"What shall be the maiden's fate?
Who shall be the maiden's mate?"
Scott.
No Giles Headley appeared to greet the travellers, though Kit Smallbones
had halted at Canterbury, to pour out entreaties to Saint Thomas, and
the vow of a steel and gilt reliquary of his best workmanship to contain
the old shoe, which a few years previously had so much disgusted Erasmus
and his companion.
Poor old fellow, he was too much crest-fallen thoroughly to enjoy even
the gladness of his little children; and his wife made no secret of her
previous conviction that he was too dunderheaded not to run into some
coil, when she was not there to look after him. The alderman was more
merciful. Since there had been no invasion from Salisbury, he had
regretted the not having gone himself to Ardres, and he knew pretty well
that Kit's power lay more in his arms than in his brain. He did not
wonder at the small gain, nor at the having lost sight of the young man,
and confidently expected the lost ones soon to appear.
As to Dennet, her eyes shone quietly, and she took upon herself to send
down to let Mistress Randall know of her nephew's return, and invite her
to supper to hear the story of his doings. The girl did not look at all
like a maiden uneasy about her lost lover, but much more like one
enjoying for the moment the immunity from a kind of burthen; and, as she
smiled, called for Stephen's help in her little arrangements, and
treated him in the friendly manner of old times, he could not but wonder
at the panic that had overpowered him for a time like a fever of the
mind.
There was plenty to speak of in the glories of the Field of the Cloth of
Gold, and the transactions with the knights and nobles; and Stephen held
his peace as to his adventure, but Dennet's eyes were sharper than
Kit's. She spied the remains of the bruise under his black curly hair;
and while her father and Tib were unravelling the accounts from Kit's
brain and tally-sticks, she got the youth out into the gallery, and
observed, "So thou hast a broken head. See here are grandmother's lily-
leaves in strong waters. Let me lay one on for thee. There, sit down
on the step, then I can reach."
"'Tis well-nigh whole now, sweet mistress," said Stephen, complying
however, for it was too sweet to have those little fingers busy about
him, for the offer to be declined.
"How gatst thou the blow?" asked Dennet. "Was it at single-stick?
Come, thou mayst tell me. 'Twas in standing up for some one."
"Nay, mistress, I would it had been."
"Thou hast been in trouble," she said, leaning on the baluster above
him. "Or did ill men set on thee?"
"That's the nearest guess," said Stephen. "'Twas that tall father of
mine aunt's, the fellow that came here for armour, and bought poor
Master Michael's sword."
"And sliced the apple on thine hand. Ay?"
"He would have me for one of his Badgers."
"Thee! Stephen!" It was a cry of pain as well as horror.
"Yea, mistress; and when I refused, the fellow dealt me a blow, and laid
me down senseless, to bear me off willy nilly, but that good old Lucas
Hansen brought mine uncle to mine aid--"
Dennet clasped her hands. "O Stephen, Stephen! Now I know how good the
Lord is. Wot ye, I asked of Tibble to take me daily to Saint Faith's to
crave of good Saint Julian to have you all in his keeping, and saith he
on the way, `Methinks, mistress, our dear Lord would hear you if you
spake to Him direct, with no go-between.' I did as he bade me, Stephen,
I went to the high Altar, and prayed there, and Tibble went with me, and
lo, now, He hath brought you back safe. We will have a mass of
thanksgiving on the very morn."
Stephen's heart could not but bound, for it was plain enough for whom
the chief force of these prayers had been offered.
"Sweet mistress," he said, "they have availed me indeed. Certes, they
warded me in the time of sore trial and temptation."
"Nay," said Dennet, "thou _couldst_ not have longed to go away from
hence with those ill men who live by slaying and plundering?"
The present temptation was to say that he had doubted whether this
course would not have been for the best both for himself and for her;
but he recollected that Giles might be at the gate, and if so, he should
feel as if he had rather have bitten out his tongue than have let Dennet
know the state of the case, so he only answered--
"There be sorer temptations in the world for us poor rogues than little
home-biding house crickets like thee wot of, mistress. Well that ye can
pray for us without knowing all!"
Stephen had never consciously come so near lovemaking, and his honest
face was all one burning glow with the suppressed feeling, while Dennet
lingered till the curfew warned them of the lateness of the hour, both
with a strange sense of undefined pleasure in the being together in the
summer twilight.
Day after day passed on with no news of Giles or Will Wherry. The
alderman grew uneasy, and sent Stephen to ask his brother to write to
Randall, or to some one else in Wolsey's suite, to make inquiries at
Bruges. But Ambrose was found to have gone abroad in the train of Sir
Thomas More, and nothing was heard till their return six weeks later,
when Ambrose brought home a small packet which had been conveyed to him
through one of the Emperor's suite. It was tied up with a long tough
pale wisp of hair, evidently from the mane or tail of some Flemish
horse, and was addressed, "To Master Ambrose Birkenholt, menial clerk to
the most worshipful Sir Thomas More, Knight, Under Sheriff of the City
of London. These greeting--"
Within, when Ambrose could open the missive, was another small parcel,
and a piece of brown coarse paper, on which was scrawled--
"Good Ambrose Birkenholt,--I pray thee to stand, my friend, and let all
know whom it may concern, that when this same billet comes to hand, I
shall be far on the march to High Germany, with a company of lusty
fellows in the Emperor's service. They be commanded by the good knight,
Sir John Fulford.
"If thou canst send tidings to my mother, bid her keep her heart up, for
I shall come back a captain, full of wealth and honour, and that will be
better than hammering for life--or being wedded against mine own will.
There never was troth plight between my master's daughter and me, and my
time is over, so I be quit with them, and I thank my master for his
goodness. They shall all hear of me some of these days. Will Wherry is
my groom, and commends him to his mother. And so, commending thee and
all the rest to Our Lady and the saints,
"Thine to command,
"Giles Headley,
"_Man-at-Arms in the Honourable Company of Sir John Fulford, Knight_."