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 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 LONDON ; 
 PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY, 
 
 Bangor House, Shoe Lane.
 
 M, 
 
 .^w^ 
 
 0) 
 
 VOL 
 
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 LON DON. 
 
 Bidiajd BerLiief, ¥ev\r BurLmptron Stxeet, L/[arch.»lQ42.
 
 LONDON LEGENDS 
 
 By PAUL PINDAR, Gent. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 
 1842.
 
 V' / 
 
 CO 
 
 CO 
 
 OS, 
 
 en TO 
 
 '^ THE LORD ALBERT CONYNGHAM, K.C.H. F.S.A. 
 
 > ETC. ETC. ETC. 
 
 o 
 
 ae 
 
 THESE 
 
 Hcgmisi o£ ^luicnt HonBou 
 
 ARE 
 
 iMOST RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED. 
 
 V 
 
 \ 
 
 s 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 ^. 
 
 ^
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 It may be proper to state, that three of 
 the tales in these Vohimes, namely, " Evil 
 May-Day," " The Mercer's Wife," and " The 
 Alderman," appeared in a periodical work 
 some years since ; but they have been revised 
 and enlarged by additional Chapters.
 
 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 
 
 A LEGEND OF 
 
 THE WARD OF FARRINGDON EXTRA. 
 
 BOOK THE FIRST. 
 
 Full many a glorious morning have I seen 
 Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye. 
 Kissing, with golden face, the meadows green, 
 Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchymy ; 
 Anon permit the hasest clouds to ride 
 With ugly rack on his celestial face, 
 And from the forlorn world his visage hide, 
 Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace : 
 Even so my sun one early morn did shine 
 With all triumphant splendour on my hrow ; 
 But out ! alack ! he was hut one hour mine. 
 The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now. 
 
 Shakspere. Sonnet xxxiii. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 THE EOSTEE-SON. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ^N the night of the 26th 
 of October, in the year 
 1430, when Nicholas 
 Wotton, citizen and 
 draper, was mayor, 
 while the watchman 
 at CliiFord's Inn was 
 calhng nine, two men, 
 muffled in their cloaks, cautiously emerged from 
 a postern door which led from the rear court 
 of a spacious mansion looking upon the gar- 
 dens of the inn. Gently closing the door after 
 them, they proceeded down Fleet Street, and 
 soon struck into one of the numerous alleys 
 which intersected that neighbourhood and led 
 
 to the water side. 
 
 b2
 
 * LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 " Ugh ! " ejaculated one of them, shrugging 
 his shoulders and drawing his cloak closer 
 around him. " 'Tis a raw night, and this fog 
 smelleth strongly of colds and rheums. I like 
 not this business, Roger. Where did our master 
 say the hag lives ?" 
 
 " On the Bankside, about a stone''s cast east- 
 ward from the Bishop of Winchester's Mill," 
 replied the other, who was the taller, and, 
 apparently, the younger of the two. 
 
 " This business will end badly, Roger," re- 
 marked the first man, shaking his head sig- 
 nificantly ; " I would I were well out of it ; 
 but what can a poor steward of the household 
 do ? My master would discard me if I flinched 
 from this service. Marry, I should like to 
 know what will come o** this night walking." 
 
 " Why, Gaffer Matthew," laughed his com- 
 panion, slapping him on the shoulder, " thou 
 hast been hearing a sermon at PauPs Cross 
 to-day, and art a mind eftsoones to turn monk, 
 though, beshrew me, your monk, when he walk- 
 etli o' nights, stoops at higher game. But tell 
 me truly, Father Matthew, dost thou think
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. O 
 
 thy young mistress is really married to that 
 coistrel the law student." 
 
 " Whist,"" said the steward, " speak lower, 
 or thou wilt be overheard. If thou lettest thy 
 tongue run so glibly, and talkest so freely of 
 the priests, my life on 't but they will some 
 day impeach thee for a Loller. Lend me thy 
 arm, for this road is a sad one ; moreover, my 
 eyes serve me not well o"* nights. Now, touch- 
 ing my young mistress, I do aver that she is 
 pure and virtuous — a worthy daughter of her 
 sainted mother who resteth with the holy 
 host in heaven." 
 
 " Never mind the saints, friend Matthew,*" 
 interrupted his companion, " we '11 talk o' them 
 at Hallow mass : I wish to hear of thy master's 
 daughter. Dost thou really think she is mar- 
 ried — eh V 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " And when was that goodly ceremony per- 
 formed V 
 
 " I wot not, but "'twas shortly after twelfth- 
 tide, or Barbara lies." 
 
 " Ah ! there 's another woman, and, doubt-
 
 6 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 less, it will soon be known that three were 
 in the secret : Master Joddrell, sergeant of the 
 coif, says three 's a qiiorum^ and when a quorum 
 of witches meet, the devil is sure to appear 
 among them." 
 
 " A truce with thy idle bantering,*" said 
 his companion, sharply ; " this is no subject 
 for ribald jest. My dear young mistress may 
 become a mother before we return, and I dread 
 her father's harsh treatment : she cries and 
 sobs continually, and needs support and com- 
 fort, instead of harsh words and railing. But 
 see, we are at the water's edge : where 's the 
 boatman V 
 
 " What ho! waterman!" cried the young 
 man, and the boatman emerged from a rude 
 hovel which overhung the water's edge. In 
 a few minutes the boat was proceeding down 
 the river. All was dark and gloomy ; thick 
 mists hung over the water, which but dimly 
 reflected the heavy buildings of the city. The 
 long celebrated Castle Baynard lay on the left, 
 while behind, the giant towers of St. Paul's 
 rose high above the surrounding buildings, mak-
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 7 
 
 ing the spires of the neighbouring churches 
 appear diminutive under the contrast. In the 
 distance, London Bridge, with its houses and 
 towers, stretched across the river, their dark 
 masses studded at intervals with the light from 
 some chamber whose inmate had not betaken 
 himself to rest so early as his neighbours ; while 
 the sullen roar of the tide as it flowed through 
 its arches, was distinctly heard in the stillness 
 of the night. 
 
 The boat soon reached Bankside, and the 
 two men, leaping on shore, proceeded on their 
 way, bidding the waterman wait their return. 
 
 This neighbourhood, so celebrated in after 
 times, was, at that period, but thinly peopled ; 
 in the outskirts stood a few country houses of the 
 citizens, and a few straggling huts, the residence 
 of persons of indifferent character, who, jealous 
 of the prying eyes of the city authorities, kept 
 without the walls. Among these hovels was one 
 which had long been tenanted by an old bel- 
 dam, who lived by her profession of midwife 
 and doctress. Some were uncharitable enough 
 to say that to this vocation was added that
 
 8 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 of receiver of stolen property and fortune-teller, 
 and strange stories were sometimes told of her 
 dealing with the devil, (common scandal in 
 those days,) the aforesaid good-natured people 
 hinting that there were those in authority who, 
 for various weighty reasons, forbore to have 
 her burnt for a sorceress in Smithfield. Cer- 
 tain it is that while the Londoners were occa- 
 sionally indulged with the burning of a Lollard 
 or a witch, or the drawing, hanging, and quar- 
 tering of some sturdy thief or traitor, at Ty- 
 burn, the Elms, or St. Thomas-a- Watering, 
 Mother Agatha was left to pursue her calling 
 unmolested. 
 
 As the two men approached the cottage, 
 they perceived that it was closed for the night, 
 and that no light was burning within, where- 
 upon they began to batter the door with the 
 toes of their boots, producing a clatter which 
 might have awakened the Seven Sleepers. 
 
 " The old Jezebel is gone to see her master 
 the devil, to-night," said the young man, after 
 a pause, during which he laid his ear to the 
 door, — " I hear nothing stirring.""
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 9 
 
 Agatha was awake and listening. Alarmed 
 at the voice, she had quitted her mattress, 
 and fearing that the visiters intended her some 
 mischief, she was meditating how she might best 
 avoid the anticipated danger. 
 
 " I pray the saints," said the old man, 
 eagerly, " that she be not from home ; I would 
 rather lose my murrey-coloured hood than she 
 should not come with us." 
 
 " Wait awhile, gentles," cried a shrill voice 
 from within. " I stop but to put on my kirtle." 
 
 " 'Tis well," observed the older visiter ; " she 
 is assured that there is no danger, and will be 
 with us anon." 
 
 In a few minutes, the door of the cottage 
 was opened, when they quickly made the bel- 
 dam acquainted with the purport of their visit, 
 promising that she should be well paid for her 
 services. " All we want," they observed, " is 
 silence and obedience. Come, let 's away ; for 
 time flies, and there may be danger if we tarry." 
 
 Hurrying the ancient doctress to the boat, 
 
 they proceeded up the stream, and soon landed 
 
 at the stairs from which they had set out. 
 
 B .5
 
 10 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 They had some difficulty in persuading her 
 to allow herself to be blindfolded ; but, terrified 
 by the half-threatening, half-entreating, of her 
 conductors, she yielded herself to their guidance, 
 and was soon at the door of the court from 
 which the men had issued about an hour before.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 11 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE BIRTH. 
 
 When the bandage was removed from the 
 eyes of the old doctress, she found herself in 
 a large ante-chamber, the walls of which were 
 hung with tapestry representing passages in 
 the life of Absalom. A large fire roared in 
 the chimney, and appeared to have been just 
 lighted, for the unconsumed ends of a fagot 
 had fallen over the brand-irons, which were 
 ornamented with huge brass figures of griffins 
 couchant. She had scarcely taken a survey of 
 the apartment when the steward entered. 
 
 He was a man of some sixty years of age, 
 with a venerable aspect, and hair and beard of 
 snowy whiteness, though the quick fire of his 
 eye showed that he yet enjoyed robust health. 
 He wore a grey surcoat trimmed Avith fur, and 
 from his girdle hung a bunch of keys, and an
 
 12 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 escarcelle, or purse, tlirough which was thrust a 
 broad-bladed knife with an ebony haft. A sil- 
 ver chain, from which depended a small whistle 
 of the same metal, was hung round his neck. 
 Though a little bent by age, he was tall and 
 well made, and there was something in his 
 look and manner which assured our doctress 
 that she was in safe hands. She accordingly 
 addressed him with a " Well, master steward, 
 for such I judge you to be, by your apparel, 
 where is the fair lady who needs my poor ser- 
 vices I 
 
 " She is in the next chamber, mother," re- 
 plied the steward, for that indeed was his 
 office ; " but you cannot yet be admitted. 
 Poor soul ! " he added in an under tone, " I 
 would fain bear half her trouble." 
 
 " Ay, ay, I see it all, " said the midwife, 
 slowly shaking her head; "shame and sorrow 
 overtake the rich as well as the poor : your 
 young mistress hath found that honied words 
 and false vows are soon uttered, and that no 
 oath is strong enough to bind a false leman ; 
 is it not so, master Steward?"
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 13 
 
 " Thou art not very wide of the mark, mo- 
 ther,'"' repHed the steward, chiming in with the 
 conjecture. " It will favour my master's inten- 
 tion,"" thought he, " if I suffer it to appear thus." 
 
 " Who is the false gallant ? *'*' queried the 
 doctress ; " what is his name and quality V 
 
 " That is not my business, mother,'"' remarked 
 the old man in an altered and angry tone. " I 
 brought thee here to perform a certain service, 
 for which thou wilt be well paid. Ask me no 
 questions, for I am in no humour to satisfy 
 thee." 
 
 " But what if I should learn all, and speak of 
 what I see and hear this night ?" continued the 
 midwife. 
 
 " Even should'st thou learn all," was the re- 
 ply, " I would advise thee to do that which, 
 however hard it may be for a woman to do, 
 will be to thy advantage, — hold thy peace, or 
 it may chance that a rousing fire may be lighted 
 for thy especial warming some cold morning in 
 Smithfield." 
 
 Mistress Agatha was somewhat posed by this 
 counsel, which was given in that earnest and
 
 14 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 serious tone which shows that the speaker 
 wishes it to have its full weight. 
 
 " Jesu Maria ! '" she cried, clasping her long 
 bony hands, " is this the coin you pay me ? ^ 
 
 " Ay, truly," answered the steward, if you 
 will be prying and troublesome ; but if you are 
 discreet and silent, you will have your meed. 
 My master will not fail to pay you handsomely 
 for this night's work, but if you prate of it, by 
 St. Jude, I would not give my shoe latchets for 
 your life. Mother Agatha. The city sergeants 
 already have their eye on your dwelling, and a 
 word from my master would at any time bring 
 their claws upon you." 
 
 The poor obstetrician felt that every word of 
 this advice was sound and good. She knew that 
 women of less suspicious lives than her own, 
 had been led to the stake and burnt as witches 
 or heretics, for either charge was fatal in those 
 fierce days. She was well aware that it was 
 only necessary for a wealthy man to hint that 
 the roasting of a sorceress in Smithfield would 
 furnish a holiday spectacle for the people, and 
 improve the morals of the community at large.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 15 
 
 and the thing- was done out of hand. She knew 
 all this fiill well, and was silent. 
 
 A young woman now entered the apartment, 
 and without saying a word, beckoned the doc- 
 tress to follow her. When they were gone, 
 the steward advanced to the hearth, and sigh- 
 ing audibly, began to rake together the un con- 
 sumed ends of the logs and throw them on the 
 fire. While thus engaged, the hangings were dis- 
 turbed, and a figure appeared from behind them. 
 It was the master of the mansion. He walked 
 with a slow and measured step to the fire-place, 
 drew a heavy oaken chair towards it, and seat- 
 ing himself, looked vacantly on the bright flame 
 as it crept over and licked the replenished logs. 
 The steward withdrew to a respectful distance, 
 but kept his eye fixed on his master, who was 
 evidently in a state of great mental suffering. 
 His clenched hands, compressed lips, and corru- 
 gated brow showed that he was the victim of 
 some inward struggle which could not be con- 
 cealed. Low and inarticulate mutterings es- 
 caped from him at intervals, during which he 
 twitched convulsively the massive gold chain
 
 16 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 which he wore around his neck. That chain 
 had been presented to him by his sovereign for 
 the good service performed by him at Agin- 
 court, when the gallant Alen^on and his band 
 of kniofhts rushed on the English monarch and 
 perished in their bold attempt to capture or de- 
 stroy him. 
 
 Sir Everhard Champnes was in his youth one 
 of the bravest knights in England. The heir of 
 great possessions, and skilled in all the accom- 
 plishments of the times, he entered upon the 
 world with all the buoyancy and with all the 
 ignorance and impetuousity of youth. Bold, 
 active, and daring, he was at once the admira- 
 tion and the envy of the gallants of his day. 
 In tilt and tourney few could compete with him, 
 and in the fierce skirmishes and battles of the 
 reign of Henry the Fifth, he acquitted himself 
 so well that he had obtained from that monarch 
 many marks of favour. But Sir Everhard was 
 proud, passionate, and revengeful, qualities ■which 
 never fail to render men unhappy, however ele- 
 vated their station in life. These had brought 
 him into collision even with his best friends, and
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 17 
 
 often embittered a life which otherwise might 
 have been one continued round of enjoyment. 
 He had the good fortune to marry a lady emi- 
 nent for her beauty and virtue, the only crea- 
 ture capable of subduing his fierce and haughty 
 spirit ; a being so mild and gentle that people 
 wondered how two persons so dissimilar in tem- 
 per could endure the society of each other. 
 
 One child only, a daughter, was the fruit of 
 this union. We will not recount all the grand 
 doings at the birth of this little creature ; it 
 will be sufficient to say that the red wine 
 flowed abundantly, that meat " both roaste 
 and sodden" was not spared to rich and poor, 
 and that the bells of St. Dunstan's and St. 
 Bride's made the steeples vibrate with their 
 thundering clangour for three days successive- 
 ly. Then came the christening, to which all 
 that was noble and gentle were invited, and 
 at which the wine again flowed in streams. 
 Scarcely, however, had these rejoicings ended 
 when death entered the mansion of Sir Ever- 
 hard, and dashed the cup from his lips. A 
 slight cold, caught at mass, perhaps unskil-
 
 18 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 fully treated by the medical men of that day, 
 who were chiefly ecclesiastics, laid the fomida- 
 tion of an illness which in six months con- 
 signed the amiable and beautiful partner of Sir 
 Everhard to a premature grave. 
 
 We must drop the veil over the sorrows of 
 the bereaved husband, who was crushed to the 
 earth by this sad affliction. It was then, and 
 then only that a tear was seen in his haughty 
 eye : sorrow and adversity can alone humble 
 such spirits ; but 
 
 " Time, great comforter, whose gracious gloom 
 
 Soothes the sad past and veils the griefs to come- 
 
 Time effected for the bereaved knight what 
 his few intimate friends endeavoured in vain to 
 afford him. His thoughts were then turned 
 to that dear pledge of his union ; all the love 
 which he had felt for his deceased wife seemed 
 revived in that which he cherished for his child, 
 whose beauty, as she grew up, was the theme of 
 all the gossips without the walls. Years wore 
 away, and while Sir Everhard grew more mo- 
 rose and misanthropical, his daughter increased 
 in loveliness as she increased in stature.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 19 
 
 A beautiful child is always a source of anx- 
 iety and uneasiness to such a father. The 
 knight loved his daughter with that excess of 
 fondness which is not unfi-equently observed in 
 persons of his temperament ; and he often wit- 
 nessed with alarm the effect of her beauty 
 whenever she appeared in public. When at- 
 tending mass at the parish church, all eyes 
 were upon her. Gallants of every rank forgot 
 their responses, and mistold their beads, as look 
 and thought wandered to the fair Isabel. The 
 elder and graver citizens shook their heads 
 portentously as they beheld how the dazzling 
 beauty of the knight's daughter distm-bed the 
 devotions of their sons and nephews ; while 
 their wives and daughters swelled with mor- 
 tification and envy at the surpassing loveliness 
 of the high-born damsel. Still there were some 
 of the good wives who would not subscribe to 
 the general opinion on this head ; among these 
 was Mistress Jekyll, the spouse of Jonas Jekyll, 
 citizen and stockfishmonger, who thought her 
 girls were of fairer complexion than the Lady 
 Isabel ; and sooth to say, they were fairer, and
 
 20 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 withal not uncomely ; for Isabel was a brunette, 
 and a brunette of so rare an order, that, while 
 her features were moulded in the highest style 
 of English beauty, her complexion rivalled that 
 of the women of a more southern clime. Her 
 swan-like neck, oval face, smooth and placid 
 brow, and mild eyes (the greatest beauty in 
 woman), half hidden by their long silken lashes, 
 were raised but seldom, yet when they were 
 raised they caused the breast of many a youth 
 to heave beneath his vest, or " petite coate," as 
 it was then called. 
 
 Among the crowd of IsabePs admirers was a 
 young student of Serjeant's Inn, named Regi- 
 nald Chychelye, the son of a wealthy merchant, 
 and the nephew of one who had twice been 
 Lord jNIayor of London. 
 
 He had been adopted by an uncle, who had 
 left him considerable property, on condition 
 that he pursued the study of the law ; but 
 some of his relatives did not hesitate to say 
 that he was wholly unfit for such a profession. 
 Of a bold and ardent temperament, he was the 
 foremost in the numerous sports of the young
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 21 
 
 Londoners at that daj. His handsome figure, 
 thougli half concealed by the law student's 
 gown, had attracted the notice of many a city 
 maiden ; and some there were who thought 
 that his fine features would look to advantage 
 under a sallet or casquetel, and that the camail of 
 a man-at-arms would more become those manly 
 shoulders than the furred tippet of the inns of 
 court. The Lady Isabel thought so too, and 
 had often admired the handsome Reginald ; 
 while he, on the other hand, was sure to be 
 at the church-porch on her ingress or egress. 
 It was true, there were many other smart 
 young men who thronged the doors; but 
 Isabel saw only one — the handsome student 
 in his grey gown, trimmed with sables, and 
 girt with a silken cord. 
 
 We have said enough to prepare the reader, 
 who must be dull indeed, if he require to be 
 told that our young couple were soon en- 
 amoured of each other. They found means to 
 meet — no matter how — vowed, loved, sighed, 
 and promised eternal constancy ; but, while 
 all this was passing, Sir Everhard was dili-
 
 22 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 gently looking for a husband for his Isabel, 
 his maxim being, like that of an English 
 knight of a later day — " Marry your daugh- 
 ters young, lest they marry themselves.*" In 
 Lionel Audleye, the eldest son of a knight of 
 great possessions, he thought he had discovered 
 a fit husband for his beloved daughter. It 
 was with difiiculty Isabel could support her- 
 self through the ceremony of introduction ; 
 and in her next stolen interview with Eegi- 
 nald she imparted to him her anxiety and 
 dread. They had gone too far to recede — 
 the die was cast ; Reginald felt that he must 
 secure his treasure, or see it torn from him ; 
 in a word, the lovers found some good old 
 monk who s}Tnpathised with them, and they 
 were secretly married. 
 
 Their first burst of passion over, our lovers 
 awoke to a sense of their danger. Reginald 
 shuddered when he reflected on the conse- 
 quences of their rash step. His alarm in- 
 creased when Isabel, at one of their stolen 
 meetings, whispered to him her fears that she 
 was about to become a mother. Unhappy pair !
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 23 
 
 much as they dreaded the coming storm, they 
 were not prepared to see it burst so soon over 
 their devoted heads. 
 
 There are meddlesome and malignant spirits 
 in every neighbourhood. The knight was in- 
 formed of the meeting of the lovers, and he 
 then discovered the state of his much loved 
 child. We must draw a veil over the scene 
 which followed : it will be sufficient to observe, 
 that the mansion of Sir Everhard resounded 
 for some days after the dire discovery, with 
 oaths, imprecations, groans, and sobbing. The 
 terrified domestics feared the presence of their 
 master, who chafed like a wild beast in the 
 toils of the hunter. Luckily for Reginald, 
 Barbara, the Lady Isabel's maid, had found 
 the means of maliing him acquainted with the 
 discovery, and the youthftil husband was sud- 
 denly missing from his chambers. Of course, 
 the event furnished abundant matter for the 
 gossips and scandal-mongers of the neighbour- 
 hood, and the wildest and most improbable 
 stories were soon circulated to the prejudice 
 of the Lady Isabel, her father, and her lover.
 
 24 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 When the knight's more violent paroxysms 
 of rage had in some measure subsided, he 
 began not only to interrogate his daughter, but 
 also to consider how he might conceal the 
 shame which had fallen on his house. Seve- 
 ral painful scenes passed between the angry 
 parent and his child, whom he cursed and en- 
 treated by turns. To add to his misery, he 
 could only learn from Isabel that she had 
 been married, but at what place and by whom 
 she was utterly ignorant — she had never in- 
 quired of Reginald, and he had never told 
 her. The thought that she was his — ^his wife:; 
 and that no power could separate them, was 
 enough for one who, guileless herself, could 
 not entertain suspicion of any human creature. 
 Still, Isabel felt the reproach of having de- 
 ceived a fond and indulgent parent, and bitter 
 pangs A^Tung her heart, as she thought on her 
 fugitive husband, her own critical state, and 
 the anger of her maddened father. 
 
 The knight, at length, fell into a sullen 
 mood, scarcely uttering a word for days to- 
 gether ; but his servants thought this un-
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 25 
 
 natural silence more alarming than his violent 
 rage. He shut himself up in his room, and 
 held no communication with any one except 
 his steward, who took to him his meals, and 
 appeared to be more assiduous than ever in 
 his attention to his master. Sir Everhard be- 
 lieved that his child had been made the dupe 
 of a villain, and vowed the direst vengeance 
 against the invader of his peace. Horrible 
 thoughts filled his brain, and he resolved to 
 get rid — at whatever cost — of, as he believed, 
 his daughter's spurious offspring. For this 
 purpose he had procured the attendance of 
 the aged doctress, who has been introduced 
 to the reader, in order that no report should 
 get abroad of the birth of the infant. 
 
 We left the knight seated by the fire in 
 the ante-chamber, his steward standuig a few 
 paces off: that faithful servant watched him 
 intently, and grieved to witness the war of 
 his master's passions, which the working of 
 his featiu^es so painfully indicated. He was 
 terrible in that fit of silent agony. 
 
 As they sat in silence and anxiety, the 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 ^6 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 faint cry of a new-born child was heard in 
 the next chamber. The knight started at the 
 sound, and shmg himself half round in his 
 huge chair, making the legs grind harshly on 
 the oak floor. 
 
 " Matthew," said he, in a suppressed tone, 
 which made the steward's flesh creep, and the 
 scalp of his head collapse — "the brat must 
 die ! " 
 
 "God forbid, my master!" ejaculated the 
 steward, with emotion — " for Jesu''s sake 
 have mercy." 
 
 " Sirrah !" cried Sir Everhard, starting from 
 his chair, and glaring fiercely. 
 
 " Pardon me, noble sir, said the faithful 
 servant, dropping on one knee, and raising his 
 hands imploringly ; "I am your servant, — ay, 
 your slave, if it must be " — 
 
 " Then obey my bidding." 
 
 " I will, I will, my honoured master," said 
 the steward, while tears filled his eyes ; " but, 
 for my dear young lady's sake, for your own 
 sake, too, forbear your purpose for the present ; 
 'tis fraught with danger to us all."
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 27 
 
 The knight was about to make some angry 
 reply, when a rustling was heard behind the 
 hangings, and the midwife made her appear- 
 ance. 
 
 " Joy to you, noble sir," said she at the 
 highest pitch of her cracked voice ; " your son, 
 or grandson, it may be, will live to be a proper 
 man-at-arms ! marry, he snatched up a hand- 
 ful of rushes as soon as he was born, like 
 Willy the Norman, and seized my arm as 
 though it had been a morris pike or partisan. 
 Ha ! the young rogue" — 
 
 She was proceeding in this strain, when 
 Sir Everhard cast a glance of chagrin and im- 
 patience at the steward, who advanced, and 
 placing a bandage over her eyes, bade her be 
 silent, and led her from the apartment, putting 
 at the same time a couple of gold nobles in 
 her hand. Old Agatha was conducted to the 
 door by which she had entered, where a man 
 was waiting to receive her, and convey her to 
 the river-side. 
 
 As the door was cautiously closed after her, 
 
 and the bolts were drawn, the watchman on 
 
 c2
 
 28 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 the neighbouring tower bawled eleven, and a 
 bright meteor burst from the murky clouds 
 which hung over the steeple of St. Dunstan's. 
 It darted in an easterly direction, illuming the 
 house-tops, tall chimneys, signs, and weather- 
 cocks of Fleet Street, and seemed to descend 
 on the high tower of the monastery of the 
 Dominicans, or Black Friars.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 29 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE STOLEN INTERVIEW. 
 
 It soon became noised abroad that Sir Ever- 
 hard had detected the student's amonr with 
 his daughter. The result of that amour was, 
 however, known only to two or three confi- 
 dential servants of his household. In the ab- 
 sence, therefore, of positive information, the 
 wildest rumours were circulated throughout the 
 neighbourhood, and scandal wagged her tongue 
 in the shops of the traders of Fleet Street, in 
 the taverns, and in the inns of court. 
 
 Reginald was missing from his usual haunts, 
 and it was observed that strange and suspicious 
 looking men were often to be seen lurking 
 beneath the windows of his chambers. The 
 only creature known to visit Sir Everhard at 
 this juncture was young Lionel Audleye, and 
 it had been remarked that, on more occasions
 
 30* LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 than one, the knight and this young gallant 
 had been seen in deep and earnest conversa- 
 tion in the gallery which overhung the rear- 
 court of the mansion. 
 
 Sir Everhard, at the earnest entreaty of 
 his faithful steward, had consented to postpone 
 for a few days the execution of his cruel pro- 
 ject. The old man hoped, in the mean time, 
 to mollify the wrath of his fierce master, and 
 obtain some commutation of the sentence he 
 had pronounced on the little innocent. He 
 found, to his great joy, that he had not mis- 
 calculated ; and, after much importunity, suc- 
 ceeded in obtaining from Sir Everhard a pro- 
 mise that the infant's life should be spared, 
 and that it should be delivered to some honest 
 and humane couple who, for a sum of money, 
 might be prevailed upon to adopt the child 
 as their own. This the honest steward hoped 
 to accomplish by the aid of old Agatha, who, 
 he doubted not, would, for a consideration, 
 undertake to provide the infant with foster- 
 parents. Matthew had many reasons for all 
 this ; he wished to avoid participation in a 
 crime which might bring him, as an accomplice.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 31 
 
 to the gibbet ; he wished to save the reputation, 
 and the soul of his master, from a proceeding 
 so diabolical ; and motives of common humanity, 
 as well as love for his young mistress, all urged 
 him to risk the knight's anger and resentment. 
 He cared not for the browbeating he encoun- 
 tered so that his object was accomplished. All 
 his efforts in the cause of humanity were, how- 
 ever, paralysed by an event which soon occurred 
 in the mansion of Sir Everhard. 
 
 Young Lionel Audleye was kept in utter 
 ignorance of the Lady IsabeFs situation. Sir 
 Everhard had indulged the vain and absurd 
 hope that it could be kept concealed from the 
 world : those who were acquainted with the 
 secret being sworn not to reveal it ; the loss 
 of their situations, perhaps of their lives, would 
 have been the forfeit of their making the event 
 known. 
 
 One evening, about two hours after the watch 
 had been set. Sir Everhard was seated in his 
 private room, musing, in gloomy silence, on 
 the situation of his daughter. He felt that 
 a dark cloud had overshadowed his house, and 
 that his hopes of a high alliance for his child
 
 S2 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 had been destroyed. Young Audleye, wild 
 and thoughtless as he was generally reckoned, 
 was not to be persuaded to urge his suit, and 
 in this respect had evinced more judgment 
 and discretion than his friends had supposed 
 him to possess, though, in all probability, some 
 of them had, in this particular instance, assisted 
 him M'ith their counsel. 
 
 This shyness on the part of the young gallant 
 had amazed Sir Everhard exceedingly : his irri- 
 table and sensitive mind was tormented by 
 the thought that his daughter was not consi- 
 dered a fitting match for Lionel Audleye ; and 
 his irritability had increased to such a degree, 
 that had the young man hinted as much during 
 their interviews, he would probably have slain 
 him outright for his presumption. 
 
 Sir Everhard had always been the slave of 
 his passions, and they were this evening driving 
 him to a pitch of frenzy. He sat in a large 
 carved oak chair, with pinnacled back, stuffed 
 with crimson velvet ; his elbow rested on the 
 table, and his head reclined on his left hand, 
 which half covered his features ; his right hand
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 33 
 
 hung listlessly over the arm of the chair, uncon- 
 scious of contact with the cold nose of a large 
 wolf-dog, that had tried in vain to court his mas- 
 ter''s caresses, and lay crouched before the fire, 
 which flared and flickered up the chimney, cast- 
 ing a lurid glare on the disturbed features of 
 the knight, and making the figures in the tapes- 
 try on the walls alternately vanish and reappear, 
 like the shadows of objects passing before the 
 sun. 
 
 " Ah me ! " sighed the knight — " my hopes 
 are blighted, my good name tarnished, and 
 my child estranged from me. I do begin to 
 perceive that Father Thomas saith truly when 
 he tells us that everything in this world is 
 fleeting and unstable." 
 
 He ceased, and quitting his recumbent po- 
 sition, looked anxiously around him, as if he 
 feared that some one might have overheard 
 his soliloquy. It was the first of the kind he 
 had uttered during his life ; but the feeling 
 which prompted it was merely momentary, and 
 soon yielded to others in which both the gen- 
 tleman and the Christian were compromised. 
 
 6
 
 34 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 As he thus sat musing in the bitterness of 
 his heart, the thought occurred to him that 
 he would pay a visit to the chamber of his 
 daughter, whom he had not seen for several 
 days past. He arose and proceeded thither, 
 his heart beating thick as he neared the room. 
 He was about to raise the latch, when the 
 deep tones of a male voice struck on his ear. 
 He started. The voice was strange to him. 
 Could it be a phantasy of his brain ? His heart 
 beat wildly, — his daughter was surely not defy- 
 ing him. Determined to know the worst, he 
 raised the latch with his left hand, while he 
 grasped his dagger tightly with his right, and 
 pushed open the door. The tall figure of a 
 man, his size magnified by his shadowing the 
 tapers which stood behind him, appeared in the 
 middle of the room, and round his neck was 
 clinging, in speechless agony, the Lady Isabel, 
 pale as a corpse, and sinking with terror. — It 
 was Reginald ! Braving every danger, he had 
 sought and obtained an interview with his be- 
 loved Isabel. 
 
 " Accursed viper ! " cried the knight, spring-
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. S5 
 
 ing into the room and brandishing his dagger ; 
 " take the guerdon of thy treachery !"" 
 
 He struck with all his might at Reginald ; 
 but the blow, dealt in the blind fury of rage 
 and hatred, was ill-directed. Disengaging him- 
 self from Isabel, who sunk into a chair, Regi- 
 nald had just time to snatch up a cushion, in 
 which the knight's dagger was buried harm- 
 lessly. 
 
 " Isabel, sweet love, forgive me !" cried the 
 youth, not perceiving that she had fainted, and 
 throwing himself upon Sir Everhard, he bore 
 him to the ground, wrested the dagger from 
 his grasp — threw it from him, and rushed from 
 the apartment. 
 
 He gained the corridor, through which he 
 flew on the wings of terror, and reached the 
 gallery, from the balustrade of which hung the 
 rope-ladder by which he had obtained an entry 
 to the house. He had just cleared the gallery, 
 and was already about to descend, when the 
 countenance of the knight, inflamed with rage 
 and hatred, appeared above him. 
 
 Reginald shuddered as he beheld that hor-
 
 36 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 ribly distorted visage, which resembled the gro- 
 tesque and hideous figures wherewith the archi- 
 tects of the middle ages decked their buildings, 
 more than the features of a human creature. 
 
 Reginald saw his enemy grasp the hooks by 
 which the ladder was suspended and struggle 
 violently to disengage them. 
 
 " Have mercy, Sir Everhard !" he suppli- 
 cated in a faint voice, half inarticulate from 
 terror. " You would not destroy me ! — spare 
 me for your daughter's sake ! " 
 
 A growl of wrathful malice was the only 
 reply to tliis piteous entreaty, and the knight 
 renewed his endeavours to disengage the grap- 
 ples of the ladder. 
 
 Reginald, finding remonstrance unavailing, 
 commenced descending the ladder, which, by 
 the knight''s efforts to disengage it, now ac- 
 quired an oscillating motion, rendering it diffi- 
 cult for him to retain his footing. As it swung 
 to and fro, the poor youth found his courage 
 forsake him. 
 
 " Blessed Virgin ! oh, all ye holy ones ! " 
 he mentally ejaculated, while cold drops stood
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 37 
 
 on his brow — " save me from the fury of this 
 fierce man." 
 
 Just then, the rope swung still farther out- 
 wards, and as it returned dashed the youth 
 against one of the carved supporters of the gal- 
 lery. The blow nearly stunned him ; he lost 
 his hold and fell backward, his feet catching in 
 the rounds of the ladder ; at the same time the 
 knight, redoubling his efforts, tore the grapples 
 fi'om the balustrade, cast them from him, and 
 the body of Reginald fell, head downwards, 
 into the paved court, with a frightful crash. 
 
 " What ho !— lights ! " shouted Sir Ever- 
 hard, gazing intently upon the crushed and 
 mutilated mass which lay below. 
 
 At that moment, Matthew rushed out on the 
 gallery, bearing in his hand a large taper. 
 Without heeding his master, he leant over the 
 gallery and looked on the quivering heap below. 
 A mingled expression of pity and horror wrung 
 the venerable features of the steward. He 
 turned his eyes reproachfully upon the knight, 
 who perceived that they were filled with tears. 
 
 " How now ? " growled Sir Everhard.
 
 38 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 " Heaven shield us, sir," ejaculated Matthew, 
 in a voice tremulous with emotion, " the man is 
 slain!" 
 
 " He was the enemy of mine house," re- 
 marked the knight in a tone of affected indif- 
 ference, with which his haggard eye, trembling 
 lip, and blanched cheek, but ill-accorded, " May 
 all who—" 
 
 He was interrupted by the cries of the do- 
 mestics below, who had gathered round the body 
 of Reginald, the noise of whose fall had roused 
 the neighbourhood. Casements were thrown 
 open in every direction, and anxious and 
 alarmed faces appeared at them, while the 
 watch, roused by the uproar, hastened to the 
 scene, and were admitted to the court-yard, 
 followed by crowds of persons who had been 
 attracted to the spot. 
 
 The blaze of torches and cressets now ren- 
 dered every object visible. The crowd in- 
 creased, cries of pity and alarm rose from the 
 people, when suddenly the piercing shrieks of a 
 female, in the gallery above them, caused every 
 one to turn from the miserable spectacle of the
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 
 
 39 
 
 murdered man, and look upward. A tall and 
 elegant female was seen struggling in the grasp 
 of two men, who with difficulty restrained her 
 from precipitating herself below. Shriek after 
 shriek rose high above the voices of the 
 crowd, and as the unhappy lady was forced 
 from the gallery and borne into the house, they 
 heard her cry, in accents which thrilled to the 
 heart of the stoutest among them, " Cruel fa- 
 ther^ you haw murthered Mm /"
 
 40 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE MERCHANT. 
 
 If the reader has ever dipped into our old 
 chroniclers he will not require to be told that 
 Fleet Ditch, in the reign of Henry the Sixth, 
 was not then, as in after times, merely an 
 enormous sewer ; on the contrary, it was a 
 wide and rapid stream, which flowed up to the 
 foot of Holborn Hill, where it received the tri- 
 butary waters of Old Bourn, the Fleet, and 
 Turnmill Brook. To this point it was navi- 
 gable by barges and vessels of considerable 
 burthen, while on its banks were commodious 
 wharfs and quays. 
 
 On the western bank of this stream, towards 
 the Thames, was the Well dedicated to St. 
 Bride, which gave the name to the parish 
 church and the ancient palace of Bridewell.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 41 
 
 Henry the First had mutilated and deprived 
 this palace of its fair proportions, giving much 
 of the stone from the outer walls towards the 
 building of the church. It was in this place, 
 we are told, that the same monarch extorted 
 from the heads of the religious houses, whom 
 he had assembled within its walls, the enormous 
 sum of a hundred thousand pounds. 
 
 At the time of our tale it had been suf- 
 fered to fall into decay, and in succeeding 
 reigns it became ruinous, and was demolished 
 by Henry the Eighth, who rebuilt it for the 
 reception of the Emperor Charles the Fifth. 
 
 On the opposite side of the stream, within 
 the ancient walls of the city, rose the towers 
 of the long celebrated Blackfriars monastery, 
 of which nothing but the name remains. 
 
 On the western bank of the stream, about 
 a stone*'s cast from the Thames, stood the house 
 of John Furnival, citizen and merchant tailor, 
 a man of weight and credit, who had made 
 several voyages on his own account, and who 
 was held in great repute by his neighbours. 
 Master Furnival was a thorough man of busi-
 
 42 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 ness; his time was divided between his voca- 
 tion and his two children, a girl and a boy, 
 the pledges of a fond and faithful wife, whose 
 remains mouldered beneath the chancel of the 
 church of St. Bride. 
 
 On the morning after the sad catastrophe 
 described in the preceding chapter, our mer- 
 chant was seated at his desk, intent upon an 
 account of his last half-year's profits, when he 
 was interrupted by a visit from one of his 
 neighbours, Master Nicholas Fleming, citizen 
 and skinner, dwelling at the sign of the Fox, 
 in Fleet Street. 
 
 " Good morrow, neighbour Furnival," said 
 the skinner, extending his hand. 
 
 " Good morrow," returned the merchant, 
 laying down his pen, and closing his ledger 
 with the precaution of a wary trader. — " What 
 news 5 
 
 " Little, I trow, that's good. There was a 
 sad bickering in Fleet Street, yester-night, 
 which has made work for the coroner, I fear." 
 
 " Ha ! " said Master Furnival, looking se- 
 rious ; " another outbreak of the law-students,
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 43 
 
 I suppose — those inns of court are pest-houses 
 — there 's no brooking their insolence." 
 
 " True,'"' remarked the skinner. " It was 
 but yesterday, when walking to vespers, that 
 one of these scapegraces plucked off my hood 
 and threw it in my face, while another kissed 
 my daughter and compared me to a he-goat." 
 Here he stroked his comely beard with a com- 
 placent air. 
 
 " Who was hurt in the ruffle ? " inquired the 
 merchant. 
 
 " This time it is a student, but I wot not 
 who it is ; he was slain while attempting 
 to enter Sir Everhard Champnes' house. — 
 Hath the bale of minever arrived. Master 
 Furnival ? " 
 
 " Ay, and a choice lot of sables to boot : 
 and the Spanish galliot which arrived yester- 
 day, and will discharge to-day, brings me some 
 black genets which I am advised are fit for the 
 mantle of a prince." 
 
 " This is well," said Master Nicholas ; " I 
 beseech you, let me have a few of them ; for 
 Adam Gooch, the tailor, hath an order to make
 
 44 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 a gown for Master Trumplett, of the common 
 council, and I have none to sell him ; he 
 plagues me like a tertian, and yet the rogue 
 hath not paid me his last account which was 
 due at Whitsuntide. Methinks our citizens 
 are growing prodigal and improvident ; we want 
 the enforcement of the good old sumptuary 
 laws, which kept an honest man's expenses 
 within the bounds of discretion, neighbour. 
 Heaven knows what will become o"* this city 
 if such luxury prevails. You meet gay hoods 
 and gold chains at every turning. There ''s Nic 
 Studelye, the stockfishmonger's son, who, on 
 holidays, wears a silver-handled dagger, a 
 chain, and a ring set with a ruby valued at 
 five Harry nobles. Such excess denoteth the 
 downfal of merry England, who, like Rome 
 of old, methinks hath outgrown herself." 
 
 " Thou art much of my mind, gossip," said 
 a third party, who entered at the moment. 
 He was a meagre looking man, with a dark 
 grey threadbare gown, a cap of the same co- 
 lour, and an inkhorn slung by a worsted cord 
 around his neck. It was Ehas Crane, the
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 45 
 
 notary, of St. Bride's Lane. " I hold with 
 you there,"" said he ; " the law-students ape 
 their betters, and our citizens' sons, in their 
 turn, ape the students, and honest folk suffer 
 by this mummery and mocking." 
 
 " What was the name of the man who was 
 slain last night ? " inquired the merchant. 
 
 " They say, 'tis Reginald Chychelye," replied 
 the notary, " a student of Serjeant's Inn, a 
 worthy young man, and not given to the wild 
 doings of his brethren." 
 
 " What did he then in the knight's house ?" 
 remarked the merchant. 
 
 " I wot not," continued Crane ; " but 'tis 
 said there had been some love passages be- 
 tween him and the knight's daughter, who 
 is passing fair," 
 
 As he spoke, a man entered, and, doffing 
 his cap, presented to the merchant a small 
 strip of paper, containing a few closely-writ- 
 ten lines : then, turning to Master Fleming, 
 he delivered to him a similar billet. " Save 
 you, sirs," said he, " his worship, the coroner, 
 will require your attendance at the Falcon,
 
 46 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 this evening. I missed you at your house, 
 Master Fleming-." 
 
 And, so saying, the beadle of the ward de- 
 parted to serve the rest of his summonses to 
 the inquest. 
 
 " Faugh ! " said the merchant with a shud- 
 der; "I like not looking upon dead men; 
 and yet I misliked not the sight of a dead 
 Frenchman in my young days, when I was a 
 merchant of the staple at Calais. We had 
 rough work of it then, at times, and hard 
 knocks were to be had cheaply. But what 
 says the knight to this matter V 
 
 " I am told,"" replied the notary, " that he 
 swears "'twas a mischance, and that the youth 
 perished by his own rashness. The people, 
 however, don''t credit the tale, and he has 
 been constrained to send to Castle Baynard 
 for a party of archers, — the captain of the 
 guard there is his nephew, — for the students 
 swear they'll be revenged on him, and pull 
 his house about his ears."'"' 
 
 " And they ""ll be as good as their word," 
 observed Master Fleming, " for thev sometimes
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 47 
 
 perform more than they promise. I could not 
 sleep if I thought these wild losels meant me 
 mischief. They are all fashioned o' the same 
 stuff : even Master Geoffrey Chaucer, who, 
 ye wot, lived in the reign of Harry the Fourth, 
 though the limner hath painted him demure 
 and lamb-like, was a wild fellow in his youth, 
 and when keeping his terms beat a preaching 
 friar in Fleet Street like a stock-fish. You 
 will be at the inquest betimes, Master Fur- 
 nival « " 
 
 " Ay, truly," replied the merchant ; " and 
 now, I pray you, excuse me, for I have letters 
 to write which I must despatch by the next 
 tide." 
 
 So saying, he re-opened his ledger, and the 
 two gossips departed.
 
 48 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE CORONER AND THE JURY. 
 
 Towards evening a crowd began to assemble 
 before the Falcon, in Fleet Street, at the door 
 of which were stationed several men in the city 
 liveries, armed with brown bills. Four ser- 
 geants-at-arms were also there, mace in hand ; 
 not the crown-tipped toy which is now thrust 
 in your face when you try to get a peep at a 
 passing procession on its way to the Mansion- 
 house, but the veritable weapon of that name, 
 which, wielded by a powerful hand, would beat 
 a man-at-arms out of his saddle. The bells of 
 St. Bride's and St. Dunstan's were ringing to 
 even-song ; night was beginning to descend upon 
 the city, accompanied by one of those fogs so 
 frequent in London at this time of the year, and
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 49 
 
 the tradespeople were closing their shops and 
 stalls. The assembly was composed of several 
 grades of persons ; there was a sprinkling of law 
 students, the middle class of citizens, serving 
 men and women, and no small number of water- 
 men, water-carriers, labourers, and persons of 
 no particular occupation, but who are always to 
 be found on the look-out on such occasions. 
 
 As the coroner had not yet arrived, the mob, 
 as is the custom of mobs at the present day, be- 
 gan to amuse themselves in various ways. At 
 one time, a hood, snatched from the head of 
 some ancient citizen, would be cast into the air 
 and jerked from hand to hand to the infinite 
 vexation and alarm of its owner, who trem- 
 bled lest it should never come back again. At 
 another, a similar feat would be performed 
 with a basket or bundle carried by, on the 
 head or shoulder of some porter or apprentice. 
 Then there was coarse and lewd bantering in 
 plenty, and ever and anon a roar of boisterous 
 laughter, for at such times the mob are ever 
 ready for a laugh. 
 
 " Body o"" me ! " cried a fellow who wore the 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 garb and had the sooty visage of a smith or ar- 
 mourer, " look at that greasy-faced frere, wink- 
 ing and bhnking Hke Madge Howlet, near the 
 door-post — he hath grown fat by over-feeding — 
 he seems asleep, though on his legs. Give him 
 a prick with your awl, Will Cobbler." 
 
 At that moment the hood we have been 
 writing of, descended near the mendicant friar, 
 and was thrown, hind before, over his head by 
 one of the mob, who awakened him from his 
 reverie by a violent shove, which sent his portly 
 figure, head foremost, into the midst of the little 
 band of city officers. 
 
 " Where the devil art thou driving, monk ? " 
 swore one of the sergeants, forcibly pushing 
 back the poor ecclesiastic, who was struggling 
 to disengage his head from the hood. " If thou 
 art fond of this pastime, g'o to Southwark and 
 pight thyself against one of the Abbot of Bat- 
 tle's bulls!" 
 
 The fi-iar, finding his situation anything but 
 comfortable, backed out of the crowd, who 
 then turned their rude practical jokes upon 
 some other person.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 51 
 
 " Halloo ! " cried a fellow in the dress of a 
 baker, as he espied a grave-looking citizen ap- 
 proaching — " Here 's old Tnrnpenny, farmer of 
 the murage 'twixt Newgate and Castle Bay- 
 nard. I suppose he 's summoned on the inquest. 
 — Room for master Turnpenny, knaves and gen- 
 tlemen's sons." 
 
 " Room for a fragment of the duodecim virale 
 judicium ! " roared the law students — " room 
 for a very incarnation of the jus gentium ! " 
 
 Master Turnpenny with difficulty elbowed 
 his way through the crowd, though assisted 
 by the sergeants-at-arms. Another juror then 
 came in sight. It was Adam Trusscote, col- 
 lector of the ceragium, or contribution towards 
 wax-lights consumed in the churches within the 
 ward. 
 
 " Room for Adam Trusscote, the walking 
 Jlscus, of Fewter"'s Lane, collector of waxscot 
 in the ward of Farringdon Extra," cried the 
 students. 
 
 "Room for the man of wax!" bawled the 
 
 'prentices. 
 
 " Here comes old Fleming the skinner ! " 
 
 d2 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS
 
 52 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 cried one of the students, " How surly the 
 old fox is looking ! Ho ! master skinner, how 
 of your pretty daughter 1 Who would suppose 
 such a fair maid would call thee father." 
 
 " Ha, losel ! " muttered Fleming between 
 his closed teeth, " were I ten years younger I 'd 
 cudgel thy saucy pride out o' thee ! " 
 
 " What 's that you 're muttering, gaffer ? " 
 cried the student ; but the skinner had passed 
 the group of officers, and was out of hearing. 
 
 " Here comes a vender of stockfish," said the 
 smith, who was about half drunk. " Old Nicho- 
 las Studelye, of St. Bride's Lane, who starves 
 his 'prentices, and hath always a licence himself 
 to eat meat at Lent. Out upon the niggard ! I 
 would as soon bind my boy to Mahoud and 
 Termagant as to such as he ! " 
 
 " For shame ! for shame ! fie on thee, John-a- 
 Dory!" cried the 'prentices; " we '11 trundle thee 
 in one of thy herring tubs, some day." 
 
 A tall, gaunt, austere looking man, in a 
 priest's habit, next made his appearance. The 
 crowd made way for him with a feeling of re-
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 53 
 
 verence, and their bantering was hushed until 
 he had entered the house. 
 
 "That's father Thomas, the mass-priest of 
 St. Dunstan's," remarked one of the students, 
 in a whisper, to his companion. " Did you 
 mark how the greasy rogues cleared the way 
 for the lord of norne and decima ; he has great 
 weight with these citizens, and my life on't, by 
 his coming here, he'll influence the jurors and 
 get the old knight out o' the scrape." 
 
 Then came the merchant, Furnival, neatly 
 and becomingly dressed in a sad coloured gown 
 with a purple hood, the poulaines or pikes of his 
 shoes being restricted to three inches in length, 
 a very notable brevity in those days, when fa- 
 shion seemed to have run mad, and even the 
 grave citizens of London strove to outvie each 
 other in extravagance of costume. 
 
 His reception by the mob was very different 
 from that of the persons who had just preceded 
 him. Master Furnival was a man of a most 
 benevolent and charitable disposition, and his 
 annual donations to the poor of his parish were
 
 54 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 greater than those of any merchant or trader 
 within the ward. As soon, therefore, as he 
 came in sight he was sahited with boisterous 
 cheering, and cries of " Save you, worthy sir ! 
 Jesu bless the friend of the poor man ! — Long 
 live master Furnival, who remembereth the poor 
 in the trying season ! " 
 
 The merchant appeared ill at ease under this 
 salutation. He was a diffident man, and his 
 fine countenance, on which age had begun to fix 
 its seal, flushed like a girl's who listens to the 
 praises of her beauty. Perhaps, also, he had 
 no relish for popular applause, well knowing 
 that it is a very ephemeral possession. He 
 therefore acknowledged the greeting by bowing 
 in a conftised and hurried manner, and was glad 
 to escape from the scene by hastening into the 
 house. 
 
 A cry was now raised of " the coroner ! "" 
 and that important functionary was seen ap- 
 proaching on horseback, attended by his clerk, 
 and two men wearing the red cross of St. 
 George embroidered on their white tabards, 
 or sleeveless coats.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 55 
 
 At the period of which we write, the office 
 of coroner was one of great weight and import- 
 ance : not that it is less so now, but that it 
 was then held by persons of higher rank than 
 at the present day. 
 
 In the charter of King Athelstan to Bever- 
 ley, in the year 925, mention is made of the 
 coroner. The Statute of Westminster ordains 
 that he shall be one of the discreetest knights 
 within the realm. The ancient writ, Nisi sit 
 Miles, &c., shows that the person holding this 
 office should be a knight, and in the receipt of 
 one hundred shillings rent of freehold. Those 
 who would know more of the duties of a co- 
 roner in old times, may consult Bracton ; but 
 it may be as well to mention here that it was 
 not until the time of Edward the Fourth that 
 the mayor and commonalty of London were 
 empowered to grant the office of coroner to 
 whom they thought fit. That sanguinary des- 
 pot, who owed so much to the Londoners, 
 granted them many privileges, and, among 
 others, that of electing a coroner. 
 
 There was a temporary cessation to the
 
 56 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 bantering of the crowd on the arrival of this 
 important functionary. The working-men and 
 apprentices looked demure, and several of the 
 students retired to the rear. Some of them 
 had very good reasons for this shyness, for 
 they had been a little compromised in a 
 recent inquiry arising out of a fray in which 
 the students of the inns of court had been 
 engaged. When, however, the coroner had 
 disappeared, the joking and buftbonery was 
 renewed, and as each juror presented him- 
 self, he was saluted according to his merits 
 or demerits ; but, as night was descending on 
 the city, and it was growing cold, the mob 
 began to abate : the workmen betook them- 
 selves to the alehouses, the law-students to the 
 taverns, and the 'prentices to their masters'" 
 houses. Nevertheless, a knot of persons still 
 lingered around the doors of the Falcon to 
 hear the result of the inquest. 
 
 While the inquiry was proceeding, two of 
 the sergeants-at-arms suddenly quitted their 
 post, and proceeded to the house of Sir Ever- 
 hard Champnes. They were soon seen re-
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 57 
 
 tiiniing- with old Matthew, the steward, who 
 was ushered by them into the inquest-room. 
 
 " That old fellow," said a woman, whose 
 party-coloured hood denoted her vocation, " fol- 
 lows a strange master — a very Turk, Avho would 
 stab a man on the high altar, if he had a grudge 
 against him. I marvel what Father Thomas 
 can see in that said knight." 
 
 " Nothing at all," said a one-eyed, sinister- 
 looking man ; " and that 's the secret. If you 
 want a priest not to see, you Ve only to clap 
 a noble on each peeper, and he 's as blind as a 
 bat at noon-day." 
 
 " Ay, and one put into his mouth will tie 
 his tongue," remarked another woman. 
 
 " Hold thy tongue, Moll," said an old man, 
 in a tattered gaberdine, " or thy feet may be- 
 come acquainted with St. Dunstan's stocks to- 
 morrow. These city sergeants have the ears 
 of a hound." 
 
 " Out upon the knaves ! " cried the lady in 
 
 the party-coloured hood, snapping her fingers 
 
 contemptuously ; " only let me catch one or 
 
 d5
 
 58 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 two of tliern within St. Martin"'s, and, by St. 
 Bridget, they shall not 'scape scot free." 
 
 It will be scarcely necessary to remind the 
 metropolitan antiquary, that the speaker alluded 
 to the long famous sanctuary of St. Martin"'s 
 le Grand, which had existed in London for 
 many centuries, which the sergeants wisely 
 refrained from entering, unless backed by a 
 strong guard. 
 
 " When will they bury young Reginald V 
 asked the old man. 
 
 " Oh, to-morrow, they say ; he is to be bu- 
 ried in the church of St. Nicholas Aeon, in 
 Lombard Street ; his fellow-students will follow 
 the body, and there will be as many candles 
 lighted as in a procession on Corpus Christi 
 day." 
 
 " But what will be done with the knight 
 who murdered him ? " 
 
 Here the conversation was interrupted by 
 the city sergeants, who drove the speakers from 
 the door, bidding them bridle their tongnies, and 
 beware of the stocks. 
 
 This mandate was obeyed, but not without a
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 59 
 
 few half-suppressed curses upon the Jacks-in- 
 office, as they termed the sergeants. 
 
 About two hours had worn away since the 
 arrival of the coroner, when a bustle within the 
 house indicated that the inquest was broken 
 up, and that the jury were about to def)art to 
 their homes. All were on tiptoe ; the decision 
 reached the ears of the city officers, and was 
 soon spread abroad among the crowd. Old 
 Matthew was escorted back to his master's bv 
 two of the sergeants, amidst the hootings of the 
 mob ; and a few minutes after the verdict — 
 " chance-medley^'' was the subject of conver- 
 sation throughout the ward.
 
 60 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 LOST LABOUR. 
 
 The verdict of the jury was announced to 
 Sir Everhard by his faithful steward, who hur- 
 ried to his master's apartment with the welcome 
 intelligence. The knight felt relieved from the 
 load of anxiety and dread which had oppressed 
 him since the fatal evening on which he had 
 deprived a fellow-creature of life ; but his reso- 
 lution to remove the innocent offspring of his 
 child remained unchanged. 
 
 He felt no remorse for the deed he had per- 
 formed within the precincts of his own dwelling. 
 His resentment had not abated with the death 
 of the man who had, as he believed, brought 
 dishonour on his house ; and, freed from the 
 dreaded consequences of his destruction, he next
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 61 
 
 considered how the infant might be removed, 
 without suspicion falling on him or his house- 
 hold. All he could elicit from his daughter 
 was, that she had met Reginald at a house near 
 the cathedral of Saint Paul, and that an aged 
 priest had made them man and wife. She was 
 entirely ignorant of the name, quality, and 
 habitation of the ecclesiastic. Reginald, she 
 knew, was too honourable to practise deceit 
 upon her, and it was not until after she had 
 been subjected to the interrogatories of her 
 fierce parent that the thought of a pretended 
 marriage occupied her mind ; then, and not till 
 then, did she address a letter to her beloved 
 Reginald. He answered it in person, and at 
 the cost of his life. 
 
 We must leave for awhile the unhappy lady 
 and her sorrows. 
 
 Although loud complaints had been made by 
 the friends of the murdered student, and many 
 of his companions had sworn vengeance against 
 his destroyer, the ferment, as in all similar 
 cases, soon subsided ; the armed men were 
 withdrawn from Sir Everhard's house, and the
 
 62 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 citizens began to look about for some other sub- 
 ject on which to oiFer their opinions and con- 
 jectures. There is always a desire for " some- 
 thing* new" among folks who are amused or 
 interested in the occurrences of the day ; and 
 these were not few in the good old times. A 
 gaudy pageant, a succession of miracle plays, 
 or mysteries, a fi'ay between the young gentle- 
 men of the inns of court and the citizens, or the 
 burning of a witch or a " LoUer " in Smithfield, 
 were the scenes which served at once to enter- 
 tain and instruct the Londoners in the middle 
 ages. 
 
 Old Matthew had several conferences with 
 his master respecting the child, and it was not 
 without some entreaty that he had prevailed 
 upon the knight to sufter him to find some 
 honest persons wdio would be willing to adopt 
 it as their own. With this view, he took boat 
 one morning, and proceeded to old Agathas, 
 on the Bankside. 
 
 " Good morrow, mother," said the steward 
 as he entered the hovel ; " I come to consult
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 63 
 
 you on a matter which may be to your be- 
 nefit " 
 
 " And to your master's, I suppose," inter- 
 rupted the midwife : " he would remove that 
 child — is it not so ? " 
 
 " Thou art not far from the truth, Mother 
 Agatha," replied the steward, " and I know 
 you can help him, if you will." 
 
 " Ay, ay," continued the doctress, — " and 
 hang or burn me, when all is done to his 
 satisfaction." 
 
 " He might do either, if it pleased him," 
 remarked ^Matthew. 
 
 The old woman looked at him contemptu- 
 ously from under her long, white eyebrows, 
 and placed her fore-finger significantly by the 
 side of her long-, peaked nose : " Hark'e, old 
 sir," said she ; " your master may burn or 
 hang me ; but I say, the child will live and 
 be a great man, in spite of his malice. Both 
 he and you, no doubt, think yourselves a 
 match for an old wife ; but I tell you, I 
 know all, and that I would pick out the little 
 fellow from among a thousand children."
 
 64 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 " They who have deahngs with the devil can 
 do many strange things," observed Matthew, 
 drily. 
 
 " Pish ! 'tis well to frighten ""prentices and 
 serving-wenches with tales of Sathanas and 
 his imps,"" said the beldam ; '• but you and I 
 know there is no devilry in these matters, 
 master steward." 
 
 " Gadzooks, cried the steward, " I wouldn't 
 be bail for you. Mistress Agatha." 
 
 " I would not be bail for your master," re- 
 turned the old woman : " he, I verily do be- 
 lieve, has had dealings with the devil, who 
 will one day claim his own : they say he killed 
 the young student, and that Father Thomas 
 talked to the jury and turned their heads" — 
 
 " Thou hast lost thy senses ! " interrupted the 
 steward. 
 
 " Not I, indeed," continued the beldam : 
 " "'tis your master whose wits have gone astray." 
 
 " Come, come, mother," said Matthew, " we 
 will not talk any more of this. Here is a gold 
 piece, which my master charged me to give 
 you. We want your assistance to dis^^ose of
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 65 
 
 the child, for he will bring disgrace upon my 
 master's house." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! " chuckled the doctress, 
 turning to look to a mess of porridge which 
 hung over the fire, and singing in a cracked 
 voice, 
 
 " How should your leman be known, pretty Madge ? 
 How should your leman be known ?" 
 
 " Thou art as wilful as a young colt, 
 mother," said the steward, angrily. 
 
 The old lady did not cease stirring the por- 
 ridge, but looked over her shoulder at the 
 steward with a sinister leer, and sung, 
 
 " Give water and sackcloth to those that are dull, 
 And beef; ale, and sack to the merry." 
 
 " Holy Virgin I " cried the old man, " thou 
 art surely distraught : instead of plain answers 
 to my questions, I get snatches of ale-house 
 songs." 
 
 " Hark 'e, sir steward," said the doctress, 
 leaving her porridge-pot to seethe and simmer 
 by itself, " I Ve a concern for that boy you
 
 66 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 speak of: I won't have him harmed for the 
 world. Have a care how you treat him , for 
 if he meet with any ill, as I shrewdly suspect 
 you intend him, you will pay a visit to the 
 Elms some morning, as sure as you serve a 
 bad master." Having uttered this, she placed 
 her arms akimbo, and looked the steward in 
 the face until he became confused, and cast 
 his eyes on the ground. 
 
 " It is the devil who has crept into the old 
 woman's body,'' thought he, and the surmise 
 made his flesh creep, for Matthew was as 
 superstitious as his betters. 
 
 " Mother," said he, " I wish the child no 
 harm ; and to prove it to thee, I will tell thee 
 at once, that I am charged to find some honest 
 people who will make it their own. To tell 
 thee plainly, I would not hurt a hair of its 
 innocent head to be made an alderman." 
 
 " If I may believe thee," returned Agatha, 
 " thou art an honest man." 
 
 " I swear it by all the saints," said Matthew, 
 earnestly ; " 'tis this which has brought me to
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 67 
 
 thee, for I would not peril my soul by destroy- 
 ing the child." 
 
 " I tell thee again," remarked the doctress, 
 " that if thou hadst the wish, it could not be 
 done without working thy ruin. Listen : the 
 child is marked : on the rig-ht shoulder and the 
 left ear you will find a blue spot, which nothing 
 can remove." 
 
 The steward stared. 
 
 " Ay," continued she, " you look aghast ; 
 but this has been my wont at such times ; and 
 I have been at many births, master steward. 
 2'he hoy has my marJc^ and I never desert my 
 children.'''' 
 
 " Humph !" ejaculated the steward. 
 
 " Well, master steward," resumed the doc- 
 tress, " what think ye of the matter now ? 
 You see, old wife as I be, I have my wits 
 about me yet." 
 
 " By my beard," exclaimed Matthew, " I 
 think thou hast. But, tell me, wilt thou help 
 me to provide an honest pair who will call 
 this child their own V
 
 68 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 " First answer me one question : was your 
 master's daughter married to the youth he 
 slew r 
 
 " I never doubted it." 
 
 " Then why does he wish to remove the 
 
 child r 
 
 " I have already told you, mother, and am 
 in no humour to answer any further questions. 
 Tell me, at once, if you will undertake this 
 matter, for I must be gone." 
 
 " Well, then," said the doctress, " I Avill 
 see if it can be done ; but what am I to have 
 for the service ? ''"' 
 
 " You may leave that to my master," re- 
 plied the steward ; "he hath a liberal hand, 
 and will reward thee nobly." 
 
 " He hath a red hand," observed the bel- 
 dam ; " and the blood of a murdered man 
 cries aloud ao^ainst him. He will taste of sor- 
 row yet." 
 
 " I did not come to argue this with thee," 
 said Matthew, angrily. 
 
 " Marry, no," remarked the hag ; " you
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 69 
 
 would rather hear how the boy may be got 
 rid of. Give j^oii good morning, okl sir." 
 
 With these words she turned on her heel, 
 and the steward, quitting the hut, proceeded 
 homeward.
 
 ^0 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ST. VALENTINE S EVE. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the rage of the knight 
 on hearing the result of Matthew's mission. 
 He by turns vowed vengeance on the hag and 
 threatened his faithful servant with dismissal ; 
 so the steward, for a day or two, very wisely 
 kept out of his way as much as possible, well 
 knowing that such storms are seldom of long 
 duration : to have said a word while it lasted 
 would have added fuel to the flame ; he there- 
 fore suffered it to exhaust itself before he ven- 
 tured to place himself in the way of his master. 
 One morning, however, he was summoned un- 
 expectedly to the knight's apartment. He 
 proceeded thither full of anxiety, and haunted 
 by a thousand surmises. The knight was 
 pacing up and down in one of his worst moods :
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 71 
 
 he was not violent, but sullen, and Matthew 
 could perceive that there was a determination 
 in his tone and manner which argued ill for 
 the poor babe. 
 
 " Matthew,"" said Sir Everhard, " I am re- 
 solved the brat shall no longer abide in my 
 house ; — dost thou hear me ? " 
 
 " I do, noble sir," answered the steward. 
 
 " And hearing, dost thou understand ? " con- 
 tinued the knight, bending on his servant a look 
 of deep and penetrating inquiry — "I do not 
 think thou wouldst dare to tempt me " 
 
 " I am your poor servant, sir,"" was the sub- 
 missive rejoinder. 
 
 " Then hear me. I will have the bastard 
 thrown into the Fleet, or the Thames — which 
 would be the safer of the two I " 
 
 Matthew clasped his hands in anguish, and 
 was about to commence a plea for the infant's 
 life, when the knight''s violent gestures sealed 
 his lips. 
 
 " Traitor ! " cried Sir Everhard, grasping the 
 handle of his dagger, which he half unsheathed, 
 " Is my bounty to be repaid thus ? — have I che-
 
 72 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 rished a viper, who would see me degraded in 
 the eyes of mine own househokl ? Ah-eady I 
 fear the accursed birth is known to more than 
 those whom I trusted ; but woe to those who 
 betray me." 
 
 He concluded this menace with a bitter 
 and fearful oath, which we forbear to record, 
 and which made the steward tremble for 
 his own safety as well as for the child's. 
 Nevertheless, he inwardly resolved to save its 
 life, and invoked the aid of all the saints in 
 the calendar to assist him in his design. Mean- 
 while his master continued to bend on him a 
 look in which resentment and suspicion were 
 strangely blended. 
 
 " Dost thou understand me, old man ? " in- 
 quired the knight sternly. " Let me hear at 
 once, thy decision, and then thou shalt hear 
 mine, I promise thee."" 
 
 " My gracious master," said the steward, his 
 eyes filling with tears, " I would stand by you 
 to the death ; but for your honour's — for your 
 souFs sake, think better of your purpose." 
 
 " Ha ! " cried Sir Everhard, with a bitter
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 73 
 
 oath, " art thou playing the monk with me ? and 
 is a belted knight to receive a schooling from 
 his varlet ? By heaven ! I could stab thee for 
 thy pertness." 
 
 " Sir," said the steward, perceiving that fur- 
 ther remonstrance would be vain, " I am yours 
 while life lasts. I will do your bidding, though 
 it lead me to the Elms. Spit on me, spurn, and 
 drive me to ruin and death — Matthew Tvndall 
 will never desert his benefactor." 
 
 " Spoken like a faithful servant," cried the 
 knight, rejoiced at the change in his steward's 
 demeanour ; " beshrew me if I did not, for the 
 first time in my life, suspect thy fidehty." 
 
 " You did me wrong, sir," said the dissem- 
 bling steward ; " I will do your bidding, come 
 what may of it." 
 
 """Tis well," continued the knight; "and now 
 mark me : here are two powders, which thou 
 wilt mingle with the night-drink of thy mistress 
 and her maid. 'Tis a subtle thing, which will 
 cast them into a deep sleep, and if it be given 
 early, 'twill lull the brat to a slumber from 
 which he will never wake : the rest I leave 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 to thy own wits. But," and he raised his fore- 
 finger with an air of admonition, and lowered 
 his voice almost to a whisper, — " have a care 
 how thou playest thy part, or I will have thy 
 limbs torn in sunder. Roger shall assist thee. 
 Dost thou hear me ? Look to it craftily." 
 
 With these words, the knight strode out of 
 the apartment, leaving Matthew to ponder on 
 the cruel part he was pledged to enact. 
 
 " So," soliloquised the steward, eyeing the 
 packets which he held in his hand, "this is 
 to enable me to do my master's bidding. Hea- 
 ven help me ! I am a lost man. I cannot now 
 go back, and if I go on I ruin my soul for ever. 
 Then I am to have as my helpmate to-night 
 that A;rild youth, Roger, my master's favourite 
 servitor, who would cut my throat to please 
 him ; so that I know not how to avoid this 
 damnable office. The blessed "Virgin aid me 
 in this dire strait, for I am at my wits' end^ 
 Why should my master trust Roger in the 
 business? the losel will some day betray him, 
 for he loves strong drink, and is quarrelsome 
 when in his cups. What can the knight see in
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 75 
 
 that scapegrace to trust him with such a terrible 
 secret ? — Ah me ! " 
 
 As the hours wore away the knight became 
 impatient for the approach of darkness, while 
 Matthew's anxiety increased with the departure 
 of day. Night came, and the steward performed 
 his master's commands with respect to the night- 
 drink, which he conveyed himself to the Lady 
 Isabel's apartment. He had not seen her for 
 many days preAaously. He entered, bearing a 
 silver chalice on a gilt salver, which he present- 
 ed to his beautiful and unhappy mistress with a 
 trembling hand, but with an air of profound re- 
 spect and attention. She closed the book she 
 had been reading — (it was a copy of the ritual of 
 the church, with illuminated capitals, executed 
 by the hand of Reginald, and presented to her 
 before their marriage) — and received the chalice 
 from the hands of the steward, whose heart 
 smote him as he looked on her wan but lovely 
 features, to which sorrow, deep settled sorrow, 
 had given an unearthly tinge. She observed 
 his confusion, and said with a smile of angelic 
 sweetness, 
 
 E 2
 
 76 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 " You are ill, Matthew/' 
 
 " My sweet mistress," replied the steward, in 
 a faltering voice, for he felt as if choking, — " I 
 am an old man, and my hand waxes unsteady." 
 
 " Then why trouble thyself to wait on me, 
 good Tyndall, at this late hoiir ? " said the lady. 
 " Barbara can attend to all ray wants : they are 
 few, and, alas ! they would be fewer," — a deep 
 drawn sigh seemed to relieve her overcharged 
 heart, — " but for this precious legacy of my 
 
 mur ." She checked herself, and pointed 
 
 to her child, which lay in a sweet slumber in its 
 little cot. 
 
 Matthew bent over the cot and gazed intent- 
 ly on the sleeping infant, until he could discern 
 it no longer through the tears which filled his 
 eyes. 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! " said the old man, in an agony 
 of remorse, " so young, and fatherless." 
 
 The Lady Isabel's grief was too deep for 
 tears, or she would have wept with the stew- 
 ard, whose distress she misinterpreted. Mat- 
 thew was overwhelmed by his feelings, and it 
 is probable he would have betrayed himself,
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 77 
 
 had not the maid Barbara entered to prepare 
 her mistress for the night. The old man, glad 
 to escape, bowed low to his unhappy mistress, 
 and as he passed out he heard a voice whisper 
 in his ear, " Woe unto them whose feet are 
 swift to do mischief, and whose hands are 
 ready to shed innocent blood." 
 
 At length the hour came for the execution 
 of the knight's cruel purpose. Night had sunk 
 down, dark and gloomy upon the city ; the 
 streets were deserted, for it was bitter cold, and 
 a shower of snow and sleet was beginning to 
 fall. The steward proceeded to the apartment 
 communicating with that occupied by the Lady 
 Isabel, where he waited, as he had been in- 
 structed, in an agony of suspense and appre- 
 hension. 
 
 " God, in his infinite mercy, help me to save 
 the babe ! " ejaculated the old man. " I have 
 hit on a plan whereby I may balk that 
 ribald Roger : Heaven grant that I may suc- 
 ceed ; for if I fail, the child is lost, and my 
 soul is Satan's." 
 
 A violent gust of wind at this moment dashed
 
 78 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 the sleet against the large latticed window, and 
 as the storm howled around the building, it 
 seemed to the steward's ear like the shrieks 
 of persons in distress. 
 
 " Jesu Maria ! " muttered the superstitious 
 old man ; " it is the spirit of the murdered 
 Reginald calling for vengeance on his destroy- 
 er." Then sinking on his knees and burying 
 his face in his hands, he muttered in a voice 
 half choked by grief and terror, " Peace, peace, 
 unhappy shade : / have not wronged thee !" 
 then he murmured snatches of the psalm Sal- 
 vum me fac, Deus, &c. Fear and distress had 
 well nigh driven him frantic. Suddenly footsteps 
 were heard, the hangings were disturbed, and 
 Sir Everhard Champnes appeared. Matthew 
 sprang to his feet, and prepared to receive the 
 burthen which he bore, and which was half 
 hidden in the folds of his gown. 
 
 " The witch is no liar," said the knight, un- 
 covering the child which he held in his arms, 
 and approaching a table on which a taper was 
 burning, " See, there are the marks she spoke
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 79 
 
 of; but, this night past, and they will no longer 
 blot the 'scutcheon of my house." 
 
 Matthew looked on the pretty babe in si- 
 lence ; he feared to speak, lest some unguarded 
 expression might betray him. He saw the 
 mark on the lobe of the child's ear, as if made 
 with the finger and thumb, and gently removing 
 its night-dress, he perceived that a similar one 
 had been made on its plump shoulder. The 
 child appeared as if in a trance ; its chubby 
 cheek was flushed, and its gentle breathing was 
 inaudible. The steward next turned his eyes 
 on his master, the wildness of whose glance 
 savoured of insanity. Far from exhibiting any 
 sign of remorse, he appeared to feel a quiet 
 satisfaction at the part he was performing ; his 
 countenance was ashy-pale, his eye gleamed 
 with supernatural brightness, and his lip was 
 curled with a smile of the bitterest malice. 
 Matthew dared not utter a word ; it might 
 have provoked the knight to strangle the child 
 as it lay in his arms. 
 
 " Here, take the brat," said Sir Everhard,
 
 80 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 delivering- the infant to the steward : " Roger 
 has a sack and a stone, which will send it at 
 once to the bottom of the river. Away ! 
 and let me not look on thee again until all 
 is over. Pshaw ! thou old fool, why dost thou 
 tremble so ? " 
 
 Matthew took the child in silence and quit- 
 ted the room. " Now, for the trial," thought 
 he : " fool though I be, I may yet save the 
 infant's life." 
 
 Five minutes afterwards, accompanied by 
 Roger, he was proceeding down Fleet Street, 
 in darkness and in silence. The old man's 
 mind was too much occupied to allow him 
 to speak, while his companion kept silence 
 from fear of the watch. It was the eve of 
 St. Valentine ; the day had been intensely 
 cold ; the snow was falling fast, and the 
 creaking signs and vanes on the house-tops 
 kept time to the howling of the wind. They 
 arrived at Fleet Bridge before a single word 
 was exchanged, and then, as they turned on 
 to the quay which skirted the stream, Matthew 
 broke silence.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 81 
 
 " Roger," said he, " this service is some- 
 what perilous : what, if the watch should dis- 
 cover and seize us V 
 
 " Move further down and speak lower,'" was 
 his companion"'s reply, " The tide is down, and 
 the stream is deeper opposite the monastery 
 and no one can be abroad there at this hour 
 — the spot is lonely. Strange work this," he 
 muttered to himself, " on St. Valentine's eve." 
 
 " I fancy I hear voices," said the old man, 
 feigning alarm. 
 
 " Where?" asked Roger, anxiously peering 
 around him, and listening between the pauses 
 of the wind. 
 
 " They are behind us," said Matthew, glad 
 to perceive that his ruse was taking effect. 
 
 Roger stood still and listened again. "It is 
 the watchman on the Fleet tower calling ten," 
 said he : " go on." 
 
 " Hark 'e, Roger," whispered the steward. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Give me thy bag and the stone." 
 
 " Here, then — thou wilt not be able to carry 
 both." 
 
 E 3
 
 82 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 " Whist ! I fear we are tracked, and that 
 some one is on our traces. Do thou wait here 
 and keep watch, while I go farther down and 
 cast in the brat.*" 
 
 " No, no, that will not do," said Roger, 
 earnestly ; "I dare not see thee out of my 
 sight. My master charged me to see it cast 
 in with mine own eyes.'' 
 
 It was well for the steward that the dark- 
 ness did not allow his companion to notice the 
 effect of this intimation. " Alas ! " thought he, 
 " the babe, then, is lost !" 
 
 " What art thou muttering to thyself. 
 Gaffer?" inquired Roger, in an impudent and 
 impatient tone I " and why dost thou hesitate ? 
 art afeard ? If so, give the child to me, and 
 keep watch while I take it lower down." 
 
 " Hold ! " said Matthew, dissembling his 
 anxiety and chagrin : " Do thou keep watch." 
 At that moment the tramp of feet was dis- 
 tinctly heard, and a party of the night-watch 
 emerged from Bride Lane, and proceeded in 
 the direction of the bridge. Matthew and 
 his companion had just time to throw them-
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 83 
 
 selves behind a large balk of timber which 
 lay on the quay, where, aided by the darkness, 
 they were effectually skreened from observa- 
 tion. The sergeant of the watch, however, 
 fancying he heard a noise in that direction, 
 called upon his men to stand, and a surly 
 " Who goes there?" was thrice repeated. It 
 was answered by the echoes of the surround- 
 ing buildings and the howling of the wind. 
 
 " Some of your river thieves come ashore 
 to look for a stray spar or cable," said one 
 of the watch. 
 
 " It 's of no use running after them," re- 
 marked another ; " they have as many hiding 
 holes as a water-rat." 
 
 " Silence ! " cried the sergeant in a tone of 
 authority. " On to Shoe Lane, — mine host 
 of the Cock and Flagon must look to his com- 
 pany there." 
 
 The watch proceeded on their way, and 
 Matthew and his companion giving them time 
 to get out of ear-shot, crept from their hiding- 
 place. This incident appeared to have shaken 
 Roger''s resolution ; for, to the infinite satis-
 
 84 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 faction of the steward, he now vokmteered to 
 remain on the watch at this spot, and give the 
 alarm if any one approached, by whistling 
 softly. 
 
 Old Matthew, delighted at this sudden turn 
 of affairs, and fearing that some unlucky 
 crotchet might induce his companion to alter 
 his mind, hurried away with his precious 
 bm-then, mentally invoking the aid of all the 
 saints in the calendar. He was soon lost to 
 the eyes of Roger, amidst the deep gloom in 
 which the neighbourhood was wrapped. 
 
 The steward reached the house of the mer- 
 chant Furnival, which he had reconnoitred the 
 day before, when he carefully placed the child 
 on the step near the gate. " God help thee, 
 poor child !" exclaimed he. Grasping the bag 
 which contained the huge stone, he threw it 
 with all his might into the stream ; then ring- 
 ing the merchant's bell violently, he hurried 
 away from the spot. 
 
 " Away, Roger ! " whispered he to his com- 
 panion, whom he soon regained. — " Away ! 
 some one is stirring; there was a ringing at
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 85 
 
 the gate of a house near which I stopped, and 
 I fear they heard the plash in the stream." 
 Roger needed no second bidding to hurry with 
 the old man out of the neighbourhood. 
 
 They were soon in the presence of their 
 master, who was waiting in gi-eat anxiety to 
 know the result of their adventure. Sir Ever- 
 hard lauded their zeal and fidelity, and dis- 
 missed them for the night. Roger repaired 
 to the buttery to drown reflection in a cup 
 of strong drink ; while the steward hastened 
 to his chamber, where, on his knees, he sup- 
 plicated Heaven to save him from the sin of 
 murder, and protect the life of the unfortu- 
 nate child.
 
 86 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE DEATH BED. 
 
 The next morning there was dainty food 
 for the gossips of Bride Lane and the neigh- 
 bourhood. It was reported that a beautiful 
 child, wrapped in a sound sleep, had been left 
 at Master Furnival's gate, and that that be- 
 nevolent man, in the confidence of a spotless 
 life, despising the stories which might be cir- 
 culated by the tongue of scandal, had caused 
 the infant to be conveyed into his house and 
 tended with the utmost care and solicitude. 
 Those who knew the heart of that kind being, 
 his many deeds of charity, his justice and in- 
 tegrity as a merchant, were not surprised at 
 the act ; it was only the envious and the il- 
 liberal who made it a matter of wonderment.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 87 
 
 and some of these even went so far as to 
 hint that John Furnival had good and suffi- 
 cient reasons for his attention to the poor 
 foundhng. True philanthropy, however, is not 
 to be scared by such bugbears, and the worthy 
 merchant, conscious that he was performing 
 the part of a practical Christian, continued to 
 bestow every possible care and attention upon 
 his protegee : a healthy nurse was hired, and 
 the infant thrived under that hospitable roof, 
 where all was peace and happiness. Far dif- 
 ferent was the scene at the house of Sir Ever- 
 hard Champnes. To paint the settled gloom 
 and sullenness of the knight, the heart-rend- 
 ing agony of his bereaved daughter, and the 
 anxiety and disquiet of the worthy but timid 
 old steward, is beyond our powers, and we 
 must leave them to the imaginations of those 
 who have witnessed these passions of the 
 human mind when in the ascendant. 
 
 The gossip to wliich the finding of the child 
 had given rise soon subsided, and made room 
 for some other and newer subject. It never 
 reached the ears of Sir Everhard at all, for
 
 88 LONDON LEGENDS. . 
 
 he had shut himself up, and refused to com- 
 mune with any one besides his confidential 
 servants, upon whom was imposed the task 
 of watching the Lady Isabel, whose grief gave 
 way to a settled melancholy, more distressing 
 to those who witnessed it than the loudest 
 complaint. 
 
 The knight daily became more morose and 
 gloomy : he went not near his daughter, but 
 kept closely to his own chamber, and seemed 
 to have determined to shut out the world en- 
 tirely. At length a violent fever attacked 
 him, and for some days threatened his life. 
 A good constitution, and the care of Father 
 Thomas, the priest of St. Dunstan's, restored 
 him to comparative health, but the fever of 
 his mind still raged. The visits of the priest 
 afforded to the Lady Isabel an opportunity 
 of seeking advice and counsel ; but she care- 
 fiilly abstained from any reflections upon her 
 father. She announced her intention of taking 
 the veil, and Father Thomas promised that 
 he would assist her in her views, and com- 
 municate with the prioress of St. Helen's, in
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 89 
 
 the ward of Bishopsgate Within. The eccle- 
 siastic was not without feeling for the unfortu- 
 nate lady, but he had another and a stronger 
 motive : the knight had great possessions, and 
 if his daughter embraced the life of a recluse, 
 the church would be enriched by many a 
 broad acre : he had power over Sir Everhard 
 enough for that, and therefore gladly aided 
 Isabel in her design. 
 
 Not to tire the reader with a detail of all 
 that took place between the unhappy lady 
 and her fierce parent, we have merely to 
 record that, on Quinquagesima Sunday, the 
 Benedictine Nuns of St. Helen's received into 
 their sisterhood the beautiful widow of Regi- 
 nald Chychelye, weighed down by grief too 
 deep for utterance, and beyond all earthly 
 hope of alleviation. Then, and not till then, 
 did the knight awake to a sense of his con- 
 dition. Alone and childless, surrounded only 
 by the menials of his household, Sir Ever- 
 hard now perceived that he had rendered 
 himself wretched. Such a mind, when it has 
 vented its worst on others, always turns upon
 
 90 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 itself. Grief, remorse, and despair took pos- 
 session of him, and harrowed up his very soul. 
 Sleeping or waking, the images of the mur- 
 dered Reginald and his child were constantly 
 before him. Strange voices whispered in his 
 ear and denounced him as a murderer ; and 
 he would sometimes ring violently at midnight 
 for his confidential servants, who came to his 
 bedside in alarm and terror, to find their mas- 
 ter in one of those terrible fits into which the 
 horror of his visions had cast him. Then he 
 would occasionally walk in his sleep ; and 
 some wild youths returning home very late 
 one night, reported that they had seen, by 
 the light of the moon, in the gallery of Sir 
 Everhard's house, a man using violent ges- 
 tures, and muttering threats, as they sup- 
 posed, against some person below. This 
 story was not credited, but an event which 
 took place soon afterwards proved it to be 
 too true. 
 
 One fine night, a party of citizens, who had 
 been at a christening near Temple Bar, and
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 91 
 
 had prolonged their merry-making to a late 
 hour, were proceeding to their homes down 
 Fleet Street in gleeful mood. The full moon 
 was high in the heavens, and glistened on the 
 vanes and weathercocks as they were fanned 
 by the gentle night wind. Gables and chim- 
 neys stood out in fine relief against the blue 
 canopy of heaven, and the high tower of St. 
 Dunstan's church, with the buildings of the 
 Temple, frowned high above the inferior tene- 
 ments of the neighbourhood. As the gossips 
 proceeded on their way, they talked, in the 
 fiilness of their hearts, of all the events 
 of the day ; of their entertainer, and the 
 good things he had placed before them ; of 
 the beef, wine, and ale that had been con- 
 sumed by the guests, and a multitude of other 
 things with which people beguile the time as 
 they trudge homeward. Suddenly, however, 
 the confabulation ceased; the citizens had 
 arrived opposite the house of Sir Everhard 
 Champnes, and, as if by common consent, 
 there was a pause amongst them.
 
 9^ LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 " Whist ! speak low," said one in a whisper, 
 crossing himself as he spoke ; " there is the 
 house of the Knight of ' Chance-Medley.' " 
 
 " Pass on, neighbour," said another; " I 
 always feel as if in an ague fit when in this 
 neighbourhood, since that horrible night when 
 the young student was murdered." 
 
 " And I, too," remarked a third : " the 
 young men shake their fists as they pass by, 
 and the old ones their heads. Ah ! it was a 
 sad " 
 
 " Holy Virgin !" cried the first speaker, 
 in a voice tremulous with terror, " look 
 there!" 
 
 He pointed upwards with his finger to the 
 gallery before-mentioned, in which stood a half- 
 clad figure, struggling apparently with some 
 invisible assailant. 
 
 "God be merciful to us!" muttered the 
 citizen ; " it is the knight wrestling with 
 Sathanas." 
 
 In the belief that the knight was really 
 trying a fall with the Prince of darkness, they 
 would have fled from the sight, but terror
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 93 
 
 bound them to the spot. Meanwhile the 
 figure in the gallery struggled violently, and 
 the citizens heard him cry, in a shrill voice, 
 
 " Down with thee, base groom ! down with 
 thee, varlet ! " Then he leant over the balus- 
 trade, as if attempting to cast something 
 from it, crying out, " Let go, damned felon ! 
 what, ho ! Matthew ! bring thy partisan — he 
 will escape ! " With these words he made 
 another effort, and overreaching himself, fell 
 heavily into the court-yard. 
 
 " Jesu Maria ! " cried the citizens in a 
 breath, while the blood froze in their veins, 
 and their knees smote each other : " it is the 
 knight ! he must be dashed to pieces ! " 
 
 A hollow groan, bespeaking intense suffer- 
 ing, resounded from the court-yard. 
 
 The noise of the miserable man's fall aroused 
 the neighbourhood ; alarmed faces appeared at 
 the casements, presenting a ludicrous aspect 
 in their night gear, and awakened out of their 
 first sleep. The watch hurried to the spot, 
 the court-yard was entered, and a hideous 
 spectacle presented itself. Stretched on the
 
 94 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 stone pavement lay the wretched knight, groan- 
 ing in anguish, a mass of blood and bruises. 
 
 Then, amidst the tumidt of voices, were 
 heard the comments of those who had been 
 drawn to the spot. 
 
 " It is the just judgment of God !" exclaimed 
 some ; others cried, " Satan has seized his soul 
 and jerked his body from the gallery!"" while 
 a few pushed their way through the crowd and 
 looked with pity on the mutilated figure of the 
 suiferer. 
 
 " Bear him into the house,"" cried some of 
 the citizens, " and send for the leech." 
 
 At that moment old Matthew and the other 
 servants, awakened by the tumult, rushed into 
 the court-yard. 
 
 " Make room, make room," cried the stew- 
 ard, elbowing his way through the throng. 
 " Let me reach my master — Avhere is he V 
 
 " Thou wilt soon be without a master, 
 Gaffer,"" said a rough-looking man, pointing 
 to the figure of Sir Everhard, which still lay 
 extended on the pavement, for he seemed past 
 all human aid. " Look there ! "
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 95 
 
 Matthew snatched a lantern from the hands 
 of a bystander, and held it to the face of 
 his master. He shuddered as he looked on 
 that once comely visage, now writhen and 
 distorted by agony. The eyes of the knight 
 were fixed and open, his jaw had fallen, and 
 the only signs of remaining life were the con- 
 vulsive twitching of his limbs and the quiver- 
 ing of his lower lip. 
 
 " Run to Father Thomas's lodgings, Roger," 
 said the steward, " and entreat him to come 
 hither; in the mean while I will remove my 
 poor master into the house. Help me, good 
 citizens, if ye be Christian men." 
 
 The knight was lifted from the pavement 
 and borne into the house, groaning heavily, 
 and then some of the citizens left the court- 
 yard, but many lingered about the spot till a 
 late hour. 
 
 Father Thomas was soon by the bed-side 
 of the suffering knight. Imperfect as surgi- 
 cal skill was at that period, the priest soon 
 perceived that nothing short of a miracle 
 could save the patient^s life : he had sustained
 
 96 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 severe Injury of the spine, his legs were broken, 
 and his whole body frightfully contused : a 
 man of less stalwart frame would have been 
 killed outright. He was speechless, and re- 
 plied to the few interrogatories of the priest 
 by signs and groans. Father Thomas ad- 
 ministered an opiate, and when he perceived 
 that the sufferer had been thereby relieved, 
 he quitted the house, bidding the steward ac- 
 quaint him, without loss of time, if any un- 
 favourable symptoms appeared. 
 
 The hours wore heavily away ; the knight 
 appeared to slumber, but occasionally uttered 
 low, inarticulate mutterings. Matthew had 
 turned his hour-glass thrice, when he felt over- 
 powered by fatigue : he fell asleep in the huge 
 arm-chair bv his master"'s bed-side, and when he 
 awoke the bright beams of an April sun were 
 streaming across the chamber. Sir Everhard 
 lay as if in a trance, and the steward shud- 
 dered as he beheld the horrible change which 
 had taken place in his master's features. By 
 degrees he seemed to be recovering from his 
 lethargy, and as the morning advanced he re-
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 97 
 
 cognised the old man and asked for drink. 
 Matthew assisted him with the cup, and when 
 he had taken a long draught, he breathed 
 heavily and fell back on his pillow. 
 
 When the priest entered he found his pa- 
 tient in a state of delirium, which soon in- 
 creased to such a pitch that he would have 
 risen from his bed but for his broken limbs. 
 
 " My son," said the priest, earnestly, " calm 
 yourself, or nought can save you.*" 
 
 " Who calls V said the knight, attempting 
 to rise. " Psha ! 'tis Isabel clamouring for 
 her child. I tell thee, it was not / that 
 took it." 
 
 Matthew, by command of the priest, gently 
 restrained him from rising. 
 
 " Go, then," he continued, as if address- 
 ing his daughter, " a nun's cowl would be- 
 come thee well. Take away that brat, 
 Matthew." 
 
 " My dearest master," said the steward, 
 weeping, " vex not yourself with these things : 
 your life 's in danger." 
 
 Sir Everhard turned a haggard look upon 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 98 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 his servant. " Life — life — life," said he, re- 
 peating the word several times; " what is 
 life, sirrah?" Then making another effort to 
 rise, he cried out, " Well shot, my arbalister ! 
 not a nail in his brigandine is firmer driven ! 
 Hurrah ! forward pikes and bills ! " 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! " whispered Matthew to the 
 priest, " he is raving of some passage of arms 
 in Picardy in his younger days. I have often 
 heard him tell that story of the little cross- 
 bowman who cunningly shot the French knight 
 at the postern tower." 
 
 The knight sunk back on his pillow, and 
 his hard breathing denoted the violence of his 
 exertion : his broad and ample chest swelled 
 like a billow, his eyes glared fiercely, and the 
 foam gathered on his lips. The priest re- 
 garded him intently for some moments, and 
 then determined to administer another opiate. 
 This had the desired effect, and towards even- 
 ing Sir Everhard awoke and appeared calm 
 and collected, but it was the result of that 
 prostration of strength which announces the 
 approaching dissolution of the patient. The
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 99 
 
 priest perceived this, and did not hesitate to 
 communicate his apprehensions to the dying 
 man, bidding him first dispose of his earthly 
 possessions. Matthew was therefore despatched 
 for EHas Crane, the notary of St. Bride''s Lane, 
 who came in all haste, his inkhorn, as usual, 
 slung around his neck, and a small scroll of 
 parchment in his hand. 
 
 The priest silently motioned him to take a 
 seat in a large chair by the bed-side of the 
 dying knight, which he obeyed with the air 
 of a man ill at ease. No sooner, however, 
 had he done so than Sir Everhard started up 
 in horror and affright. 
 
 " Away with thee ! " he cried, " away ! I 
 thought I had slain thee ; the wings of Sathan 
 must have upheld thee in thy fall ! I know 
 thee, thou dog ! though thou hast doffed thy 
 tippet." 
 
 " I cry you mercy, noble sir," said Crane, 
 rising and gazing at the knight, with a look 
 which partook both of wonder and deference. 
 " I am Elias Crane, the notary : everybody 
 knows me." 
 
 F 2
 
 100 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 The knight made an effort to spring for- 
 ward and chitch the speaker by the throat. 
 
 " Accursed dog ! " he cried, in a hoarse and 
 feeble voice, " would I had the strength to 
 strangle thee ! What, ho ! Matthew ! Roger ! 
 cut me off this fellow's ears, and throw him 
 from the window ! " With these words he 
 again sunk back, exhausted by the effort, and 
 breathing with difficulty. 
 
 The priest here advanced and stood before 
 Crane, so as to conceal him from the view 
 of the sufferer. 
 
 " Remain behind me," said he softly, " and 
 carefully note down his last wishes ; he can- 
 not last long." 
 
 The notary made a sign of acquiescence, 
 and remained shrouded from the view of the 
 knight, who, looking on the priest, seemed to 
 be recovering from the effect of his exertion. 
 
 "Ah!" sighed he; "it was his spirit! 
 and thou hast exorcised it, good father. Now 
 do I perceive all ! 'Twas his shade which I 
 essayed to cast from the gallery, and it hath 
 brought me to this pass."
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 101 
 
 He groaned in anguish, and cast on the 
 priest a look of intense misery. 
 
 " My son," said Father Thomas, taking the 
 trembling hand of the wretched man, " suffer 
 not these phantasies to distract your thoughts, 
 but turn them towards Him who '^ 
 
 As he spoke, he bent over the knight, and 
 in doing so, exposed Crane, whose head ap- 
 peared above the priest^s shoukler. The pa- 
 tient leaped convulsively in his bed, and cried 
 in a piteous voice, which well accorded with 
 his agonized look, 
 
 "• Ha ! 'tis there again ! Look ! look ! 'tis 
 mopping and mowing over your shoulder, fa- 
 ther ! Oh, let me die, — but drive away that 
 grim visitor." 
 
 " Unhappy man," said the priest, in a tone 
 of deep commiseration, " there is no shade 
 near thy bed ; none but Christian men are 
 here. No one is near thee but myself, thy 
 servant, and the notary, who comes to make 
 record of thy last wishes, for (here his voice 
 subsided to a whisper) thou hast not an 
 hour to live."
 
 102 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 Sir Everhard turned his haggard eyes upon 
 the speaker, and then glanced fearfully at 
 Crane, who almost doubted his own corporeal 
 substance. 
 
 " I will be still, father," said the dying 
 man. " I will not start again, though the 
 fiend himself should rise." Then addressing 
 the notary, he continued, " Come hither, old 
 man — still nearer — there — seat thyself and 
 listen." (Crane drew his chair close to the 
 bed-side, and dipping his pen in the inkhorn, 
 unrolled his parchment.) " First, / (/ive to 
 the priory and convent of"" — he paused, and 
 drawing a long inspiration, laid his emaciated 
 hand upon the notary's arm ; then his eyes 
 wandered around the apartment, lingering for 
 a moment on the thoughtful features of the 
 priest and the tearful face of his steward. 
 Suddenly he cast them again on the parch- 
 ment. 
 
 " Ha ! " he cried, starting convulsively, " thou 
 art using hloocl, old man! — blood. Seel see! 
 thy ink is red, and that little child is dabbling 
 the parchment with its tiny fingers ! Away
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 103 
 
 with thee ! away — 'tis sorcery ! aroint thee, 
 fiend!" 
 
 With these words he laughed hysterically, 
 sunk back on the bed, and drew the coverlid 
 over his face. Crane had started up on his 
 feet, overturning the parchment, which lay on 
 the floor ; the knight remained still, as if he 
 had fallen into a fit. 
 
 Matthew burst into an agony of tears, and 
 rushing to the bed-side, kneeled down and 
 gently withdrew the coverlid, disclosing the 
 pallid features of his master. The hand of 
 death had stricken him at that awful moment, 
 and the steward looked upon a corpse ! 
 
 END OF THE FIRST BOOK.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 
 
 A LEGEND OF 
 
 THE WARD OF FARRINGDON EXTRA. 
 
 BOOK THE SECOND. 
 
 r o
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE PRODIGAL AND HIS SISTER. 
 
 E must now lead the 
 reader back to the 
 hospitable dwelling of 
 the worthy merchant, 
 John Furnival. Years 
 slipped quietly away, 
 but, since the night on which the child had 
 been deposited at his gate, Fortune seemed 
 to have taken him under her especial patron- 
 age and protection. He had always been 
 accounted " a lucky man, as the world goes," 
 by his neighbours, but now good luck seem- 
 ed to meet him at every turn. His busi-
 
 108 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 ness thrived exceedingly, his ships made most 
 successftJ voyages to many parts of the world, 
 and everything prospered in his hands. It is 
 recorded, to his honour and credit, that as he 
 waxed wealthy, his heart did not contract, 
 and that his charitable donations to the poor 
 increased with his riches. The poor foundling 
 had been treated in every respect as his own 
 child, and well did he repay the kindness of 
 his benefactor. Valentine, for such was the 
 name which had been given him, the merchant 
 having stood sponsor for him at the baptismal 
 font, loved his foster-father as a parent, for he 
 had indeed received more than a parent's kind- 
 ness and attention from that excellent man. 
 We have before mentioned that Master Furni- 
 val had a son and a daughter of his own, two 
 creatures upon whom he doted with all a 
 father's fondness. Anna Furnival inherited the 
 beauty of her deceased mother, but she pos- 
 sessed the good temper and benevolent heart 
 of her father. Her brother Richard, though 
 not destitute of generosity, was haughty, petu- 
 lant, and resentful, and looking forward to the
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 109 
 
 inheritance of that wealth, the greater portion 
 of which he knew must be his, he felt con- 
 tempt for trade, and, spite of the remon- 
 strances of the merchant, as he grew older 
 this distaste increased. He had been edu- 
 cated with Valentine, who, though he had no 
 great inkling for " business," had in gratitude 
 applied himself to the duties of the counting- 
 house. 
 
 In the year 1446, Richard Furnival came of 
 age, Valentine, the foundling, being then six- 
 teen, when the merchant's house for a whole 
 week was a scene of profuse hospitality. It 
 was not until then that Master Furnival be- 
 came fully aware of the extent and quality 
 of his son's acquaintance. The careful father 
 now perceived, with some dismay, that he had, 
 by over-indulgence, spoiled his boy. Whispers 
 had sometimes reached his ears that Richard 
 had been seen in the company of many wild 
 and worthless young men ; but when he men- 
 tioned the nmiour to the young prodigal, the 
 fond father easily received his excuses, and 
 readily believed that his son had been belied.
 
 no LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 Now, however, the fihn was removed from his 
 eyes, and the merchant perceived, too late, 
 alas ! for remedy, that his son was launched on 
 that treacherous sea on which so many frail 
 barks have been tossed and wrecked. Remon- 
 strance he found A^-as received haughtily, and 
 sometimes with vagTie and indistinct mutter- 
 ings, the meaning of which he was soon given 
 to understand, was, that Valentine was sus- 
 pected of speaking to his prejudice, and cir- 
 culating the stories which had reached his 
 father's ears. The flame, once kindled in 
 such a breast, soon became uncontroulable ; and 
 Richard Furnival did not hesitate to charge 
 his foster-brother openly with those acts of do- 
 mestic treason. Valentine repelled the charge 
 with indignation, and appealed to the old mer- 
 chant, whose disquietude was thereby greatly 
 increased. But there was one to whom this 
 growing dislike of Richard was a source of 
 much greater uneasiness. Anna Furnival had 
 grieved at her brother's violent and untract- 
 able career ; she had observed his haughty 
 bearing and contemptuous conduct towards
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. HI 
 
 Valentine, and the thought that anything 
 might occur to cause her foster-brother to 
 quit the roof which had sheltered him so 
 long, and under which they had all grown 
 up together, caused her infinite pain and 
 anxiety ; in a Avord, Valentine's tall and 
 comely person, (his stature exceeded Eich- 
 ard's, though he was five years younger,) his 
 manly and graceful carriage, and his affec- 
 tionate and respectful behaviour towards her 
 father, all declared in his favour, and con- 
 trasted so strongly with the whole demeanour 
 of her brother, that the poor maiden, though 
 scarcely herself aware of it, was in love 
 with the foundling boy. Of this, Richard 
 seemed to be aware, at least, he was per- 
 fectly sensible of his sister"'s evident partiality 
 for her foster-brother, and it seemed to in- 
 crease his dislike of Valentine, whom he now 
 scarcely ever deigned to notice. The old 
 merchant endeavoured to reconcile his son to 
 Valentine, but he soon relinquished the at- 
 tempt, and then his next care was to con- 
 trive the means of keeping them as much as
 
 112 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 possible out of tlie sight of each other. There 
 was not mucli difficulty in this, for Richard 
 spent the greater part of his time among his 
 wild companions, while Valentine was fully 
 occupied by his attention to Master FurnivaFs 
 business. His evenings were spent in the so- 
 ciety of Anna Furnival, for whom he felt 
 more than a brother's attachment, though, in 
 the simplicity of his boyish heart, he had 
 never suspected himself of being in love with 
 that beautiful and gentle girl. It not un- 
 frequently happens that such a couple only 
 make the discovery when some misfortune or 
 separation threatens them, and this was pre- 
 cisely the case with our young folks. 
 
 One fine summer''s evening, after the busi- 
 ness of the day, Valentine ascended, with a 
 light and joyous step, the stair which led to 
 the room usually occupied by his beloved Anna. 
 To his great delight, he found her alone, en- 
 gaged in embroidering one of those singular 
 horned head-dresses, or coiffures, which figured 
 so conspicuously among the female costumes in 
 the reign of our sixth Henry.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 113 
 
 " My pretty Anna," said the youth, as he 
 bounded into the room and kissed her fair 
 cheek with the hcence of long and familiar 
 acquaintance, " your father is gone to the ward- 
 mote this evening, and I am come to pass an 
 hour with my little beadswoman." 
 
 " Indeed, sir," replied the maiden, ceasing 
 for a moment from her work, and drawing up 
 her pretty head with an air of coquetry. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said Valentine, imitating her 
 tone and manner ; " and what are you working 
 at so busily, sister Anna? What old lady's 
 head-gear art thou fashioning ? Mass ! it looks 
 like the horns on the head of Aaron, in the 
 porch of the Blackfriars." 
 
 " It is a coif for my godmother. Basing," 
 remarked Anna, plying her needle vigor- 
 ously. 
 
 " 0' my word, a strange piece of finery," 
 continued her lover, drawing a chair and seating 
 himself by her side ; " but, pri'thee, cease 
 working, and talk to me ; I would fain make 
 thee my privy councillor." 
 
 " Well, sir," rejoined the maiden, relinquish-
 
 114 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 ing her work, and smiling sweetly, " what have 
 you to say now ? " 
 
 " I' faith, not much ; but I have thoughts of 
 leaving your and my good father, Anna, and 
 seeking mine own fortune.*" 
 
 An expression of sadness instantly clouded 
 the face of the poor girl as she heard this 
 avowal. 
 
 " He loves me hut as a sister," thought she. 
 
 " Besides," continued he, " I feel that I have 
 too long lived on the bounty of the best of 
 men." 
 
 Anna could hear no more. A sound like the 
 rushing of water filled her ears, her heart beat 
 thickly, and her colour fled. 
 
 " It is very warm," she remarked, aiFecting 
 indifference, and rising from her seat. 
 
 Valentine led her to the window, and thi*ew 
 open the casement. A delicious southerly wind 
 fanned her fair face and disturbed her auburn 
 hair, which her plain and simple head-dress but 
 slightly restrained. Valentine thought he had 
 never seen her look so beautiful, and as her
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 115 
 
 colour returned he gazed upon her with a 
 look of such ardent love and admiration that 
 those features, but a moment before so pale and 
 wan, brightened into scarlet. 
 
 Anna turned from the intensity of her lover''s 
 gaze and looked from the window. Imme- 
 diately below was the rapid stream of Fleet 
 Brook, bounded by the venerable walls of the 
 city, above which rose the huge conventual pile 
 of building, the Blackfriars' Monastery ; beyond, 
 standing out clear and distinctly against the 
 blue and cloudless sky, rose the towers of St. 
 PauPs Cathedral. To the right was an open 
 prospect, studded with a few buildings and 
 windmills, the distance bounded by the Surrey 
 hills. Afar oft', London Bridge, with its dwell- 
 ings and towers, spanned the river, which 
 glowed in a July sunset. Boats were passing 
 to and fro on the river, and the citizens were 
 enjoying the evening breeze after a sultry sum- 
 mer''s day. 
 
 " What a lovely evening !" remarked Valen- 
 tine, passing his arm around the waist of his
 
 116 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 beloved, and looking down on the scene. " All 
 seem happy — those pigeons especially : they 
 have been wheeling around St. PauPs this 
 last half hour, and now they have settled on 
 the tower, each by the side of his mate " 
 
 As he spoke, his arm tightened around the 
 waist of the maiden. 
 
 " Have done, sirrah ! " cried she, affecting 
 indignation, but, at the same time, opposing 
 but a feeble resistance to her lover's embrace ; 
 " my maid will be here anon."" 
 
 The small taper fingers which essayed to 
 remove the arm of Valentine were disengaged 
 from his wrist, and grasped in his large, white, 
 manly hand. How long this fond dalliance 
 lasted we have no inclination to record ; such 
 of our readers as are lovers may supply the 
 omission, while those who are not would merely 
 smile at the recital. 
 
 As the lovers thus stood looking on the noble 
 prospect before them, they perceived that a 
 boat, which had been advancing up the stream, 
 was now pulled towards the shore. It con-
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 117 
 
 tained three persons besides the waterman. It 
 soon entered the Fleet, and came to the land- 
 ing-place near Master FurnivaFs house. 
 
 The quick eye of Valentine soon recognised 
 one of the party as Richard Furnival. 
 
 " Dearest Anna," said he, " it is your bro- 
 ther, with two of his friends ; they are about 
 to land." 
 
 " The Virgin forbid ! " exclaimed Anna, 
 looking from the window on the group below. 
 " Ha !" she continued, " it is Richard; and he 
 has brought with him that odious Robert Poyn- 
 ings, whom, he says, is a gentleman of fair 
 estate. What think you, Valentine, of that 
 red-haired youth, who is stepping from the 
 boat ? Would he make a proper husband for 
 your Anna — eh i " 
 
 Here Valentine in his turn became pale. He 
 had never dreamed of a rival . 
 
 " A — yes — a — I can scarcely tell," stam- 
 mered the youth. " Is it not the gentleman 
 who came here last Lammas V 
 
 " The same," replied the maiden ; " he hath
 
 118 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 a comely figure, and would make a proper man- 
 at-arms." 
 
 Valentine looked very blank at this remark, 
 hut he dissembled his vexation, and observed 
 drily,— 
 
 " And he hath very red hair, and squints like 
 the Vice in a morality ! " 
 
 Anna laughed, and shoAved her pretty, white, 
 even teeth, " Pri'thee, speak more respect- 
 fully of my future husband, sirrah," said she 
 with mock dignity. " Only think of your 
 sister, Anna, with a husband of some hundred 
 nobles a-year, with the prospect, too, of being 
 some day Lady Poynings ! " 
 
 " Ah, now do I see that thou art jesting, my 
 little banterer," cried Valentine, laughing out- 
 right. 
 
 " Whist ! " said Anna, earnestly ; " my bro- 
 ther is talking to his companions on the quay ; 
 see, they are leaving him, and he appears to be 
 coming in alone. Let us part, dear Valentine, 
 it will anger him if he sees us together." 
 
 Valentine needed no second bidding, and.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 119 
 
 imprinting- a kiss on the fair cheek of his be- 
 loved, he hastily quitted the apartment, while 
 Anna returned to her seat and resumed her 
 embroidery. She had not been thus engaged 
 many minutes, when Richard Furnival entered 
 with a flushed countenance, and out of breath in 
 running up the stairs. He threw himself into 
 a chair, doffed his cap, and wiped the perspira- 
 tion from his brow. Notwithstanding that his 
 nose was somewhat short and retroussee, the 
 countenance of Richard Furnival was handsome 
 and intelligent. His forehead was smooth and 
 clear, and bright auburn hair clustered around 
 his temples ; his eyes were a dark hazel, and 
 sparkled with vivacity, and a short upper lip, 
 disclosing, when he smiled, a row of white 
 teeth, gave to his whole countenance a careless 
 and saucy air. 
 
 " Well, Anna," said he, twirling his cap, and 
 evidently mustering up resolution to commence 
 the attack, " is Poynings to be my brother-in- 
 law?" 
 
 His sister looked up from her work, and 
 answered, with apparent indifference, " No ! "
 
 120 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 " Zounds ! " cried the youth, peevishly, " you 
 do not mean what you say ? " 
 
 " But I do," was the reply, in the same 
 careless tone. 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me that your mind is 
 made up, and that you will refuse such a 
 match ? " 
 
 The maiden raised her head again, and an- 
 swered, in the same tone of assumed indiffer- 
 ence, " I do ! " the nervous tapping of her foot, 
 however, showed that she was much annoyed 
 by these questions. 
 
 Eichard muttered a malediction, and strode 
 up and dowTi the apartment whistling, as if per- 
 plexed by his sister's taciturnity. At length, 
 he spake again : — 
 
 " Hark 'e, Anna ; I shrewdly suspect you 
 have given your heart to some other man. 
 Look you that it is not the fellow whom my 
 father hath fed and nurtured, to my disquiet, 
 this many a year." 
 
 " And what if it should be V asked the high- 
 spirited girl, reddening with resentment.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 121 
 
 Richard was a little surprised at her tone and 
 manner, but the last cup of wine he had taken 
 that afternoon had given him sufficient resolu- 
 tion to go through with the scene. 
 
 " Anna," said he, in a cool determined tone, 
 " it must not — it shall not be so. We under- 
 stand each other; persevere in your determi- 
 nation, and it will work his ruin — ay, his 
 death ! " 
 
 Anna left off working, and bent on her bro- 
 ther a look which caused him to cast his eyes 
 on the ground in shame and confusion. 
 
 " Richard," said she, in a serious and re- 
 proachful tone, " thou art surely distraught ; — 
 what evil spirit has put thee in this savage mood ? 
 I have long thought thee wayward and wan- 
 ton, but I looked not to see thee turn thus, 
 and " 
 
 " Thy preaching, Anna, will avail nothing," 
 cried the youth, raising his eyes, and look- 
 ing angrily at her. " Are mine and my father's 
 hopes to be blighted by this beggar V 
 
 Anna Furnival started on her feet : the 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 epithet heggar stung her to the quick. The 
 blood of her deceased mother, who was reck- 
 oned among her neighbours a woman of high 
 spirit, rushed to her cheek, and her mihl 
 eyes seemed to lose their softness as the tide 
 of anger set in. 
 
 "Sirrah!" she cried, making a menacing 
 gesture with her little white fist. " Begone ! 
 you shall not use this language here. He 
 whom you thus vilify does not deserve your 
 reproaches, and it is well for you that he 
 is not present to hear them." 
 
 Eichard snapped his fingers contemptuously. 
 " Ay," she continued, " snap your fingers, 
 sirrah ; you can show your mettle here, where 
 there is only a poor weak girl to rebuke you ; 
 but know, young man, I am not to be ter- 
 rified by your threats. I care little for the 
 hopes of a hair-brained boy who is led by 
 his wild companions, and, as I know my father 
 would never have me wed one whom I abhor, 
 I tell thee I have given my heart to Valen- 
 tine."
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 123 
 
 The ruddy, saucy face of Richard Furnival 
 became pale as death with intensity of passion 
 on hearing this, to him, too candid avowal. 
 He bent on his sister a look of the deadliest 
 malice, which made her quail with apprehen- 
 sion ; then suddenly advancing, he grasped her 
 arm and dragged her to the window. 
 
 " Thou giddy fool ! " said he, wrathfuily ; 
 " I could strano'le thee for thine obstinacv. 
 See'st thou that grim stage yonder T' 
 
 He pointed, as he spoke, to the ancient 
 bridge in the distance, crowded with buildings, 
 among which the traitors' towers were grimly 
 conspicuous : their then never-failing ornaments, 
 about a dozen human heads, elevated upon 
 long poles, rose high above the roof, and over 
 them were several carrion crows, wheeling in 
 circling eddies around their horrible banquet. 
 
 " See ! " he cried, " there is room enough on 
 those towers for another head, and I promise thee 
 thy Valentine's shall be there ere Candlemas ! " 
 
 With these words he relinquished her arm 
 and hastily quitted the room. Anna listened 
 
 <? 2
 
 124 
 
 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 to his footsteps as he descended the stairs, 
 and as the sound ceased the poor maiden threw 
 herself into a chair and released her over- 
 charged heart by a violent flood of tears. 

 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 125 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE SANCTUARY. 
 
 " What a rable of theeves, murtherers and nialitious 
 heynous traytors, and that in two places specially. The 
 tone at the elbowe of the citie, the tother in the verie 
 bowels." 
 
 The above sentences, uttered by the 
 Duke of Buckingham, in his speech at the 
 council, when Glo'ster wished to remove the 
 young princes from the sanctuary of West- 
 minster, give a vivid picture of those haunts 
 of vice and crime, the sanctuaries of the middle 
 ages. " One of these," he remarks, " was 
 at the elbow of the city," (Westminster), the 
 other " in the very bowels ;" which latter was 
 the famous sanctuary of St. Martin-le-Grand, 
 comprising, as shown by honest Stow, the en-
 
 126 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 tire area enclosed between Newgate Street on 
 the south, Foster Lane on the east, Bull and 
 Mouth Street and St. Ann's Lane on the north, 
 and on the west by a number of crowded 
 tenements occupied by inferior tradesmen and 
 artificers. The existence of such a place in 
 the heart of the city was a grievous evil, which 
 long vexed the quietly-disposed citizens of Lon- 
 don, and many ingenious attempts were made 
 from time to time by the city authorities to 
 show that the privilege was one of long use 
 and custom, rather than of regal permission. 
 But these efforts to dislodge and bring to 
 justice felons who had sought shelter from the 
 law within its precincts were stoutly resisted, 
 and quo icarrantos were met by the exhibition 
 of charters of inspeximus, or recapitulations 
 of former confirmations of the privileges of 
 the deanery, " from the tyme of no mynde " 
 back to the days of the Saxon monarchs. 
 
 However great the evil, the place afforded 
 too fine a revenue to the priests to be yielded 
 up. They let out lodgings to the sanctuary 
 men at a high rate, and often seized upon
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 127 
 
 property which had been conveyed within the 
 precincts by marauders, claiming the same as 
 loaifs^ and as one of the rights of the fi-anchise ; 
 thus, when a man named Kneve, in the year 
 1416, stole a pix, a signet ring, and other 
 valuables, and deposited the booty with a sanc- 
 tuary man, the officers of the dean seized upon 
 it as a waif left within the soke or franchise 
 of the church. 
 
 In this human den, this moral cloaca, was 
 an aggregation of all the crimes which afflict 
 or insult society. Here were assembled villains 
 of every grade and complexion, the murderer 
 and the cutpurse, the fraudulent debtor and 
 the unfrocked priest, the maker of false keys 
 and the forger, the worker of counterfeit jewels 
 and beads and the procurer of alihis and false 
 evidence ; in fact, every denomination of ras- 
 cality that could be congregated together, and 
 which, on occasions of popular tumult, was 
 poured forth to rob and pillage the peaceable 
 and the wealthy. 
 
 The rights of the deanery of St. Martin had, 
 from the earliest times, been firmly maintained,
 
 128 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 and those who had the luck to be in possession 
 of this lucrative franchise proved their fitness 
 to contend for its privileges. Matthew Philip, 
 alderman of London in 14.39, determined to 
 demand pajTnent of a tax then made for the 
 " sauf gard of Caleys," of the denizens of St. 
 Martin's, when Richard Cawdry, the dean, laid 
 his complaint before the king, who commanded 
 that restitution should be made to those parties 
 upon whose property the alderman had seized 
 for noncompliance. This disagTeement was af- 
 terwards adjusted, according to the ancient cus- 
 tom of the Londoners, over a hearty supper 
 which Philip gave to the dean ; upon which 
 occasion the ecclesiastic exhibited ^vTits of alms 
 and pluries, with a letter fi-om the king en- 
 joining the citizens to respect the privileges 
 of St. Martin. A short time after this event, 
 as some officers of Newgate were conveying 
 an offender from that prison to Guildhall, their 
 prisoner was forcibly taken from them and 
 borne into the sanctuary, when the sheriffs 
 and other city officers repaired to the place 
 and seized on all who had been concerned
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 129 
 
 in the outrage. Hereupon issue was joined, 
 and much litigation ensued, but, in the end, 
 the rights and privileges of the deanery were 
 confirmed. One thing alleged by the dean 
 in these proceedings is worthy of special notice : 
 he stated that worshipftil members of the cor- 
 poration were the last who ought to complain 
 of the privilege of sanctuary in St, Martin's, 
 since of late years more than three hundred 
 of them had sought shelter within its gates. 
 Although, perhaps, there was more sarcasm 
 than truth in this allegation, it is sufficient to 
 show to what extent the privilege of sanctuary 
 was then claimed. 
 
 Long after the Reformation, the precincts 
 of St. Martin's were noted as the residence 
 of fabricators and dealers in counterfeit plate 
 and jewels, a celebrity which it had enjoyed 
 in the reign of Edward the Fourth, by whose 
 statutes relating to such work, this place was 
 exempted, as forming no part of the city. Not- 
 withstanding this, however, in 1447 the London 
 goldsmiths extended their right of search for 
 counterfeit plate among the goldsmiths in the 
 
 o 5
 
 130 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 sanctuary. On this occasion, Gawdiy, the dean, 
 attended them, and seizing on some counterfeit 
 wares, committed the makers to the prison 
 of the sanctuary, by virtue of the privilege of 
 hifangennetheof, with which the franchise was, 
 with many other rights, invested. But, to re- 
 turn to our story. 
 
 In one of the alleys on the north side of 
 the sanctuary was a low tavern, or " here 
 howse," known by the sign of the " May den 
 Hed," and kept by one Anthony Johnson. 
 There was not a more noisy spot within the 
 whole precinct ; it was the hamit of the most 
 desperate and worthless of those who had sought 
 sanctuary. It constantly swarmed, like a hive, 
 with the most abandoned wretches of both 
 sexes, and, from prime to complin, the house of 
 Toney Johnson, as he was called, rung with 
 loud oaths, ribald songs, and the rattle of 
 flagon and dice-box. The variations on these 
 truly infernal airs were occasional brawls, in 
 which blood was not unfrequently shed. Here, 
 however, the deanery did not suffer, " blood- 
 wyte,'' or exemption from amercement for mur-
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. J3I 
 
 der therein committed, being one of the pri- 
 vileges of the franchise. In a word, the " May- 
 den Hed " was the very subhmation of the 
 iniquity of the place. 
 
 One dark night, when the orgies of the 
 frequenters of the " Mayden Hed" were at 
 the highest, a stranger entered St. Christ o- 
 pher''s Alley, in which that most respectable 
 tavern was situated. The place was pitchy 
 dark, but a strong light was emitted from the 
 long low window of the tavern, glazed with 
 fragments of glass collected from a thousand 
 different quarters, and containing in the centre 
 the upper moiety of a representation of St. 
 Catherine. The stranger essayed to take a 
 peep into this pandemonion through the case- 
 ment, but the steam from within covered the 
 glass, and prevented all observation from per- 
 sons without ; he therefore walked to and fro 
 for some time, looking in upon the strange 
 assembly as he passed the door, whenever any 
 one went in or out and exposed for a moment 
 the interior of the den. The ground floor 
 consisted of one large room, with a ceiling
 
 132 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 scarcely high onough for a tall man to stand 
 ertH't, and was supported by posts. The place 
 was, as usual, swarming with company ; cut- 
 throats and cut purses ; itinerant nuisicians ; 
 fellows in the garb of monks, but with faces 
 flushed with drinking, and of abominably sin- 
 ister expression ; women with parti-coloured 
 hoods ; sham cripples and beggars with sinmlated 
 sores, were all bent on enjoying themselves 
 while a farthing remained. Some were siuijing 
 or bawling out obscene jests ; others were play- 
 ing at cards or backgammon ; while a few looked 
 on in a kind of vague stupor, having ilrunk 
 mitil every sense but that of sight had been 
 subdued. In a dark corner of the room might 
 be seen a group of four savage-looking ruffians, 
 concerting some plan of midnight robbery over 
 a stoup of wine. Their cogitations were totally 
 imheeded by those around them, and might 
 have continued for some time longer, but for 
 a dispute which arose on some matter con- 
 nected with the subject of their discussion, when 
 two of the group suddenly left their compa- 
 nions, and removed to a different part of the
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 133 
 
 room, near the window. One of these fellows 
 was tall, and in his youth had evidently been 
 a very handsome man, hut his once comely 
 visage and complexion had been disfigured by 
 intemperance, and that habitual acquaintance 
 with vice which gives to the finest face an 
 expression infinitely more disagreeable than po- 
 sitive ugliness. The other man was a perfect 
 contrast to his companion, being exceedingly 
 short of stature, a broad-shouldered, thick-set 
 knave, with a heavy sullen aspect, a large 
 nose, which looked downward, and glowed at the 
 tip like an escarbuncle, and an ill-shaped, \-ulgar 
 mouth, with one tooth overhanging the lip. like 
 the tusk of a wild boar. Tliis fellow was the 
 most daring ruffian and night-walker within 
 the precincts of St. Martin's. 
 
 " I don't like that Kit Newis," said the tall 
 man, thro^^dng himself on a bench near the win- 
 dow ; " he 's a sneaking hound, and would betray 
 us to the dean's men for a stoup of wine." 
 
 " He had better not," remarked the thick-set 
 man, playing as he spoke with the handle of a 
 broad dudgeon dagger wliich depended from
 
 134 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 his girdle. " Corpus Domini ! if I thought he 
 would, I 'd slit his weasand.'' 
 
 " The best way is not to trust him at all," 
 continued the other; "for if we do, we shall get 
 a week's lodging in the dean's dungeon cellar, 
 and lose the purse that 's promised us. I once 
 lay a week in that damnable place, where I 
 caught an ague." 
 
 " Well, never mind that," rejoined the short 
 man ; "let us see how we can leave him out of 
 our fellowship. I like not too many mates in 
 this kind o' work ; but let 's have another pottle 
 on the strength of what we have to receive for 
 the job ; for the devil a cross have I got in my 
 pouch. — What ho ! Toney, my old dragon, bring 
 another pottle o' your best." 
 
 The burly figure of Toney Johnson waddled 
 across the room and deposited on the table the 
 wine which had been called for, holding forth at 
 the same time his jsalm to receive the money. 
 
 " Out upon thee ! " cried the ruffian ; " I have 
 paid thee all my coin to-night, and thou must 
 now wait until I get more. I '11 be out o' thy 
 debt before even-song to-morrow."
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 135 
 
 " Hast thou no pawn, my valiant swashbuck- 
 ler V inquired the doubting landlord. 
 
 " By the mass, none ! " cried the fellow, 
 taking a draught, and making a sign for the 
 querist to begone. 
 
 Toney waddled back to his bar and scored 
 up the drink with a piece of chalk. " The ras- 
 cals !"" muttered he, " they are brewing some 
 mischief to-night, and may find a lodging in 
 the compter ; they ""re a pretty pair, and would 
 become the gallows well." 
 
 Meanwhile the two worthies resumed their 
 conversation in a low tone. " Dost thou think 
 this springald will come, Roger ? " asked the 
 stout ruffian. 
 
 " Ay, without doubt,*" was the reply ; " he is 
 young, but he hath a stout stomach, and will be 
 as good as his word." 
 
 " By St. Martin, it would be a good jest if 
 we enticed him here some night, and made free 
 with that fair chain of gold he wears about his 
 neck." 
 
 " Thou art a greedy knave, Jack," remarked 
 the tall man; " thou art always burning to finger
 
 136 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 everything that 's made of gold or silver. I have 
 seen thee eye the church plate as a fox looks at 
 a hen-roost. But let us see if this youth is 
 come." 
 
 He rose from his seat, and going to the lat- 
 tice, wiped with his sleeve the steam from one 
 of the panes, and placing his eye close to the 
 glass, looked into the court. Immediately after- 
 wards he quitted the room. 
 
 The stranger who had been pacing up and 
 down outside, faced about as the ruffian 
 emerged from the tavern. 
 
 " I thought you had forgotten our meet- 
 ing," remarked he somewhat peevishly. 
 
 " 1 cry your pardon, fair sir," was the reply. 
 " I should have been with you before this, 
 but there is some company within whom I 
 would not have know of our business. There 's 
 some danger in the job, withal, for master 
 Cawdry, the dean, hath sworn that if a 
 sanctuary man doth a felony without the pre- 
 cincts, he will give him up to the sheriffs." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " cried the stranger, contemp- 
 tuously, " I took thee for a fellow of better
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 137 
 
 stomach, but it seems thy heart fails thee ; 
 or, perchance another noble or two would give 
 thee mettle sufficient." 
 
 This was precisely what the ruffian intended 
 by his observations as to the danger of the 
 service for which he Avas required ; he there- 
 fore replied, — 
 
 " Look you, fair sir, I am a man of my 
 word, and do not intend to shirk the business 
 you wot of; but I have a comrade who is 
 sore pressed for arrears of lodging " 
 
 " Ay, ay," interrupted the stranger, in an 
 angry and impatient tone, " I see thy object 
 now : — here, hold thy hand and take this as 
 earnest of what I can and will do, provided 
 thou art trusty." 
 
 He placed three gold nobles in the hand 
 of the ruffian, who clutched them greedily, 
 and inquired, 
 
 " Are you sure, sir, that you can point 
 out your enemy so that we may not mark 
 the wrong man, for that might ruin us all. 
 Such a mischance happened to Will Simpson, 
 who killed the alderman's nephew in mistake
 
 138 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 for another man, for which he was hung on 
 a gallows thirty feet high, opposite the church 
 of St. Nicholas, at the shambles." 
 
 " I will take care to point him out to thee," 
 said the stranger. " If thou art hung, it shall 
 not be for smiting the wrong man, I warrant 
 thee." 
 
 " Where is he to be found, then ? " asked 
 the sanctuary man. 
 
 " He will attend the mass at Paul's to- 
 morrow," replied the stranger, "and I will be 
 there to show thee thy quarry." 
 
 " We will not fail," observed the ruffian. 
 
 " Look that you do not," said the stranger. 
 " You will see me at the north door, and 
 will follow me at a convenient distance, but 
 you will not strike him — have a care of that 
 — till you see me tighten my girdle." 
 
 " I understand, sir, and will be obedient 
 to your behest," replied the sanctuary man. 
 
 " 'Tis well," remarked the stranger, turning 
 on his heel. " Remember you will see me 
 at the north door." 
 
 With these words, he strode out of the alley.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 139 
 
 The ruffian looked at his receding figure until 
 it turned the corner, and then muttered to 
 himself: — "Thou art a fool, with all thy cun- 
 ning ! Dost thou think, because thou comest 
 here o' nights, I do not know thee. When 
 I have done with thy foster-brother, I will 
 have a turn with thee : thou shalt be to me 
 a conduit of gold, and shalt run with nobles 
 continually. By my head, boy, thou shalt pay 
 Avell for this service. Jack covets thy gold 
 chain, and would cut thy throat for it, which 
 I must prevent if I can; yet I dare not tell 
 him what I would make of thee." 
 
 Having uttered this soliloquy, the villain 
 dived into the tavern and rejoined his com- 
 panion. 
 
 In the mean time the visiter to the sanc- 
 tuary had quitted its precincts. Muffling him- 
 self in his cloak and drawing his cap over 
 his eyes, he dived into Panyer Alley and 
 entered Paternoster Row, which he quitted by 
 one of the courts leading into St. Paul's 
 churchyard. It was striking nine, and the 
 voices of the watchmen, calling the hour, were
 
 140 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 heard in different parts of the city, mingling 
 in concert with the loud tones of the clock. 
 Descending Liidgate Hill, he arrived at Lud 
 Gate, when he was challenged by the guard. 
 The stranger stood erect, let fall his cloak, 
 raised his cap, and disclosed the features of 
 Richard Furnival, which were well known to 
 the man on duty. He spoke not a word, 
 but placing a groat in the soldier's hand, 
 lifted the latch of the wicket, passed through, 
 and went on his way. 
 
 " Who is that gallant ? " inquired the cor- 
 poral of the guard, whose grim visage ap- 
 peared at the iron grating of the window 
 beneath the gateway. 
 
 " It's young Dick Furnival, the merchant's 
 son," replied the sentinel, turning his back to 
 the corporal, until he had put the groat out 
 of sight : "he looks cross and fretful to-night ; 
 his leman hath not pleased him." 
 
 " He is a wild losel," remarked the corporal, 
 gruffly, yawning and turning from the window ; 
 " he consorts with some choice spirits in this
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 141 
 
 good city. They say he's scattering his fa- 
 ther''s substance at a fine rate : — ' What Gaffer 
 gathers with the rake, the heir seattereth with 
 the fork; "
 
 142 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A DIGRESSION. ANCIENT LONDON. MASS AT 
 
 ST. PAUL*'s, 
 
 The ancient cathedral of St. Paul, though 
 JiiFering, in toto, from the present beautiftil 
 edifice, was a grand and magnificent pile, the 
 pride and ornament of the city. It is not our 
 business here to inquire, whether a Roman 
 temple once stood on the spot,* or whether the 
 
 * Sir Christopher Wren's conjecture that a Roman 
 temple once occupied this site, is supported by the fact, 
 that on almost every occasion of excavation near our Lon- 
 don churches, the horns and bones of animals are discovered 
 in considerable numbers ; a circumstance which seems to 
 indicate that, upon the introduction of Christianity, the 
 pagan temples were overthrown, and Christian edifices 
 raised on their site. Sir Christopher's conjecture has been 
 flippantly dealt with by some of our soi-disant antiquaries, 
 but it appears to have been well grounded.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 143 
 
 merit of the Christian foundation, as Venerable 
 Bede suggests, is due to Ethelbert, king of 
 Kent. It is certain that this far-famed church 
 was under the especial protection of the first 
 William, who confirmed to St. Paul's all its 
 privileges by a charter concluding with the 
 words : " for I will that the church in all things 
 be as free as I would my soul should be at the 
 day of judgment.*''' 
 
 In the year 1086, the old, or original, building 
 was, with a great part of the city, destroyed by 
 fire ; but, soon after, Bishop Maurice conceived 
 the design of raising the stupendous structure 
 which, after a lapse of six hundred years, was 
 doomed to perish, like its predecessor, in that 
 awful conflagration, commonly termed " The 
 Great Fire." Stow, in his Survey, informs us 
 that the second building was of such prodigious 
 extent, " that men of that time judged it would 
 never have been finished ; it was to them so 
 wonderful for length and breadth." 
 
 The ancient church, the ground plan of which 
 was in the form of a cross, consisted of a body 
 with north and south aisles, and two square
 
 144 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 towers at the north and south sides of the west 
 front, the hitter being the steeple of St. Gregory's 
 church, which was attached to the cathedrah* 
 The architecture of the east end is described as 
 very beautiful, being heightened by the addi- 
 tions made to it in the fourteenth century. 
 The windows in the basement afforded light 
 to the crypt and sub-chapels; those of the 
 superstructure resembled the south transept of 
 Westminster Abbey ; while above them was 
 a large circular window of exquisite carving. 
 Over this window was a gallery with quatrefoils. 
 The aisles were of the same character. The^ 
 cloisters were two stories in height, the upper 
 one having pointed windows, the lower forming 
 an arcade. The nave was three stories in 
 height, the first consisting of an arcade formed 
 by eleven semicircular arches, supported by 
 
 clustered pillars. The gallery story was in the 
 
 « 
 * This tower was called the " Lollers' Tower," being 
 used as the bishop's prison for heretics, and was, at a pe- 
 riod later than that of which we are writing, the scene of 
 a barbarous murder committed on a citizen named Hunne, 
 by the chancellor of the diocese, assisted by the bell-ringer 
 and others.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 145 
 
 same character, but the upper story was in the 
 early pointed style. This portion belonged to 
 the period in which the tower was first erected. 
 The screen to the choir was executed in the 
 fourteenth century ; in fact, the general appear- 
 ance of the interior of the building was that of 
 a cathedral of the thirteenth, with additions 
 and ornaments of the fourteenth century. The 
 whole of the superstructure rested, like the 
 cathedral at Canterbury, on arched vaults, 
 which comprised the church of St. Faith, be- 
 sides several chapels. The total length of the 
 building was nearly seven hundred feet from 
 east to west, and the height of the tower with 
 its spire was upwards of five hundred feet. 
 
 The interior of the building afforded the 
 grandest vista imaginable, comprising an un- 
 interrupted view of the roof from east to 
 west. The worship of the cathedral was cele- 
 brated with all the pomp and magnificence of 
 the catholic ritual, and it appears to have been 
 crowded with citizens on all occasions. 
 
 To describe the numerous chapels, chantries, 
 shrines, and other consecrated etceteras con- 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 tained within its walls, would occupy more time 
 and space than our present limits afford. The 
 curious may find an account of them in Dug- 
 dale, assisted by the spirited representations of 
 the inimitable Hollar, to whose faithful hand 
 the lover of our metropolitan antiquities is so 
 greatly indebted. 
 
 In the area, within the angle formed by the 
 south transept and the aisle, stood the elegant 
 chapter-house, a structure of octangular form, 
 the architecture of which resembled in style 
 that of York cathedral ; and on the north-east 
 of the grand building stood that great " clo- 
 chier," or bell tower, described by Stow as "a 
 great and high clochier, or bel house, four 
 square, builded of stone, and in the same a 
 most strong frame of timber, with four bels. 
 These," adds that venerable authority, " were 
 the greatest that I have heard, and were called 
 Jesus Bels, and belonged to Jesus Chapel. 
 The same had a great spire of timber, covered 
 with lead, with the image of St. Paul on the 
 top." 
 
 Sir Miles Partridge, the same writer informs
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 147 
 
 US, staked a hundred pounds at dice, and won it 
 of the tyrant Henry, when the bells were broken 
 in pieces as they hung, and the building pulled 
 down. 
 
 Such was the appearance which the cathe- 
 dral of St. Paul presented before that event 
 which old city inscriptions emphatically de- 
 signate " y* greate and dreadfiill fire," laying- 
 waste ancient London, and destroying nearly 
 every famous building within its walls. So 
 completely did that fierce element sweep away 
 the remains which hungry time had left, that 
 the antiquary has occasionally much difficulty 
 in identifying particular localities. His venera- 
 tion, therefore, for what fire and time have left, 
 is proportionably increased, and as modern im- 
 provement sometimes lays bare the foundation 
 of gate or barbican, or brings to light a half- 
 obliterated sepulchral inscription, to the memory 
 of some city worthy, his thoughts are carried 
 back to those days of old when feudal grandeur 
 and monkish magnificence, with the wealth and 
 prosperity of the numerous guilds and frater- 
 nities, all contributed to render London a power- 
 
 h2
 
 148 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 ful and important, as well as an interesting and 
 picturesque city. 
 
 It was a lovely autumn morning. The fog, 
 which two hours before had hung heavily on 
 the towers of St. Paul's, was rolling away, and 
 every moment becoming thinner. The bright 
 sun was mounting in the heavens, and the 
 house-tops were in one blaze of light. Not a 
 breath of air was stirring, and the grey smoke 
 soared perpendicularly from the countless chim- 
 neys which rose around. 
 
 There is to the mind of an Englishman some- 
 thing peculiarly solemn and soothing in a fine 
 Sabbath morning. The hum of voices is no 
 longer heard, the busy thronging of the multi- 
 tude and the hurried shuffling of feet are sus- 
 pended ; the very air seems stilled, and nature 
 herself hushed into silence. 
 
 Valentine had determined to hear mass at 
 the cathedral, and Richard Furnival had be- 
 come acquainted with his intention, as has been 
 already shown. The bells in the " Lollers*" 
 Tower," and the shrill cries of the jackdaws 
 in the great steeple of the cathedral were the
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 149 
 
 only sounds which disturbed the stillness of the 
 morning. The citizens, with their wives and 
 children, were on their way to the sacred pile, 
 and until the bells ceased an uninterrupted 
 human tide flowed into the cathedral. Then 
 commenced that imposing service of a church 
 which knew so well how to take the soul cap- 
 tive by first subduing the senses. 
 
 Valentine was among the earliest of those 
 who arrived within the walls of the cathedral, 
 and, as the service had not commenced, he had 
 leisure to look around and admire the interior of 
 the stupendous building. The upper windows 
 were lit up with the bright rays of the morning 
 sun, making the tapers burning before the 
 shrines of the saints below look dim and sickly 
 by the contrast. The eastern window appeared 
 at a distance like some huge kaleidoscope, cast- 
 ing its many-coloured lights on the high altar, 
 on which stood an enormous crucifix of silver, 
 candlesticks of the same metal, with a chris- 
 matory, an ampul, and the other vessels of sil- 
 ver-gilt, used in papal worship. 
 
 Valentine paused as he arrived at the tombs
 
 150 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 of the Saxon kiugs, Sebba and Ethelred, and 
 read the lengthy inscriptions placed above them 
 in the north aisle of the choir. The next mo- 
 nument which attracted his attention was that 
 of the renowned John of Gaunt, and Constan- 
 tia and Blanche, his wives. The spear, shield, 
 and cap of state of the great warrior were 
 suspended above. He then passed on to the 
 magnificent shrine of St. Erkenwald, behind the 
 high altar. Five huge tapers, as long and 
 nearly as thick as a man's arm, were burning 
 before it, and two or three devout citizens were 
 kneeling in prayer. The shrine was literally 
 studded with precious gems, among many others 
 there were " the best sapphire stones" of Richard 
 de Preston, citizen and grocer, said to have the 
 property of curing diseases of the eyes. So 
 much was the monument venerated that, about 
 a century before, the dean and chapter em- 
 ployed three goldsmiths for a whole year in 
 beautifying and adorning it. Valentine looked 
 on in silent wonder and admiration, scarcely 
 daring to breathe, lest he should disturb the 
 devotion of the pious burghers. Suddenly the
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 151 
 
 loud tones of the organ broke the silence which 
 reigned around, the tramp of many feet was 
 heard, the stalls were filling with the surpliced 
 choristers, and crosses and crosiers were moving 
 above the heads of the throng now occupying 
 the church. 
 
 Quitting the spot, the young man hastened 
 to join in the service of the morning. As he 
 mingled with the throng which now filled the 
 choir he endeavoured to repress the feeling of 
 sorrow and sadness which weighed upon his 
 spirits. 
 
 On his quitting home that morning, he had 
 encountered E-ichard Furnival as he passed 
 through the hall, who greeted him with a look 
 that plainly indicated his malice and ill-will, 
 but he spoke not a word. Valentine well knew 
 his disposition, and as he walked to service he 
 resolved in his mind to quit the home which 
 had fostered him so many years, and bid adieu 
 for a time to those much loved friends, whose 
 peace and happiness he knew would be com- 
 promised by his remaining under the same roof 
 with Richard Furnival : no marvel that the
 
 152 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 heart of the poor youth was sad. He essayed 
 to bring back his thoughts from that once happy 
 and peaceful home, — from the kindness of that 
 excellent man who had watched with a father's 
 care over his earliest years, — from his Anna, 
 of whom some pretty coifed head in the throng 
 would remind him. These wandering thoughts, 
 however, fled for a time, when a loud and so- 
 norous voice gave out the words " In nomine 
 Patris et Filii, et Spiritus Sanctis^'' and the 
 service of the mass proceeded. Valentine found 
 his heart relieved as he joined with fervent 
 devotion in the psalm, ''^ Judica me Deus^'' &c.; 
 and at the words " quare tristis es, anima niea, 
 et quare^ conturhas me ? " warm tears, — the first 
 he had shed since his childhood, — flowed down 
 his cheek and relieved his troubled heart. 
 
 While this was passing, a young man, richly 
 and somewhat foppishly attired, was sauntering 
 through St. Paul's Churchyard. He arrived 
 at the northern door of the cathedral, where 
 he took his stand. It was Richard Furnival. 
 His usually fair and ruddy cheek was deadly
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 153 
 
 pale, his brow lowered, and his whole coun- 
 tenance indicated that some violent passion was 
 working within him. He looked for some mi- 
 nutes anxiously and impatiently towards the 
 north-east entrance to the churchyard, then 
 took a few paces to and fro, and finally leant 
 against the door-way and looked down at the 
 long peaks of his boots. His dress was much 
 handsomer than that of the sons of the prin- 
 cipal city merchants. Long tight lavender- 
 coloured hose, with short buskins reachino- to 
 just above the ankle, set oiF a very handsome 
 pair of legs. His under vest was of crimson 
 velvet, with a stand-up collar, after the most 
 approved fashion of the day, the tight sleeves 
 being shown by the loose and open ones of 
 his gown, Avhich was of the same colour as 
 his hose, and slightly edged with expensive 
 fur. His face was closely shaven, and his light 
 hair, which curled naturally in short locks, was 
 set off by a small bonnet of purple velvet, with- 
 out feather or any ornament whatever. He 
 wore a valuable gold chain, and the handle 
 
 H 5
 
 154 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 of his dagger, which was thrust through an 
 embroidered pouch, was richly studded with 
 jewels. 
 
 As the time wore away, the young man^s 
 impatience increased ; he bit his thumb, stamp- 
 ed with liis feet, and walked to and fro, half 
 unsheathing and returning his dagger. Some- 
 times he would glance at the houses opposite, 
 and then turning, read the strange inscription 
 which some pious churchman had caused to 
 be carved in Gothic characters over the door. 
 Suddenly his face brightened, for he beheld two 
 ruffianly-looking men, whom he instantly re- 
 cognized, emerge from one of the courts which 
 led into the churchyard. The young man made 
 them a sign, and then disappeared under the 
 doorway. 
 
 Richard Furnival entered the church on tip- 
 toe, and his eye eagerly sought among the 
 congregation for his foster-brother. He looked 
 back over his shoulder, and perceived that his 
 two grisly companions were not a dozen paces 
 from him. Annoyed and alarmed at their im- 
 petuosity, he frowned, and the ruffians held
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 155 
 
 back. The voices of the choristers were in 
 full chant, and the towering roof reverberated 
 the grand and thrilling harmony produced by 
 three or four hundred throats singing in unison. 
 The scene was solemn and soul-subduing to 
 all but the profligate and his fierce associates. 
 Richard Furnival felt but one emotion, that 
 of the deadliest hatred of his foster-brother; 
 while the two ruffians were intent on one object, 
 the execution of their diabolical commission. 
 
 The shortest of the two worthies, whose 
 propensity to thieving was always predominant, 
 soon fixed his eyes on the pouch of an old 
 citizen, and made up his mind to try and get 
 it in his possession. Richard Furnival had, in 
 the mean time, nearly reached the spot where 
 Valentine stood, but he was, as yet, unper- 
 ceived by him, when suddenly, loud cries, which 
 ill accorded with the sanctity of the place, dis- 
 turbed and alarmed the congregation. The 
 short thick-set man, intent upon getting pos- 
 session of the citizen's purse, had cut with his 
 dagger one of the strings by which it was 
 suspended, but the tug at the remaining string
 
 156 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 had betrayed the attempt, and the ancient 
 gentleman, alarmed for the safety of his pro- 
 perty, and totally forgetting where he was, 
 cried out aloud, " Cutpurses ! thieves ! " The 
 confusion which ensued may be imagined — the 
 chanting ceased — the vergers rushed to the 
 spot ; but it was too late to arrest the offender, 
 who darted out of the cathedral with the speed 
 of an antelope, overturning two or three men 
 who attempted to seize him. His companion, 
 the tall man, finding that the game was up, 
 made towards the door and attempted to leave 
 the cathedral, but he was seized by half-a-dozen 
 pair of hands, while as many voices denounced 
 him as a companion of the fugitive thief. He 
 struggled violently for a few moments, but find- 
 ing resistance useless, he yielded himself to his 
 captors, protesting loudly against the injustice 
 of seizing an honest man while attending mass, 
 and threatening his captors with an action for 
 false arrest.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 157 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CIVIC JUSTICE THE SANCTUARY MAN. 
 
 Master Zadok Basing was the sitting alder- 
 man at Guildhall on the morning after the 
 capture of the sanctuary man in the cathedral 
 of St. Paul. It being Monday, the justice- 
 room was, as it is now-a~days, crowded with 
 offenders of nearly every description. There 
 were night-walkers and drunkards not a few, 
 mixed up with persons charged with more seri- 
 ous offences ; beadles from the different wards 
 applying for summonses or laying informations, 
 and a fair sprinkling of witnesses for and 
 against the prisoners ; in fact, the ordinary 
 human medley composing the levee of the jus- 
 tice-room. 
 
 Master Basing was the very personification
 
 158 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 of a city alderman, having a Roman nose, a 
 huge double chin, and a rosy face, the hue of 
 which indicated that he did not always drink 
 water ; while his " fair round belly,"" confined 
 by a wide girdle, did honour to the office which 
 he held. 
 
 " Nicholas Faddle !" cried the alderman, look- 
 ing down from his seat among the people below. 
 
 " Here, your worship ! '' answered a man 
 in a beadle's livery, pushing through the crowd, 
 and reaching the justice-table with difficulty. 
 
 " Faddle," continued his worship, assuming 
 a look and tone of severity, " there 's a heap 
 of rubbish near the little conduit in the West 
 Cheap, as high as my walking staff; who put 
 it there ?" 
 
 " 0' my word I know not, your worship," 
 replied the officer, submissively ; " it 's done 
 o' nights, when " 
 
 " Let me hear no more of it, " cried the 
 alderman, impatiently. " See that it be re- 
 moved forthwith ; and look that it be not re- 
 peated, or we shall have the Cheap ere long 
 like a hog-walk."
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 159 
 
 The beadle bowed and retired, and then an- 
 other man in a similar dress elbowed his way 
 to the table, cap in hand, and bowing at every 
 step. 
 
 " I am the beadle of Cordwainers' Street 
 ward, worshipful sir," said the man. 
 
 " What then?" queried the alderman, bend- 
 ing on him a look of inquiry. 
 
 " I apply for a summons against Master 
 Crispe, the tallow-chandler of Soper\s Lane, for 
 suffering his pigs to stray through the ward. 
 One of them has maimed a child for life. 
 He "'11 take no warning, your worship, and the 
 deputy sent me to you." 
 
 " You shall have it," returned the alder- 
 man, nodding his head ; then looking about 
 him he inquired of the officer, " Who is 
 that red-nosed fellow yonder? — who charges 
 him V 
 
 " We found him drunk and asleep in St. 
 Nicholas"" shambles after complin, your wor- 
 ship," replied the officer, pushing forward the 
 man with the scarlet proboscis ; " and when 
 we threatened him he told us, all the alder-
 
 160 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 men in London might be d — d ; so we lodged 
 him in the compter." 
 
 There was an audible titter among the per- 
 sons assembled in the justice-room as the man 
 was led forward by the officers of the night- 
 watch. 
 
 " Holy Mary!" cried an old woman, "that 
 nose would light up a lantern in Bow steeple." 
 
 " Mass ! it would serve to fire a bombard !" 
 said a wag, eyeing the laughter-moving feature. 
 
 " Silence ! silence !" cried the officers. 
 
 " I will commit any one who shall dare to 
 pass his lewd jests here," said the alderman, 
 sternly ; then addressing the drunkard, " How 
 now, sirrah ! what hast thou to say for thy- 
 self?" 
 
 " r faith, nothing, your worship," answered 
 the man. " Blame not me, I pray you ; 'twas 
 mine host o** the St. Christopher's double-beer 
 that did it." 
 
 " That's the excuse of all drunkards," re- 
 marked the alderman. " What calling dost 
 thou follow?" 
 
 " I am a broker's man, sir, and have lived
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 161 
 
 twenty years in your aldermanry," was the 
 reply. 
 
 " I shall fine thee a groat," said master 
 Basing. 
 
 The man looked aghast at this sentence, 
 and, ere he could recover from his consterna- 
 tion, one of the officers hallooed in his ear, 
 " You are fined a groat ! " 
 
 The drunkard withdrew with the officer to 
 send to his friends for the amount of the fine, 
 which it is quite needless to say he had not 
 about him. 
 
 " Bring forward the man who was taken 
 in PauFs yesterday," said his worship. 
 
 There was a shuffling of feet and a murmur 
 in the justice-room when this order was given. 
 Two of the officers instantly led forward the 
 sanctuary man, handcuffed and ironed. This 
 precaution was necessary, for the reasons men- 
 tioned in the preceding chapter. The fellow 
 had received some violent blows in the struggle, 
 one of which had laid open his forehead, and 
 contributed to render his countenance more un- 
 seemly. He stood with a downcast and sullen
 
 162 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 look, and only raised his eyes occasionally to 
 scowl upon his accusers, some of whom were 
 evidently intimidated by his appearance and 
 manner. 
 
 " Let those stand forward who saw this 
 man in PauFs yesterday," said his worship, 
 and more than a dozen persons pressed toward 
 the bench. Then, addressing the prisoner, " So, 
 fellow, you must needs ply your trade on a 
 Sunday, eh ? and in PauFs, too. We must rid 
 the city of such lewd companions as you. What 
 have you to say for yourself? Who are you? 
 where do you live 1 and what is your calling V 
 
 The ruffian, on hearing these interrogatories, 
 raised his head, looked sullenly at the magis- 
 strate, and replied, " I am a sanctuary man, 
 but no thief." 
 
 " We shall see that anon,"" remarked the 
 alderman : " let us hear the witnesses ; where 
 are they?" 
 
 " Here," replied a man in the garb of a 
 tradesman. 
 
 " What is your name and calling?" inquired 
 the magistrate''s clerk, taking up his pen.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 163 
 
 " Thomas Doggrell, hosier, dwelling in the 
 West Cheap, over 'gainst St. Michael at the 
 Querne," replied the witness. 
 
 " I wouldn't take the oath of that fellow ; he has 
 the very visage of a liar," remarked the ruffian. 
 
 " Hold your peace, sirrah," said the alder- 
 man ; " we will hear you in your turn, but you 
 must not interrupt the witness. Go on, master 
 Doggrell."" 
 
 " I was at the mass at Paul's, yesterday," 
 continued the hosier, " when, in the midst of 
 Te Deum, I saw this man and his com- 
 panion enter. Methought they followed a 
 young gallant, who arrived scarce a minute 
 before them, but as I looked at them again 
 I was loath to believe he was attended by 
 such grisly-looking serving-men, and I sus- 
 pected they came for no good purpose. Well, 
 your worship, I kept ray eye on them, and 
 anon I saw one (the short man who ran away) 
 sidling up to Master Ralph Forster, the gold- 
 smith, of the Old Change." 
 
 " This is how an honest man's life is sworn 
 away ! " remarked the prisoner.
 
 164 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 "Be silent, sirrah!" said the alderman, 
 sternly. 
 
 " Well," resumed the witness, " as I watch- 
 ed them, I saw the short man cut off Master 
 Forster^s purse with his dagger, and then run 
 out of the church." 
 
 " Your worship will perceive that this dagger 
 hath a very sharp edge, just such an one as is 
 used by the cutpurses : we took it from this 
 man after he was seized," said an officer. 
 
 " Good evidence of the felony," observed 
 his worship. " Stand down. Master Doggrell. 
 Who is the next witness ?" 
 
 " I am, your worship," said a strange-look- 
 ing old man, advancing to the table ; " I can 
 tell you all." 
 
 " What is your name ?" asked the magis- 
 trate's clerk. 
 
 " Heaven bless you, worshipful sir !" exclaim- 
 ed the ancient citizen ; " don't you know me ? 
 I 'm Ebenezer Tritton, citizen and girdler, 
 dwelling at the sign of the Three Pigeons, in 
 Bread Street ; I have made girdles for the 
 alderman and common council, and many of
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 165 
 
 our mayors, to boot, these thirty years, and 
 never had fault laid to my charge. I served 
 my time to worthy Master Jolliffe, of Staining 
 Lane, who was accounted the best girdler 
 within the walls, and" 
 
 "Tut! tut!" said the alderman, angrily, 
 " we want to know of the robbery, not of 
 your craft, Master Tritton. Go on." 
 
 " I will, your worship," resumed the citizen. 
 " Well, you must know, then, that I went 
 yesterday to PauFs to hear mass, and, stand- 
 ing at the entrance of the choir, I saw a 
 handsome gallant enter by the north door. 
 He was dressed like an earl's son, and wore 
 a chain worth, methinks, a hundred nobles, 
 and his girdle was a fair piece of work" 
 
 Here the garrulous citizen was again in- 
 terrupted by the magistrate, and desired to 
 shorten his relation. 
 
 " I pray your worship to bear with me," he 
 continued. " You shall hear all anon. This 
 young gallant came into the choir, and there 
 followed after him that man there, the pri- 
 soner."
 
 1G6 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 " Holy St. Martin, what a lie ! " cried the 
 ruffian, growing uneasy as the evidence thick- 
 ened against him. 
 
 '•' I call all the saints to witness that it is 
 no lie," said the girdler, waxing warm. " I 
 could swear to all three o' them, but especi- 
 ally to that knave. I saw the short man 
 make up to Master Forster and cut the purse 
 from his girdle ; but before he did this he 
 winked at his companion.'''' 
 
 Here the ruffian again broke out with a 
 wrathful exclamation, and abused the witness 
 vehemently, who returned it with interest, 
 protesting that he was the most impudent 
 thief he had ever beheld. In the midst of 
 the uproar, the alderman commanded silence, 
 and asked if the prisoner was known to the 
 city officers. 
 
 " He has long been known as a sanctuary 
 man and a thief,"" said one of the sergeants. 
 
 " He stole a school-boy ''s satchel in Pardon 
 churchyard, last St. Mark''s day,*" said another. 
 
 " Here ""s evidence enough,''"' observed his wor- 
 ship : "has the man any witnesses?"''
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 167 
 
 " Here 's one, your worship," said an officer, 
 " who swears the prisoner was drinking with 
 him all the morning." 
 
 " Let him stand forth, then," said the al- 
 derman. 
 
 A gipsy-looking man, of small stature, with 
 very dark eyes, and a sinister expression of 
 countenance, stepped forward, and swore most 
 positively that the accused was drinking with 
 him at the time of the robbery ; but this per- 
 jury was so gross and glaring, that the magis- 
 trate made up his mind to administer a fitting 
 punishment to the offender. 
 
 This witness was ignorant of the fact, that 
 the prisoner was taken within the cathedral, 
 and not lost sight of for a moment. 
 
 " He is an old bird of the sanctuary, your 
 worship," said one of the city sergeants. 
 " We '11 set him in the stocks till curfew, 
 an' it please you." 
 
 " Do so," said Master Basing ; " and let 
 this fellow," pointing to the prisoner, " be 
 whipped, from the Little Conduit to the Tun 
 in Cornhill, to-morrow ; after which he may
 
 168 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 remain a month in Newgate, where he may 
 have leisure to repent him of the lewd life 
 he has led." 
 
 " He 's as arrant a rogue as ever rode to 
 the Elms," remarked the girdler to the hosier, 
 as they hobbled together out of the justice- 
 room. " I have known the knave these 
 twenty years and more : he was once a ser- 
 vant or hanger-on to that old knight whom 
 the foul fiend threw from the gallery of his 
 house in Fleet Street. He was afterwards 
 groom to the Prior of St. John's ; but the 
 prior^s thumb-ring was one day missing, and 
 he was sent away under suspicion ; and so he 
 has gone on from bad to worse, until he took 
 to filching outright." 
 
 " Ay, ay, goodman Tritton, the way to the 
 devil is down hill," said the hosier : " he '11 
 remember his venture in Paul's, methinks." 
 
 The ruffian was, in fact, Roger Bragge, the 
 once daring and unscrupulous follower of Sir 
 Everhard Champnes. After the death of his 
 master, he had, as related by the girdler, gone 
 through a career of iniquity, until his crimes
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 169 
 
 and his necessities had obliged him to enter 
 the unhallowed precincts of St. Martin's, where 
 he had contrived to subsist after the fashion 
 of most of its inmates. He was now led 
 out of the justice-room, with his hands bound 
 behind him, and escorted bj a strong party 
 of constables, a precaution rendered necessary 
 by their having to pass the sanctuary on the 
 way to Newgate. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 170 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE WHIPPING. 
 
 0-\ the morning* after the examination and 
 committal of Roger Bragge, many idlers had 
 assembled in the West Cheap, and the citizens 
 seemed to be on the look-out for some in- 
 teresting spectacle. It was not a procession 
 of priests and laymen, nor an arrival of 
 knights and nobles, nor the entrance of the 
 pope's legate, nor a grand jousting near Bow 
 church, for the gallery close by that cele- 
 brated building was not hung with tapestry, 
 nor guarded by men-at-arms : it was to wit- 
 ness none of such sights that the Cheap was 
 gradually filling with people ; no : they were 
 congregating to behold the torments of a fel- 
 low-creature under the lash of the execu-
 
 ^^^ 
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 171 
 
 tloner. To witness this edifying, and by no 
 means uncommon spectacle in those days, per- 
 sons of ahnost every class were entering the 
 grand public thoroughfare now called Cheap- 
 side. There were inferior tradesmen in abun- 
 dance, and 'prentices far too many ; serving 
 men and (oh, shame to the sex !) women, 
 watermen, porters, water-carriers, and persons 
 of every low calling, mingled with a few 
 well-dressed gallants, who came to enjoy the 
 spectacle of a man flayed alive, while dragged 
 at a carfs tail through the Cheap. 
 
 It was also very evident that this curiosity 
 was not confined to the mere vulgar, for many 
 comely faces were seen at the windows. The 
 denizens of St. Martin's, like rats peeping 
 from their holes, were on the look-out for 
 the tumbril which was to convey the crimi- 
 nal from Newgate to the spot where his 
 whipping was to commence, namely, the little 
 conduit adjoining the church of St. Michael 
 at the Querne. 
 
 We shall not waste the time of the reader 
 
 by recounting all the jokes and witticisms 
 
 I 2
 
 170 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE WHIPPING. 
 
 Ox the morning after the examination and 
 committal of Roger Bragge, many idlers had 
 assembled in the West Cheap, and the citizens 
 seemed to be on the look-out for some in- 
 teresting spectacle. It was not a procession 
 of priests and laymen, nor an arrival of 
 knights and nobles, nor the entrance of the 
 })ope's legate, nor a grand jousting near Bow 
 church, for the gallery close by that cele- 
 })rated building was not hung with tapestry, 
 nor guarded by men-at-arms : it was to wit- 
 ness none of such sights that the Cheap was 
 gradually filling with people ; no : they were 
 congregating to behold the torments of a fel- 
 low-creature under the lash of the execu-
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 171 
 
 tioner. To witness this edifying, and Ly no 
 means uncommon spectacle in those days, per- 
 sons of ahnost every class were entering- the 
 grand public thoroughfare now called Cheap- 
 side. There were inferior tradesmen in abun- 
 dance, and 'prentices far too many ; serving 
 men and (oh, shame to the sex !) women, 
 watermen, porters, water-carriers, and persons 
 of every low calling, mingled with a few 
 well-dressed gallants, who came to enjoy the 
 spectacle of a man flayed alive, while dragged 
 at a cart*'s tail through the Cheap. 
 
 It was also very evident that this curiosity 
 was not confined to the mere vulgar, for many 
 comely faces were seen at the windows. The 
 denizens of St. Martin's, like rats peeping 
 from their holes, were on the look-out for 
 the tumbril which was to convey the crimi- 
 nal from Newgate to the spot where his 
 whipping was to commence, namely, the little 
 conduit adjoining the church of St. Michael 
 at the Querne. 
 
 We shall not waste the time of the reader 
 by recounting all the jokes and witticisms 
 
 I 2
 
 174 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 " Where ""s the boy's satchel, you rogue ? " 
 roared a saucy-looking 'prentice. 
 
 " Poor devil I it 's cruel hard to be whipped 
 like a dog through the streets,"" said a serv- 
 ing man, looking compassionately on the un- 
 fortunate wretch. 
 
 " You wouldn't say so, though, if he had 
 stolen your purse," remarked the apprentice. 
 
 " Go to, sirrah ! " retorted the man ; " it 
 may be your turn, some day." 
 
 " He had a s'ood rubbing; do^v^l before the 
 wardens of his company last week ! " cried 
 a man who stood near. 
 
 There was a loud " Ha ! ha ! " among the 
 crowd at this unasked-for intelligence, and 
 the apprentice skulked off. 
 
 The soldiers and city officers now com- 
 menced driving back the people who were 
 pressing around, and by the time they had 
 effected this, the criminal was tightly bound 
 bv both wrists to the cart, and the execu- 
 tioner, who had thro-\vTi off his jerkin and 
 turned up his shirt sleeves, grasped in his 
 right hand a short staff, from the end of
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 175 
 
 which depended about a dozen knotted cords ; 
 then, on a signal from one of the sheriffs, the 
 tumbril moved forward, the executioner raised 
 his brawny arm, the lashes were tossed aloft 
 like the snakes on the Gorgon's head, and the 
 scourge descended on the shoulders of the cul- 
 prit, who, on receiving the blow, uttered a cry 
 so shrill and piercing that many of the spec- 
 tators shuddered and turned from the spectacle 
 with expressions of disgust and abhorrence. 
 
 Despite his previous quiet demeanour, the 
 sanctuary man made tremendous efforts to 
 disengage his hands, but the executioner and 
 his assistant had performed that part of their 
 duty well, and all his attempts were abortive, 
 while the cords lacerated his wrists severely. 
 Finding that resistance was unavailing, the 
 prisoner set his teeth, bowed his head and 
 yielded himself to the lash without uttering 
 another cry, or giving any other token of suf- 
 fering save the convulsive twitching of his 
 limbs as the cart in its progress dragged him 
 forward. Meantime the lash descended with 
 violence upon the poor wretch's back, whidi
 
 176 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 was now covered with crimson streaks : a mur- 
 mur of horror rose fi'om the more decent of 
 the crowd ; several citizens retired from the 
 windows, and two or three of the more o-entle 
 sex, who might have borne the sight of a 
 human head cleft in twain at a tournament, 
 fainted at the bloody spectacle. 
 
 At a large latticed window, near Bow church, 
 were seen two young men, handsomely attired, 
 conversing with a girl of some eighteen years 
 of age, with dark hair and eyes, and fine 
 white teeth, which she took especial care to 
 display, as she caressed a little dog which 
 she held in her arms, and smiled at the many 
 fine things addressed to her by the gallants. 
 The maiden was Johanna Hyltoft, the daughter 
 and heiress of one of the richest goldsmiths in 
 London : the gallants were Richard Furnival 
 and his boon companion Robert Poynings. 
 
 The dress of Poynings was rich, but in good 
 taste, and in the strict fashion of the day ; hut, 
 instead of his face being closely shaven, as was 
 then the custom, he wore a forked beard, about 
 four inches in length. Both that and his hair,
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 177 
 
 which curled naturally, were of a sandy red ; 
 his forehead was low and retiring, his brow 
 very prominent, and his eyes so closely set 
 tog-ether that it might at first sight be sup- 
 posed that he squinted. His features had a 
 remarkable expression of malice and cunning, 
 which was not concealed by his somewhat 
 awkward attempts to render himself agree- 
 able to his fair cousin. 
 
 " Who gave you that pretty little dog. Mis- 
 tress Johanna ? " inquired Richard Furnival, 
 gazing on the radiant beauty of the young 
 girl, and playing as he spoke with his gold 
 chain. 
 
 " My father had it from the sub-prior of the 
 Holy Trinity," replied she. 
 
 " It is a marvellous pretty beast," continued 
 the young- man, " and that fair little collar 
 of silver becomes it well ; was it your own 
 choosing I " 
 
 " No, i' faith, it was given me by young 
 
 Master Farendon, one of the wardens of our 
 
 guild," answered the girl, patting the head of 
 
 her favourite. 
 
 I 5
 
 178 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 Richard Furnival looked rather hlank on 
 hearing this piece of information. Master 
 PojTiings observed his confusion, and endea- 
 voured to make a diversion in his favour. 
 
 " My pretty cousin," said he, " I don't think 
 the collar is silver." 
 
 " There you do Master Farendon wrong," 
 cried the damsel, affecting to look angry. " Of 
 a truth, it is good work of the craft, and was 
 not fashioned in St. Martin's. Look at it, 
 cousin Poynings. " 
 
 She took the collar from the dog's neck, and 
 handed it to her kinsman. 
 
 " Nay," said he, " I am no judge of such 
 ware ; but I thought it might be one of those 
 counterfeits which your father and his fi-iends 
 seized in the sanctuary last week : they say 
 one fellow would have done battle with the 
 goldsmiths, and that the dean put him into 
 his dungeon cellar." 
 
 The maiden pouted, and made no reply to 
 this odd kind of explanation. 
 
 While this was passing, Richard Furnival, 
 who wished the dog's collar round the neck
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 179 
 
 of his rival, for such he supposed the gold- 
 smith to be, put his head out of the window 
 and looked up the Cheap. 
 
 " Mass ! " exclaimed he, drawing back, 
 " what a crowd ! " 
 
 " Holy St. Thomas ! " cried Poynings, look- 
 ing out ; " it ^'s a crowd ! what poor devil are 
 they trimming to-day ? " 
 
 " I have heard he is a sanctuary man,'" re- 
 marked Johanna. 
 
 " Ay, and one of the fiercest in St. Mar- 
 tin's," said the young lady's father, a fine look- 
 ing old man, entering the room. " He was 
 taken in Paul's on Sunday, cutting a purse at 
 mass time." 
 
 Richard Furnival's countenance alternately 
 flushed and turned pale on hearing this, but 
 his confusion was not observed. He had cared 
 but little about the wretched man he had em- 
 ployed, since he saw him dragged away out of 
 the cathedral, and he would rather have been 
 reminded of that affair at any other time than 
 the present. 
 
 Meanwhile the tumbril Avas proceeding down
 
 180 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 Cheap, and the executioner*'s scourge was des- 
 cending at intervals on the wretched culprit's 
 back, drawing blood at every stroke, and scat- 
 tering it in drops on the faces of the more 
 coarse and brutal of the crowd who kept 
 around. At lengih it stopped just before Mas- 
 ter Hyltoffs house, when the executioner, ex- 
 hausted by his exertion, desisted, and drawing 
 the lashes through his fingers to clear them of 
 the blood with which they were saturated, 
 handed the horrible instrument to his assist- 
 ant. Bragge, at that moment raised his head 
 and looked sullenly around him, his back 
 streaming with gore and appearing like the 
 carcass of some animal which had just been 
 flayed. Then he turned his eyes upward, 
 perhaps in the hope of seeing one sympa- 
 thising face at the windows, for those imme- 
 diately around had no such expression. At 
 that instant he beheld the group at iSIaster 
 Hyltoft's window, and recognised Richard 
 Furnival. 
 
 The hideous expression of mingled rage, pain, 
 and malice which the criminal's inflamed fea-
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 181 
 
 tures bore while eyeing the party at the win- 
 dow, was not unobserved by Master Hyltoft, 
 who also noticed that Richard Furnival looked 
 confused and agitated. 
 
 " This is no sight for maidens," said the 
 goldsmith, taking the arm of his daughter, 
 whom he withdrew from the window ; " Come 
 in, child, come in ; the miserable creature is 
 looking this way." 
 
 " By my head ! " remarked Poynings, " the 
 varlet would make a proper man-at-arms ; he 
 bears his whipping with a high stomach." 
 
 " The knave is hardened to 't," said Richard 
 Furnival, with a forced laugh. 
 
 The cart now moved forward, and the lash 
 descended with redoubled violence ; the ruffianly 
 crowd pressed closer around, and were with dif- 
 ficulty kept back by the city officers. They 
 had just entered the Poultry, when Bragge, 
 whose strength and resolution were fast failing 
 him, uttered a loud involuntary groan, and 
 would have sunk on his knees but for his bonds. 
 Another blow, and it was evident that he was 
 past all physical suffering ; he had fainted under
 
 182 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 the horrible torture ; his head sunk on his 
 breast, and he remained suspended by his wrists, 
 his legs dragging on the ground. 
 
 Then, and not till then, a better feeling ap- 
 peared to influence the mob, who cried out to 
 the executioner to release the prisoner. This 
 was effected in a moment by cutting the cords 
 which bound him, and the sufferer was lifted 
 into the cart, which was ordered to be driven 
 to the prison of the Tun in Cornhill. 
 
 While this was passing, Richard Furnival 
 and his friend Poynings quitted the house of 
 Master Hyltoft, and sauntering down the Cheap, 
 turned into Soper's Lane, and proceeded to the 
 water-side, where they took boat for Winches- 
 ter Stairs, intending to pass the remainder of 
 the day at the house of Poynings in South wark, 
 an ancient mansion called " the Gleen," situated 
 in the parish of St. Olave, " over against " the 
 town residence of the Abbot of Battle.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 183 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A DOMESTIC BRAWL. 
 
 Hatred hatched at home is a tame tiger. 
 
 Beaumont and Fletcher. 
 
 The wayward conduct of Richard Furnival 
 was a source of infinite disquiet to his father, 
 who himself began to perceive that it was 
 impossible that the two youths could any longer 
 remain under the same roof. Like many kind 
 and indulgent parents, he now saw that he 
 had spoiled his son by excessive fondness. He 
 found, when too late, that rebuke and remon- 
 strance were alike unheeded, and that Richard 
 followed the advice and counsel of his wild com- 
 panions in preference to those of his father and 
 the friends of his family. His intimacy with 
 Poynings was especially displeasing to the mer- 
 chant, who knew that that person had espoused
 
 184 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 the cause of the Yorkist party, at this period 
 increasing in numbers and influence, and was 
 reported to be in constant con-espondence with 
 the principal leaders in that memorable fac- 
 tion, which a few years afterwards transformed 
 " merrie England" into one huge slaughter- 
 house. This knowledge was well calculated 
 both to annoy and alarm the worthy merchant, 
 whose family, as well as himself, were attached 
 to the interests of the reigning monarch. But 
 remonstrance with his son was of no avail ; 
 there are none so hard of hearing as the wil- 
 fully deaf. 
 
 Richard FurnivaFs visits to "the Gleen'"' were 
 very frequent, and sometimes he would stay 
 so late that his fond parent, knowing the dan- 
 ger of traversing the streets of Loudon after 
 dark, would become alarmed for his safety. 
 
 One night, long after curfew had rung, Mas- 
 ter Furnival, with his daughter and adopted 
 child Valentine, had delayed their supper long 
 beyond the usual hour, in the expectation of 
 Richard's return home to that meal, an import- 
 ant one at that period, when dinner was taken
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 185 
 
 at noontide. The hour wore away without his 
 appearance, and the family had drawn around 
 the table, when a violent tug at the bell of the 
 outer gate announced his arrival. 
 
 He entered the room with a swaggering 
 and impudent air, his cap stuck on one side 
 of his head ; his fair ruddy face, heightened 
 by di'iuking, and without any mark of respect 
 for his parent, which, scapegrace as he was, 
 he had been accustomed hitherto to observe. 
 The old merchant looked at him with a sorrow- 
 ful and reproachful glance, but the reprobate 
 heeded it not : flinging his cap on to a side- 
 table, he threw himself into a chair which a 
 domestic had placed for him, and commenced 
 helping himself, without saying a word. He 
 ate voraciously for a few minutes, and then, 
 pushing his trencher from him, called for drink. 
 Valentine, who sat near him, lifted the huge 
 flagon which stood at his elbow, and placed 
 it within reach of his foster-brother. 
 
 Richard Furnival, in return for this courtesy, 
 scowled at Valentine, and said, in a bitter tone, 
 
 " I drink not with thee, beggar ! "
 
 186 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 " Son," said Master Furnival, sternly, " I will 
 not hear such language at my table." 
 
 " You will not hear it long, father," replied 
 the young man, " if he remains to poison the 
 minds of those who once loved me." 
 
 "Richard, Richard," said the merchant, re- 
 proachfully ; " thy wild companions have driven 
 thee distraught ; what fiend possesses thee V 
 
 " The fiend is not in me !" cried the prodi- 
 gal ; "his dwelling is in this house, in which 
 he abides as though it were his own ; the fiend, 
 father o' mine, is there ; he sits there to mock 
 me and cheat me of thy love ! " 
 
 He pointed as he spake to Valentine, who 
 saw with concern that he was warming, and 
 required little to cause him to break out into 
 violence. 
 
 "Peace, fro ward boy!" said the merchant, 
 in an authoritative tone ; "I will have no 
 brawling here. By this light, I do perceive 
 that I have spoiled thee with too much care, 
 and that thou art now requiting me for my 
 fondness."
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 187 
 
 " You love me no longer," remarked Richard, 
 sullenly. 
 
 " Thou art a false losel," replied his parent. 
 " These twenty years have I watched over 
 thee with more than a father's care. Thou 
 hast had indulgences beyond thine estate ; 
 thy apparel hath been the best and the most 
 costly of any citizen within the walls, and 
 thou hast never gone abroad with an empty 
 pouch ; — what have I not done for thee, thou 
 graceless boy ? " 
 
 " I will tell thee, father," said the young 
 man, pushing himself back in his chair. 
 
 " What ? " inquired the merchant sternly. 
 
 " You have not cast off that beggar," con- 
 tinued young Furnival, pointing with a gesture 
 of bitter scorn to Valentine, who, notwithstand- 
 ing his determination to put up with any pro- 
 vocation that might be offered him, now felt his 
 blood kindling at this insvilting language. 
 
 " Richard," said he, endeavouring to repress 
 his resentment, " what have I done to offend 
 thee I "
 
 188 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 " What hast thou done I — what hast thou 
 clone, beggar ? "" shouted Richard Furnival ; 
 " everything — all thou canst do to injure me, 
 — to rob me of my father's — of my sister's love, 
 —of the love of all " 
 
 Here Anna Furnival, who had remained a 
 silent and grieving witness of her brother's 
 intemperance, interposed. 
 
 " Richard, " said she, her mild blue eyes 
 swimming with tears, " brother Richard, you 
 wrong him grievously ; he has never harmed 
 you in M'ord or deed." 
 
 " Now, by my soul, wench ! "" exclaimed the 
 prodigal, " thou art possessed." 
 
 " Not I, indeed, Richard, replied the mai- 
 den; "it is thyself who art possessed. Thou 
 wilt bring down disgrace on us all, at this 
 rate." 
 
 Richard, reddening with passion, started up 
 from the table. 
 
 " Thou false jade," cried he, " why not say 
 at once thou lovest this fellow who has lived 
 on thy father's bounty?"
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 189 
 
 Here the merchant interposed. 
 "Go to, boy!" said he, "go to, sirrah! I 
 will not hear more of this : either bridle thy 
 tongue, or go to thy chamber." 
 
 " I will do neither," retorted the young man. 
 
 " Richard Furnival," said Valentine in a 
 
 sorrowful but firm tone, " these airs but ill 
 
 become you, and are needless. I shall shortly 
 
 leave you, and be no longer a burthen on my 
 
 friend — my more than father " 
 
 His enemy smiled bitterly, — Valentine con- 
 tinued, 
 
 " Vex not yourself about me : when I re- 
 turn, I may be more worthy of your sister's 
 
 love " 
 
 He was interrupted by Richard, who, swear- 
 ing a bitter oath, exclaimed, 
 
 " A murrain seize thee, varlet ! Sooner than 
 see that come to pass, I would cut thy throat." 
 Valentine's feeling of resentment here over- 
 came his prudence, and, provoked by Richard's 
 language, he replied haughtily, 
 
 " Richard, thou knowest that thou could'st
 
 190 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 not taunt another with the same language. 
 I am in thy father's house, and am " 
 
 He was again interrupted by Richard, ^\•ho 
 cried in a furious rage, 
 
 " Dost thou threaten me, thou beggar's brat ? 
 — then take that for my defiance ! " 
 
 He seized as he spoke the massive silver 
 flagon, and hurled it with all his might at 
 the head of Valentine.. The missile, thrown 
 by an unsteady hand, flew wide of its ob- 
 ject, and struck the wall. Instantly all was 
 confusion. The merchant, his daughter, and 
 Valentine started up, and the latter, per-" 
 ceiviug Richard lay his hand on his dagger, 
 sprung forward to prevent his drawing it. 
 
 A desperate struggle ensued between the 
 young men, the old merchant endeavouring in 
 vain to separate them. Though younger than 
 his antagonist, Valentine was both taller and 
 stronger of limb, and exerting his utmost 
 strength, he succeeded in wresting from him 
 the dagger which Richard had drawn, and 
 threw it to the other end of the room ; then
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 191 
 
 pinioning his arms, he forced him into a chair, 
 where he hekl him securely, in spite of his 
 loud and violent threats of vengeance. Find- 
 ing, however, that his strength was unequal to 
 the struggle, Richard soon desisted, and Valen- 
 tine relinquished his hold. In the mean time 
 the servant had picked up the dagger and 
 handed it to his master. 
 
 There was a pause of some moments, du- 
 ring which nothing was heard but the loud 
 breathing of the two youths. Master Furni- 
 val, surprised and alarmed at the scene he 
 had just witnessed, knew not how to act ; 
 while Anna, pale as marble and trembling 
 with affright, leant on her father's shoulder, 
 and looked alternately at her brother and her 
 lover, when Valentine caught up a light., and 
 casting a reproachful look upon his violent 
 foster-brother, thus addressed the merchant : — 
 "Dear Master Furnival, this sad encounter 
 hath done what my heart rebelled at, since 
 it will now force me from your house, which 
 I have too long considered as my home. To-
 
 192 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 morrow will see me far from the only fi-iends 
 I have ever known." 
 
 He would have said more, but emotion 
 choked his utterance, and turning away his 
 face to conceal the tears which stood in his 
 eyes, he hurried out of the room, and pro- 
 ceeded to his chamber. As he passed out, 
 Richard Furnival muttered a curse upon him 
 between his closed teeth. 
 
 For some years previously, Master Furnival 
 had been in the practice of presenting to each of 
 his children, as well as to his adopted son, on 
 their birth-day, a quarter noble. Valentine 
 found that he had ten of these pieces, and small 
 as the sum may appear to the reader, it was at 
 that period no inconsiderable amount. Placing 
 the gold carefully in a leathern pouch, and 
 making a bundle of his other necessaries, he 
 prepared everything that evening for his de- 
 parture. At an early hour the next morn- 
 ing, before the household were stirring, he 
 quitted that dear home which contained all 
 he loved in the world, and when the first
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 193 
 
 rays of the sun were gilding the weathercocks 
 and spires of London, he was on board a ves- 
 sel bound for Calais, and proceeding with a 
 fair wind down the river. 
 
 VOL r. K
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 
 
 A LEGEND OF 
 
 THE WARD OF FARRINGDON EXTRA. 
 
 BOOK THE THIRD. 
 
 ' K 2
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ANNA FURNIVAL HEARS OF HER LOVER. 
 
 HE efforts of the actively 
 bad seldom relax. In 
 driving Valentine from 
 the dwelling which had 
 sheltered him from his 
 earliest infancy, Richard 
 Furnival had attained 
 one object. He had another, which, to his 
 mind, was even of more consequence, namely, 
 the union of his sister with Poynings. This, 
 however, he discovered to be a task of great 
 delicacy as well as of difficulty. Anna Furnival 
 possessed the high spirit and determination of
 
 198 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 her brother, without his vices; and, as her 
 father loved her tenderly, he could never be 
 persuaded to urge her to marry a man against 
 whom she entertained aversion. In vain, 
 Richard brought Poynings to the house ; he 
 appeared to the maiden each time more 
 forbidding of aspect, and more unamiable 
 in manner and deportment. In fact, the 
 Southwark esquire, for such was really his 
 title, had been but little accustomed to fe- 
 male society, and had consequently learned 
 few of those arts which, with some women, 
 compensate for a lack of personal comeliness. 
 
 Richard Furnival was equally unfortunate in 
 prosecuting his own suit : Mistress Johanna 
 Hyltoft in her heart preferred young Faren- 
 don, the goldsmith, though neither so smart 
 nor so handsome as the merchant's son, and 
 her father also preferred him ; but then Rich- 
 ard"'s suit was backed by Poynings, to whom 
 Master Hyltoft was related by marriage ; never- 
 theless, the goldsmith had determined to seize 
 on the first opportunity to forbid the young 
 man's visits.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 199 
 
 Meanwhile, Richard did not cease to im- 
 portune his sister ; but his entreaties and 
 threats were ahke vain and fruitless ; the 
 maiden had a will of her own, and absence 
 seemed to increase her affection for her lover. 
 In one of their frequent quarrels on this sub- 
 ject, Anna imprudently admitted that she had 
 heard fi-om Valentine, who had informed her 
 that he had volunteered as a man-at-arms in 
 the English army, and had been noticed by 
 his officers in some of the then frequent en- 
 counters in Normandy between the rival na- 
 tions. This was joy and delight to Anna 
 Furnival, but poison and daggers to her 
 brother. 
 
 But an event now occurred, which sus- 
 pended, for a short time, even the schemes of 
 Richard Furnival. The old merchant having 
 one day been overtaken by a violent storm 
 of rain, while on the Thames in an open boat, 
 caught a severe cold, which in a few days ter- 
 minated fatally. Deep, indeed, was the sorrow 
 of that good man's friends, and loud and sin- 
 cere were the lamentations of the poor, as they
 
 200 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 crowded round his coffin, when his mortal re- 
 mains passed to their last resting- place in the 
 chancel of St. Bride's church. 
 
 This event opened a new world to Richard 
 Furnival, who was now entirely his own mas- 
 ter; but it was a heavy affliction to Anna, 
 who dreaded everything from her brother's 
 rashness and prodigal living. People now 
 began to be inquisitive about the merchant's 
 will, which, however, was not to be found. 
 That he had made one, everybody believed ; 
 but, unfortunately, the priest of St. Bride's 
 and Elias Crane, the notary, had both been 
 called to their account about five years pre- 
 viously. There was, to be sure, an entry in 
 the books of the latter to the effect that he 
 had received a certain sum for drawing up 
 the merchant's will; but then it was possible 
 it had never been executed. Be this as it 
 may, no such document was now to be dis- 
 covered in the well-filled coffers of the de- 
 ceased merchant. Richard was lord of all, 
 and having assured himself of this, he next
 
 THE FOSTER-SON- £01 
 
 proceeded to use it as a means of intimidating 
 and subjecting his sister to his rule. He was 
 even so unmanly as to threaten her with ex- 
 pulsion from his house, unless she consented 
 to espouse Poynings ; but the maiden remain- 
 ed firm to her purpose, and resolutely told 
 him she would rather enter a convent than 
 become the bride of one whom she ab- 
 horred. 
 
 Anna was daily subjected to the bitter mor- 
 tification of hearing her absent lover abused 
 in coarse and unmeasured terms, and of wit- 
 nessing the extravagances of her spendthrift 
 brother, at whose table were constantly to be 
 found some of the most profligate and Avorth- 
 less characters in London: — the wealth of the 
 old merchant was fast fleeting away. 
 
 To increase the discpiiet and sorrow of Anna, 
 she had not, for some time past, received in- 
 telligence of her lover. Doubt and fear by 
 turns racked her mind ; Valentine's letters 
 might have been intercepted by her inexorable 
 brother, or, what was worse, — and the thought 
 alone made her heart sink within her, — Yalen- 
 
 K 5
 
 202 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 tine might have fallen in a strange land, and 
 found the unblest grave of a soldier, for the 
 accounts which had been received of late from 
 France told of the repeated losses of the 
 English. 
 
 One day, as Anna returned from mass at 
 St. Bride's church, she encountered at the door 
 a crowd of beggars importuning for alms. 
 
 " Heaven bless you, fair lady," cried a 
 woman surrounded by four or five half-clad 
 children ; " I am a poor widow ; my husband 
 was a waterman, and was drowned in his 
 boat off Cold Harbour, last St. Jude's day." 
 
 Anna responded to this appeal by dropping 
 two small coins into the widow's lap, and 
 then the rest of the beggars set up a simul- 
 taneous howl to excite compassion. There 
 was no Mendicity Society in those days, and 
 this class of folk were then always trouble- 
 some and occasionally dangerous. 
 
 " Charity, for the love of the Virgin !" cried 
 an old blind man with a dog, a well-known 
 beggar in the principal thoroughfares of the 
 city.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 203 
 
 " Charity ! " cried a wretched-looking urchin, 
 extending a withered arm ; "I can't work, 
 dear lady." 
 
 " Charity, lady, charity, for the love of 
 Christ and the saints I " roared a fellow, born 
 without feet, who was dragging himself along 
 on a little truck with wheels, regardless of 
 the toes of the other wretches who thronged 
 around. 
 
 " Charity, sweet mistress ! " cried a man, 
 elbowing his way through the crowd : "I 
 lost my good right-hand, and received a griev- 
 ous wound i' the head at the taking of the 
 castle of Rougechaperon, in Normandy." 
 
 This fellow was the ruffian Roger Bragge. 
 He had disguised himself so completely that 
 his graceless employer would scarcely have 
 recognised him. Having made his appeal in 
 the manner described, he watched the counte- 
 nance of the maiden narrowly, and perceived 
 that his words were both heard and noted. 
 
 By this time, Anna, scattering a few small 
 coin among the beggars, had cleared the crowd, 
 but she kept her eye on Bragge, and when she
 
 204 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 had walked a little distance, she beckoned him 
 to follow her. The niffian, affecting lameness, 
 and wearing his right arm in a sling, the hand 
 being carefully hidden by bandages, limped 
 after her. 
 
 " Good friend," said she, " you spoke of 
 France, and of your service there." 
 
 " Ay, lady," replied the ruffian, " would I 
 had never seen that accursed land, where so 
 many brave Englishmen have fallen." 
 
 Anna sighed deeply, and inquired how long 
 he had left the English army. 
 
 " Last week, only, sweet lady," replied 
 Bragge. " I lay ill at Calais a whole month, 
 of a fever brought on by my wounds. When I 
 recovered, I was sent home to beg. I am use- 
 less now as a splintered lance, or a snapped 
 bow-string." 
 
 " Poor man ! " ejaculated the maiden, placing 
 a half-groat in his hand, but fearing to ask the 
 question which rose to her lips. 
 
 " A thousand blessings on your fair head, 
 sweet mistress," said the fellow, affecting to be 
 overwhelmed by her generosity, and acting his
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 205 
 
 part to perfection. He was about to turn 
 away, when Anna spoke again. 
 
 " Friend,*" said she, hesitating as she spoke, 
 " saw ye ever aught of a young EngHshman, — 
 a man-at-arras — named Valentine 1 " 
 
 This was just the question for which Bragge 
 had been waiting. 
 
 " Let me see — ," said he, affecting doubt and 
 indifference, " — a young man — Valentine — Va- 
 lentine did you say, fair lady ? " 
 
 " Ay, that is the name of him I would fain 
 know something of." 
 
 " Was he pale of visage, with a dark eye, 
 and hawk-nose 1 " inquired the villain. 
 
 Anna felt her heart beat wildly at the ques- 
 tion. " Yes, yes ! " she replied, hurriedly; 
 " tell me if you know aught of him.''' 
 
 " I remember him well ; he was of Sir Ri- 
 chard Hollier's company," replied the ruffian ; 
 " he was shot through the brain with a quarel 
 at the storming of — of — I forget the name of 
 the chateau, lady." 
 
 " Thank you, friend, thank you," said the 
 poor girl, struggling violently with her feelings,
 
 206 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 and turning from her informant, she hastened 
 homeward with a bursting heart. There is 
 some suiFering which neither pen nor tongue 
 can describe, and such was that experienced by 
 Anna Furnival upon hearing this, as she sup- 
 posed, authentic account of her lover"'s death. 
 The loss of her beloved parent, and the mad 
 career of her brother, had tended to sadden and 
 depress her spirits, but the dreadful news of this 
 day had crushed her to the earth, — the cup of 
 affliction was filled to overflowing, — both love 
 and hope were annihilated together.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 207 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 MISTRESS JOHANNA HYLTOFT DECIDES ON THE CHOICE 
 OF A HUSBAND. 
 
 i 
 
 " Johanna, my darling-,"" said Master Hyltoft, 
 
 patting aiFectionately the head of his beloved 
 daughter, " Johanna, I shall go and hear com- 
 plin, and when I return thou shalt read to me 
 that merry tale of Master Geoffrey Chaucer, 
 out of the book William Farendon gave me. 
 Do thou keep to thy chamber, child ; and 
 if Poynings or young Furnival should call, I 
 will have them told that thou art not to be 
 seen." 
 
 " Why so, dear father ? " asked Johanna. 
 
 " To tell thee plainly, wench," replied the 
 merchant, " I fear them both ; I mistrust Ro- 
 bert Poynings, though he be my kinsman. I
 
 208 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 fear he is a partisan of the duke of York, and 
 that he is hatching treason." 
 
 " Treason !" repeated the young girh 
 
 *' Ay, wench, treason. He hath dropped, at 
 times, as if intended for my ear alone, words of 
 strange import, and there are wild rumours 
 abroad. Our king, whom God preserve, hath 
 not the high stomach of his father, and there 
 are daring men who would deprive him of his 
 crown, at least so the bruit runs." 
 
 " I never liked our kinsman Poynings," 
 remarked the girl, with a grimace expressive 
 of repugnance ; " and then he wears that ugly 
 red beard." 
 
 The goldsmith smiled. " He hath made a 
 vow which forbids him to shave it ; and that 
 vow is, I doubt not, that he will favour the 
 duke's cause, at all hazard," said he. 
 
 Master Hyltoft departed, and left his daugh- 
 ter to her embroidery. He soon returned, and 
 the conversation on the subject of Poynings 
 and young Furnival was renewed at supper- 
 time. 
 
 " I am glad the young man has not been
 
 THE FOSTER-SON.. 209 
 
 here," observed the merchant ; " and I care 
 not if he never come again, Johanna." 
 
 " Have you heard something anew of him, 
 then I " asked the maiden. 
 
 " I have," replied her father. " Our neigh- 
 bour, Pearce, tells me that he hath gone on 
 more wildly than ever since his father's death, 
 and that he must soon come to a stand still." 
 
 " What of his sister ? " inquired Johanna. 
 
 " They say she weeps incessantly for the 
 death of her lover, and will not take comfort," 
 replied the goldsmith. 
 
 " Poor girl ! " said Johanna, " I must see 
 her." 
 
 " She hath resolved to take the veil," con- 
 tinued the merchant. " The prioress of St. 
 Helen's is her friend, and all is arranged for her 
 entering on her noviciate." 
 
 " Alas, for love ! " thought Johanna to her- 
 self; " see what comes of loving a soldier. If 
 I marry Dick Furnival, I shall lose him some 
 day. My father is right ; William Farendon 
 shall be my husband." 
 
 The truth was that Johanna, though pos-
 
 210 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 sessed of rare beauty, was a very matter-of- 
 fact sort of personage ; and, for such a mere 
 girl, cautious and calculating beyond her years. 
 Such an union of mind and person is not of 
 unfrequent occurrence, and it is, perhaps, well 
 for this every-day world that it is so. 
 
 While the merchant and his daughter were 
 thus engaged, a loud knocking was heard at 
 the gate. 
 
 " Ha ! " cried he, " here they are. Ho ! 
 Daniel ! tell Master Poynings, if it be he, that 
 I have company, and would fain see him some 
 other time." 
 
 The servant repaired to the gate, and im- 
 mediately after heavy footsteps were heard 
 ascending the stairs. Master Hyltoft, believing 
 that his orders were disobeyed, rose, and was 
 about to anathematise his blundering servitor, 
 when he was startled by the apparition of a 
 man attired as a pursuivant, accompanied by 
 two sergeants-at-arms, who strode into the room 
 and looked around them. 
 
 The goldsmith's blood froze in his veins : a 
 charge of high treason in those days bade a
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 211 
 
 man be prepared for the axe or the stake, and 
 the citizen could scarcely summon resolution 
 enough to ask the object of their visit. 
 
 " We seek," said the pursuivant, reading 
 from a narrow slip of parchment, " Robert Poyn- 
 ings, of SouthioarJc^ esquire, and Richard, the 
 son of John JFurnival, the merchant, who are 
 charged with conspiring against the peace of 
 our sovereign lord, King Henry the Sixth." 
 
 Master Hyltoft felt his mind a little relieved 
 by this declaration ; albeit, the intimation was 
 sufficiently alarming ; and he faltered " They 
 are not here." 
 
 " But they frequent your house. Master Hyl- 
 toft," remarked the officer. 
 
 " They do," replied the goldsmith ; " biit I 
 swear by all the saints, they have not been 
 here to-day." 
 
 " We must search, nevertheless," said the 
 pursuivant, tm'uing to the sergeants-at-arms. 
 " Master Hyltoft, we are doing but our duty, 
 and you will forgive this." 
 
 " You are welcome to search where you 
 will," said the goldsmith. " What, ho ! —
 
 212 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 Dan ! show those gentlemen into every cham- 
 ber and secret place in the house." 
 
 The pursuivant and his attendants left the 
 room, and commenced their search. They re- 
 turned, however, in a few minutes to Master 
 Hyltoft, who now inquired more particularly 
 the nature of the charge against his kinsman, 
 and young Furnival. 
 
 He learned that Poynings had long been sus- 
 pected to be an agent of the Duke of York, 
 and that he had been detected in an attempt 
 to raise a rebellion in Kent in favour of that 
 ambitious nobleman. The pursuivant further 
 informed him, that they had that evening 
 searched the Gleen, the residence of Poynings, 
 in Southwark, and that armed men had taken 
 possession of the house, in anticipation of his 
 returning. Poynings was, however, too deep 
 a schemer to be caught napping, and a friend 
 of his, a hanger-on about the court of Henry 
 the Sixth, then at Greenwich, had given him 
 timely notice of his danger. Both he and 
 young Furnival, upon receipt of this intelli- 
 gence, considered it most prudent to decamp
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 213 
 
 with all possible celerity, and the wind being 
 fair for a passage down the river, the boon 
 companions soon found the master of a fishing- 
 smack, Avho, for a consideration, agreed to take 
 them as far as Rochester, where Poynings had 
 friends in his confidence. 
 
 Upon the departure of the officers, the gold- 
 smith took occasion to represent to his daughter 
 the absolute folly of thinking any more of 
 Richard Furnival ; and, as he kissed her, and 
 bade her good night, he muttered to himself, 
 " By our Lady, the wench will profit by this 
 adventure. Only think of my would be son-in- 
 law's head grinning on London Bridge ! ""
 
 214 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE PRIOBESS THE DISCLOSURE " THE COMMONS 
 
 OF KENT." 
 
 The flight of Richard Furnival, and his sis- 
 ter's determination to embrace the life of a 
 rechise, were two topics on which the gossips 
 of London had, of course, much to say, and 
 respecting which there were many sapient 
 speculations among all classes. Those who 
 had predicted the young man's ruin of course 
 piqued themselves upon the fulfilment of their 
 prophecies. A few pitied him, but the great- 
 er part felt little sympathy for one who had 
 flouted all his father's friends, and preferred 
 the company of the worthless and dissolute 
 to the worthy and well-ordered; but we must 
 leave the prodigal for a while, and lead the
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 215 
 
 reader to the priory of St. Helen''s within 
 Bishopsgate. 
 
 In the year 1450, Dame Isabel, the daughter 
 of Sir Everhard Champnes, and the widow of 
 Reginald Chichelye, who in 1431 had sought 
 and found an asylum in the priory of St. 
 Helen"'s, was now its superior. Twenty years 
 passed in the solitude and discipline of the 
 cloister had dimmed the lustre of her rare 
 beauty ; the healthy glow of her cheek had 
 been supplanted by that pallid hue which 
 study and mortification tend to produce, and 
 time had " laced with envious streaks " her 
 once glossy hair ; but her noble figure, which 
 even the monastic habit could not conceal, 
 was as yet miimpaired. Pitied for her sor- 
 rows, revered for her varied acquirements, 
 and beloved for her virtue and piety, Isabel 
 Chichelye was the idol of the good sisters of 
 St. Helen's, and their superior having deceased 
 about five years previously, the nuns unani- 
 mously elected her prioress. 
 
 Among the gentle Benedictines of St. He- 
 len's, Anna Furnival found some sympathising
 
 216 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 hearts, but she was especially noticed by the 
 lady prioress. A friendship, created by kin- 
 dred sorrows, sprung up between them, and 
 in the intervals of the daily and nightly ser- 
 vice, they were always in each other's com- 
 pany. 
 
 As the two friends sat one day in the 
 prioress*'s little parlour, the arrival of an aged 
 priest was announced. He entered the room, 
 and the lady Isabel at a glance perceived that 
 it was Father Thomas, the mass-priest of St. 
 Dunstan*'s, once her unhappy father's confessor. 
 She rose to receive him with marked atten- 
 tion and respect. Time had wrought a great 
 change in his appearance ; instead of present- 
 ing the tall gaunt figure which twenty years 
 ago was wont to stalk through Fleet Street, and 
 which, at the earlier period of our tale, arrived 
 so opportunely at the inquest on the body of 
 the murdered Reginald, he was now bent 
 double with age, and his feeble voice marked 
 the mortal wear and tear of seventy winters. 
 
 The priest had news at once important, 
 strange, and painful to communicate to the
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 217 
 
 lady prioress : he had but two hours previously 
 shrived a dying man as okl as himself, and that 
 man was IVIatthew, her father's steward ! 
 
 Isabel learned that Matthew, in his dying 
 moments, had communicated to the priest the 
 part he had played twenty years previously, 
 when, at the request of his fierce master, he 
 had conveyed away her child. After the death 
 of Sir Everhard he feared to disclose the secret, 
 and had cajoled old Agatha into silence, by 
 assuring her that the child was illegitimate, 
 and was duly provided for by the old knight. 
 Dreading the censure of the world for his par- 
 ticipation in his master's guilt, he had, until 
 his dying hour, kept the secret to himself; but 
 the pangs of death and remorse had wrung 
 from him the confession which had been re- 
 ceived by Father Thomas, whose perplexity 
 was so much the more increased when, on in- 
 quiry, he heard of the decease of the worthy 
 merchant Furnival, the flight of his graceless 
 son, and the death, as it was currently reported, 
 of that good man's adopted child. 
 
 The priest almost doubted the prudence and 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 the humanity of communicating what he knew 
 to the lady prioress, but on due reflection he 
 had determined to do so. The effect may be 
 readily conceived ; it was like tearing the ban- 
 dage from a half-healed wound. The unhap- 
 py lady received the shock with the fortitude 
 of one who had bidden adieu to the world and 
 its pleasures ; but it was yet too severe, and 
 an illness of several weeks alarmed the sister- 
 hood, who for some days despaired of her life. 
 Poor Isabel ! the measure of her affliction was 
 not yet filled ; other and sadder trials were yet 
 awaiting her ! 
 
 This year was remarkable for several com- 
 motions among the people, or, as they are 
 termed by the chroniclers, " the commons." 
 A spark was kindling and was soon about to 
 burst into a flame : the factions of the White 
 and Red Rose were beginning to uplift their 
 heads. The weak-minded King Henry, unfit- 
 ted to govern the fierce spirits of his time, 
 already trembled on his throne, and audacious 
 traitors and demagogues raised their crests in 
 every quarter of the kingdom. It was, say
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 219 
 
 the chroniclers, "the year of the plenary par- 
 don at Eome," but in England it was distin- 
 guished as one of political turmoil and insur- 
 rection. The impeachment by the House of 
 Commons of the Duke of Suffolk, Lord Say, 
 the Bishop of Salisbury and others, who were 
 charged with giving up Anjou and Maine, and 
 other treasons, was answered by the award of 
 a slight punishment to the accused ; an act of 
 ill-timed and ill-judged mercy which was read- 
 ily turned against Henry and his government, 
 by the friends of the Duke of York. Suffolk, 
 against whom the popular rage was at its 
 height, for the English were daily losing 
 ground in France, was sentenced to five years' 
 exile, and in obedience to that decree, em- 
 barked from the coast of Norfolk, but falling 
 into the hands of his enemies, was beheaded 
 on the gunwale of an open boat, and his body 
 thrown on the sands at Dover. 
 
 Such was the posture of affairs and the state 
 of feeling in England, when Cade, a creature of 
 the Duke of York, under the assumed name of 
 
 Mortimer, raised the standard of rebellion in 
 
 L 2
 
 220 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 Kent. This daring ruffian, whom the old chro- 
 nicler describes as " sober in communicacion, 
 wyse in disputyng, arrogant in hart, and styfe 
 in his opinion," advanced as far as Black- 
 heath, the king then being at Greenwich, 
 and drew up a petition, which he forwarded 
 to the monarch, praying him to dismiss from 
 his councils certain persons therein named. 
 
 The petition was disregarded, and a sufficient 
 force having been mustered, Henry was ad- 
 vised to give battle to the insurgents ; but on 
 the advance of the royal troops, Cade and his 
 followers retreated upon Seven Oaks, where 
 he succeeded in drawing into an ambush Sir 
 Humphrey Stafford and his brother V/illiam, 
 who had been sent against them. Both these 
 gentlemen, with many of their friends, fell in 
 the conflict, and the rebels, emboldened by 
 their success, advanced again to Blackheath. 
 
 On hearing of the death of the Staffi)rds, the 
 king's army mutinied, and resolutely declared, 
 that if the Lord Say were not committed to 
 prison, they would espouse the cause of Cade. 
 Alarmed at this manifestation, the pusillanimous
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 221 
 
 monarch and his court removed from Green- 
 wich to London, and upon the advice of his 
 council, the Archbishop of Canterbury and the 
 Duke of Buckingham proceeded to Blackheath, 
 where they had a long conference with the arch- 
 rebel, who is reported to have been " right dis- 
 crete in his answerys;" but, elated by his suc- 
 cess, he resolutely refused to disband his army, 
 or submit himself to the king's mercy. 
 
 Henry and his court, terrified by the gather- 
 ing storm, and mistrusting those around them, 
 withdrew to Kenilworth Castle, leaving the city 
 unprotected. In the mean time Cade arrived 
 in South wark, and the same day the commons 
 of Essex advanced to Mile-end, where they en- 
 camped. Terror and consternation seized upon 
 the Londoners. The foreigners, of whom there 
 were great numbers within the walls, began 
 to secrete their most valuable effects ; while 
 the rabble and the sanctuary folk matured 
 their plans for a general outbreak, as was 
 their invariable custom upon occasion of any 
 popular commotion. 
 
 Fortunately for the citizens, Lord Scales
 
 222 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 was left in the Tower with a tolerable garri- 
 son, and vipon these the more bold and stout- 
 hearted of the Londoners relied. They were 
 not disappointed in their expectations, as the 
 sequel will show. Cade was fully aware of this, 
 and though he calculated upon the co-operation 
 of the Essex rebels, he was yet not sufficiently 
 informed of the disposition of the Londoners; 
 he therefore judged it prudent to remain for a 
 short period in Southwark until he had des- 
 patched his emissaries into different parts of 
 the city.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. ^23 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE WHITE HART IN SOUTHWARK. SUMMARY 
 
 JUSTICE. 
 
 The aspect of no locality in London or its en- 
 virons has been more completely chang-ed than 
 that of the Borough of Southwark. Even in 
 our time, since the demolition of the ancient 
 bridge, the High Street has undergone a total 
 metamorphosis, and now presents nothing but 
 two very ordinary rows of dull-looking houses, 
 inhabited by tradesmen. There is not a gable- 
 front nor a weathercock in the whole street ; 
 the inns have sunk into uninteresting and un- 
 picturesque public-houses, with stable-yards and 
 warehouses for the bestowino- of o-oods and 
 merchandise ; their glory has departed, and 
 there is even nothing left of the " Tabberd,*''' 
 immortalised by Geoffrey Chaucer, which will
 
 224< LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 detain the antiquary for half an hour. It was 
 not so at the period of our tale. The High 
 Street of Southwark then resembled that of 
 a country town. Houses large and small were 
 huddled together in picturesque couflision, the 
 fronts overhanging the footway, and the signs 
 reaching across the whole width of the road. 
 One of these, more conspicuous than the rest, 
 bore the figure of a White Hart, painted with 
 true heraldic propriety, with a collar and chain 
 of gold about its neck. The sign-board swung 
 on hinges from a huge beam of timber Avhich 
 projected from the front of the house, one of 
 the largest in the High Street, which, on the 
 first day of July 1450, was filled with a mot- 
 ley assemblage of men variously accoutred and 
 armed 
 
 The meridian sun darted its fierce rays down 
 upon the High Street, which resembled a place 
 in the occupation of a hostile army. Scarcely 
 a person was to be seen in a civil habit ; all 
 were clad in a costume with which the Lon- 
 doners were not familiar, and weapons of almost 
 every description flashed in the sun-beams ;
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 225 
 
 lances and morrice pikes, bills and partisans, 
 swords and axes, scythes fixed on long poles, 
 and flails studded with spikes, were seen in the 
 hands of the desperadoes, — the followers and 
 supporters of the rebel Cade, who was then 
 within the White Hart, holding a council with 
 his captains previously to dinner, which he had 
 ordered to be provided for himself and about 
 a score of his principal friends. But we must 
 introduce the reader to the goodly company 
 who had made the ancient inn their quarters. 
 
 Within the largest room were seated, at an 
 ample oaken table, the arch-rebel and his coun- 
 cil ; a strange-looking group, to which the pencil 
 of Salvator Rosa alone might have done justice. 
 Thev looked more like a band of briofands than 
 legitimate soldiers, and such indeed they were. 
 In person and aspect Cade was not formidable ; 
 he was rather below the middle size, but well 
 knit and muscular, and there was more of 
 cunning and intrigue in his small grey eye than 
 martial daring. He wore a rich brigandine, 
 studded with gilt nails, of which, as well as 
 of his gilt spurs, he appeared to be not a little 
 
 L 5
 
 226 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 vain. A visored sallet of excellent workman- 
 ship, Avitli oreillets, or ear-pieces, was on his 
 head, and he was armed with a large cut- 
 ting falchion and a dagger. Near him stood 
 Master Robert Poyuings, and at his right hand, 
 wearing a suit of complete armour, fluted and 
 engraved, was Richard Furnival. Other per- 
 sonages, variously armed, were sitting around 
 the table, and one of them was conspicuous by 
 his gigantic stature. This fellow wore a heavy 
 hauberk over a leathern jack, or haqueton, and 
 held in his hand one of those enormous axes 
 of the period, which, in such powerful hands, 
 might almost have cleft a horseman and his 
 steed asunder. Poynings, upon whose face 
 miofht be seen a lurkinof smile of dubious im- 
 port, stood behind Cade, leaning on a large es- 
 padon, or two-handed sword; he was, in fact, 
 the sword-bearer and carver of the rebel leader. 
 " Robin of Beaksbourne," said Cade, address- 
 ing the man in the hauberk, " thou shalt be 
 charged with this message to the Lord Scales. 
 Bid him send Say to the Guildhall at noon- 
 tide to-morrow, and we will see that justice 
 be done upon him."
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 227 
 
 " I marvel if he will yield him up," remarked 
 Robin." 
 
 " Mass !" cried Cade, dashing his clenched 
 fist on the table, — " Let him but say so, and 
 we will assault the Tower at once !" 
 
 " By your leave, not so, sir captain,"" said 
 Richard Furnival ; " it would take several days 
 to win the Tower, and you would gain nothing 
 by it : the city is at your bidding, and you 
 have only to enter it to be welcomed by your 
 friends." 
 
 " By my holidame, thou art right ! " cried 
 Cade ; " we will proceed to the city, and 
 then send for the traitor Say; he shall receive 
 his reward ere we dine to-morrow. But where 
 is Thomas Cock? — he tarries — Corpus Christi ! 
 These foreigners surely will not refuse us ! " 
 
 As he spoke, the rumbling of a cart and 
 the clatter of horses'" feet were heard in tJie 
 street, and immediately after, three men, in 
 the dress of citizens, entered the room and 
 approached the rebel in a submissive and de- 
 ferential manner. 
 
 " Well, Cock," said Cade, addressing the fore-
 
 228 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 most citizen, " what tidings dost thou bring of 
 these foreign popinjays ? are they obedient ? 
 what have they sent ?" 
 
 Cock bowed, and taking from his pouch a 
 paper, referred to it, and repHed : — 
 
 " The Merchant-Strangers, my lord, have or- 
 dained and sent for your use the chief things 
 ordered of them, — to wit," (here he read from 
 his paper,) " twelve harness complete, of the 
 best fashion ; twenty and four brigandines ; 
 twelve battle-axes ; twelve glaives ; and six 
 horses furnished for the field." 
 
 " Is that all ?" cried the leader ; " no money ? 
 — what of the thousand marks demanded of 
 them r 
 
 " They beg your lordship\s patience till even- 
 song, when the money shall be surely sent," 
 said Cock. 
 
 " If they fail," observed Cade, " every man o' 
 them may make his shrift ; for, by my fatlier"'s 
 soul, I will have the head of every Genoese, 
 Florentine, and Venetian within the walls, if 
 the money be not sent." 
 
 Dinner was now announced, and mine host
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 229 
 
 of the White Hart, who from the bottom of 
 his soul wished his giiests at the devil, entered 
 the room, bearing the first dish ; but scarcely 
 was it placed on the table when a hideous 
 uproar was heard in the house, which was cram- 
 med with Cade's followers. 
 
 During the morning the rebel forces had 
 been augmented by the arrival of many law- 
 less and desperate men, who had found the 
 means of escaping from the city. Among 
 these were two with whom the reader is al- 
 ready acquainted, namely, the ruffian Bragge, 
 and his companion in iniquity, Jack Hollis, 
 whose propensity to thieving was this time 
 fatal to them both. Having mingled with the 
 followers of Cade, Hollis espied, in one of the 
 upper rooms of the inn, a silver chalice, which 
 he contrived to flatten and conceal in his 
 bosom ; but, unfortunately for himself, the rob- 
 bery was perceived by one of the drawers, 
 who immediately seized the thief, and called 
 loudly for assistance. A desperate struggle en- 
 sued between the thief and his captor, and 
 both, holding each other by the throat, missed
 
 230 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 their footing and rolled down the stairs. Seve- 
 ral men now seized the culprit, and without 
 more ado dragged him before Cade, who, 
 alarmed by the uproar, had put on his sallet, 
 and prepared himself for some sudden onset 
 of the citizens. 
 
 "How now! what means this bickering ?" 
 cried the rebel leader to his followers as they 
 entered the room in disorder. 
 
 "A thief! — a thief, captain!" cried several 
 voices. 
 
 " Ha ! by St. Thomas, he 's a bold rogue !" 
 said Cade; "let's see him — and bid Fludd, 
 our provost-martial, attend." 
 
 " Gro forward, sirrah, and let the captain 
 see your ugly visage," cried the rebels, as 
 they thrust Hollis into the middle of the room, 
 " There he is, my lord." 
 
 The ruffian growled a terrible oath, and 
 looked like a bear taken in the toils of the 
 hunter. It was well that they had disarmed 
 him, for if he had retained his weapon It is 
 probable he would have attempted to cut his 
 way through his captors.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 231 
 
 " So," remarked Cade, bending on the cul- 
 prit a look of mingled displeasure and con- 
 tempt, " you would try and bring discredit 
 on our army, you petty larceny rogue, you. 
 Whence come you, and what is your name?" 
 
 " It boots not what my name may be," re- 
 plied Hollis, in a surly tone ; " Jack or Tom, 
 I must be hung, I suppose." 
 
 " By St. Thomas of Canterbury, thou art 
 right ! " cried the leader. " What liath the 
 knave stolen?" 
 
 " A cup of fine silver, my lord," said the 
 landlord ; "it cost me five marks of Master 
 Hyltoft, of the West Cheap, and has never 
 been used but on special occasions." 
 
 " Who is the fellow?" asked Cade: "does 
 anybody know liim?" 
 
 The rebels shook their heads, and one by 
 one answered, "No;" when a scuffling was 
 heard at the door, and another party entered, 
 dragging in Roger Bragge. 
 
 " Here's the mate of the fellow who stole 
 the cup," cried they. " When he saw his 
 companion seized, he sneaked oft'; but we fol-
 
 232 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 lowed and brought him back. They came here 
 together." 
 
 Here Richard Furnival bent over and wliis- 
 pered in the ear of Cade, — " They 're sanctuary 
 men from St. Martin's ; two as desperate rogues 
 as ever cut a purse." 
 
 "Fludd!" said Cade, and a spider-hmbed 
 and horribly sinister-looking man, in a leathern 
 jerkin, and with a coil of ropes in his hand, 
 stepped forward. "There's a pair of gallows 
 birds for thy trussing ! hang them up at once." 
 
 As soon as this sentence was pronounced, 
 Hollis made a desperate effort to rush for- 
 ward, and nearly broke from the men who 
 held him ; but, finding his struggles vain, he 
 launched a torrent of frightful imprecations at 
 Cade. Bragge, on the contrary, seemed over- 
 powered by the fear of death ; his usually 
 flushed and pimpled face became livid with 
 terror; he made an effort to speak, but his 
 tongue refused to articulate, and his limbs 
 trembled like those of an aged man. Suddenly 
 his eye detected Richard Furnival, whom, as 
 he stood with his back to the light, he did 
 not before perceive.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 2S3 
 
 " Oh, Master Furnival," cried the miserable 
 man, " save me ! — save me !" 
 
 There was a buzz of astonishment at this 
 recognition. 
 
 " Out with thee !" cried Richard, reddening 
 with rage and mortification ; " out with thee, 
 dog of the sanctuary ! " 
 
 *' I am innocent ! — I am innocent !" cried the 
 poor wretch, clasping his hands in agony ; " my 
 sins are many, but of this I am guiltless ; 
 have mercy ! " 
 
 Richard Furnival averted his face, and Cade 
 cried impatiently, " Out with the rascals, and 
 hang- them from the sim of the house." 
 
 The rebels immediately forced the culprits 
 out of the room, amidst the cries of " Mercy ! 
 • mercy ! " from Bragge, and the oaths and im- 
 precations of Hollis. 
 
 As they reached the street loud shouts of 
 derision and execration greeted the doomed 
 wretches. The rebel troops came swarming 
 forth from the inns and houses and thronged 
 the way, and the towns-people, alarmed by 
 the uproar, showed their anxious countenances 
 at the casements.
 
 234 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 " What shall we do for a ladder V inquired 
 Fludd. 
 
 " There 's one under the wall of St. Mar- 
 garefs church," cried several voices ; " we 11 
 go and fetch it." 
 
 " Do so," said the executioner ; " and in 
 the mean time some of ye help me to bind 
 these fellows." 
 
 " If ye be Christian men," said Bragge, in 
 a tone of piteous supplication, " fetch me a 
 priest; — I have much to confess." 
 
 " You will find the priest a rare bird in 
 these quarters," roared a hoarse voice ; " the 
 holy fathers have crossed the water." 
 
 " The devil snatch your craven souls !" cried 
 Mollis to the men around him. " Give me a 
 sword and let me die like a man, and not 
 hang me like a dog. — I have fought under 
 the Lord Audleye." 
 
 " Mercy ! give me but half an hour to 
 confess," supplicated Bragge. " I have much 
 to say. — Your captain is banded with one who 
 counselled me to do murder. — Give me but half 
 an hour, for the love of the Virgin ! "
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 235 
 
 " Gag the rascal ! he speaks ill of our 
 captain," shouted a score of voices. 
 
 At this moment the men who had gone in 
 search of the ladder appeared, and raised it 
 against the huge beam from which the sign 
 of the inn was suspended. A man now 
 volmiteered to assist Fludd in preparing the 
 prisoners. 
 
 Hollis, who saw that any further resistance 
 would be useless, ascended two or three rounds 
 of the ladder, and looked down on the throng 
 with a fierce and swaggering air. The rope 
 was round his neck and trailing behind him. 
 
 " Foul Tall ye, ye Kentish hounds !" he cried, 
 at the top of his voice ; " many of ye will 
 soon be whipped back to your kennels, but 
 some will by to-morrow be sent on the journey 
 I am going. Out upon ye, ye dastardly ras- 
 cals ! ye would hang your own fathers to 
 make sjiort for each other. I pray, your 
 patron saint, the devil, may bring the citizens 
 upon you ere nightfall." 
 
 There was a burst of ribald laughter in an- 
 swer to this impotent vituperation, and the
 
 236 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 ruffian was desired to ascend higher, the exe- 
 cutioner following him. He again looked down 
 upon the throng below with an air of contempt, 
 for he discovered not one among the hundreds 
 of upturned countenances which bore an ex- 
 pression of pity or commiseration. Curiosity 
 to see how so daring a fellow would demean 
 himself in his last moments was the only feel- 
 ing which animated the followers of Cade. 
 Hollis, nevertheless, continued to abuse them. 
 " Ha ! ye Kentish clowns ! " cried he, 
 " many of ye will come to this pass anon, 
 and the crows Avill be eating your eyes on 
 Traitors' Gate yonder ! My mother was a 
 skipper's wife, and taught me to mumble my 
 prayers, but, by St. Christopher, I ha' forgot- 
 ten them all. She often swore I should die in 
 my shoes, but here 's to prove her a liar." 
 With these words he kicked off both his 
 heavy shoes into the air. One of them flew 
 through the latticed window of the inn, and 
 the other lighted on the head of Robin of 
 Beaksbourne, who stood at the door to watch 
 the mortal exit of the ruffian.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 237 
 
 "Gra' mercy, thou devil's bird!"" cried Robin; 
 " but for my sallet, thou wouldst have broken 
 my head ! " 
 
 At that moment the executioner, who had 
 securely fastened the rope to the beam, turned 
 the ladder, and the body of the wretched man 
 was seen g-yrating in the air, and agitated by 
 horrible convulsions. The prolonged struggles 
 of the miserable creature raised a cry of horror, 
 and some of the more feeling of the rebel host 
 called out to their comrades to shoot him, and 
 l)ut an end to his suiferings. Two bows were 
 instantly bent, and a couple of arrows, hastily 
 discharged, went whistling over the heads of 
 the crowd. One of them missed its object, 
 but the other was buried deep in the breast 
 of the criminal, whose life it terminated in 
 a moment. The arrow, shot upward, had 
 pierced the body at about an angle of forty 
 degrees, and the heart"'s blood of the sufferer, 
 trickling down the shaft, dyed the feather 
 with which it was winged, and dripped on the 
 heads of those below. Bragge cast a look of 
 horror at his fellow-criminal and fainted.
 
 238 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 By the help of strong waters Bragge was 
 restored to consciousness, and in five minutes 
 more he was preceding the executioner up 
 the ladder, the very personification of ab- 
 ject misery. He no longer uttered com- 
 plaints, but appeared in a kind of stupor, 
 from which the tying of the cord to the beam, 
 and the sight of the dead body of his com- 
 rade, were now not sufficient to rouse him. 
 His pinioned arms just allowed him to clasp 
 his hands together, as if in supplication, and 
 as he did so the executioner nimbly thrust 
 him from the ladder, and, leaping on the cul- 
 prit, sat upon his shoulders to increase the 
 weight. There was a buzz of savage admira- 
 tion at this feat, and some of the rebels ap- 
 plauded Fludd for his dexterity. 
 
 The High Street at this moment presented 
 such a picture as Callot loved to delineate. 
 At the north end were the gate and towers 
 of London Bridge ; at the south rose the spire 
 of St. Margaret's church, a building which 
 has long since been swept away by modern 
 improvement. In the street was a dense 
 throng of men variously armed, while high
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 
 
 239 
 
 above them, in the full blaze of the meridian 
 smi, hung the bodies of the two malefactors, 
 with the executioner perched like a carrion 
 crow upon the shoulders of one of them. A 
 few pale and horror-stricken countenances were 
 gazing" on the apalling scene from the upper 
 windows of the houses. 

 
 240 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE RETURN. THE RESCUE. 
 
 While the wild scene described in the pre- 
 ceding chapter was enacting, the city itself 
 presented a picture of bustle and confusion. 
 The gates were closed and the guard doubled ; 
 chains were drawn across the streets, and 
 armed men were seen on the walls busily en- 
 gaged in the inspection of the cannon and 
 bombards. The same activity was observable 
 on the battlements of the Tower, which were 
 crowded with the soldiers of that garrison. 
 The Jews and the merchant-strangers had 
 hidden their most valuable effects, in anticipa- 
 tion of the sacking of their houses, and the 
 sanctuary of St. Martin's was swarming like a 
 hive. The pusillanimous conduct of the king
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 9AI 
 
 and his court had provoked and enraged the 
 citizens, and if the Duke of York had made 
 his appearance at the gates of London at this 
 time, there is little doubt that he might have 
 entered without opposition ; but the citizens, 
 especially the more wealthy, justly dreaded 
 the entrance of the daring rebel whose forces 
 now occuj)ied Southwark. A common council 
 had met at the Guildhall, and the propriety 
 of admitting Cade had been warmly discussed. 
 Among those who inveighed against the im- 
 policy of suffering the rebel forces to enter 
 the city was Robert Home, alderman and 
 stockfishmonger ; but the emissaries of Cade 
 had alarmed the more timid of the citizens, 
 and this, together with the credit which that 
 wily villain had obtained among the lower 
 orders by his affectation of a strict love of 
 justice, combined to render nugatory every- 
 thing that could be urged against such a step, 
 and it was in the end agreed that the rebels 
 should be admitted. 
 
 While the rebel army were threading the 
 narrow streets on their way to the Guildhall, 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 a vessel, which on the previous day had sailed 
 from the coast of France, anchored in the 
 Thames off the Tower. A young man, gal- 
 lantly attired, and with gilt spurs on his heels, 
 was hurriedly pacing the deck, and as soon as 
 the vessel was secured, he hailed a waterman, 
 who landed him at the Tower-stairs, when he 
 proceeded at once to the gate of the fortress 
 and desired admittance, stating that he was the 
 bearer of letters to the Lord Scales. Scarcely 
 an hour elapsed, when the sentinels saw him 
 ride forth, on a spirited horse, in the direction 
 of the city. He passed through Thames Street 
 at a round trot, turned up Dowgate Hill, and, 
 entering the narrow thoroughfare of Watling 
 Street, reached St. PauPs Churchyard, and, 
 descending the hill, was challenged by the sen- 
 tinels at Ludgate. The stranger bent over his 
 horse's neck, and whispered the pass-word in 
 the soldier's ear, when the gate was thrown 
 open. In a few minutes more, he was ringing, 
 with a heightened colour and fluttering heart, 
 the bell at the gate of the house of the de- 
 ceased merchant, John Furnival.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 243 
 
 " Ha ! Thomas ! "" said the stranger, in a 
 voice familiar to the aged domestic who opened 
 the gate. 
 
 " The blessed Virgin shield us ! " cried the 
 old man, staring at the stranger, "it is his 
 spirit ! " 
 
 " No such thing, old friend," said the stranger, 
 patting him on the shoulder ; " I am flesh and 
 blood, like thyself." 
 
 The old man raised his eyes and looked on 
 the noble features of the speaker, which, though 
 sun-burnt and travel-worn, he had quickly re- 
 cognised. 
 
 " Dear — dear Master Valentine," he cried, 
 grasping his hand and pressing it affectionately, 
 " I thought thee dead." Then, falling on his 
 knees, he clasped the legs of the young man, 
 and wept like an infant for very joy. 
 
 Valentine was much affected by this exhi- 
 bition of feeling, and, raising the old man from 
 the ground, entered the house. 
 
 " Calm thyself, good Thomas," said he ; 
 " and let me see my honoured foster-father 
 and my dear Anna." 
 
 M 2
 
 244 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 He paused ; for he perceived an expression 
 of sadness immediately cloud the aged features 
 of the domestic. 
 
 In a few words, and with a voice almost 
 overpowered by emotion, the whole of the events 
 of the last few months were described by the 
 old man. 
 
 Valentine listened to the recital with a burst- 
 ing heart ; then, throwing himself into a chair, 
 he gave vent to his feelings by a passionate 
 flood of tears. In the extremity of his grief, 
 he madly implored Heaven to end a life which 
 had become insupportable. All he loved in the 
 world was lost to him : the good man who had 
 watched over him in his childhood was in his 
 grave, and his beloved Anna in the living 
 tomb of the cloister. A thousand times he 
 wished that his life had been sacrificed in some 
 one of the hard encounters of his French cam- 
 paign. 
 
 Poor Valentine ! the bright visions which 
 had haunted him, sleeping or waking, during 
 his absence from England, and nerved his arm 
 in battle against the foeman, were now changed
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 245 
 
 for Qfloom and sorrow. He looked down list- 
 lessly at the gilt spurs on his heels, for he had 
 been dubbed a knight on the field, and was now 
 Sir Valentine ; but they only reminded him of 
 the bitterness of his lot, and that she, for whose 
 sake alone he had earned them, was now for 
 ever lost to him. 
 
 With such feelings did Sir Valentine re- 
 mount his horse and leave the house which had 
 once been his home. He returned through Lud- 
 gate, and, entering Watling Street, reached 
 Cannon, or, as it was then called, Candlewick, 
 Street. On arriving at the eastern extremity 
 of that thoroughfare, he perceived that it was 
 occuj)ied by a large body of men variously 
 armed. Perceiving his danger, but, judging it 
 safest to assume a bold face, he attempted to 
 pass through the throng. This, however, was 
 not permitted ; the followers of Cade, for such 
 they were, closed around him, and, while seve- 
 ral hands grasped his bridle, a brown bill was 
 thrust in his face, and he was ordered to dis- 
 mount. 
 
 Seeing that resistance would have pro-
 
 246 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 voked these men, Valentine obeyed their bid- 
 ding. As he leaped from his horse, they im- 
 mediately closed around him, and one of them 
 attempted to deprive him of his sword. This, 
 however, was too great an indignity for a belted 
 knight to submit to, and Valentine, irritated 
 at the man's boldness, clenched his fist and 
 discharged such a blow in the fellow's face that 
 it sent him sprawling on the ground. 
 
 A loud outcry was raised among the rebels at 
 this treatment of one of their band, and about a 
 dozen swords and daggers gleamed in the air, 
 while a score of voices cried " Cut the popin- 
 jay in pieces ! " 
 
 " By your leave, comrades, not so," said 
 Robin of Beaksbourne, pushing his way through 
 the crowd, and standing between Valentine 
 and the threatening rebels. " This must not 
 be ; our captain hath strictly enjoined peace 
 until we have received further orders." 
 
 The conclusion of this remark was uttered 
 in a significant under tone. 
 
 " I '11 have my fling at him, an' I die for it," 
 cried the stricken rebel, clutching his dudgeon
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. ' 247 
 
 dagger. " Be Englishmen to be beaten like 
 dogs?'' 
 
 " Stand back, sirrah, stand back ! " said 
 Robin, sternly, and shouldering as he spoke 
 that enormous axe already described ; " I '11 
 cleave to the brisket the first man who stirs 
 to touch him." 
 
 The threatening aspect and powerM voice 
 of the giant had the desired eiFect, and the 
 rebels formed a circle round Robin of Beaks- 
 bourne and their prisoner, who was then in- 
 terrogated. 
 
 "' Who are you, young sir ? " said Robin. 
 
 " A knight, as thou seest," was Valen- 
 tine's reply, glancing, as he spoke, at his gilt 
 spurs. 
 
 " Whither art thou wending ? " was the next 
 question. 
 
 " To the Tower." 
 
 " Humph ! " said Robin, tapping with his 
 foot, and looking somewliat perplexed. " Is 
 your company there 1 " 
 
 " No ! " replied Valentine, laconically. 
 
 " Then what is thy business at the Tower ? "
 
 248 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 " That is a question for thy betters," rephed 
 Valentine, haughtily, 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! — is it so V said the giant rebel, 
 grinning savagely as he spoke. " Dost thou 
 know that I have the power to hang thee, for all 
 thy gilt spurs ? " 
 
 A scornful reply rose to the young knight's 
 lips, but he checked its utterance. " That 
 would be a bold act," said he ; " but it would 
 gain thee no credit, and might work thee harm. 
 Who is your captain 1 " 
 
 " Our captain is the Lord Mortimer," replied 
 Robin ; " and were he here, he would hang 
 thee for half the words thou hast uttered." 
 
 At that moment there was a stir among the 
 crowd, and a man, wearing a rich suit of 
 armour, but with a small red cap instead of a 
 helmet, advanced towards Robin and the pri- 
 soner, but, suddenly stopping, he uttered an 
 exclamation of surprise, which caused Valentine 
 to turn his head. 
 
 " Mother of God ! " exclaimed the young 
 knight, — " my hour is come ! — It is my mortal 
 enemy ! "
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 249 
 
 He spoke truly. It was Richard Furnival, 
 who, hearing the uproar consequent on Valen- 
 tine's capture, had issued from one of the houses 
 in the neighbourhood, whither he had repaired 
 for refreshment. 
 
 Though time had effected some change in 
 the prisoner's appearance, a single glance suf- 
 ficed to show Richard Furnival that his hated 
 foster-brother stood near him. With a smile 
 of the deadliest malice, Richard beckoned to 
 Robin of Beaksbourne, and they conversed 
 apart for some minutes. Valentine could not 
 hear that conversation, but he knew too well 
 the subject of it. Richard never looked towards 
 him, but his gesticulations were violent, and ap- 
 peared to be in reply to some remonstrance of the 
 gigantic rebel. At length the conference ended : 
 Richard Furnival plunged into the thickest of 
 the crowd, and Robin of Beaksbourne returned 
 to the young knight. 
 
 " Well," said he, in a serious tone, " you 
 are out of favour with fortune, young sir. I 
 wished to save you, though you flouted me ; 
 but it must not be. So you must prepare 
 
 M 5
 
 250 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 yourself to be hung forthwith. I am sorry 
 that there is no priest nigh to receive your 
 shrift." 
 
 Valentine scarcely heard the concluding part 
 of his sentence. A confused noise filled his 
 ears, his temples throbbed wildly, and a mist 
 obscured his sight. He would have courted 
 death on the battle-field, but to be hung like 
 a felon was horrible, — the thought paralysed 
 his limbs and closed up his lips, and he would 
 have fallen to the ground had not Robin of 
 Beaksbourne supported him. 
 
 " Courage ! — take heart, sir," said the giant, 
 as Valentine recovered his senses ; " ' twill soon 
 be over." 
 
 " I care not for my life," said Valentine, in 
 a tone of dejection which he endeavoured in 
 vain to master, " but I would not be hung like 
 a dog. Let one of your fellows smite off my 
 head." 
 
 '*• That cannot be, Sir Knight," said Robin of 
 Beaksbourne ; " my orders are to hang thee, 
 and it must be done eftsoons." 
 
 " If ye be Christian men ? " cried Valentine,
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 251 
 
 raising his voice, " smite off my head, but do 
 not hang me like a thief or a cut-throat ! " 
 
 " / would take off thy head for thee with 
 a will," said the fellow whom Valentine had 
 knocked down. " I whipped oiF the tanner"'s 
 at Bermondsey with a single blow." 
 
 " Then come hither and do that office for 
 me," said Valentine, taking a half noble from 
 his pouch, and tossing it to the fellow ; " thou 
 wilt then have thy revenge and be doing me 
 a service. There's thy guerdon." 
 
 " Stand back, Will ! " cried Robin of Beaks- 
 bourne ; " stand back, and let Reuben Pilcher 
 come hither. Pity the captain's got Fludd with 
 him to hang the stockfishmonger ; he 'd have 
 done the job better." 
 
 A man now came out of the crowd with a 
 coil of rope in his hand, and advanced towards 
 the young knight ; but, ere he had thrown the 
 cord around Valentine's neck, a troop of horse- 
 men came dashing along Eastcheap, headed by 
 an athletic man in the elegant armour of the 
 period. They had been to relieve the gaiard 
 at Castle Baynard, under the inspection of
 
 252 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 Matthew Gough, a brave Welsh captain then 
 quartered in the Tower, who had determined 
 to visit the different posts himself. The rebels, 
 seeing the advance of the troop, scrambled out 
 of the way, and each man looked to his arms. 
 Gough's quick eye soon discovered Sir Valentine 
 among them, and advancing boldly to the spot 
 where he stood, he demanded why he was thus 
 surrounded. Valentine, in a few hasty words, 
 described his critical situation. 
 
 " Got''s plessed life ! " exclaimed the choleric 
 old Welshman, " hang my young friend ! such 
 pase grooms as these hang a pelted knight ! It 
 is treasons ! " 
 
 " You must be wary," whispered Valentine ; 
 " they are in strong force here." 
 
 Gough made a signal to two of his troop, 
 who instantly set off" at full gallop to the 
 Tower, and Robin of Beaksbourne conversed 
 apart with his followers. It was a critical mo- 
 ment, and the rebels seemed to be weighing 
 the chances of resistance to the demand of 
 the Welsh captain, who however was a man 
 dangerous to trifle with. Nevertheless, they
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 25S 
 
 seemed half inclined to dispute the possession 
 of their prisoner, when Robin addressed them. 
 He reminded them that their leader had strict- 
 ly forbidden any bickering in the city imder 
 penalty of the severest punishment, and that 
 though they might succeed in keeping posses- 
 sion of the young knight, it could only be at 
 the expense of a score of their lives, for Gough's 
 troop was well armed and mounted, and he had 
 moreover, as they rightly conjectured, sent an 
 express to the Tower for a reinforcement, in case 
 of need. Without, therefore, consulting Richard 
 Furnival, Robin permitted Sir Valentine to re- 
 mount his horse and accompany Gough to the 
 Tower. 
 
 "• Py our lady," said the brave old Welsh- 
 man, as they rode along, " 'twas lucky I came 
 to your rescue, for they would have hanged 
 you like a dog, sir. These rude clowns are the 
 very scum o' the earth, and should pe taught 
 to respect their petters. If the citizens had the 
 heart of a mouse they'd be upon them in a 
 paternoster. Would I had the cutting up o' 
 the dogs for a single hour."
 
 254 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 " I would gladly help you at the carving," 
 said Valentine ; " I would be your ecuyer 
 tranchant, if it were only in return for your 
 having delivered me out of the hands of the 
 Philistines." 
 
 " It may come to that, after all," rejoined 
 Gough. " The alderman of Castle Baynard says 
 he could muster a company, and that he has 
 a hundred and sixty prown pills in the church 
 which he would put in the hands of that num- 
 per of men, if his prother justices would pluck 
 up heart enough to fall on these mongrels." 
 
 " I pray God they may do so," continued 
 Valentine, " and then I shall fight by your 
 side, captain." 
 
 " Py our Lady!" exclaimed the captain 
 " spoken like a prave knight and a stout sol- 
 dier. Put here is the Tower." 
 
 Entering the massive outer gate, Valentine 
 proceeded to the captain's quarters with an 
 aching heart, yet inwardly blessing the saints, 
 who had snatched him from the clutches of his 
 deadly enemy and preserved him from an ig- 
 nominious death.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 255 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE " VOX POPULI." 
 
 " I PRAY God this fierce rebel may leave us," 
 ejaculated Master Hyltoft, suddenly awaking 
 from the long reverie in which he had been in- 
 dulging as he sat at breakfast with his daugh- 
 ter; "for if he stay another day he'll sack 
 the city." 
 
 " I hope not, dear father," said Johanna, 
 ceasing to caress her favourite dog, and anx- 
 iously regarding her parent''s perturbed coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 " I mistrust him, wench ; I mistrust him : he 
 is a wily knave, and will throw off his vizard 
 ere he leaves the city. He sacked Malpas*" 
 house yesterday, and would have murdered 
 him to boot, but for the intercession of his
 
 256 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 friends. Ah, well-a-day ! 'tis a grievous blow 
 to us all. He will be here again to-day to 
 condemn the Lord Say, whom he swears he 
 will drag from the Tower and put to death. 
 Heaven knows what we Londoners shall come 
 to at last, for we get more chicken-hearted 
 every year. Oh, for the days of our Fourth 
 Harry, who, in the year of redemption one 
 thousand four hundred, and when the re- 
 bel lords purposed killing him at Oxford, 
 came post to London and assembled, at the 
 third cockcrow, ten thousand fighting men 
 within our walls ! " 
 
 " 'Tis ever so with the old folk," thought 
 Johanna ; " they are always talking of their 
 brave days." 
 
 " I shall go to the Guildhall, child," continued 
 the goldsmith, " and see how this graceless losel 
 demeans himself before his betters." , 
 
 " Have a care of yourself, dear father," said 
 Johanna. 
 
 " Never fear me, child, never fear me," con- 
 tinued the old citizen, rising from his seat. 
 " O that I were some twenty years younger ! "
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 257 
 
 " Why so, good master Hyltoft V said young 
 William Farendon, entering the room. " You 
 are a hale man yet, and have twenty years to 
 live. How does my httle sweetheart?" 
 
 This interrogatory was accompanied by a 
 hearty smack on the cheek, which Mistress Jo- 
 hanna received with the air of a spoilt child. 
 
 " William Farendon," said the goldsmith, 
 " wilt thou go with me to the Guildhall this 
 morning, and hear what this rebel captain 
 hath to propose ? " 
 
 " Ay," replied the young man, " I will go 
 with you willingly ; and if I could see the 
 mayor, I would counsel him to order the citi- 
 zens to get to harness and fall on the rebel 
 rout, who, I am persuaded, would flee before 
 the assault of true men." 
 
 "'Faith, I beheve thee, William," said Master 
 Hyltoft; "thou art of my mind. I was wishing 
 for the thews and sinews of my youth when you 
 came in, that I might head a company against 
 them. This day will not pass away without 
 some bloody pastime, I fear." 
 
 " They say Cade has grown bold and pre-
 
 258 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 sumptuous with his success, and that he medi- 
 tates more mischief," observed Farendon. 
 
 " I doubt it not," rejoined the goldsmith ; 
 " would we could muster a force to drive him 
 into Southwark." 
 
 " That we will do, with God's blessing,"" said 
 the young man in a determined tone. " We have 
 been reviewing our force, and find we could mus- 
 ter already nearly fifteen hundred men, who, if 
 they would stand to their tackling, might keep 
 the bridge against Jack and his followers. Then 
 we shall have all the foreigners with us ; for 
 though they dared not deny him the things he 
 demanded of them by his rascal agent. Cock, 
 they would rejoice to see him hung. Let 's see 
 (he here drew a piece of paper from his bosom) 
 what arms and harness we have. The mass- 
 priest of St. Antholin's can lend us two suits of 
 harness which belonged to his two nephews who 
 were drowned at Queenhithe last summer, and 
 he has sixty bills in the church. In the church 
 of St. Bennet Sherehog are fifty bills ; in St. 
 Catherine Cree a like number, besides a few 
 morris-pikes ; and there are arms for about five
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 259 
 
 hundred footmen in the church of St. James, 
 Garlick Hill; St. Martin, Ironmonger Lane; St. 
 Nicholas Aeon, and the hall of our company. 
 Then there 's Captain Peyntwyn's company of 
 arbalisters at Castle Baynard, and " 
 
 " Enough, enough, William Farendon," inter- 
 rupted the goldsmith. " With such a company 
 we may at least prevent their coming again into 
 the city. Ah, I well remember the day when 
 the bishop's men tried to force the passage of 
 the bridge: it was in the year one thousand four 
 hundred and twenty-six ; and I and a stout 
 band of 'prentices gave the foremost of them, 
 who were battering the gates, such a flight of 
 grey goose shafts, that they were fain to with- 
 draw into Southwark," 
 
 " I have devised it that when Cade leaves the 
 city, the bell shall ring to folk-mote, at Paul's 
 Cross ; but we must first get the consent of the 
 mayor," said the young man. 
 
 " 'Tis well ordered," observed Master Hyl- 
 toft ; " and now let 's hie to the Guildhall and 
 see the worshipful the mayor." 
 
 " If we cannot see him, we must get the ear
 
 260 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 of the sheriffs," said William Farendon, as he 
 quitted the house with his friend and future 
 father-in-law. 
 
 As they gained the street, they perceived 
 that the further end of the Cheap was already 
 occupied by the followers of Cade, who was 
 then about to enter the Guildhall. The two 
 citizens, threading the narrow streets and lanes 
 which led out of the principal thoroughfare, 
 avoided the crowd, and soon reached Guildhall, 
 but they experienced considerable difficulty in 
 entering the building, before which many hun- 
 dreds of Cade's followers were congregated, 
 some of them by turns abusing or deriding the 
 small band of men in the city livery, who kept 
 the door. 
 
 They found the hall crammed to suffocation, 
 and resounding with the shouts and execrations 
 of the rebels and the city rabble. On the dais, 
 at the eastern end, was a group, the principal 
 personages of which the goldsmith and his 
 companion found no difficulty in identifying. 
 There was the mayor, Sir Thomas Chalton, 
 and the sheriffs, Hulyn and Canynge, ac-
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 261 
 
 companiecl by their officers and about a score 
 of the sergeants-at-arms. Opposite to them 
 stood Richard Furnival, in his elegant suit of 
 armour, a good looking stripling holding his 
 helmet, while he conversed with Robert Poyn- 
 ings, who, leaning on his two-handed sword, 
 seemed to be more attentive to what was pass- 
 ing than to the observations of his associate. 
 But the chief characters were the audacious 
 rebel Cade, and his prisoner, the Lord Say, a 
 man of venerable aspect and noble bearing. 
 
 So much noise and confusion prevailed in the 
 hall that not a word of what was passing on the 
 dais could be heard by those who stood below; 
 but the attitude and the violent gesticulations 
 of the arch-rebel were sufficiently significant 
 to be comprehended by all who saw them. 
 
 "Mass!" exclaimed William Farendon, in 
 a whisper to his fiiend ; " see how the base- 
 born rascal shakes his fist at his noble prisoner. 
 Alas ! is there no spirit left among the citi- 
 zens ? " 
 
 " Whist ! — whist ! " replied the old gold- 
 smith ; " you will be heard anon, — bridle your
 
 262 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 tongue, for there are twenty pair of eyes already 
 watching us/'' 
 
 Master Hyltoft spoke truly ; both he and 
 his companion had already attracted the atten- 
 tion of the men by whom they were surrounded, 
 and, had any of this conversation been over- 
 heard, it might possibly have cost them their 
 lives. 
 
 As it was, they appeared to be desirous of 
 knowing who the new-comers really were, but, 
 ere they could satisfy themselves, the noise in 
 the hall was redoubled, and Cade, suddenly 
 grasping the arm of Lord Say, thrust him vio- 
 lently forward to the front of the dais, and said 
 something to his followers which was only 
 audible to those immediately beneath. The 
 gesture, however, with which it was accom- 
 panied was understood by every one, for hi- 
 deous yells and execrations rose from the rebels 
 and ascended to the lofty roof, which rang with 
 the deafening clamour. 
 
 " Away with him ! " cried a voice, " and 
 hang him in his girdle.""
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. ^63 
 
 " Cut off his head, and send it to his friend 
 the Dauphin," roared another. 
 
 "■ Away with the traitor ! — death ! — death ! " 
 shouted a hundred voices, and various weapons 
 flashed threateningly above the heads of the 
 throng. 
 
 The mayor here advanced, and spoke to 
 Cade, wlio shook his head and looked menac- 
 ingly ; then, giving a signal to his followers, 
 several of them ascended the dais and laid hands 
 on the unhappy nobleman, whom they dragged 
 below. The uproar was now redoubled, and 
 loud cries of veno-eance were reiterated bv the 
 savage throng, who dragged, or rather carried, 
 their prisoner out of the hall. 
 
 " Holy Virgin ! " muttered the goldsmith, 
 " they will murder him. Let 's be gone, Wil- 
 liam Farendon ; there 's no safety among these 
 bloodhounds." 
 
 With great difficulty the two citizens suc- 
 ceeded in elbowing their way through the 
 throng, and quitted the hall. They found the 
 streets filled with the rabble, and the followers
 
 264 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 of Cade, and a great crowd was moving towards 
 the Cheap, bearing with them their unhappy 
 victim, whom they had nearly stripped of his 
 appareh 
 
 " It 's bootless appealing to the mayor," said 
 Farendon ; " you see, though he interceded 
 for the poor lord's life, he quailed at the threat- 
 ening posture of the arch-rebel. We are 
 doomed. Master Hyltoft, and every man may 
 go home and make his shrift ; for this robber 
 will plunder and murder us all ere he have 
 done." 
 
 " May God defeat his wicked designs ! "" 
 ejaculated the goldsmith, with a shudder. 
 " My mind misgives me, William : we have 
 not seen the end of it yet." 
 
 " I fear not," said the young man. " 
 for a few stout hearts to fall on this rascal 
 rout — this Kentish scum ! " 
 
 " Our citizens are panic-stricken," observed 
 Master Hyltoft, " and are marked for the 
 slaughter. Let 's home, and each look to his 
 own house."
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 265 j 
 
 - 1 
 
 " Ay, do so, sir," returned William Faren- j 
 
 don ; " and I '11 hie to Master Basing, who j 
 
 will lead the 'prentices." \ 
 
 With these remarks, the two friends quick- j 
 
 ened their pace, and in a few minutes reached I 
 
 the house of Master Hyltoft. 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 CADE VISITS MASTER HYLTOFT. 
 
 William Farendon parted from his friend, 
 more determined than ever to make some effort 
 to clear the city of the desperate band that now 
 held possession of it. The scene he had just 
 witnessed had convinced him that the lives and 
 properties of his fellow-citizens were entirely at 
 the mercy of a horde of lawless men, who were 
 only waiting for a signal from their leader to 
 commence a general pillage of all who had any- 
 thing to lose. 
 
 With these reflections and intentions, he 
 repaired to several of his friends, and, having 
 obtained their promises of assistance, he pro- 
 ceeded to arrange his plans for resisting the 
 rebels at all hazards. He had the satisfactio
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 267 
 
 of finding that the violent conduct of Cade had 
 already caused many of those who had at first 
 espoused his cause to suspect his ultimate in- 
 tentions. " Y® honest and thryfty commoners,'''' 
 says the chronicler, " caste in their myndes y* 
 sequele of this matyer, and feryd leste they 
 shuld be delt with in lyke maner."" 
 
 The young goldsmith, wherever he went, 
 now heard suppressed murmurings against Cade 
 and his followers, and many forebodings as to 
 their further proceeding ; and having, at a late 
 hour of the day, obtained an interview with the 
 lord mayor, he was rejoiced to find that officer, 
 as well as the sheriffs, had resolved to oppose 
 the entrance of the rebel host on the morrow, 
 and had actually communicated privately with 
 the Lord Scales, in the Tower, who had pro- 
 mised his assistance. 
 
 The citizens, horrified at the brutal murder 
 of Lord Say, and disgusted with the exhibition 
 of the head of the unfortunate nobleman, — 
 placed on a pike and paraded through their prin- 
 cipal thoroughfares, — were at length roused to a 
 sense of their danger. 
 
 N 2
 
 ^68 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 The dastardly flight of the weak-minded 
 king, and the suspicion entertained by many 
 of the designs of the Duke of York, had led 
 the Londoners, while they anticipated a civil 
 war, to believe that the partisans of either side 
 would respect their property ; but in Cade they 
 saw only a needy, low-bred, and sanguinary 
 rebel, whose sole motives of action, like those 
 which influence all demagogues, were, a low love 
 of fame and a hatred of all that is orderly and 
 respectable. The hours of Cade's rule in the 
 city of London were accordingly numbered. 
 
 Master Hvltoft entered his house with direfiil 
 misgivings of some impending mischief. There 
 are times Avhen a kind of instinct gives to 
 man a warning of coming danger, and bids 
 him prepare to meet or avert it. The gold- 
 smith knew that he was reported one of the 
 richest of his calling between the Old 'Change 
 and the Poultry; that the sanctuary folk in 
 the unhallowed precincts of St. Martin's owed 
 him no good will for his occasional inquisitorial 
 visits in that quarter, and that many of these 
 desperate men, considering law was now at an
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 5269 
 
 end in the city, were following in the rebel 
 train, and urging them to havoc and plunder. 
 Cade, after the murder of Lord Say, at the 
 Standard in the Cheap, marched with his host 
 to Mile End, Avhere he was met by the Essex 
 rebels, who, hearing of the success of their 
 brethren on the opposite side of the Thames, 
 had taken up arms and marched towards 
 London. 
 
 Master Hyltoft saw that the storm was 
 gathering ; and, anticipating that, on the return 
 of the rebels with a reinforcement, there would 
 be a repetition of the scenes of the preceding 
 days, he proceeded to secrete his most valuable 
 effects, confiding in the honesty of his tried 
 servants. Of all the goldsmiths in the Cheap 
 he had certainly the most to dread, for his ne- 
 phew and his would-be son-in-law were banded 
 with the leader of the rebellion ; and the former 
 was constantly in attendance upon him. With 
 these dismal forebodings, the goldsmith betook 
 himself, with his daughter, to the upper rooms 
 of the house, after having caused the outer gate 
 to be closed, and carefully bolted and barred.
 
 270 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 There was a death-like silence in the streets, 
 interrupted only by the cawing of the rooks in 
 the elms near the cathedral of St. Paul, and 
 the shrill cries of the jackdaws in the tower of 
 Bow Church. Now and then a citizen would 
 pass hastily along the Cheap, and, as he met 
 a friend or neighbour, would shake his head 
 significantly and shuffle on his way. There was 
 something portentous in this unnatural calm in 
 the very heart of the city ; and it boded no good 
 to the rebel army. 
 
 While the goldsmith sat brooding on the 
 probable finale of the day, a distant noise dis- 
 turbed his reverie. He walked to the casement, 
 which projected several feet over the footway, 
 and afforded him a good view of the Cheap from 
 one end to the other ; but scarcely a soul was 
 to be seen abroad, and nearly every shop and 
 stall was closed. Opening a window, he listened 
 for a moment, and plainly heard the sound of 
 the rebel drums. A bitter curse escaped the 
 lips of the old citizen as the noise reached his 
 ears, and he paced up and down the room im- 
 ploring the Saints to hurl destruction upon the
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 271 
 
 disturbers of the peace of the city. The noise 
 each moment came nearer and nearer, and at 
 length was mingled with wild shouts and tu- 
 multuous outbursts of merriment. 
 
 The goldsmith looked again from the window, 
 and then saw that the Poultry was filled by a 
 column of men, ten or twelve abreast, preceded 
 by their leader and his friends on horseback. 
 In front of the column, elevated on long staves, 
 high above the various weapons which flashed 
 over the heads of the throng, were two objects, 
 which the citizens from the windows were 
 regarding with horror and consternation. They 
 were the heads of the Lord Say, and his son-in- 
 law, Sir James Cromer, whom the rebels had 
 slain and beheaded on the way to Mile End. 
 As the rebel army advanced up the Cheap, the 
 men who bore these ghastly relics held them 
 together for a moment, " and caused," as the 
 chronicler Fabian hath it, " eyther deed mouth 
 to kysse other dyuerse and many tymes." 
 
 " Jesu save us ! " ejaculated the goldsmith, 
 as he beheld this dismal sight ; " they will make 
 the Cheap a shambles ere curfew."
 
 272 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 Here Johanna, who had been regarding her 
 parent in silence, advanced and spoke : — 
 
 " Dearest father," said she, " you vex your- 
 self needlessly: these men will leave us now 
 they have revenged themselves on their sup- 
 posed enemies." 
 
 " Go to, wench ! " muttered the old citizen, 
 angrily, " you know nothing of the matter ; 
 we shall all be robbed, and, peradventure, some 
 of our throats cut." 
 
 " Holy Virgin ! " exclaimed the girl, " you 
 will drive me distraught, father, with these 
 dismal forebodings. Why, William Farendon 
 says, there is nothing to fear, and that he and 
 his friends mean to set upon them if they at- 
 tempt to take too much upon themselves." 
 
 " Then William Farendon is a fool to make 
 thee acquainted with his intentions," said the 
 goldsmith. " If it should reach the ear of 
 Cade, he will have him to the standard and 
 'head him." 
 
 During this dialogue the rebel forces were 
 advancing up the Cheap, and were now within 
 a few yards of the goldsmith's house, when a
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 273 
 
 loud and prolonged flourish of their drums cut 
 short his reply to his daughter, and caused 
 him to look again from the window, when, 
 oh ! what a sight met his view ! There was 
 Cade, in his handsome brigandine and skull-cap, 
 attended, on his right by Robert Poynings, in 
 half armour, bearing a sword of state, and on 
 his left by a young man in an elegant suit of 
 complete armour. The beaver of the latter 
 was raised, and the goldsmith, at a glance, saw 
 beneath it the pert but handsome features uf 
 Richard Furnival. 
 
 "God be merciful to us!" exclaimed the 
 old citizen, — " here 's the arch traitor, attended 
 by my sister's son and the heir of my old 
 friend and gossip, Furnival, come to despoil 
 me of my goods and merchandise ! " 
 
 " What ! Richard Furnival and Poynings ! " 
 cried Johanna, running to the window. 
 
 " Stand back, girl," said her father sternly ; 
 " stand back from the window : this is not 
 fitting company for a maiden." Then, talk- 
 ing aloud to himself, he continued : — " Ah ! 
 there 's another head ! Whose can that be ? 
 
 N 5
 
 274) LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 Fagh ! those ragged rogues seem to be proud 
 of their grisly burthens. So, they 're looking 
 this way — Poynings talks aside to Cade. He ""s 
 councilling him to rob me. Ha ! villain ! thy 
 head was made to garnish Traitor's Gate, and 
 if thou sufferest him to come here, I pray 
 heaven it may soon be there." 
 
 The house of Master Hyltoft was one of 
 those dwelhngs of merchants of the middle ages, 
 of which few perfect specimens remain in this 
 country, built as much as possible for security 
 against any sudden attack of a lawless mob, 
 in the not unfrequeut tumults of the period. 
 You entered by a gateway or " porte cocher," 
 which was immediately closed in times of dan- 
 ger. The court-yard, or enclosed area within, 
 was a convenient place for the unloading of mer- 
 chandise, or for the concealing a troop of armed 
 men, while the apartments above communi- 
 cated with each other by galleries of wood- 
 work, running round the outside, in the manner 
 of some of our inns at the present day ; the 
 kitchens, stables, warehouses, and other offices 
 being below.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 275 
 
 It has been already observed that Master 
 Hyltoft had secreted some of his most valuable 
 eiFects. His vessels of gold and silver were 
 carefully sunk in the well in the court-yard. 
 Upon these a truss of straw was let down ; 
 and then a few baskets of stones formed a 
 false bottom, which no hasty inspection or ex- 
 amination could detect. Other objects he had 
 secretly removed to the hall of his Company, 
 wisely judging that Cade would, at any rate, 
 attack that last. Still, enough remained in 
 his house to excite the cupidity of such as 
 were now before it. 
 
 As the goldsmith watched the rebel host 
 from his window, he saw Cade summons one 
 of his followers to his side ; and immediately 
 afterwards the rebel made the great iron-studd- 
 ed gate ring with the butt-end of his brown bill. 
 
 " The old fox is asleep, or gone on a jour- 
 ney," said Cade, after a pause. " Try again, 
 Will." 
 
 The man renewed his thumping, but the gate 
 remained unopened, and no one appeared to 
 stir within the house.
 
 276 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 " Shall we beat in the gate, captain?" in- 
 quired several voices. 
 
 " Humph ! " said Cade, turning to PojTiings ; 
 " what does this mean ?" 
 
 " There used to be a bell on the outside of 
 that gate," remarked Richard Furnival. 
 
 " Let them knock again," said Poynings : 
 " my kinsman and his man may be busy at 
 the ftirnace, and may not have heard the sum- 
 mons." 
 
 The knocking was renewed ; and in the midst 
 of it Daniel, the goldsmith's deaf man, gently 
 unbolted the gate, and opening one half of it, 
 looked out with a vacant stare. He certainly 
 acted to perfection the part his master had taught 
 him ; but it was all in vain, the unwelcome 
 visitors were not to be put off with any sub- 
 terfuge of the sort : leaping from their horses, 
 Cade, Poynings, and Richard Furnival ad- 
 vanced, and, pushing open the gate, stalked 
 boldly into the court-yard. 
 
 " How now ! " cried the rebel leader, in an 
 angry tone ; " are we received like some beg- 
 garly Genoese, or Florentine, or such -like fo-
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 277 
 
 reign popinjays ?" Then, addressing the serv- 
 ing-man : " Where is thy master, sirrah?" 
 
 Daniel, who was as deaf as a beetle, under- 
 stood not a word ; but he saw Cade's lips move, 
 his angry gesture, and his lowering brow, and 
 believing that the incjuiry had reference to the 
 goldsmith's property, he scratched his head, and 
 replied, in the tone of voice peculiar to persons 
 afflicted with deafness — " Can't tell ye, sir — my 
 lord — it 's gone to the hall of the guild." 
 
 " What does he say?" inqi^^ired Cade, turn- 
 ing to Poynings, " is your kinsman, the gold- 
 smith, from home?" 
 
 " No," replied Poynings, "he misunderstands 
 the question ; and, supposing you are come for 
 his master's goods and chatties, says, they are 
 all sent to the hall of his Company." 
 
 " This will not avail," said Cade, in a de- 
 termined tone. "Out of the way, sirrah!" 
 And giving the serving-man a smart blow with 
 his riding-staff, he strode into the house, fol- 
 lowed by his friends. 
 
 " Serves thee right, thou deaf adder ! " said 
 Richard Furnival, with a grin, as he passed
 
 278 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 the poor domestic, who was writhing from the 
 effects of the blow. 
 
 The goldsmith beheld this from an upper 
 window of the house, which looked into the 
 court-yard, and deeming it unsafe to continue 
 any longer in the rear, he descended to meet 
 his unwelcome guests, who he found had 
 taken up their quarters in the great hall in 
 which dinner was usually served. Cade 
 had seated himself in the old citizen's arm- 
 chair, Poynings had ensconced himself in an- 
 other, and Richard Furnival was seated on the 
 huge oak table, upon which he had placed 
 his helmet, while he whistled and examined 
 the ceiling with an air of affected impudence. 
 The goldsmith took no heed of Poynings and 
 Furnival, but, advancing towards Cade, dressed 
 his ancient features in a grim smile, which sa- 
 voured of anything but of welcome. 
 
 " Save you, sir captain," said he ; " what 
 can my poor abode furnish your valour V 
 
 " r faith, I scarcely know," replied the arch 
 rebel, with a chuckle, " but trusty -Master Poy- 
 nings of the Gleen, there, speaks well of his
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 279 
 
 uncle's riches, and saith, he hath a hberal 
 hand." 
 
 Master Hyltoft's countenance fell at these 
 words ; and he sincerely wished his nephew in 
 that place which is said to be paved with good 
 intentions; but prudence forbade him to give 
 vent to his indignation at the infamous treachery 
 of Poynings, and he replied — 
 
 "Alas, sir captain ! my nephew does but ban- 
 ter you." 
 
 " Not a wit; not a wit," replied Cade laugh- 
 ing. " It 's all true. You goldsmiths are very 
 Jews for riches, and can therefore bestow a little 
 on needy men. Now, the poor commons who 
 are with us are beginning to grow faint for lack 
 of a little encom'agement. You must not there- 
 fore murmur at a trifling subsidy. The gold- 
 smiths of the West Cheap can well afford it. 
 And I promise you and them, on the faith of a 
 Mortimer, that what is advanced shall be repaid 
 in due season." 
 
 The old citizen attempted to put in a word 
 at this juncture, but it stuck in his throat, and 
 Cade continued —
 
 280 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 " We are in arms for the public weal — let 
 our intentions be judged of by our acts — and 
 he who refuses to assist in the good work is an 
 enemy to the commonwealth." 
 
 " Of your intentions," thought the goldsmith, 
 " we have already seen a sample at the houses 
 of Malpas and Gherstis. Mine, I ween, is to be 
 the third." 
 
 Cade guessed what was passing in the mind 
 of the old citizen, but he had resolved to try 
 gentle means first, not wishing to deal more 
 harshly than was necessary for his purpose with 
 ;he member of a powerful fraternity. 
 
 " Well," said the rebel leader, " are you dis- 
 posed to grant this very moderate request I " 
 
 " I wot not whether it may be in my power, 
 sir," replied Master Hyltoft, with a rueful ex- 
 pression of countenance. 
 
 " Pshaw ! " cried Cade, " it is nothing to men 
 of your substance. To tell you plainly, we want 
 two hundred marks of gold." 
 
 Now, the old citizen knew very well that this 
 sum was wanted of him alone, though it was 
 pretended to be a tax on the whole of his guild.
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 281 
 
 but» aftecting to understand it in the latter sense, 
 he repHed — 
 
 " I marvel, sir captain, if I shall compass this 
 sum among the brethren of our craft." 
 
 " Tut, tut," said Cade, with a sneer ; " you 
 will find it us to-day^ and can collect the sum 
 among your fraternity at your leisure." 
 
 Master Hyltoft well nigh swooned on hearing 
 this monstrous proposition. He plainly per- 
 ceived that Cade was determined to extort from 
 him as much as he could obtain, and he ejacu- 
 lated in a faltering voice — 
 
 " It is impossible, sir captain ! " 
 
 " So all of you would say, if asked one by 
 one," observed Cade fiercely ; " but the money 
 must be found ; and look not to deceive us." 
 
 " I have not even a hundred marks," said the 
 goldsmith, in a tone of distress. 
 
 " Then you must raise the sum we want in 
 goldsmith's work," cried the rebel leader, start- 
 ing up from his seat and scowling savagely on 
 the old citizen. 
 
 Master Hyltoft groaned in anguish, and turn- 
 ed to enlist the sympathies of his kinsman and
 
 282 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 the graceless youth who had aspired to his 
 daughter's hand. 
 
 " Poynings," said he ; " Richard Furnival — 
 tell the Captain " 
 
 He paused, as he saw Richard shuffle from 
 the table and walk to the other end of the 
 h^ll, while Poynings suddenly became interest- 
 ed with the oak carvings above the fire-place. 
 
 " God help me ! " exclaimed the goldsmith. 
 " I am a ruined man ! " 
 
 " Ay, by St. Thomas of Canterbury ! " ex- 
 claimed Cade fiercely; "you will be ruined, 
 master goldsmith, and that right speedily, if you 
 delay to furnish the sum we want. Just look 
 from the window, and tell me, if you think 
 those men without are to be cozened with fair 
 speeches. I have but to give the word, and 
 they would help themselves, and spoil you in 
 a trice." 
 
 The goldsmith, in his despair, did look from 
 the window, and saw the crowd of rebels 
 without, standing like hounds impatient to be 
 loosened from the leash. Then his eye wan- 
 dered again to Poynings and Furnival ; but
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 283 
 
 they averted their heads, and seemed unwill- 
 ing to meet his glance. 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! " cried he ; " am I alone to be 
 taxed thus ? I cannot — I will not submit to be 
 plundered." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! " exclaimed Cade, grinding his 
 teeth with rage. " We shall soon find meat 
 for your high stomach, sir goldsmith." And, 
 darting to the window, he opened the case- 
 ment and cried aloud, " Havoc ! " 
 
 The signal was answered by a loud shout 
 from without, and the rebels in a body rushed 
 to the gateway, literally crowding over each 
 other. The goldsmith"'s blood froze in his veins 
 as he heard them, in a tumultuous manner, enter 
 his dwelling. Another moment, and all would 
 have been lost; when Poynings suddenly ap- 
 proached Cade, and whispered something in his 
 ear. Cade nodded assent; and Poynings then 
 advanced to his uncle, and, in a hasty and stifled 
 tone, warned him of his danger, hinting that 
 they might end by hanging him from the front 
 of his house. 
 
 Master Hyltoft cast a glance of mingled sor-
 
 284 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 row, indignation and contempt at his unworthy 
 nephew, and in a faltering voice said, " I con- 
 sent.*" 
 
 "Hold awhile, but wait without," said Cade to 
 Robin of Beaksbourne, who stood in the door- 
 way with his party, ready to fall on their prey. 
 
 Robin disappeared with his men ; and Master 
 Hyltoft, like a man performing a painful and 
 disagreeable penance, ascended to an upper 
 room to fetch the money demanded of him. 
 
 " Corpus Domini ! " cried Cade ; " I thought 
 the old fool would have driven us to use ex- 
 tremities. You were right, Poynings ; he hath 
 plenty to spare." 
 
 Poynings replied only by one of his sinister 
 smiles, and Cade continued: — "Old Blount must 
 be the next : they say he 's the richest man of 
 his guild." 
 
 " You will find his five sons in the way," 
 remarked Poynings. " I hear they are 'all at 
 home, and are very Hectors; they may bring 
 the citizens upon us." 
 
 Richard Furnival remained silent during this 
 dialogue. The fact was, that he felt somewhat
 
 THE FOSTER-SON. 285 
 
 uneasv at the scene he had witnessed. He cer- 
 tainly had some regard for Johanna Hyltoft, 
 notwithstanding his careless and indifferent be- 
 haviour ; and he very naturally concluded, that 
 the part he had acted this day was anything 
 but calculated to raise him in the estimation of 
 her father. In the mean time the goldsmith re- 
 turned, bearing a bag of nobles, which he placed, 
 with a sigh, on the table. 
 
 " There,"" said he sorrowfully, the tears start- 
 ing to his eyes ; " there is the fruit of twenty 
 A'cars" honest labour, captain. There are two 
 hundred and fifty Harry nobles, which I have 
 saved as a portion for my only child. Will not 
 less than two hundred of them suffice?" 
 
 " Bravely done, old sir ! " cried Cade, snatch- 
 ing up the bag ; " bravely done ! "'twill serve us 
 better than two hundred. It shall be returned 
 to you with interest when the times are mended. 
 Here, Eobin ! " 
 
 Robin of Beaksbourne entered, and received 
 the bag from the hands of his leader, amidst 
 the protestations and entreaties of the old 
 citizen.
 
 286 LONDON LEGENDS. 
 
 " Have a care of it, said Cade. " We hold 
 thee accountable for every piece it contains. 
 Come, Poynings, let's to Southwark, where 
 we'll sup, and order matters for the morrow." 
 
 With these words, the audacious rebel quit- 
 ted the house of Master Hyltoft, and joined his 
 followers, leaving the plundered old citizen in a 
 frenzy of grief at his serious loss. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY, 
 
 Bangor House, Shoe Lane.
 
 \
 
 t. 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-UBBANA 
 
 3 0112 037327415