clergy withreference to the walls of the close--a very fruitful source of dispute.
"'Tis a pity though, goodman, that the king is lodged in the palacewhere the bishop will have his ear," said Franklyn.
"Pish!" answered Elyas. "Little thou knowest of Edward if thou thinkesthim to be so easily turned! He will look into the affair and judgeaccording to right. No favour beyond that need bishop nor mayor lookfor. But there is no doubt that the ecclesiastics are pushing theirprivileges as to right of way too far, and I wish there were as good achance of getting Countess Weir removed, and restoring the navigation ofthe river."
"Father," said Joan solemnly, "I saw the king, and I kissed him myhand."
"Didst thou so, my popinjay? And I warrant that pleased him. He hath aJoan of his own, what thinkest thou of that?"
"Little, like me? Father, there was a beautiful shining knight thatspoke to Hugh and Agrippa, and Hugh is to go to the palace to-morrow."
So Gervase had to hear this story. He looked grave over it, for he knewwhat were the boy's secret longings, and Stephen had told him of SirThomas de Trafford's offer, and how it had fallen in with them. Andthough Hugh was his sworn apprentice, and could not be removed, yet theking, who had a high respect and liking for Sir Thomas, might ask forhis release as a personal favour which the stone-cutter could notrefuse. Elyas felt, moreover, that the boy's first days ofapprenticeship had not been of a kind to lead him to care overmuch forhis craft. Franklyn had succeeded in making them full ofdiscouragement, and though of late Hugh had worked steadily and well, hehad been given no opportunity of getting on, and might well be out ofheart. Elyas felt very doubtful as to the result of this visit, and wasgrieved not only because his promise to Stephen had been to do hisutmost to teach him his craft, but because he really loved the boy. Inthose days apprentices were not treated as "hands," they were actualmembers of the family. Roger was too self-absorbed to have won hismaster's affection, and Wat, though he had excellent qualities, was forever vexing Prothasy, and committing some clumsy awkwardness. Elyas wassure that Hugh had that in him which by-and-by would make his workexcellent, and had set his heart upon bringing it out. Was all thishope to end?
Hugh himself was not without thoughts on the subject. The sight of theking, the half smile with which he had been recognised, had stirred uphis old desires into ardent longing. Once again nothing in the worldseemed so grand as to have the power of fighting, and, if needs were,dying for him. The grave earnest face, saddened by troubles which wouldhave overwhelmed a weaker soul, fired the boy's enthusiasm, where otherscomplained of want of geniality. Then Sir Thomas de Trafford's noticehad crimsoned him with pleasure and brought back Dame Edith's sweetface, with which it must be owned Prothasy's could not compare. He wassick of mouldings and ratings, and though the Cathedral always raised alonging in him to be one of the great brotherhood of workers who weremaking it glorious, he felt at times a dreary conviction that the daywould never come, and then the old longing to fling down hammer andchisel grew strong, and he thought that had his father but been there hewould surely have yielded to his longing.
Wat was even more excited than he on the matter of this visit, begginghard to be allowed to go with him as far as the palace, and quitecontent with the prospect of a chance of seeing a squire, or aman-at-arms, or perhaps one of the pages who swaggered about with muchcontempt for sober citizens. With this hope he stayed outside thepalace gate, where a crowd was collected to see the king.
Hugh's heart beat fast, but he went boldly in and asked for JohnWakefield. A sturdy, fatherly-looking squire came out, who smiled whenhe saw so young a visitor, and reported that the knight was in thegarden where he had gone to look at the towers of the Cathedral. Inparts of the garden the snow lay deep, and the pages had been amusingthemselves this morning with building a snow man in one corner, but nowwere gone off to attend the king, and only Sir Thomas and a chaplainpaced the walks. Hugh waited until they turned towards him.
"Who's this?" said the knight stopping. "Beshrew me, but it is themonkey boy, as my little Nell persists in calling him! Knowest thouaught of him, holy father?"
"Naught, gentle sir, more than that by his dress he should beapprenticed to the Masons' Guild--yes, and I have seen him in theCathedral with Master Gervase."
Beckoned to come nearer, Hugh made his reverence and stood bare-headed,while Sir Thomas questioned him upon what had befallen them: theshipwreck, his father's death, and his present position.
"And thou wouldst sooner chip stones than be in my household? By myfaith it seems a strange choice!"
Poor Hugh! It was all he could do to keep the tears back from his eyes.
"I would rather be in your household, sir, than anywhere in the world,"he said in a choked voice.
"Sayest thou so?" returned Sir Thomas loudly. "Then, wherefore not?Thy master would do me a favour, I make no doubt, and cancel thy bond,and it would pleasure my little Nell if I took thee and the monkey backwith me, though I know not how Wolf would behave. Speak up, withoutfear, and tell me if thou art willing."
Willing! Every longing in his heart leapt up and cried out to besatisfied. Willing! What would he not give for such a life! It dancedup and down before him decked in brightest colours, while on the otherside he seemed to hear Franklyn's ceaseless rebukes, and to feel all theweariness of unsuccessful toil. Willing!
But then at that moment his eye fell upon the towers of the Cathedral,and from the building, faint but sweet, there came the sound of youngvoices chanting the praises of the Lord. And with the sound rushed uponhim the remembrance of his father's words, of the promise he had made,of all the wood-carver's hopes, and fears, and longings! Could hedisappoint him? He covered his face with his hands and sobbed out,"Noble sir, I would, I would, but I can not!"
"Wherefore?"
"My father--he would have me a carver."
Sir Thomas was silent, but perhaps thinking to pleasure him, thechaplain pushed the matter.
"But thou mayest choose for thyself now that thy father is dead."
"Nay, holy sir," said Hugh, keeping his head down, "but I promised."
"Nevertheless--" began the chaplain, when the knight interrupted.
"Prithee no more, father; a promise is a sacred thing, and the urchin isin the right. Keep covenant is ever the king's word. What was thypromise, boy?"
"That I would learn the craft, and he hoped that in time I might workthere," pointing to the Cathedral. "But William Franklyn says I nevershall."
"Pay no heed to his croaking," said Sir Thomas heartily. "Work there,ay, that shalt thou, and when I ride here again with the king, thoushalt show me what thou hast done."
He kept the boy longer, speaking kindly, and sending him away at lengthwith the gift of a mark, as he said, to buy a remembrance of MistressNell. And when he had gone he turned to the chaplain.
"That was a struggle gallantly got through," he said. "I would I couldbe sure mine own Edgar would keep as loyally to my words when I am gone.But the boy prince's example and influence are of the worst."
And Hugh?
He had done what was right, but right doing does not always bringimmediate satisfaction--very often it is the other way, and we thinkwith regret upon what we have given up, and something within us suggeststhat we have been too hasty, and that there were ways by which we mighthave done what was almost right and yet had what we wanted. If MasterGervase could have been brought to consent, knowing all StephenBassett's wishes, why, then, surely Hugh might have gone his way,feeling that he had tried to follow his father's road, and only given upwhen he found he could not get on. And yet twist it as he would, thisreasoning would not come fair and smooth, and there was always somethingwhich he had to pass over in a hurry. Sir Thomas, too, had said he wasright.
Wat pounced upon him before he had gone far, evidently expecting that hewould have a great deal to tell--perhaps have seen the king in hiscrown. At any other time Hugh might have held his peace, but just nowthere was a hungry
longing in his heart, so that he poured all out toWat--Sir Thomas's offer and his own refusal. It must be owned that hewas disappointed that Wat took it as a matter of course, while agreeingthat it would have been very fine to have ridden away from Exeter in theking's train.
"Then with Agrippa in thy arms thou might'st have passed for thejester."
"Gramercy for thy fancy," said Hugh offended.
"That would become thee better."
"Ay, it would be rare," answered Wat with a sigh. "I am such an oaf atthis stone-cutting that sometimes I could wish myself at the bottom ofthe sea."
"What made thee take to the craft?"
"To pleasure my old mother.
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