"Up then spoke the apprentices tall
Living in London, one and all."
_Old Ballad_.
Another of the many holidays of the Londoners was enjoyed on the
occasion of the installation of Thomas Wolsey as Cardinal of Saint
Cecilia, and Papal Legate.
A whole assembly of prelates and "lusty gallant gentlemen" rode out to
Blackheath to meet the Roman envoy, who, robed in full splendour, with
Saint Peter's keys embroidered on back and breast and on the housings of
his mule, appeared at the head of a gallant train in the papal liveries,
two of whom carried the gilded pillars, the insignia of office, and two
more, a scarlet and gold-covered box or casket containing the Cardinal's
hat. Probably no such reception of the dignity was ever prepared
elsewhere, and all was calculated to give magnificent ideas of the
office of Cardinal and of the power of the Pope to those who had not
been let into the secret that the messenger had been met at Dover; and
thus magnificently fitted out to satisfy the requirements of the
butcher's son of Ipswich, and of one of the most ostentatious of courts.
Old Gaffer Martin Fulford had muttered in his bed that such pomp had not
been the way in the time of the true old royal blood, and that display
had come in with the upstart slips of the Red Rose--as he still chose to
style the Tudors; and he maundered away about the beauty and affability
of Edward the Fourth till nobody could understand him, and Perronel only
threw in her "ay, grandad," or "yea, gaffer," when she thought it was
expected of her.
Ambrose had an unfailing appetite for the sermons of Dean Colet, who was
to preach on this occasion in Westminster Abbey, and his uncle had given
him counsel how to obtain standing ground there, entering before the
procession. He was alone, his friends Tibble and Lucas both had that
part of the Lollard temper which loathed the pride and wealth of the
great political clergy, and in spite of their admiration for the Dean
they could not quite forgive his taking part in the pomp of such a
raree-show.
But Ambrose's devotion to the Dean, to say nothing of youthful
curiosity, outweighed all those scruples, and as he listened, he was
carried along by the curious sermon in which the preacher likened the
orders of the hierarchy below to that of the nine orders of the Angels,
making the rank of Cardinal correspond to that of the Seraphim, aglow
with love. Of that holy flame, the scarlet robes were the type to the
spiritualised mind of Colet, while others saw in them only the relic of
the imperial purple of old Rome; and some beheld them as the token that
Wolsey was one step nearer the supreme height that he coveted so
earnestly. But the great and successful man found himself personally
addressed, bidden not to be puffed up with his own greatness, and
stringently reminded of the highest example of humility, shown that he
that exalteth himself shall be abased, and he that humbleth himself be
exalted. The preacher concluded with a strong personal exhortation to
do righteousness and justice alike to rich and poor, joined with truth
and mercy, setting God always before him.
The sermon ended, Wolsey knelt at the altar, and Archbishop Wareham,
who, like his immediate predecessors, held legatine authority, performed
the act of investiture, placing the scarlet hat with its many loops and
tassels on his brother primate's head, after which a magnificent _Te
Deum_ rang through the beautiful church, and the procession of prelates,
peers, and ecclesiastics of all ranks in their richest array formed to
escort the new Cardinal to banquet at his palace with the King and
Queen.
Ambrose, stationed by a column, let the throng rush, tumble, and jostle
one another to behold the show, till the Abbey was nearly empty, while
he tried to work out the perplexing question whether all this pomp and
splendour were truly for the glory of God, or whether it were a delusion
for the temptation of men's souls. It was a debate on which his old and
his new guides seemed to him at issue, and he was drawn in both
directions--now by the beauty, order, and deep symbolism of the Catholic
ritual, now by the spirituality and earnestness of the men among whom he
lived. At one moment the worldly pomp, the mechanical and irreverent
worship, and the gross and vicious habits of many of the clergy repelled
him; at another the reverence and conservatism of his nature held him
fast.
Presently he felt a hand on his shoulder, and started, "Lost in a stud,
as we say at home, boy," said the jester, resplendent in a bran new
motley suit. "Wilt come in to the banquet? 'Tis open house, and I can
find thee a seat without disclosing the kinship that sits so sore on thy
brother. Where is he?"
"I have not seen him this day."
"That did I," returned Randall, "as I rode by on mine ass. He was
ruffling it so lustily that I could not but give him a wink, the which
my gentleman could by no means stomach! Poor lad! Yet there be times,
Ambrose, when I feel in sooth that mine office is the only honourable
one, since who besides can speak truth? I love my lord; he is a kind,
open-handed master, and there's none I would so willingly serve, whether
by jest or earnest, but what is he but that which I oft call him in
joke--the greater fool than I, selling peace and ease, truth and hope,
this life and the next, for yonder scarlet hat, which is after all of no
more worth than this jingling head-gear of mine."
"Deafening the spiritual ears far more, it may be," said Ambrose, "since
_humiles exaltaverint_."
It was no small shock that there, in the midst of the nave, the answer
was a bound, like a ball, almost as high as the capital of the column by
which they stood. "There's exaltation!" said Randall in a low voice,
and Ambrose perceived that some strangers were in sight. "Come, seek
thy brother out, boy, and bring him to the banquet. I'll speak a word
to Peter Porter, and he'll let you in. There'll be plenty of fooling
all the afternoon, before my namesake King Hal, who can afford to be an
honester man in his fooling than any about him, and whose laugh at a
hearty jest is goodly to hear."
Ambrose thanked him and undertook the quest. They parted at the great
west door of the Abbey, where, by way of vindicating his own character
for buffoonery, Randall exclaimed, "Where be mine ass?" and not seeing
the animal, immediately declared, "There he is!" and at the same time
sprang upon the back and shoulders of a gaping and astonished clown who
was gazing at the rear of the procession.
The crowd applauded with shouts of coarse laughter, but a man, who
seemed to belong to the victim, broke in with an angry oath, and "How
now, sir?"
"I cry you mercy," quoth the jester; "'twas mine own ass I sought, and
if I have fallen on thine, I will but ride him to York House and then
restore him. So ho! good jackass," crossing his ankles on the poor
fellow's chest so that he could not be shaken off.
The comrade lifted a cudgel, but there was a general cry of "My Lord
Cardinal's jester, lay not a finger on him!"
But Harry Randall was not one to brook immunity on the score of his
master's greatness. In another second he was on his feet, had wrested
the staff from the hands of his astounded beast of burden, flourished it
round his head after the most approved manner of Shirley champions at
Lyndhurst fair, and called to his adversary to "come on."
It did not take many rounds before Hal's dexterity had floored his
adversary, and the shouts of "Well struck, merry fool!" "Well played,
Quipsome Hal!" were rising high when the Abbot of Westminster's yeomen
were seen making way through the throng, which fell back in terror on
either side as they came to seize on the brawlers in their sacred
precincts.
But here again my Lord Cardinal's fool was a privileged person, and no
one laid a hand on him, though his blood being up, he would, spite of
his gay attire, have enjoyed a fight on equal terms. His quadruped
donkey was brought up to him amid general applause, but when he looked
round for Ambrose, the boy had disappeared.
The better and finer the nature that displayed itself in Randall, the
more painful was the sight of his buffooneries to his nephew, and at the
first leap, Ambrose had hurried away in confusion. He sought his
brother here, there, everywhere, and at last came to the conclusion that
Stephen must have gone home to dinner. He walked quickly across the
fields separating Westminster from the City of London, hoping to reach
Cheapside before the lads of the Dragon should have gone out again; but
just as he was near Saint Paul's, coming round Amen Corner, he heard the
sounds of a fray. "Have at the country lubbers! Away with the
moonrakers! Flat-caps, come on!" "Hey! lads of the Eagle! Down with
the Dragons! Adders! Snakes-s-s-s-s-!"
There was a kicking, struggling mass of blue backs and yellow legs
before him, from out of which came "Yah! Down with the Eagles!
Cowards! Kites! Cockneys!" There were plenty of boys, men, women with
children in their arms hallooing on, "Well done, Eagle!" "Go it,
Dragon!"
The word Dragon filled the quiet Ambrose with hot impulse to defend his
brother. All his gentle, scholarly habits gave way before that cry, and
a shout that he took to be Stephen's voice in the midst of the _melee_.
He was fairly carried out of himself, and doubling his fists, fell on
the back of the nearest boys, intending to break through to his brother,
and he found an unexpected ally. Will Wherry's voice called out, "Have
with you, comrade!"--and a pair of hands and arms considerably stouter
and more used to fighting than his own, began to pommel right and left
with such good will that they soon broke through to the aid of their
friends; and not before it was time, for Stephen, Giles, and Edmund,
with their backs against the wall, were defending themselves with all
their might against tremendous odds; and just as the new allies reached
them, a sharp stone struck Giles in the eye, and levelled him with the
ground, his head striking against the wall. Whether it were from alarm
at his fall, or at the unexpected attack in the rear, or probably from
both causes, the assailants dispersed in all directions without waiting
to perceive how slender the succouring force really was.
Edmund and Stephen were raising up the unlucky Giles, who lay quite
insensible, with blood pouring from his eye. Ambrose tried to wipe it
away, and there were anxious doubts whether the eye itself were safe.
They were some way from home, and Giles was the biggest and heaviest of
them all.
"Would that Kit Smallbones were here!" said Stephen, preparing to take
the feet, while Edmund took the shoulders.
"Look here," said Will Wherry, pulling Ambrose's sleeve, "our yard is
much nearer, and the old Moor, Master Michael, is safe to know what to
do for him. That sort of cattle always are leeches. He wiled the pain
from my thumb when 'twas crushed in our printing-press. Mayhap if he
put some salve to him, he might get home on his own feet."
Edmund listened. "There's reason in that," he said. "Dost know this
leech, Ambrose?"
"I know him well. He is a good old man, and wondrous wise. Nay, no
black arts; but he saith his folk had great skill in herbs and the like,
and though he be no physician by trade, he hath much of their lore."
"Have with thee, then," returned Edmund, "the rather that Giles is no
small weight, and the guard might come on us ere we reached the Dragon."
"Or those cowardly rogues of the Eagle might set on us again," added
Stephen; and as they went on their way to Warwick Inner Ward, he
explained that the cause of the encounter had been that Giles had
thought fit to prank himself in his father's silver chain, and thus
George Bates, always owing the Dragon a grudge, and rendered specially
malicious since the encounter on Holy Rood Day, had raised the cry
against him, and caused all the flat-caps around to make a rush at the
gaud as lawful prey.
"'Tis clean against prentice statutes to wear one, is it not?" asked
Ambrose.
"Ay," returned Stephen; "yet none of us but would stand up for our own
comrade against those meddling fellows of the Eagle."
"But," added Edmund, "we must beware the guard, for if they looked into
the cause of the fray, our master might be called on to give Giles a
whipping in the Company's hall, this being a second offence of going
abroad in these vanities."
Ambrose went on before to prepare Miguel Abenali, and entreat his good
offices, explaining that the youth's master, who was also his kinsman,
would be sure to give handsome payment for any good offices to him. He
scarcely got out half the words; the grand old Arab waved his hand and
said, "When the wounded is laid before the tent of Ben Ali, where is the
question of recompense? Peace be with thee, my son! Bring him hither.
Aldonza, lay the carpet yonder, and the cushions beneath the window,
where I may have light to look to his hurt."
Therewith he murmured a few words in an unknown tongue, which, as
Ambrose understood, were an invocation to the God of Abraham to bless
his endeavours to heal the stranger youth, but which happily were spoken
before the arrival of the others, who would certainly have believed them
an incantation.
The carpet though worn threadbare, was a beautiful old Moorish rug, once
glowing with brilliancy, and still rich in colouring, and the cushion
was of thick damask faded to a strange pale green. All in that double-
stalled partition, once belonging to the great earl's war-horses, was
scrupulously clean, for the Christian Moor had retained some of the
peculiar virtues born of Mohammedanism and of high civilisation. The
apprentice lads tramped in much as if they had been entering a wizard's
cave, though Stephen had taken care to assure Edmund of his application
of the test of holy water.
Following the old man's directions, Edmund and Stephen deposited their
burden on the rug. Aldonza brought some warm water, and Abenali washed
and examined the wound, Aldonza standing by and handing him whatever he
needed, now and then assisting with her slender brown hands in a manner
astonishing to the youths, who stood by anxious and helpless, while
their companion began to show signs of returning life.
Abenali pronounced that the stone had missed the eyeball, but the cut
and bruise were such as to require constant bathing, and the blow on the
head was the more serious matter, for when the patient tried to raise
himself he instantly became sick and giddy, so that it would be wise to
leave him where he was. This was much against the will of Edmund
Burgess, who shared all the prejudices of the English prentice against
the foreigner--perhaps a wizard and rival in trade; but there was no
help for it, and he could only insist that Stephen should mount guard
over the bed until he had reported to his master, and returned with his
orders. Therewith he departed, with such elaborate thanks and
courtesies to the host, as betrayed a little alarm in the tall
apprentice, who feared not quarter-staff, nor wrestler, and had even
dauntlessly confronted the masters of his guild!
Stephen, sooth to say, was not very much at ease; everything around had
such a strange un-English aspect, and he imploringly muttered, "Bide
with me, Am!" to which his brother willingly assented, being quite as
comfortable in Master Michael's abode as by his aunt's own hearth.
Giles meanwhile lay quiet and then, as his senses became less confused,
and he could open one eye, he looked dreamily about him, and presently
began to demand where he was, and what had befallen him, grasping at the
hand of Ambrose as if to hold fast by something familiar; but he still
seemed too much dazed to enter into the explanation, and presently
murmured something about thirst. Aldonza came softly up with a cup of
something cool. He looked very hard at her, and when Ambrose would have
taken it from her hand to give it to him, he said, "Nay! _Site_!"
And _site_, with a sweet smile in her soft, dark, shady eyes, and on her
full lips, held the cup to his lips far more daintily and dexterously
than either of his boy companions could have done; then when he moaned
and said his head and eye pained him, the white-bearded elder came and
bathed his brow with the soft sponge. It seemed all to pass before him
like a dream, and it was not much otherwise with his unhurt companions,
especially Stephen, who followed with wonder the movements made by the
slippered feet of father and daughter upon the mats which covered the
stone flooring of the old stable. The mats were only of English rushes
and flags, and had been woven by Abenali and the child; but loose rashes
strewing the floor were accounted a luxury in the Forest, and even at
the Dragon court the upper end of the hall alone had any covering. Then
the water was heated, and all such other operations carried on over a
curious round vessel placed over charcoal; the window and the door had
dark heavy curtains; and a matted partition cut off the further stall,
no doubt to serve as Aldonza's chamber. Stephen looked about for
something to assure him that the place belonged to no wizard enchanter,
and was glad to detect a large white cross on the wall, with a holy-
water stoup beneath it, but of images there were none.
It seemed to him a long time before Master Headley's ruddy face, full of
anxiety, appeared at the door.
Blows were, of course, no uncommon matter; perhaps so long as no
permanent injury was inflicted, the master-armourer had no objection to
anything that might knock the folly out of his troublesome young inmate;
but Edmund had made him uneasy for the youth's eye, and still more so
about the quarters he was in, and he had brought a mattress and a couple
of men to carry the patient home, as well as Steelman, his prime
minister, to advise him.
He had left all these outside, however, and advanced, civilly and
condescendingly thanking the sword-cutler, in perfect ignorance that the
man who stood before him had been born to a home that was an absolute
palace compared with the Dragon court. The two men were a curious
contrast. There stood the Englishman with his sturdy form inclining,
with age, to corpulence, his broad honest face telling of many a civic
banquet, and his short stubbly brown grizzled beard; his whole air
giving a sense of worshipful authority and weight; and opposite to him
the sparely made, dark, thin, aquiline-faced, white-bearded Moor, a far
smaller man in stature, yet with a patriarchal dignity, refinement, and
grace in port and countenance, belonging as it were to another sphere.
Speaking English perfectly, though with a foreign accent, Abenali
informed Master Headley that his young kinsman would by Heaven's
blessing soon recover without injury to the eye, though perhaps a scar
might remain.
Mr Headley thanked him heartily for his care, and said that he had
brought men to carry the youth home, if he could not walk; and then he
went up to the couch with a hearty "How now, Giles? So thou hast had
hard measure to knock the foolery out of thee, my poor lad. But come,
we'll have thee home, and my mother will see to thee."
"I cannot walk," said Giles, heavily, hardly raising his eyes, and when
he was told that two of the men waited to bear him home, he only
entreated to be let alone. Somewhat sharply, Mr Headley ordered him to
sit up and make ready, but when he tried to do so, he sank back with a
return of sickness and dizziness.
Abenali thereupon intreated that he might be left to his care for that
night, and stepping out into the court so as to be unheard by the
patient, explained that the brain had had a shock, and that perfect
quiet for some hours to come was the only way to avert a serious
illness, possibly dangerous. Master Headley did not like the
alternative at all, and was a good deal perplexed. He beckoned to
Tibble Steelman, who had all this time been talking to Lucas Hansen, and
now came up prepared with his testimony that this Michael was a good man
and true, a godly one to boot, who had been wealthy in his own land and
was a rare artificer in his own craft.
"Though he hath no license to practise it here," threw in Master
Headley, _sotto voce_; but he accepted the assurance that Michael was a
good Christian, and, with his daughter, regularly went to mass; and
since better might not be, he reluctantly consented to leave Giles under
his treatment, on Lucas reiterating the assurance that he need have no
fears of magic or foul play of any sort. He then took the purse that
hung at his girdle, and declared that Master Michael, (the title of
courtesy was wrung from him by the stately appearance of the old man),
must be at no charges for his cousin.
But Abenali with a grace that removed all air of offence from his
manner, returned thanks for the intention, but declared that it never
was the custom of the sons of Ali to receive reward for the hospitality
they exercised to the stranger within their gates. And so it was that
Master Headley, a good deal puzzled, had to leave his apprentice under
the roof of the old sword-cutler for the night at least.
"'Tis passing strange," said he, as he walked back; "I know not what my
mother will say, but I wish all may be right. I feel--I feel as if I
had left the lad Giles with Abraham under the oak tree, as we saw him in
the miracle play!"
This description did not satisfy Mrs Headley, indeed she feared that
her son was likewise bewitched; and when, the next morning, Stephen, who
had been sent to inquire for the patient, reported him better, but still
unable to be moved, since he could not lift his head without sickness,
she became very anxious. Giles was transformed in her estimate from a
cross-grained slip to poor Robin Headley's boy, the only son of a widow,
and nothing would content her but to make her son conduct her to Warwick
Inner Ward to inspect matters, and carry thither a precious relic
warranted proof against all sorcery.
It was with great trepidation that the good old dame ventured, but the
result was that she was fairly subdued by Abenali's patriarchal dignity.
She had never seen any manners to equal his, not _even_ when King
Edward the Fourth had come to her father's house at the Barbican,
chucked her under the chin, and called her a dainty duck!
It was Aldonza, however, who specially touched her feelings. Such a
sweet little wench, with the air of being bred in a kingly or knightly
court, to be living there close to the very dregs of the city was a
scandal and a danger--speaking so prettily too, and knowing how to treat
her elders. She would be a good example for Dennet, who, sooth to say,
was getting too old for spoilt-child sauciness to be always pleasing,
while as to Giles, he could not be in better quarters. Mrs Headley,
well used to the dressing of the burns and bruises incurred in the
weapon-smiths' business, could not but confess that his eye had been
dealt with as skilfully as she could have done it herself.