Prentice Hugh

by Frances Mary Peard

was done.

  Gervase was very much in the Cathedral superintending; Prothasycomplained that she never saw him, and even Joan failed to coax him out.He was like a boy in his longing to begin, saying, and justly, that hewas for ever over-seeing and correcting, and got little opportunity ofletting his own powers have play. To Hugh, more freely than to any, hetalked of his design, discussing its details with him; but one day Wat,looking uncomfortable, pulled Hugh after him as he went down the street.

  "Talk a little less loudly with the master of what his _surs_ is to belike," he said.

  "Why?"

  "Because there are those who would give their ears to have some notionsin their thick brains, and would filch other folks' without scruple."

  "Roger?"

  "Ay, Roger is ever conveniently near when there is aught to be heard,and he is mad because the men say thy work is sure to be the best--afterthe master's. So beware, for the master thinks all as honourable ashimself. What's this?"

  For by this time they had got near the conduit and the market, and acrowd of people were coming along hooting and jeering some object,which, as they approached, turned out to be a man seated on a horse withhis face to the tail, and a loaf hanging round his neck.

  "Why, 'tis Edmund the baker!" cried Wat in great excitement. "Look howwhite he is--as white as his own meal! This comes of adulterating hisbread, and now he will be put in the pillory, and his oven destroyed.Which wilt thou go to see, Hugh?"

  "Neither. And what will Mistress Thomasin say of thy caring to see aman pilloried?"

  "Oh, Mistress Thomasin, she is too dainty and fine! Her sister is moreto my mind. Come!"

  But Hugh would not. He left Wat, and walked down the High Street, andacross the bridge with its houses and its chapel, and out into thecountry. A high wind was driving grey clouds swiftly across the sky,and now and then a dash of rain came in his face. The year was forward,and already buds were swelling, and the country showing the first signsof spring. Though so many years had passed Hugh could never walk inthis direction without remembering his first coming to Exeter. How gladhis father would be to know how it was with him! He was in the lastyear of his apprenticeship, and receiving wages of ten shillings amonth, no small sum in those days. That he had got on in his craft andsatisfied his master Hugh was aware, and now before him opened such anhonourable task as a lad of his age could not have hoped for; whatStephen had longed for was about to come to pass, and Hugh knew that itwas possible for him to bring fame and honour to his father's name.

  With such thoughts, too, necessarily was joined very deep gratitude toMaster Gervase. He had never faltered in his kindness; had Hugh beenhis own son he could not have trained him more carefully, or taught himmore freely, with no grudging thoughts of possible rivalship. He hadgiven the boy of his best, and Hugh's heart swelled as he recognised it,wondering whether it would ever be in his power to do something by wayof return. Poor Hugh! He little thought how soon the occasion wouldcome!

  Then, as ever, he fell to studying the beautiful spring of branch andtwig, and shaped and twisted them in his own mind, and saw them fair andperfect in the corbel, as artists see their works before they begin tocarry them out, as yet unmarred by failure. Some of these models hebore home to study at leisure, and in the doorway met Elyas.

  "I was looking for thee. John Hamlyn and I have had our commission tobegin, and we are to hear about thee in two or three days. Have nofear. The bishop and I are strong enough to carry the matter; beshrewme, am I not the one to judge who is the best workman?"

  "I may get the block ready for you, sir?" said Hugh eagerly.

  "That may'st thou not, for I have already spoken to Ned Parsons, and heis there at this moment. Why, thou silly lad, disappointed? Thinkestthou that seeing thee set to do the rough labour will dispose them tochoose thee for the better? Nay, nay, leave it to me, and do thouperfect thy design, remembering that it is a great and holy work towhich thou art admitted. And hark ye, Hugh, spare no time in thedesign, and be not over-bold. Take something simple, such as ivy withthe berries. Do that well, and it may be a second will fall to thyshare."

  No need to bid him be industrious. Hugh flung himself into it with suchintensity of purpose that for the next day or two he could hardly eat orsleep. Wat, whose fate was also in the balance, took it with the utmostphilosophy, said he should do his best, hoped that would turn out betterthan he expected, and snored peacefully the moment he was in his bed.Roger, who was certain to have the work, was as absorbed as Hugh, butsilent withal. His nature was moody and suspicious, he gave noconfidence, and Wat was not far wrong when he said that he was on thewatch for what he could gather as to the designs of the others. Hughgenerally drew his fancies on a bit of board with a stick sharpened andburnt. Usually he rubbed them out as soon as he had them to his fancy,but once or twice he had left them about, and was little aware how Rogerhad made them his own, or what exact copies were stowed away in a box.

  It was a week after Hugh's walk outside the walls that he saw Elyas comeinto the yard with Master William Pontington, the canon of St Peter's,who a few years before had bought Poltimore of Lord Montacute. Hugh'sheart beat so fast that his hand was scarcely so firm as usual, and hechipped the feather of a bird's wing. For something in Gervase's facetold him that he brought news. Wat was working in the Cathedral.Presently the master and the canon came and stood behind Hugh. Hugh'shand trembled no more; he cut with astonishing freedom and power,feeling himself to be in a manner on his trial. Yet the silence seemedto him to last almost beyond endurance. He could not see the proud lookon his master's face, nor watch the change of expression from coldindifference to eager interest on that of the canon. His own work neverreached his hopes or his intentions, and he was far more quick to seeits faults than its beauties. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder.

  "Enough, goodman," said a voice, "I give in. Since I have seen thisyoung springald of thine at work, I own thou hadst a right to praise himas thou hast done. Give him a corbel and let him fall to at it as if itwere this capital he is carving now, for the bird and her nest are ascunning a piece of workmanship as I have ever beheld."

  "Thank his reverence, Hugh," said Gervase gleefully.

  But Hugh turned red and then white, and could scarce stammer out thewords.

  "Ay, ay," said the canon good-humouredly, "no need for more; and I amglad thy heart is so set upon it, because now thy heart will go into thyhand, and, to tell thee the truth, that is what I feared might bewanting in such a young worker. Is that truly all thine own design?"

  "The other men would be more like to come to Hugh than Hugh to go tothem, holy sir," put in Elyas.

  The canon, indeed, could scarcely believe his eyes. He made the youngman show more of his carving, heard something of his father's skill, toall of which he had hitherto turned a deaf ear, and departed, ready todo battle for Hugh against any who spoke a disparaging word.

  "There goes thy most persistent opponent," said Elyas, coming back andrubbing his hands in glee; "'twas all I could do to bring him here, andhe grumbled the whole way about putting work into inexperienced hands,and I know not what! Now to-morrow, Hugh, Ned Parsons will havefinished his blocking out for me, and I will set him to thine. I shallgive thee the first pillar in the choir on the opposite side to mineown. It is not so well in view as some of the others, but that shouldmake no difference in its fairness. And here is Joan to be told thenews."

  Joan shook her wise little head over it, and opined that now Hugh wouldbe worse than ever in neither eating nor sleeping. But it was not so.He was very quiet all that day, and when work was over he and Joan setoff for the Cathedral that he might look upon his pillar--with whatlonging eyes!--and picture it again and again to himself as it shouldbe.

  "And there is father's--shaped," said Joan; "how long and slender itlooks! I do hope that his will be the most beautiful of all, because heis older, and because you have all learnt from him, and because--he isfather and there is no one lik
e him!"

  "No fear!" said Hugh. "I have seen his designs. Not one of us canoverpass him."

  "Mother is not easy about him, either," said Joan, who had sat down andclasped her hands round her knees. "He has pains in his head anddizziness, and he will not have the leech because he says he talks sofoolishly about Mars and Venus, and father says he does not believe theplanets have aught to do with us. Dost thou think they have?"

  "I know not," said Hugh unheeding. "Joan, hast thou heard where Roger'sis to be?"

  "On the same side with father's, and Wat opposite, and Franklyn betweenthee and Wat. Tell me once again how thine ivy is to curl."

  From one cause or another there was a slight delay in the