"Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen
Full many a sprightly race,
Disporting on thy margent green,
The paths of pleasure trace."
Gray.
Master Hope took all the guests by boat to Windsor, and very soon the
little party at the Antelope was in a state of such perfect felicity as
became a proverb with them all their lives afterwards. It was an inn
wherein to take one's ease, a large hostel full of accommodation for man
and horse, with a big tapestried room of entertainment below, where
meals were taken, with an oriel window with a view of the Round Tower,
and above it a still more charming one, known as the Red Rose, because
one of the Dukes of Somerset had been wont to lodge there. The walls
were tapestried with the story of Saint Genoveva of Brabant, fresh and
new on Mrs Streatfield's marriage; there was a huge bed with green
curtains of that dame's own work, where one might have said:--
"Above, below, the rose of snow,
Twined with her blushing foe we spread."
so as to avoid all offence. There was also a cupboard or sideboard of
the choicer plate belonging to the establishment, and another awmry
containing appliances for chess and backgammon, likewise two large
chairs, several stools, and numerous chests.
This apartment was given up to Mistress Randall and the two girls,
subject however to the chance of turning out for any very distinguished
guests. The big bed held all three, and the chamber was likewise their
sitting-room, though they took their meals down stairs, and joined the
party in the common room in the evening whenever they were not out of
doors, unless there were guests whom Perronel did not think desirable
company for her charges. Stephen and Giles were quartered in a small
room known as the Feathers, smelling so sweet of lavender and woodruff
that Stephen declared it carried him back to the Forest. Mrs
Streatfield would have taken Jasper to tend among her children, but the
boy could not bear to be without Stephen, and his brother advised her to
let it be so, and not try to make a babe of him again.
The guest-chamber below stairs opened at one end into the innyard, a
quadrangle surrounded with stables, outhouses, and offices, with a
gallery running round to give access to the chambers above, where, when
the Court was at Windsor, two or three great men's trains of retainers
might be crowded together.
One door, however, in the side of the guest-chamber had steps down to an
orchard, full of apple and pear trees in their glory of pink bud and
white blossom, borders of roses, gillyflowers, and lilies of the valley
running along under the grey walls. There was a broad space of grass
near the houses, whence could be seen the Round Tower of the Castle
looking down in protection, while the background of the view was filled
up with a mass of the foliage of Windsor forest, in the spring tints.
Stephen never thought of its being beautiful, but he revelled in the
refreshment of anything so like home, and he had nothing to wish for but
his brother, and after all he was too contented and happy even to miss
him much.
Master Streatfield was an elderly man, fat and easy-going, to whom
talking seemed rather a trouble than otherwise, though he was very good-
natured. His wife was a merry, lively, active woman, who had been
handed over to him by her father like a piece of Flanders cambric, but
who never seemed to regret her position, managed men and maids, farm and
guests, kept perfect order without seeming to do so, and made great
friends with Perronel, never guessing that she had been one of the
strolling company, who, nine or ten years before, had been refused
admission to the Antelope, then crowded with my Lord of Oxford's
followers.
At first, it was enough for the prentices to spend most of their time in
lying about on the grass under the trees. Giles, who was in the best
condition, exerted himself so far as to try to learn chess from Aldonza,
who seemed to be a proficient in the game, and even defeated the good-
natured burly parson who came every evening to the Antelope, to imbibe
slowly a tankard of ale, and hear any news there stirring.
She and Giles were content to spend hours over her instructions in chess
on that pleasant balcony in the shade of the house. Though really only
a year older than Dennet Headley, she looked much more, and was so in
all her ways. It never occurred to her to run childishly wild with
delight in the garden and orchard as did Dennet, who, with little five-
years-old Will Streatfield for her guide and playfellow, rushed about
hither and thither, making acquaintance with hens and chickens, geese
and goslings, seeing cows and goats milked, watching butter churned,
bringing all manner of animal and vegetable curiosities to Stephen to be
named and explained, and enjoying his delight in them, a delight which
after the first few days became more and more vigorous.
By and by there was punting and fishing on the river, strawberry
gathering in the park, explorations of the forest, expeditions of all
sorts and kinds, Jasper being soon likewise well enough to share in
them. The boys and girls were in a kind of fairy land under Perronel's
kind wing, the wandering habits of whose girlhood made the freedom of
the country far more congenial to her than it would have been to any
regular Londoner.
Stephen was the great oracle, of course, as to the deer respectfully
peeped at in the park, or the squirrels, the hares and rabbits, in the
forest, and the inhabitants of the stream above or below. It was he who
secured and tamed the memorials of their visit--two starlings for Dennet
and Aldonza. The birds were to be taught to speak, and to do wonders of
all kinds, but Aldonza's bird was found one morning dead, and Giles
consoled her by the promise of something much bigger, and that would
talk much better. Two days after he brought her a young jackdaw.
Aldonza clasped her hands and admired its glossy back and queer blue
eye, and was in transports when it uttered something between "Jack" and
"good lack." But Dennet looked in scorn at it, and said, "That's a bird
tamed already. He didn't catch it. He only bought it! I would have
none such! An ugsome great thieving bird!"
"Nay now, Mistress Dennet," argued Perronel. "Thou hast thy bird, and
Alice has lost hers. It is not meet to grudge it to her."
"I! Grudge it to her!" said Dennet, with a toss of the head. "I grudge
her nought from Giles Headley, so long as I have my Goldspot that
Stephen climbed the wall for, his very self."
And Dennet turned majestically away with her bird--Goldspot only in the
future--perched on her finger; while Perronel shook her head bodingly.
But they were all children still, and Aldonza was of a nature that was
slow to take offence, while it was quite true that Dennet had been free
from jealousy of the jackdaw, and only triumphant in Stephen's prowess
and her own starling.
The great pleasure of all was a grand stag-hunt, got up for the
diversion of the French ambassadors, who had come to treat for the
espousals of the infant Princess Mary with the baby "Dolphyne."
Probably these illustrious personages did not get half the pleasure out
of it that the Antelope party had. Were they not, by special management
of a yeoman pricker who had recognised in Stephen a kindred spirit, and
had a strong admiration for Mistress Randall, placed where there was the
best possible view of hunters, horses, and hounds, lords and ladies,
King and ambassadors, in their gorgeous hunting trim? Did not Stephen,
as a true verdurer's son, interpret every note on the horn, and predict
just what was going to happen, to the edification of all his hearers?
And when the final rush took place, did not the prentices, with their
gowns rolled up, dart off headlong in pursuit? Dennet entertained some
hope that Stephen would again catch some runaway steed, or come to the
King's rescue in some way or other, but such chances did not happen
every day. Nay, Stephen did not even follow up the chase to the death,
but left Giles to do that, turning back forsooth because that little
Jasper thought fit to get tired and out of breath, and could not find
his way back alone. Dennet was quite angry with Stephen and turned her
back on him, when Giles came in all glorious, at having followed up
staunchly all day, having seen the fate of the poor stag, and having
even beheld the King politely hand the knife to Monsieur de Montmorency
to give the first stroke to the quarry!
That was the last exploit. There was to be a great tilting-match in
honour of the betrothal, and Master Alderman Headley wanted his
apprentices back again, and having been satisfied by a laborious letter
from Dennet, sent per carrier, that they were in good health, despatched
orders by the same means, that they were to hire horses at the Antelope
and return--Jasper coming back at the same time, though his aunt would
fain have kept him longer.
Women on a journey almost always rode double, and the arrangement came
under debate. Perronel, well accustomed to horse, ass, or foot,
undertook to ride behind the child, as she called Jasper, who--as a born
Londoner--knew nothing of horses, though both the other prentices did.
Giles, who, in right of his name, kindred, and expectations, always held
himself a sort of master, declared that, "it was more fitting that
Stephen should ride before Mistress Dennet." And to this none of the
party made any objection, except that Perronel privately observed to him
that she should have thought he would have preferred the company of his
betrothed.
"I shall have quite enough of her by and by," returned Giles; then
adding, "She is a good little wench, but it is more for her honour that
her father's servant should ride before her."
Perronel held her tongue, and they rode merrily back to London, and
astonished their several homes by the growth and healthful looks of the
young people. Even Giles was grown, though he did not like to be told
so, and was cherishing the down on his chin. But the most rapid
development had been in Aldonza, or Alice, as Perronel insisted on
calling her to suit the ears of her neighbours. The girl was just
reaching the borderland of maidenhood, which came all the sooner to one
of southern birth and extraction, when the great change took her from
being her father's childish darling to be Perronel's companion and
assistant. She had lain down on that fatal May Eve a child, she rose in
the little house by the Temple Gardens, a maiden, and a very lovely one,
with delicate, refined, beautifully cut features of a slightly aquiline
cast, a bloom on her soft brunette cheek, splendid dark liquid eyes
shaded by long black lashes, under brows as regular and well arched as
her Eastern cousins could have made them artificially, magnificent black
hair, that could hardly be contained in the close white cap, and a lithe
beautiful figure on which the plainest dress sat with an Eastern grace.
Perronel's neighbours did not admire her. They were not sure whether
she were most Saracen, gipsy, or Jew. In fact, she was as like Rachel
at the well as her father had been to a patriarch, and her descent was
of the purest Saracen lineage, but a Christian Saracen was an anomaly
the London mind could not comprehend, and her presence in the family
tended to cast suspicion that Master Randall himself, with his gipsy
eyes, and mysterious comings and goings, must have some strange
connections. For this, however, Perronel cared little. She had made
her own way for many years past, and had won respect and affection by
many good offices to her neighbours, one of whom had taken her laundry
work in her absence.
Aldonza was by no means indocile or incapable. She shared in Perronel's
work without reluctance, making good use of her slender, dainty brown
fingers, whether in cooking, household work, washing, ironing, plaiting,
making or mending the stiff lawn collars and cuffs in which her
hostess's business lay. There was nothing that she would not do when
asked, or when she saw that it would save trouble to good mother
Perronel, of whom she was very fond, and she seemed serene and
contented, never wanting to go abroad; but she was very silent, and
Perronel declared herself never to have seen any living woman so
perfectly satisfied to do nothing. The good dame herself was
industrious, not only from thrift but from taste, and if not busy in her
vocation or in household business, was either using her distaff or her
needle, or chatting with her neighbours--often doing both at once; but
though Aldonza could spin, sew, and embroider admirably, and would do so
at the least request from her hostess, it was always a sort of task, and
she never seemed so happy as when seated on the floor, with her dark
eyes dreamily fixed on the narrow window, where hung her jackdaw's cage,
and the beads of her rosary passing through her fingers. At first
Mistress Randall thought she was praying, but by and by came to the
conviction that most of the time, "the wench was bemused." There was
nothing to complain of in one so perfectly gentle and obedient, and
withal, modest and devout; but the good woman, after having for some
time given her the benefit of the supposition that she was grieving for
her father, began to wonder at such want of activity and animation, and
to think that on the whole Jack was the more talkative companion.
Aldonza had certainly not taught him the phrases he was so fond of
repeating. Giles Headley had undertaken his education, and made it a
reason for stealing down to the Temple many an evening after work was
done, declaring that birds never learnt so well as after dark.
Moreover, he had possessed himself of a chess board, and insisted that
Aldonza should carry on her instructions in the game; he brought her all
his Holy Cross Day gain of nuts, and he used all his blandishments to
persuade Mrs Randall to come and see the shooting at the popinjay, at
Mile End.
All this made the good woman uneasy. Her husband was away, for the
dread of sweating sickness had driven the Court from London, and she
could only take counsel with Tibble Steelman. It was Hallowmas Eve, and
Giles had been the bearer of an urgent invitation from Dennet to her
friend Aldonza to come and join the diversions of the evening. There
was a large number of young folk in the hall--Jasper Hope among them--
mostly contemporaries of Dennet, and almost children, all keen upon the
sports of the evening, namely, a sort of indoor quintain, where the
revolving beam was decorated with a lighted candle at one end, and at
the other an apple to be caught at by the players with their mouths,
their hands being tied behind them.
Under all the uproarious merriment that each attempt occasioned, Tibble
was about to steal off to his own chamber and his beloved books, when,
as he backed out of the group of spectators, he was arrested by Mistress
Randall, who had made her way into the rear of the party at the same
time.
"Can I have a word with you, privily, Master Steelman?" she asked.
Unwillingly he muttered, "Yea, so please you;" and they retreated to a
window at the dark end of the hall, where Perronel began--
"The alderman's daughter is contracted to young Giles, her kinsman, is
she not?"
"Not as yet in form, but by the will of the parents," returned Tibble,
impatiently, as he thought of the half-hour's reading which he was
sacrificing to woman's gossip.
"An it be so," returned Perronel, "I would fain--were I Master Headley--
that he spent not so many nights in gazing at mine Alice."
"Forbid him the house, good dame."
"Easier spoken than done," returned Perronel. "Moreover, 'tis better to
let the matter, such as it is, be open in my sight than to teach them to
run after one another stealthily, whereby worse might ensue."
"Have they spoken then to one another?" asked Tibble, beginning to take
alarm.
"I trow not. I deem they know not yet what draweth them together."
"Pish, they are mere babes!" quoth Tib, hoping he might cast it off his
mind.
"Look!" said Perronel; and as they stood on the somewhat elevated floor
of the bay window, they could look over the heads of the other
spectators to the seats where the young girls sat.
Aldonza's beautiful and peculiar contour of head and face rose among the
round chubby English faces like a jessamine among daisies, and at that
moment she was undertaking, with an exquisite smile, the care of the
gown that Giles laid at her feet, ere making his venture.
"There!" said Perronel. "Mark that look on her face! I never see it
save for that same youngster. The children are simple and guileless
thus far, it may be. I dare be sworn that she is, but they wot not
where they will be led on."
"You are right, dame; you know best, no doubt," said Tib, in helpless
perplexity. "I wot nothing of such gear. What would you do?"
"Have the maid wedded at once, ere any harm come of it," returned
Perronel promptly. "She will make a good wife--there will be no
complaining of her tongue, and she is well instructed in all good
housewifery."
"To whom then would you give her?" asked Tibble.
"Ay, that's the question. Comely and good she is, but she is
outlandish, and I fear me 'twould take a handsome portion to get her
dark skin and Moorish blood o'erlooked. Nor hath she aught, poor maid,
save yonder gold and pearl earrings, and a cross of gold that she says
her father bade her never part with."
"I pledged my word to her father," said Tibble, "that I would have a
care of her. I have not cared to hoard, having none to come after me,
but if a matter of twenty or five-and-twenty marks would avail--"
"Wherefore not take her yourself?" said Perronel, as he stood aghast.
"She is a maid of sweet obedient conditions, trained by a scholar even
like yourself. She would make your chamber fair and comfortable, and
tend you dutifully."
"Whisht, good woman. 'Tis too dark to see, or you could not speak of
wedlock to such as I. Think of the poor maid!"
"That is all folly! She would soon know you for a better husband than
one of those young feather-pates, who have no care but of themselves."
"Nay, mistress," said Tibble, gravely, "your advice will not serve here.
To bring that fair young wench hither, to this very court, mind you,
with a mate loathly to behold as I be, and with the lad there ever
before her, would be verily to give place to the devil."
"But you are the best sword-cutler in London. You could make a living
without service."
"I am bound by too many years of faithful kindness to quit my master or
my home at the Dragon," said Tibble. "Nay, that will not serve, good
friend."
"Then what can be done?" asked Perronel, somewhat in despair. "There
are the young sparks at the Temple. One or two of them are already
beginning to cast eyes at her, so that I dare not let her help me carry
home my basket, far less go alone. 'Tis not the wench's fault. She
shrinks from men's eyes more than any maid I ever saw, but if she bide
long with me, I wot not what may come of it. There be rufflers there
who would not stick to carry her off!"
Tibble stood considering, and presently said, "Mayhap the Dean might aid
thee in this matter. He is free of hand and kind of heart, and belike
he would dower the maid, and find an honest man to wed her."
Perronel thought well of the suggestion, and decided that after the mass
on All Soul's Day, and the general visiting of the graves of kindred,
she would send Aldonza home with Dennet, whom they were sure to meet in
the Pardon Churchyard, since her mother, as well as Abenali and Martin
Fulford lay there; and herself endeavour to see Dean Colet, who was sure
to be at home, as he was hardly recovered from an attack of the
prevalent disorder.
Then Tibble escaped, and Perronel drew near to the party round the fire,
where the divination of the burning of nuts was going on, but not
successfully, since no pair hitherto put in would keep together.
However, the next contribution was a snail, which had been captured on
the wall, and was solemnly set to crawl on the hearth by Dennet, "to see
whether it would trace a G or an H."
However, the creature proved sullen or sleepy, and no jogging of hands,
no enticing, would induce it to crawl an inch, and the alderman, taking
his daughter on his knee, declared that it was a wise beast, who knew
her hap was fixed. Moreover, it was time for the rere supper, for the
serving-men with the lanterns would be coming for the young folk.
London entertainments for women or young people had to finish very early
unless they had a strong escort to go home with, for the streets were
far from safe after dark. Giles's great desire to convoy her home,
added to Perronel's determination, and on All Souls' Day, while knells
were ringing from every church in London, she roused Aldonza from her
weeping devotions at her father's grave, and led her to Dennet, who had
just finished her round of prayers at the grave of the mother she had
never known, under the protection of her nurse, and two or three of the
servants. The child, who had thought little of her mother, while her
grandmother was alert, and supplied the tenderness and care she needed,
was beginning to yearn after counsel and sympathy, and to wonder, as she
told her beads, what might have been, had that mother lived. She took
Aldonza's hand, and the two girls threaded their way out of the crowded
churchyard together, while Perronel betook herself to the Deanery of
Saint Paul's.
Good Colet was always accessible to the meanest, but he had been very
ill, and the porter had some doubts about troubling him respecting the
substantial young matron whose trim cap and bodice, and full petticoats,
showed no tokens of distress. However, when she begged him to take in
her message, that she prayed the Dean to listen to her touching the
child of the old man who was slain on May Eve, he consented; and she was
at once admitted to an inner chamber, where Colet, wrapped in a gown
lined with lambskin, sat by the fire, looking so wan and feeble that it
went to the good woman's heart, and she began by an apology for
troubling him.
"Heed not that, good dame," said the Dean, courteously, "but sit thee
down and let me hear of the poor child."
"Ah, reverend sir, would that she were still a child--" and Perronel
proceeded to tell her difficulties, adding, that if the Dean could of
his goodness promise one of the dowries which were yearly given to poor
maidens of good character, she would inquire among her gossips for some
one to marry the girl. She secretly hoped he would take the hint and
immediately portion Aldonza himself perhaps likewise find the husband.
And she was disappointed that he only promised to consider the matter
and let her hear from him. She went back and told Tibble that his
device was nought, an old scholar with one foot in the grave knew less
of women than even he did!
However it was only four days later, that, as Mrs Randall was hanging
out her collars to dry, there came up to her from the Temple stairs a
figure whom for a moment she hardly knew, so different was the long,
black garb, and short gown of the lawyer's clerk from the shabby old
green suit that all her endeavours had not been able to save from many a
stain of printer's ink. It was only as he exclaimed, "Good aunt, I am
fain to see thee here!" that she answered, "What, thou, Ambrose! What a
fine fellow thou art! Truly I knew not thou wast of such good mien!
Thou thrivest at Chelsea!"
"Who would not thrive there?" said Ambrose. "Nay, aunt, tarry a little,
I have a message for thee that I would fain give before we go in to
Aldonza."
"From his reverence the Dean? Hath he bethought himself of her?"
"Ay, that hath he done," said Ambrose. "He is not the man to halt when
good may be done. What doth he do, since it seems thou hadst speech of
him, but send for Sir Thomas More, then sitting at Westminster, to come
and see him as soon as the Court brake up, and I attended my master.
They held council together, and by and by they sent for me to ask me of
what conditions and breeding the maid was, and what I knew of her
father?"
"Will they wed her to thee? That were rarely good, so they gave thee
some good office!" cried his aunt.
"Nay, nay," said Ambrose. "I have much to learn and understand ere I
think of a wife--if ever. Nay! But when they had heard all I could
tell them, they looked at one another, and the Dean said, `The maid is
no doubt of high blood in her own land--scarce a mate for a London
butcher or currier.'"
"`It were matching an Arab mare with a costard monger's colt,' said my
master, `or Angelica with Ralph Roister-Doister.'"
"I'd like to know what were better for the poor outlandish maid than to
give her to some honest man," put in Perronel.
"The end of it was," said Ambrose, "that Sir Thomas said he was to be at
the palace the next day, and he would strive to move the Queen to take
her countrywoman into her service. Yea, and so he did, but though Queen
Katharine was moved by hearing of a fatherless maid of Spain, and at
first spake of taking her to wait on herself, yet when she heard the
maid's name, and that she was of Moorish blood, she would none of her.
She said that heresy lurked in them all, and though Sir Thomas offered
that the Dean or the Queen's own chaplain should question her on the
faith, it was all lost labour. I heard him tell the Dean as much, and
thus it is that they bade me come for thee, and for the maid, take boat,
and bring you down to Chelsea, where Sir Thomas will let her be bred up
to wait on his little daughters till he can see what best may be done
for her. I trow his spirit was moved by the Queen's hardness! I heard
the Dean mutter, `_Et venient ab Oriente et Occidente_.'"
Perronel looked alarmed. "The Queen deemed her heretic in grain! Ah!
She is a good wench, and of kind conditions. I would have no ill befall
her, but I am glad to be rid of her. Sir Thomas--he is a wise man, ay,
and a married man, with maidens of his own, and he may have more wit in
the business than the rest of his kind. Be the matter instant?"
"Methinks Sir Thomas would have it so, since this being a holy day, the
courts be not sitting, and he is himself at home, so that he can present
the maid to his lady. And that makes no small odds."
"Yea, but what the lady is makes the greater odds to the maid, I trow,"
said Perronel anxiously.
"Fear not on that score. Dame Alice More is of kindly conditions, and
will be good to any whom her lord commends to her; and as to the young
ladies, never saw I any so sweet or so wise as the two elder ones,
specially Mistress Margaret."
"Well-a-day! What must be must!" philosophically observed Perronel.
"Now I have my wish, I could mourn over it. I am loth to part with the
wench; and my man, when he comes home, will make an outcry for his
pretty Ally; but 'tis best so. Come, Alice, girl, bestir thyself.
Here's preferment for thee."
Aldonza raised her great soft eyes in slow wonder, and when she had
heard what was to befall her, declared that she wanted no advancement,
and wished only to remain with mother Perronel. Nay, she clung to the
kind woman, beseeching that she might not be sent away from the only
motherly tenderness she had ever known, and declaring that she would
work all day and all night rather than leave her; but the more
reluctance she showed, the more determined was Perronel, and she could
not but submit to her fate, only adding one more entreaty that she might
take her jackdaw, which was now a spruce grey-headed bird. Perronel
said it would be presumption in a waiting-woman, but Ambrose declared
that at Chelsea there were all manner of beasts and birds, beloved by
the children and by their father himself, and that he believed the daw
would be welcome. At any rate, if the lady of the house objected to it,
it could return with Mistress Randall.
Perronel hurried the few preparations, being afraid that Giles might
take advantage of the holiday to appear on the scene, and presently
Aldonza was seated in the boat, making no more lamentations after she
found that her fate was inevitable, but sitting silent, with downcast
head, now and then brushing away a stray tear as it stole down under her
long eyelashes.
Meantime Ambrose, hoping to raise her spirits, talked to his aunt of the
friendly ease and kindliness of the new home, where he was evidently as
thoroughly happy as it was in his nature to be. He was much, in the
position of a barrister's clerk, superior to that of the mere servants,
but inferior to the young gentlemen of larger means, though not perhaps
of better birth, who had studied law regularly, and aspired to offices
or to legal practice.
But though Ambrose was ranked with the three or four other clerks, his
functions had more relation to Sir Thomas's literary and diplomatic
avocations than his legal ones. From Lucas Hansen he had learnt Dutch
and French, and he was thus available for copying and translating
foreign correspondence. His knowledge of Latin and smattering of Greek
enabled him to be employed in copying into a book some of the
inestimable letters of Erasmus which arrived from time to time, and Sir
Thomas promoted his desire to improve himself, and had requested Mr
Clements, the tutor of the children of the house, to give him weekly
lessons in Latin and Greek.
Sir Thomas had himself pointed out to him books calculated to settle his
mind on the truth and catholicity of the Church, and had warned him
against meddling with the fiery controversial tracts which, smuggled in
often through Lucas's means, had set his mind in commotion. And for the
present at least beneath the shadow of the great man's intelligent
devotion, Ambrose's restless spirit was tranquil.
Of course, he did not explain his state of mind to his aunt, but she
gathered enough to be well content, and tried to encourage Aldonza, when
at length they landed near Chelsea Church, and Ambrose led the way to an
extensive pleasaunce or park, full of elms and oaks, whose yellow leaves
were floating like golden rain in the sunshine.
Presently children's voices guided them to a large chestnut tree. "Lo
you now, I hear Mistress Meg's voice, and where she is, his honour will
ever be," said Ambrose.
And sure enough, among a group of five girls and one boy, all between
fourteen and nine years old, was the great lawyer, knocking down the
chestnuts with a long pole, while the young ones flew about picking up
the burrs from the grass, exclaiming joyously when they found a full
one.
Ambrose explained that of the young ladies, one was Mistress Middleton,
Lady More's daughter by a former marriage, another a kinswoman.
Perronel was for passing by unnoticed; but Ambrose knew better; and Sir
Thomas, leaning on the pole, called out, "Ha, my Birkenholt, a forester
born, knowst thou any mode of bringing down yonder chestnuts, which
being the least within reach, seem in course the meetest of all."
"I would I were my brother, your honour," said Ambrose, "then would I
climb the tree."
"Thou shouldst bring him one of these days," said Sir Thomas. "But thou
hast instead brought us a fair maid. See, Meg, yonder is the poor young
girl who lost her father on Ill May day. Lead her on and make her good
cheer, while I speak to this good dame."
Margaret More, a slender, dark-eyed girl of thirteen, went forward with
a peculiar gentle grace to the stranger, saying, "Welcome, sweet maid!
I hope we shall make thee happy," and seeing the mournful countenance,
she not only took Aldonza's hand, but kissed her cheek.
Sir Thomas had exchanged a word or two with Perronel, when there was a
cry from the younger children, who had detected the wicker cage which
Perronel was trying to keep in the background.
"A daw! a daw!" was the cry. "Is't for us?"
"Oh, mistress," faltered Aldonza, "'tis mine--there was one who tamed it
for me, and I promised ever to keep it, but if the good knight and lady
forbid it, we will send it back."
"Nay now, John, Cicely," was Margaret saying, "'tis her own bird! Wot
ye not our father will let us take nought of them that come to him?
Yea, Al-don-za--is not that thy name?--I am sure my father will have
thee keep it."
She led up Aldonza, making the request for her. Sir Thomas smiled.
"Keep thy bird? Nay, that thou shalt. Look at him, Meg, is he not in
fit livery for a lawyer's house? Mark his trim legs, sable doublet and
hose, and grey hood--and see, he hath the very eye of a councillor
seeking for suits, as he looketh at the chestnuts John holdeth to him.
I warrant he hath a tongue likewise. Canst plead for thy dinner, bird?"
"I love Giles!" uttered the black beak, to the confusion and indignation
of Perronel.
The perverse bird had heard Giles often dictate this avowal, but had
entirely refused to repeat it, till, stimulated by the new surroundings,
it had for the first time uttered it.
"Ah! thou foolish daw! Crow that thou art! Had I known thou hadst such
a word in thy beak, I'd have wrung thy neck sooner than have brought
thee," muttered Perronel. "I had best take thee home without more ado."
It was too late, however, the children were delighted, and perfectly
willing that Aldonza should own the bird, so they might hear it speak,
and thus the introduction was over. Aldonza and her daw were conveyed
to Dame Alice More, a stout, good-tempered woman, who had too many
dependents about her house to concern herself greatly about the
introduction of another.
And thus Aldonza was installed in the long, low, two-storied red house
which was to be her place of home-like service.