 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
 " 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." 
 
 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 with- 
 out 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 Boper, the English 
 
342 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [ch. xxiv 
 
 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. 
 
 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. 
 
CHAPTER XXV 6 
 
 OLD HAUNTS. 
 
 "0 the oak, and the birch, and the bonny holly tree, 
 They flourish best at home in my own countree." 
 
 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. 
 
 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 him- 
 self, 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 Eomsey. 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. 
 
 So the brothers went over the old ground. They 
 slept in the hostel at Degmersfield where the Dragon 
 
344 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. 
 
 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 
 Eichard 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.^ 
 
 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. 
 
 So the brothers rode on amid the gorse and 
 heather till they came to a broad-spreading oak tree, 
 
xxv.] OLD HAUNTS. 345 
 
 sheltering a farmhouse built in frames of heavy 
 timber, rilled 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 ! " 
 
 And as Perronel, more buxom and rosy than London 
 had ever made her, came forth from her dairy, and 
 there was a melee 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/' 
 
 " 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." 
 
 " 'Tis what I brought him to thee for, good aunt," 
 said Stephen, smiling. 
 
 Great was the interchange of news over the homely 
 hearty meal. It was plain that no one could be hap- 
 pier, 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. 
 
 Stephen heard another tale of his half-brother. His 
 
346 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [cha*. 
 
 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 ac-. 
 cumulated, had given up his office as verdurer, and 
 retired to an estate which he had purchased on the 
 skirts of the Forest. 
 
 Stephen rode thither to see him, and found him a 
 dying man, tyrannised over and neglected by his ser- 
 vants, 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. 
 
 He himself seemed to care very little for the matter. 
 To be allowed to rest under Perronel's care, to read his 
 Erasmus 5 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 
 ^one, 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." 
 
 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 
 
xxv.] OLD HAUNTS. 34? 
 
 him, even in this fortnight, which justified his fore- 
 bodings. 
 
 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. 
 
 This again made Ambrose smile with pleasure as he 
 thought of the boy as keeping up the name of Birken- 
 holt in the Forest. The one wish he expressed was that 
 Stephen would send down Tibbie 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 Smith- 
 field 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 Tibbie had been des- 
 patched by the Southampton carrier in charge of all the 
 comforts Dennet could put together, Bishop Stokes- 
 ley'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. 
 
 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 
 
348 THE ARMOURER'S PRENTICES. [chap. xxv. 
 
 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 ? 
 
 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 Michael- 
 mas, 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 ! M 
 
 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. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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