CHAPTER TWELVE.
A KING IN A QUAGMIRE.
"For my pastance Hunt, sing, and dance, My heart is set All godly sport To my comfort. Who shall me let?" The King's Balade, _attributed to Henry the Eighth_.
Life was a rough, hearty thing in the early sixteenth century, strangelydivided between thought and folly, hardship and splendour, misery andmerriment, toil and sport.
The youths in the armourer's household had experienced little of this asyet in their country life, but in London they could not but soon beginto taste both sides of the matter. Master Headley himself was a gooddeal taken up with city affairs, and left the details of his business toTibble Steelman and Kit Smallbones, though he might always appear on thescene, and he had a wonderful knowledge of what was going on.
The breaking-in and training of the two new country lads was entirelyleft to them and to Edmund Burgess. Giles soon found that complaintswere of no avail, and only made matters harder for him, and that TibbleSteelman and Kit Smallbones had no notion of favouring their master'scousin.
Poor fellow, he was very miserable in those first weeks. The actualtoil, to which he was an absolute novice, though nominally three yearsan apprentice, made his hands raw, and his joints full of aches, whilehis groans met with nothing but laughter; and he recognised with greatdispleasure, that more was laid on him than on Stephen Birkenholt. Thiswas partly in consideration of Stephen's youth, partly of his ready zealand cheerfulness. His hands might be sore too, but he was rather proudof it than otherwise, and his hero worship of Kit Smallbones made himrun on errands, tug at the bellows staff, or fetch whatever was calledfor with a bright alacrity that won the foremen's hearts, and it wasnoted that he who was really a gentleman, had none of the airs thatGiles Headley showed.
Giles began by some amount of bullying, by way of slaking his wrath atthe preference shown for one whom he continued to style a beggarly bratpicked up on the heath; but Stephen was good-humoured, and accustomed togive and take, and they both found their level, as well in the Dragoncourt as among the world outside, where the London prentices were astrong and redoubtable body, with rude, not to say cruel, rites ofinitiation among themselves, plenty of rivalries and enmities betweenhouse and house, guild and guild, but a united, not to say ferocious,_esprit de corps_ against every one else. Fisticuffs and wrestlingswere the amenities that passed between them, though always with a loveof fair play so long as no cowardice, or what was looked on as such, wasshown, for there was no mercy for the weak or weakly. Such had betterbetake themselves at once to the cloister, or life was made intolerableby constant jeers, blows, baiting and huntings, often, it must be owned,absolutely brutal.
Stephen and Giles had however passed through this ordeal. The letter toJohn Birkenholt had been despatched by a trusty clerk riding with theJudges of Assize, whom Mistress Perronel knew might be safely trusted,and who actually brought back a letter which might have emanated fromthe most affectionate of brothers, giving his authority for the bindingStephen apprentice to the worshipful Master Giles Headley, and sendingthe remainder of the boy's portion.
Stephen was thereupon regularly bound apprentice to Master Headley. Itwas a solemn affair, which took place in the Armourer's Hall in ColemanStreet, before sundry witnesses. Harry Randall, in his soberest garband demeanour, acted as guardian to his nephew, and presented him, cladin the regulation prentice garb--"flat round cap, close-cut hair, narrowfalling bands, coarse side coat, close hose, cloth stockings," coat withthe badge of the Armourers' Company, and Master Headley's own dragon'stail on the sleeve, to which was added a blue cloak marked in likemanner. The instructions to apprentices were rehearsed, beginning, "Yeshall constantly and devoutly on your knees every day serve God, morningand evening,"--pledging him to "avoid evil company, to make speedyreturn when sent on his master's business, to be fair, gentle and lowlyin speech and carriage with all men," and the like.
Mutual promises were interchanged between him and his master, Stephen onhis knees; the indentures were signed, for Quipsome Hal could with muchado produce an autograph signature, though his penmanship went nofurther, and the occasion was celebrated by a great dinner of the wholecraft at the Armourers' Hall, to which the principal craftsmen who hadbeen apprentices, such as Tibble Steelman and Kit Smallbones, wereinvited, sitting at a lower table, while the masters had the higher oneon the days, and a third was reserved for the apprentices after theyshould have waited on their masters--in fact it was an imitation of theorders of chivalry, knights, squires, and pages, and the gradation ofrank was as strictly observed as by the nobility. Giles, consideringthe feast to be entirely in his honour, though the transfer of hisindentures had been made at Salisbury, endeavoured to come out in someof his bravery, but was admonished that such presumption might bepunished, the first time, at his master's discretion, the second time,by a whipping at the Hall of his Company, and the third time by sixmonths being added to the term of his apprenticeship.
Master Randall was entertained in the place of honour, where hecomported himself with great gravity, though he could not resistalarming Stephen with an occasional wink or gesture as the boyapproached in the course of the duties of waiting at the upper board--asplendid sight with cups and flagons of gold and silver, with venisonand capons and all that a City banquet could command before theinvention of the turtle.
There was drinking of toasts, and among the foremost was that of Wolsey,who had freshly received his nomination of cardinal, and whose hat wason its way from Rome--and here the jester could not help betraying hisknowledge of the domestic policy of the household, and telling thecompany how it had become known that the scarlet hat was actually on theway, but in a "varlet's budget--a mere Italian common knave, no betterthan myself," quoth Quipsome Hal, whereat his nephew trembled standingbehind his chair, forgetting that the decorous solid man in the sad-coloured gown and well-crimped ruff, neatest of Perronel's performances,was no such base comparison for any varlet. Hal went on to describe,however, how my Lord of York had instantly sent to stay the messenger onhis landing at Dover, and equip him with all manner of costly silks byway of apparel, and with attendants, such as might do justice to hisfreight, "that so," he said, "men may not rate it but as a scarletcock's comb, since all men be but fools, and the sole question is, whoamong them hath wit enough to live by his folly." Therewith he gave awink that so disconcerted Stephen as nearly to cause an upset of thebowl of perfumed water that he was bringing for the washing of hands.
Master Headley, however, suspected nothing, and invited the grave MasterRandall to attend the domestic festival on the presentation of poorSpring's effigy at the shrine of Saint Julian. This was to take placeearly in the morning of the 14th of September, Holy Cross Day, the lastholiday in the year that had any of the glory of summer about it, and onwhich the apprentices claimed a prescriptive right to go out nutting inSaint John's Wood, and to carry home their spoil to the lasses of theiracquaintance.
Tibble Steelman had completed the figure in bronze, with a silver collarand chain, not quite without protest that the sum had better have beenbestowed in alms. But from his master's point of view this would havebeen giving to a pack of lying beggars and thieves what was due to theholy saint; no one save Tibble, who could do and say what he chose,could have ventured on a word of remonstrance on such a subject; and asthe full tide of iconoclasm, consequent on the discovery of the originalwording of the second commandment, had not yet set in, Tibble had nomore conscientious scruple against making the figure, than in moulding alittle straight-tailed lion for Lord Harry Percy's helmet.
So the party in early morning heard their mass, and then, repairing toSaint Julian's pillar, while the rising sun came peeping through the loweastern window of the vaulted Church of Saint Faith, Master Headley onhis knees gave thanks for his preservation, and then put forward hislittle daughter, holding on her joined hands the figure of poor Spring,couchant, and beautifully modelled in bronze with all Tibble's bestskill.
Hal Randall and
Ambrose had both come up from the little home wherePerronel presided, for the hour was too early for the jester's absenceto be remarked in the luxurious household of the Cardinal elect, and heeven came to break his fast afterwards at the Dragon court, and heldsuch interesting discourse with old Dame Headley on the farthingales andcoifs of Queen Katharine and her ladies, that she pronounced him a manwondrous wise and understanding, and declared Stephen happy in thepossession of such a kinsman.
"And whither away now, youngsters?" he said, as he rose from table.
"To Saint John's Wood! The good greenwood, uncle," said Ambrose.
"Thou too, Ambrose?" said Stephen joyfully. "For once away from thineink and thy books!"
"Ay," said Ambrose, "mine heart warms to the woodlands once more.Uncle, would that thou couldst come."
"Would that I could, boy! We three would show these lads of Cockaynewhat three foresters know of wood-craft! But it may not be. Were Ionce there, the old blood might stir again and I might bring you intotrouble, and ye have not two faces under one hood as I have! So fare yewell, I wish you many a bagful of nuts!"
The four months of city life, albeit the City was little bigger than ourmoderate sized country towns, and far from being an unbroken mass ofhouses, had yet made the two young foresters delighted to enjoy a day ofthorough country in one another's society. Little Dennet longed to gowith them, but the prentice world was far too rude for little maidens tobe trusted in it, and her father held out hopes of going one of thesedays to High Park as he called it, while Edmund and Stephen promised herall their nuts, and as many blackberries as could be held in their flatcaps.
"Giles has promised me none," said Dennet, with a pouting lip, "norAmbrose."
"Why sure, little mistress, thou'lt have enough to crack thy teeth on!"said Edmund Burgess.
"They _ought_ to bring theirs to me," returned the little heiress of theDragon court with an air of offended dignity that might have suited theheiress of the kingdom.
Giles, who looked on Dennet as a kind of needful appendage to theDragon, a piece of property of his own, about whom he need take notrouble, merely laughed and said, "Want must be thy master then." ButAmbrose treated her petulance in another fashion. "Look here, prettymistress," said he, "there dwells by me a poor little maid nigh aboutthine age, who never goeth further out than to Saint Paul's minster, norplucketh flower, nor hath sweet cake, nor manchet bread, nor sugar-stick, nay, and scarce ever saw English hazel-nut nor blackberry. 'Tisfor her that I want to gather them."
"Is she thy master's daughter?" demanded Dennet, who could admit theclaims of another princess.
"Nay, my master hath no children, but she dwelleth near him."
"I will send her some, and likewise of mine own comfits and cakes," saidMistress Dennet. "Only thou must bring all to me first."
Ambrose laughed and said, "It's a bargain then, little mistress?"
"I keep my word," returned Dennet marching away, while Ambrose obeyed asummons from good-natured Mistress Headley to have his wallet filledwith bread and cheese like those of her own prentices.
Off went the lads under the guidance of Edmund Burgess, meeting partiesof their own kind at every turn, soon leaving behind them the Citybounds, as they passed under New Gate, and by and by skirting the fieldsof the great Carthusian monastery, or Charter House, with the burial-ground given by Sir Walter Manny at the time of the Black Death. Beyondcame marshy ground through which they had to pick their way carefully,over stepping-stones--this being no other than what is now the Regent'sPark, not yet in any degree drained by the New River, but all quakingground, overgrown with rough grass and marsh-plants, through whichStephen and Ambrose bounded by the help of stout poles with feet andeyes well used to bogs, and knowing where to look for a safe footing,while many a flat-capped London lad floundered about and sank over hisyellow ankles or left his shoes behind him, while lapwings shrieked pee-wheet, and almost flapped him with their broad wings, and moorhens divedin the dark pools, and wild ducks rose in long families.
Stephen was able to turn the laugh against his chief adversary andrival, George Bates of the Eagle, who proposed seeking for the lapwing'snest in hopes of a dainty dish of plovers' eggs; being too great acockney to remember that in September the contents of the eggs wereprobably flying over the heather, as well able to shift for themselvesas their parents.
Above all things the London prentices were pugnacious, but as every onejoined in the laugh against George, and he was, besides, stuck fast on aquaking tussock of grass, afraid to proceed or advance, he could nothave his revenge. And when the slough was passed, and the slight riseleading to the copse of Saint John's Wood was attained, behold, it wasfound to be in possession of the lower sort of lads, the black guard asthey were called. They were of course quite as ready to fight with theprentices as the prentices were with them, and a battle royal tookplace, all along the front of the hazel bushes--in which Stephen of theDragon and George of the Eagle fought side by side. Sticks and fistswere the weapons, and there were no very severe casualties before theprentices, being the larger number as well as the stouter and betterfed, had routed their adversaries, and driven them off towards Harrow.
There was crackling of boughs and filling of bags, and cracking of nuts,and wild cries in pursuit of startled hare or rabbit, and though Ambroseand Stephen indignantly repelled the idea of Saint John's Wood beingnamed in the same day with their native forest, it is doubtful whetherthey had ever enjoyed themselves more; until just as they were about toturn homeward, whether moved by his hostility to Stephen, or by envy atthe capful of juicy blackberries, carefully covered with green leaves,George Bates, rushing up from behind, shouted out, "Here's a skulker!Here's one of the black guard! Off to thy fellows, varlet!" at the sametime dealing a dexterous blow under the cap, which sent the blackberriesup into Ambrose's face. "Ha! ha!" shouted the ill-conditioned fellow."So much for a knave that serves rascally strangers! Here! hand overthat bag of nuts!"
Ambrose was no fighter, but in defence of the bag that was to purchase atreat for little Aldonza, he clenched his fists, and bade George Batescome and take them if he would. The quiet scholarly boy was, however,no match for the young armourer, and made but poor reply to the buffetsof his adversary, who had hold of the bag, and was nearly choking himwith the string round his neck.
However, Stephen had already missed his brother, and turning round,shouted out that the villain Bates was mauling him, and rushed back,falling on Ambrose's assailant with a sudden well-directed pommellingthat made him hastily turn about, with cries of "Two against one!"
"Not at all," said Stephen. "Stand by, Ambrose; I'll give the cowardhis deserts."
In fact, though the boys were nearly of a size, George somewhat thebiggest, Stephen's country activity, and perhaps the higher spirit ofhis gentle blood, generally gave him the advantage, and on this occasionhe soon reduced Bates to roar for mercy.
"Thou must purchase it!" said Stephen. "Thy bag of nuts, in return forthe berries thou hast wasted!"
Peaceable Ambrose would have remonstrated, but Stephen was implacable.He cut the string, and captured the bag, then with a parting kick badeBates go after his comrades, for his Eagle was nought but a thievingkite.
Bates made off pretty quickly, but the two brothers tarried a little tosee how much damage the blackberries had suffered, and to repair thelosses as they descended into the bog by gathering some choicedewberries.
"I marvel these fine fellows 'scaped our company," said Stephenpresently.
"Are we in the right track, thinkst thou? Here is a pool I marked notbefore," said Ambrose anxiously.
"Nay, we can't be far astray while we see Saint Paul's spire and theTower full before us," said Stephen. "Plainer marks than we had athome."
"That may be. Only where is the safe footing?" said Ambrose. "I wishwe had not lost sight of the others!"
"Pish! what good are a pack of City lubbers!" returned Stephen. "Don'twe know a quagmire when we see one, better th
an they do?"
"Hark, they are shouting for us."
"Not they! That's a falconer's call. There's another whistle! See,there's the hawk. She's going down the wind, as I'm alive," and Stephenbegan to bound wildly along, making all the sounds and calls by whichfalcons were recalled, and holding up as a lure a lapwing which he hadknocked down. Ambrose, by no means so confident in bog-trotting as hisbrother, stood still to await him, hearing the calls and shouts of thefalconer coming nearer, and presently seeing a figure, flying by thehelp of a pole over the pools and dykes that here made some attempt atdraining the waste. Suddenly, in mid career over one of these broadditches, there was a collapse, and a lusty shout for help as the formdisappeared. Ambrose instantly perceived what had happened, the leapingpole had broken to the downfall of its owner. Forgetting all his doubtsas to bogholes and morasses, he grasped his own pole, and sprang fromtussock to tussock, till he had reached the bank of the ditch or water-course in which the unfortunate sportsman was floundering. He was alarge, powerful man, but this was of no avail, for the slough affordedno foothold. The further side was a steep bank built up of sods, thenearer sloped down gradually, and though it was not apparently verydeep, the efforts of the victim to struggle out had done nothing butchurn up a mass of black muddy water in which he sank deeper everymoment, and it was already nearly to his shoulders when with a cry ofjoy, half choked however, by the mud, he cried, "Ha! my good lad! Arethere any more of ye?"
"Not nigh, I fear," said Ambrose, beholding with some dismay the breadthof the shoulders which were all that appeared above the turbid water.
"Soh! Lie down, boy, behind that bunch of osier. Hold out thy pole.Let me see thine hands. Thou art but a straw, but, our Lady be myspeed! Now hangs England on a pair of wrists!"
There was a great struggle, an absolute effort for life, and but for theosier stump Ambrose would certainly have been dragged into the water,when the man had worked along the pole, and grasping his hands, pulledhimself upwards. Happily the sides of the dyke became harder higher up,and did not instantly yield to the pressure of his knees, and by thetime Ambrose's hands and shoulders felt nearly wrenched from theirsockets, the stem of the osier had been attained, and in another minute,the rescued man, bareheaded, plastered with mud, and streaming withwater, sat by him on the bank, panting, gasping, and trying to gatherbreath and clear his throat from the mud he had swallowed.
"Thanks, good lad, well done," he articulated. "Those fellows! whereare they?" And feeling in his bosom, he brought out a gold whistlesuspended by a chain. "Blow it," he said, taking off the chain, "mymouth is too full of slime."
Ambrose blew a loud shrill call, but it seemed to reach no one butStephen, whom he presently saw dashing towards them.
"Here is my brother coming, sir," he said, as he gave his endeavours tohelp the stranger to free himself from the mud that clung to him, andwhich was in some places thick enough to be scraped off with a knife.He kept up a continual interchange of exclamations at his plight,whistles and shouts for his people, and imprecations on their tardiness,until Stephen was near enough to show that the hawk had been recovered,and then he joyfully called out, "Ha! hast thou got her? Why, flat-capsas ye are, ye put all my fellows to shame! How now, thou errant bird,dost know thy master, or take him for a mud wall? Kite that thou art,to have led me such a dance! And what's your name, my brave lads? Yemust have been bred to wood-craft."
Ambrose explained both their parentage and their present occupation, butwas apparently heeded but little. "Wot ye how to get out of thisquagmire?" was the question.
"I never was here before, sir," said Stephen; "but yonder lies theTower, and if we keep along by this dyke, it must lead us outsomewhere."
"Well said, boy, I must be moving, or the mud will dry on me, and Ishall stand here as though I were turned to stone by the Gorgon's head!So have with thee! Go on first, master hawk-tamer. What will bear theewill bear me!"
There was an imperative tone about him that surprised the brothers, andAmbrose looking at him from head to foot, felt sure that it was somegreat man at the least, whom it had been his hap to rescue. Indeed, hebegan to have further suspicions when they came to a pool of clearerwater, beyond which was firmer ground, and the stranger with anexclamation of joy, borrowed Stephen's cap, and, scooping up the waterwith it, washed his face and head, disclosing the golden hair and beard,fair complexion, and handsome square face he had seen more than oncebefore.
He whispered to Stephen, "'Tis the King!"
"Ha! ha!" laughed Henry, "hast found him out, lads? Well, it may not bethe worse for ye. Pity thou shouldst not be in the Forest still, myyoung falconer, but we know our good city of London too well to breakthy indentures. And thou--"
He was turning to Ambrose when further shouts were heard. The Kinghallooed, and bade the boys do so, and in a few moments more they weresurrounded by the rest of the hawking party, full of dismay at theking's condition, and deprecating his anger for having lost him.
"Yea," said Henry; "an it had not been for this good lad, ye would neverhave heard more of the majesty of England! Swallowed in a quagmire hadmade a new end for a king, and ye would have to brook the little Scot."
The gentlemen who had come up were profuse in lamentations. A horse wasbrought up for the king's use, and he prepared to mount, being in hasteto get into dry clothes. He turned round, however, to the boys, andsaid, "I'll not forget you, my lads. Keep that!" he added, as Ambrose,on his knee, would have given him back the whistle, "'tis a token thatmaybe will serve thee, for I shall know it again. And thou, my black-eyed lad--My purse, Howard!"
He handed the purse to Stephen--a velvet bag richly wrought with gold,and containing ten gold angels, besides smaller money--bidding themdivide, like good brothers as he saw they were, and then galloped offwith his train.
Twilight was coming on, but following in the direction of the riders,the boys were soon on the Islington road. The New Gate was shut by thetime they reached it, and their explanation that they were belated aftera nutting expedition would not have served them, had not Stephenproduced the sum of twopence which softened the surliness of the guard.
It was already dark, and though curfew had not yet sounded, preparationswere making for lighting the watch-fires in the open spaces and throwingchains across the streets, but the little door in the Dragon court wasopen, and Ambrose went in with his brother to deliver up his nuts toDennet and claim her promise of sending a share to Aldonza.
They found their uncle in his sober array sitting by Master Headley, whowas rating Edmund and Giles for having lost sight of them, the latterexcusing himself by grumbling out that he could not be marking allStephen's brawls with George Bates.
When the two wanderers appeared, relief took the form of anger, andthere were sharp demands why they had loitered. Their story waslistened to with many exclamations: Dennet jumped for joy, hergrandmother advised that the angels should be consigned to her own safekeeping, and when Master Headley heard of Henry's scruples about theindentures, he declared that it was a rare wise king who knew that anhonest craft was better than court favour.
"Yet mayhap he might do something for thee, friend Ambrose," added thearmourer. "Commend thee to some post in his chapel royal, or put theeinto some college, since such is thy turn. How sayst thou, MasterRandall, shall he send in this same token, and make his petition?"
"If a fool--if a plain man may be heard where the wise hath spoken,"said Randall, "he had best abstain. Kings love not to be minded ofmishaps, and our Hal's humour is not to be reckoned on! Lay up the toyin case of need, but an thou claim overmuch he may mind thee in afashion not to thy taste."
"Sure our King is of a more generous mould!" exclaimed Mrs Headley.
"He is like other men, good mistress, just as you know how to have him,and he is scarce like to be willing to be minded of the taste of mire,or of floundering like a hog in a salt marsh. Ha! ha!" and Quipsome Halwent off into such a laugh as might have betrayed his ident
ity to anyone more accustomed to the grimaces of his professional character, butwhich only infected the others with the same contagious merriment."Come thou home now," he said to Ambrose; "my good woman hath been in amortal fright about thee, and would have me come out to seek after thee.Such are the women folk, Master Headley. Let them have but a lad tolook after, and they'll bleat after him like an old ewe that has losther lamb."
Ambrose only stayed for Dennet to divide the spoil, and though theblackberries had all been lost or crushed, the little maiden kept herpromise generously, and filled the bag not only with nuts but with threered-cheeked apples, and a handful of comfits, for the poor little maidwho never tasted fruit or sweets.
The Armourer's Prentices Page 12