"I keep my word," returned Dennet marching away, while Ambrose obeyed a
summons from good-natured Mistress Headley to have his wallet filled
with bread and cheese like those of her own prentices.
Off went the lads under the guidance of Edmund Burgess, meeting parties
of their own kind at every turn, soon leaving behind them the City
bounds, as they passed under New Gate, and by and by skirting the fields
of the great Carthusian monastery, or Charter House, with the burial-
ground given by Sir Walter Manny at the time of the Black Death. Beyond
came marshy ground through which they had to pick their way carefully,
over stepping-stones--this being no other than what is now the Regent's
Park, not yet in any degree drained by the New River, but all quaking
ground, overgrown with rough grass and marsh-plants, through which
Stephen and Ambrose bounded by the help of stout poles with feet and
eyes well used to bogs, and knowing where to look for a safe footing,
while many a flat-capped London lad floundered about and sank over his
yellow ankles or left his shoes behind him, while lapwings shrieked pee-
wheet, and almost flapped him with their broad wings, and moorhens dived
in the dark pools, and wild ducks rose in long families.
Stephen was able to turn the laugh against his chief adversary and
rival, George Bates of the Eagle, who proposed seeking for the lapwing's
nest in hopes of a dainty dish of plovers' eggs; being too great a
cockney to remember that in September the contents of the eggs were
probably flying over the heather, as well able to shift for themselves
as their parents.
Above all things the London prentices were pugnacious, but as every one
joined in the laugh against George, and he was, besides, stuck fast on a
quaking tussock of grass, afraid to proceed or advance, he could not
have his revenge. And when the slough was passed, and the slight rise
leading to the copse of Saint John's Wood was attained, behold, it was
found to be in possession of the lower sort of lads, the black guard as
they were called. They were of course quite as ready to fight with the
prentices as the prentices were with them, and a battle royal took
place, all along the front of the hazel bushes--in which Stephen of the
Dragon and George of the Eagle fought side by side. Sticks and fists
were the weapons, and there were no very severe casualties before the
prentices, being the larger number as well as the stouter and better
fed, had routed their adversaries, and driven them off towards Harrow.
There was crackling of boughs and filling of bags, and cracking of nuts,
and wild cries in pursuit of startled hare or rabbit, and though Ambrose
and Stephen indignantly repelled the idea of Saint John's Wood being
named in the same day with their native forest, it is doubtful whether
they had ever enjoyed themselves more; until just as they were about to
turn homeward, whether moved by his hostility to Stephen, or by envy at
the 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 same
time dealing a dexterous blow under the cap, which sent the blackberries
up into Ambrose's face. "Ha! ha!" shouted the ill-conditioned fellow.
"So much for a knave that serves rascally strangers! Here! hand over
that bag of nuts!"
Ambrose was no fighter, but in defence of the bag that was to purchase a
treat for little Aldonza, he clenched his fists, and bade George Bates
come and take them if he would. The quiet scholarly boy was, however,
no match for the young armourer, and made but poor reply to the buffets
of his adversary, who had hold of the bag, and was nearly choking him
with the string round his neck.
However, Stephen had already missed his brother, and turning round,
shouted out that the villain Bates was mauling him, and rushed back,
falling on Ambrose's assailant with a sudden well-directed pommelling
that made him hastily turn about, with cries of "Two against one!"
"Not at all," said Stephen. "Stand by, Ambrose; I'll give the coward
his deserts."
In fact, though the boys were nearly of a size, George somewhat the
biggest, Stephen's country activity, and perhaps the higher spirit of
his gentle blood, generally gave him the advantage, and on this occasion
he soon reduced Bates to roar for mercy.
"Thou must purchase it!" said Stephen. "Thy bag of nuts, in return for
the berries thou hast wasted!"
Peaceable Ambrose would have remonstrated, but Stephen was implacable.
He cut the string, and captured the bag, then with a parting kick bade
Bates go after his comrades, for his Eagle was nought but a thieving
kite.
Bates made off pretty quickly, but the two brothers tarried a little to
see how much damage the blackberries had suffered, and to repair the
losses as they descended into the bog by gathering some choice
dewberries.
"I marvel these fine fellows 'scaped our company," said Stephen
presently.
"Are we in the right track, thinkst thou? Here is a pool I marked not
before," said Ambrose anxiously.
"Nay, we can't be far astray while we see Saint Paul's spire and the
Tower full before us," said Stephen. "Plainer marks than we had at
home."
"That may be. Only where is the safe footing?" said Ambrose. "I wish
we had not lost sight of the others!"
"Pish! what good are a pack of City lubbers!" returned Stephen. "Don't
we know a quagmire when we see one, better than they do?"
"Hark, they are shouting for us."
"Not they! That's a falconer's call. There's another whistle! See,
there's the hawk. She's going down the wind, as I'm alive," and Stephen
began to bound wildly along, making all the sounds and calls by which
falcons were recalled, and holding up as a lure a lapwing which he had
knocked down. Ambrose, by no means so confident in bog-trotting as his
brother, stood still to await him, hearing the calls and shouts of the
falconer coming nearer, and presently seeing a figure, flying by the
help of a pole over the pools and dykes that here made some attempt at
draining the waste. Suddenly, in mid career over one of these broad
ditches, there was a collapse, and a lusty shout for help as the form
disappeared. Ambrose instantly perceived what had happened, the leaping
pole had broken to the downfall of its owner. Forgetting all his doubts
as to bogholes and morasses, he grasped his own pole, and sprang from
tussock to tussock, till he had reached the bank of the ditch or water-
course in which the unfortunate sportsman was floundering. He was a
large, powerful man, but this was of no avail, for the slough afforded
no foothold. The further side was a steep bank built up of sods, the
nearer sloped down gradually, and though it was not apparently very
deep, the efforts of the victim to struggle out had done nothing but
churn up a mass of black muddy water in which he sank deeper every
moment, and it was already nearly to his shoulders when with a cry of
joy, half choked however, by the mud, he cried, "Ha! my good lad! Are
there any more of ye?"
"Not nigh, I fear," said Ambrose, beholding with some dismay the breadth
of the shoulders which were all that appeared above the turbid water.
"Soh! Lie down, boy, behind that bunch of osier. Hold out thy pole.
Let me see thine hands. Thou art but a straw, but, our Lady be my
speed! Now hangs England on a pair of wrists!"
There was a great struggle, an absolute effort for life, and but for the
osier stump Ambrose would certainly have been dragged into the water,
when the man had worked along the pole, and grasping his hands, pulled
himself upwards. Happily the sides of the dyke became harder higher up,
and did not instantly yield to the pressure of his knees, and by the
time Ambrose's hands and shoulders felt nearly wrenched from their
sockets, the stem of the osier had been attained, and in another minute,
the rescued man, bareheaded, plastered with mud, and streaming with
water, sat by him on the bank, panting, gasping, and trying to gather
breath and clear his throat from the mud he had swallowed.
"Thanks, good lad, well done," he articulated. "Those fellows! where
are they?" And feeling in his bosom, he brought out a gold whistle
suspended by a chain. "Blow it," he said, taking off the chain, "my
mouth is too full of slime."
Ambrose blew a loud shrill call, but it seemed to reach no one but
Stephen, whom he presently saw dashing towards them.
"Here is my brother coming, sir," he said, as he gave his endeavours to
help the stranger to free himself from the mud that clung to him, and
which was in some places thick enough to be scraped off with a knife.
He kept up a continual interchange of exclamations at his plight,
whistles and shouts for his people, and imprecations on their tardiness,
until Stephen was near enough to show that the hawk had been recovered,
and then he joyfully called out, "Ha! hast thou got her? Why, flat-caps
as ye are, ye put all my fellows to shame! How now, thou errant bird,
dost know thy master, or take him for a mud wall? Kite that thou art,
to have led me such a dance! And what's your name, my brave lads? Ye
must have been bred to wood-craft."
Ambrose explained both their parentage and their present occupation, but
was apparently heeded but little. "Wot ye how to get out of this
quagmire?" was the question.
"I never was here before, sir," said Stephen; "but yonder lies the
Tower, and if we keep along by this dyke, it must lead us out
somewhere."
"Well said, boy, I must be moving, or the mud will dry on me, and I
shall stand here as though I were turned to stone by the Gorgon's head!
So have with thee! Go on first, master hawk-tamer. What will bear thee
will bear me!"
There was an imperative tone about him that surprised the brothers, and
Ambrose looking at him from head to foot, felt sure that it was some
great man at the least, whom it had been his hap to rescue. Indeed, he
began to have further suspicions when they came to a pool of clearer
water, beyond which was firmer ground, and the stranger with an
exclamation of joy, borrowed Stephen's cap, and, scooping up the water
with it, washed his face and head, disclosing the golden hair and beard,
fair complexion, and handsome square face he had seen more than once
before.