Master Udal, the minister, was not a man to bandy compliments. He told
me, as we rose next morning, that he had neither the means nor the
desire to keep me at Kingston. There was nothing to make my stay of any
service to him; nor did the thickness of my skull encourage him to keep
me there for my soul's sake.
"In short," said he, "what is to prevent you from going at once? You
can find breakfast for yourself on the road as soon as I could find it
for you here, and it beseems a body of your size,"--heavens! what a name
to call me--"better to be serving your calling in London than dangling
here at the skirts of a parcel of women. So away with you, Humphrey
Dexter, and if you should visit us a week hence, come at an hour when
you can return by the road you came the self-same evening."
I should have been angry, but that I knew I had lost him his nag at
Oxford, and that the good man (how, I could not guess), was going to
board and lodge my poor mistress and her little ones while their
distress lasted. I had nothing for it but to obey him meekly. Only I
was glad he hinted that I might presently come back to see them.
And now, what was to become of me? My master was in the White Lion, my
mistress was at Kingston, the house without Temple Bar was in the
custody of Timothy Ryder; there was warrant against me for assaulting a
Queen's officer; if I went to Richmond there was a dungeon for me there;
if I went home my mother could ill afford to keep me; if I went to the
Stationers' Company I was too old now to apprentice to anybody. I was
in a bad plight, and what was worst of all, it seemed as if no one cared
much what I did or what became of me.
"At any rate," said I to myself as I jogged Londonwards, "I can go to
the wars and fight for my Queen--Heaven bless her!"
It was a sore temptation as I passed near Richmond to climb the hill and
see what was going forward at the Hall. That house harboured the two
people I held dearest in the world, and the one I hated most. Yet I was
afraid to go, not because of Captain Merriman or the cellar, but lest I
should not read a welcome on Ludar's brow, or should be scorned by that
fair lady. No; I must wait till Ludar came to me in London. Meanwhile,
forward thither.
I took the boat we had left last night at Mortlach, and went down on the
tide. The hard labour of rowing did me good, and made me forget all but
the biggest of my troubles. I resolved first to go to my master's
house, and see more closely how the land lay there. To my surprise, as
I entered, unexpected, I found great noise and revelry afoot; and there
sat in my mistress' snug little parlour Timothy Ryder himself making
merry with no other than my fellow-apprentice, Peter Stoupe. And if I
mistook not, the good cheer on the table came out of Mistress Walgrave's
own larder.
"Oh, he!" thought I. "You are a pretty pair. Now there is like to be a
pretty three of us."
So I walked in, and just as Master Peter was lifting the tankard to his
hypocritical face, I caught him a whack on the back which sent him off
his chair, choking, and groaning aloud that the end of the world was
come.
When they saw who it was, their jaws fell a bit, and Timothy Ryder began
to bluster.
"Come, come," said he. "What do you here? Who bade you here, pray?
Know you not this place is in the Company's keeping? Come, make off
with you, rascal, or some of us will see you go keep your rogue of a
master company."
"Hold your peace, beadle," said I, "or you shall swing on the beam over
your head. Here, Peter, get up."
Peter rose, purple in face, and not very steady in the knees.
"Now," said I, "tell me, where got you that ale?"
"Indeed, Humphrey, I was invited to it. I never--"
"Where got you that beef and bread?"
"I--oh, dost thou think so ill of me as to suppose--"
"That when your master is in gaol, and your mistress and her little ones
are homeless, you would come here and gorge your vile paunch with the
food that belongs to them? yes, I suppose every word of it, Peter
Stoupe."
"But," said he, "I have a right as a 'prentice--"
"'Prentice!" shouted I, "you a 'prentice! a mean, chicken-livered,
gluttonous sneak like you, a 'prentice! 'fore heaven, you do the craft
honour! Come, bustle away with you, and God save my master from such
dirty thieves as you."
Here Timothy Ryder was foolish enough to laugh; which enraged me past
all enduring.
So, beadle and all as he was, I took him by the nape of his neck like a
puppy, and flung him into the Strand, bidding him, as he valued his
bones, not come within arm's length of me or my master's house till I
asked him. As for Peter, he made off without my help; and here I was
with the house to myself.
Then I knew I was in a scrape beside which all the troubles of the past
few weeks were as nothing. I had shamefully outraged the beadle of the
Worshipful Company of Stationers, acting under the authority of his
Grace the Bishop of London! Nothing I could say or do could undo that.
Even if I fled now--which I was not in the humour of doing, since my
blood was up--it was too late. For already a crowd was in the Strand,
some led by curiosity and Peter's lamentations, others by Timothy's
halloos; and before I knew where I stood, I was besieged.
I had barely time to bolt the door and heap up reams of paper across the
passage, before such a battering began as you never heard. I ran
upstairs and surveyed the enemy from a window. There were half the men
of the Watch there--they wanted me for assaulting a beadle. There were
Timothy and a body of Company's men--they wanted me for defying the
authority of the Master and Wardens. There were my old friends the
Court bullies--they wanted me for the trouble that had happened in
Finsbury Fields. There were a crowd of idle town-boys--they wanted
their fling against a 'prentice. Take it altogether, I seemed to be in
request.
It was not much use hurling types at them from the window; there was
nothing bigger than Brevier to give them, and that was too small to
break any bones. Nor had I any other weapon. So I put out my head and
shouted "Clubs! Clubs!" with all my voice, and then went down to be
ready for the first man that should break in.
'Twas not long before the door came down; but then they had to pass the
barrier I had put up in the passage. I had at a few of them across
that, and sent them sprawling; but the enemy was too many for me. And
the clubs outside, although they rose to my call, kept themselves to the
town-boys and court bullies, and were hands-off to the Watch and the
Company. At last one slippery rogue scrambled over the barrier and
dodged past me. And while I was engaging him, three or four more did
the same; till presently it seemed the game was up. I had to yield the
outer passage and retreat to the printing room, where three of the
besiegers got in with me before I could make to the door. There was no
time to lose, for the door was a weak one, and in five minutes would be
down. So I laid about me with the printer's balls, and stunned one of
my men and upset another. Then I put the third down the trap-door,
which stood open, just as the door began to totter inwards. It was time
to go. No good could be got by staying, and whatever came of it, no one
would be the better for my capture. So I darted out by the back way
that I knew of, where nobody looked for me; and running down the garden,
and over my Lord's ground to the river's edge, I took a wherry and made
for the other bank.
I could see the crowd presently break through my master's house into the
garden, and stand disappointed when they saw I had given them the slip.
But I was beyond pursuit; and they trooped back angrily, I suppose to
make fast the place against my further intrusion.
Much good I had done by my silly riot! My master's house was wrecked,
where it need only have been robbed. My mistress' goods and chattels
were no nearer being handed over than they were before; and, since some
one must suffer for it all, and I had escaped, it was likely enough my
master's lot would be all the worse for him by what had happened. I had
no cause to be proud of myself; and to be just, I was not proud.
Now, I knew enough of Peter Stoupe to be sure he would guess I had fled
to Kingston. So to disappoint him and the watch both, I turned my
boat's head down stream, and resolved to lie hid a week in the city
before I showed myself again there. By that time the hue and cry would
have ceased, and, further, the time named by Master Udal for my visit
would be come.
As luck would have it, I was hailed, as I rowed under London Bridge, by
a man from a vessel which had just dropped anchor in the pool. She was
a French craft, full of merchandise, part for London and part for Leith,
in Scotland; and being under-manned, the captain, seeing me idle,
offered me and a few others plying about three days' work in helping to
unload. The offer suited me well; and if ever a free man worked like a
galley slave, I did for that week. Yet the French fellow was kindly
enough, and hearing I was a fugitive from the law, he suffered me to lie
on his boat at nights, and even let me feed with his men. Finding, too,
that I could talk a smattering of his tongue he tempted me sorely to
take service northward with him, and become a sailor. I would have done
it but for two things--I must see how my mistress and Jeannette and the
little ones fared; and, further, I knew not when I might receive a
summons from Ludar to fulfil my pledge to him. So I refused, to his
regret, yet we parted friends; and, as you may hear later on, not for
the last time.
At the week's end, I found myself once more knocking at Master's Udal
door at Kingston. The place looked pleasanter already for the presence
of my gentle mistress and her daughter. The little garden was trim and
well kept, the windows were brighter, and the children's voices near
made the air gladder. As for Master Udal himself, when he opened the
door, I could have laughed to see the change in him. His hair was
kempt, and the rents in his garments were mended; there was a peep of
ruffle at his wrists, and his stockings, which had ever lagged down at
his heels, now held up bravely by the buckle at his knee. More than
that, he looked scared and jaded, like a man undergoing some penance,
and doubtful what will be wanted of him next.
But when he saw me his face grew black, and without a word he flung-to
the door in my face. I was so taken aback, that I was minded to laugh
and suppose the good man to have lost his wits. But when I came to
knock again, and no answer, then the jest went out of the business.
What had happened? I walked round the house, hoping to meet someone,
but not a soul could I see. Then I tried the door again, but with the
same luck as before. At last, quite dazed by the mystery, I gave it up
and wandered off anywhere. In the village I met an old man, carrying
wood; him I accosted, and asked how the minister fared.
He cackled and laid down his faggots.
"Grammercy, the poor lad's head is turned, neighbour. The Frenchwoman
who has come has looked over him. Why--he! he!--he's been to the
barber's, and--he! he!--he preached an hour short on Sunday, and,
forgive us! he hath gotten him a new shirt. She's a witch, I tell'ee;
and mark me if the next bundle of sticks I carry up be not for her
burning. Ha! ha!"
I told him he was a fool; but the idea was firm stuck in his head, and
more I could not get out of him. No doubt but the presence of two sweet
women in his house had sorely exercised the minister, but that was not
enough to make him shut the door just now in my face and vouchsafe me
not a word after my journey.
I wandered on towards the river, wondering what I was to do, when I came
upon a sight which explained everything in a twinkling. Down on the
bank sat, side by side, Peter Stoupe and the boy Prosper, fishing
amicably in the stream. It needed no conjurer to say now who had come
betwixt me and my master's family. Peter, no doubt, had brought down a
pretty story of me from London; and if, as I feared, my riot with the
Company had made matters only worse for my master in the White Lion, it
would be easy for my mistress to believe any evil that was told of me.
And as for Master Udal, Peter Stoupe was just the lad to pay dutiful
heed to his exhortations, and so find admittance where I, a fool and
reprobate, was not allowed.
I came on them so suddenly that I had not time to retire before they saw
me. Peter seemed taken aback at the sight of me, but the boy Prosper,
being a gallant lad, and greatly emboldened by the presence of his
protector, rose up with a red face, and shouting, "There goes the
villain! Have at you!" flung a stone my way, and would have followed it
up had not Peter taken his arm and forcibly held him back.
That was quite enough for me. Had I been guilty of the villainy they
suspected, I could not have turned tail more miserably. Had Peter been
there alone, I might perhaps have solaced myself by pitching him out
into the river. As it was, I could find nothing to say or do except to
sneak away and leave them--one smiling, the other storming at my
retreat.
That was not the worst. As I passed once more near the minister's house
on my way to reach the London road, I came upon my mistress and
Jeannette, walking slowly beneath the willows. At sight of them, my
heart thumped hard within me, and I resolved at least to say a word for
myself. But as I doffed my cap and crossed the way to meet them, I saw
that my mistress looked hurt and distant, and, turning her head from me,
drew the maid's arm in hers, and walked forward without heeding me. It
stunned me, so that I could not even put one foot before the other, but
stood there in the road, cap in hand, gasping for breath, and gazing
after them like a man in a trance. Once, when they had gone a step or
two, Jeannette glanced round with tears in her eyes, and a look that
seemed not all reproach. But her mother drew her forward, and she
turned; after which, for long enough, I saw her face no more.
That moment, as I stood there, was a crisis with me. My old life seemed
suddenly to have drifted from me. One after another the bonds that held
me to it had snapped and sundered. The pleasant 'prentice days were
over. My master was in gaol, my occupation was gone, the Company from
which I hoped promotion were out against me--London was no place for me
now. Even my mistress frowned on me, and my sweet Jeannette, who was
wont to believe in me through thick and thin, had turned away.
Was it a wonder, then, if my mind turned with a swing to the only friend
that was left me, or if I vowed with myself that, if Sir Ludar would
have me, I would follow him wherever he should lead?
My spirits rose--such is the buoyancy of youth--even as I turned and
walked towards Richmond. Ten days ago I had not been my own master to
follow him when he bade me. To-day, save my Queen, no man but he had a
claim on me--ay, and what use had her Majesty for a villain like me who
had assaulted a beadle!
It was late at night when I came near Richmond. I durst not show myself
in the village, but hid that night in a hut near the river, wondering
how I should apprise Ludar of my presence; and ever and anon, in my
weakness, asking myself how it would fare with me were I to find that he
too had deserted me?
All the next day I wandered about, hoping for news, but getting none.
One man whom I accosted looked so hard at me when I questioned him about
the Hall, that I gave him no time to answer, but slunk away to avoid
him. At night, my patience came well-nigh to an end, and I resolved,
come what would of it, to go to the park, if by chance I might meet
Ludar there or at least send him a message.
It was dark when I climbed the palings. There was little chance, unless
I marched boldly to the door of the Hall, of seeing him that night, so I
resolved to bide my time, and lying somewhere within view of the house,
watch till he came out in the morning. I found a thick clump of bushes
separated from the house by the width of a lawn. Behind these I
ensconced myself, and composed my limbs as best I might to await
daybreak.
I was almost dozing, when I started suddenly to hear footsteps and
voices not far away. Could it be he? It was too dark to distinguish
anything, and as yet their voices were not near enough to detect the
words. But they were coming nearer, and in a moment my suspense was at
an end. It was not Ludar.
"That is well," said a voice which I knew to be Captain Merriman's.
"You say he knows to expect you?"
"Yes, sir; I sent him word that a week hence we should join him at
Milford."
"Good. Then we must start to-morrow."
"The men have orders to be at Maidenhead to-morrow night."
"Well, now, Laker; you understand our plan. I am called hence suddenly
to-morrow, to London, by the Queen's order."
"Yes, sir."
"To-morrow night, an express comes to you that I am detained at the
Court, and ordering you, my second in command, to haste forward to join
our men in Wales. Sir William shall also receive a letter telling him
that my heart is broken that I cannot take charge of the young lady to
Ireland, but that you, an honest elderly dullard, will give her safe
escort."
"I thank you, sir."
"That will pacify our young wolf-hound. He counts you a friend."
"Then, Laker, two days hence, at the--"
"Hush, I know the place. She shall be there, sir."
That was what I heard; and fool as I may have been, I had wits enough to
guess what it all meant.
It was no time for marvelling by what strange chance I had been brought
there to hear what I did. How to prevent the villainy was more to the
purpose. At daybreak the captain would depart, and a day after, unless
we could hinder it, the dove would be in the hawk's clutches. Yet for
five hours that night had I to lie still and do nothing! If I showed
myself and was caught, all might be lost. Yet if I missed my chance of
warning Ludar betimes of the peril impending, it might be too late. So
I sat there chafing, through the brief summer night, and at dawn was on
the watch.
True to his plan, an hour after daybreak, Captain Merriman mounted his
horse and sped briskly away from the Hall. Let him go! We should meet
perchance again. But after that I watched the door for hours, and never
a sign of Ludar. Should I have to fight for the maiden single-handed
after all? At last when I was well-nigh desperate, he sallied out,
cross-bow over shoulder, with solemn face, and walked towards the woods.
Hiding myself well by the trees and shrubs, I made across to meet him.
His countenance lit up as he saw me; but otherwise, I might have parted
from him but an hour ago.
"I expected you," said he. "Come along. This is no place for talking."
So I followed him in silence deep into the wood, where presently he
flung down his bow and put his great hand on my shoulder.
"Humphrey," said he, and I could see that something big was on his mind.
"Am I the same Ludar you parted with a week ago?"
"No," said I, for I had never seen him thus before.
"Humphrey, my lad," said he, "I am undone. I have lived ill and the
saints have found me out. My arm hangs feeble at my side. I am turned
back from being a man into a boy. I am unworthy of you--and a shame to
myself--Humphrey," said he, clutching my arm till every vein in it
tingled. "I am bewitched for my sins. Dost thou hear--I am--"
"In love," said I, with sinking heart. I had known what it would come
to the moment I parted with the maiden at the Ferry that day. I had
prayed against it; I had laughed myself out of the terror that was on
me; I had called to mind his scornful jests at love. But all the while
I knew what was to come of it. And I knew that what he had won I had
lost.
So I finished his sentence for him; and in reply he took my hand and
looked at me with an almost humble gaze. "And you do not scorn me?"
said he. "I love myself," said I. "Ah! yes," said he, "you told me so;
and I scorned you for it. Now-- But what brings you here, Humphrey?"
The change in his voice was so sudden and resolute that it forbade me to
say another word about the matter our hearts were fullest of. Who knows
but that, had I spoken then, he might have guessed the truth; and so our
lives might have broken asunder at that point? Now the chance was past.
But the chance was come to tell him my news, which I did, then and
there, and marvellously it moved him. Not that he spoke much, still
less raved. But his face grew thunderous and his eyes flashed; and the
few questions he asked me he put in a voice which half startled me by
its smothered passion.
He took in the whole peril in a moment; and if once I had been fool
enough to imagine I should direct the enterprise which was to thwart the
villainy, I was soon undeceived. "Humphrey," aid he, "are you free to
stand by me in this?"
I told him that now I owned no master but him. His face cleared up
joyously for a moment at that. "Good; I claim you, then, not as a
master, but as a comrade. Be here to-night as the sun sets. Take this
bow and dirk; and farewell, my friend, till we meet again." And he left
me.