It was about a week after this that Master Gervase in working dress went
out into his yard. Dinner was over at an early hour, and the two meals
of the day were long and plentiful as to cheer; so long and so
plentiful, indeed, that there is a record in the preceding reign of
thirty thousand dishes being served at one feast, and the sumptuary laws
which regulated excesses in dress and food do not seem to have been
uncalled for.
In Master Gervase's household there was no excess, but abundance in
every kind, and hearty partaking of beef and cider, Mistress Prothasy
being famous for her housekeeping and capable ways, so that Elyas went
into his yard with all the contentment of a well-fed man.
Men and prentices were hard at work in their different ways. Franklyn
and Roger had the finest cutting, and Elyas paused before Roger's
crocket to examine his progress.
"It is excellent," he said, heartily, so that the lad's sallow face
flushed; "the cutting deep and clean--naught can be much better in good
sooth than the workmanship. Thy design is not so good."
"No," said Roger, quickly.
"No. It wants freedom, boldness, it smacks too much of the yard and too
little of the artist. There is thy stumbling-block, Roger. I can give
thee the means of execution, but I cannot put this into thee. See!"
He seized a piece of burnt stick which lay by, and on a rough plank
hastily sketched a crocket similar in form to that on which Roger was
working. But what a difference! What strength in the up-curved lines!
What possibilities seemed to blossom out of the rapid outline! As Roger
watched a look of bitter mortification gathered in his face; the ease
and vigour of the drawing were, as he recognised, quite beyond his
grasp. When the master moved on he drew the board close to him, yet so
that it was concealed from other eyes, and tried with all his skill to
bring his carving into better harmony with its spirit.
Gervase glanced at all the work in the yard, giving a word to each, and
special praise to a canopy which Franklyn and another man were engaged
upon, and which was an order from a neighbouring abbey. To a fourth
worker, Peter Sim, he pointed out that his moulding was thin and wanted
richness.
"Ay," muttered his neighbour, "he is so thin himself he can see no
beauty save in leanness."
"That will scarce be thy failing, Hal," said Gervase, good-humouredly.
"Now, Wat, what tool is that thou art using?"
"It is broken, but it cuts well enough, sir," said Wat, regarding his
half chisel with affection.
"Cuts well enough," repeated the master, angrily, throwing the tool on
one side; "and what thinkest thou, prithee, the guild would say if I
suffered such a tool to be used in my yard? And how came it broken?"
"There never was such a one for breaking his tools," grumbled Franklyn,
who had picked up the chisel and was examining it; "it is my belief he
uses them to dig the ground with."
"Nay," said Wat, scratching his head, "but the stone is hard."
"Thou shalt spend thy next holiday in finding out whether it be hard or
not," said Elyas, angrily, "an thou be not more careful. How now, Hugh,
what work have they set thee to?"
The good man's heart melted as he looked at the boy, who seemed a sad
little figure among the others. He had got into a far corner, and
Agrippa peered down from a rafter in the shed.
"Why art thou in this dark corner by thyself?" demanded Elyas.
"They like not Agrippa, sir," said Hugh, listlessly.
Elyas looked vexed. His wife was also sorely set against the monkey,
and he would gladly have had it away, yet he could not find it in his
heart to deprive the boy of his only friend. He stood awhile watching
Hugh work, and presently went across to Franklyn.
"See that no harm comes to the monkey," he said in a tone which all
might hear; then, in a much lower voice, "that is hard work thou hast
set him to do."
"He must learn his craft," said Franklyn, gruffly.
"But he is a little urchin."
"The more need he should begin at the beginning."
"His father told me he had a wonderful talent for his age."
"Fathers ever think their children wonders. Is it your pleasure, Master
Gervase, that I treat him differently from any other prentice?"
"Nay, nay," said Elyas, hastily, and, knowing that the idea of
favouritism would make Hugh very unpopular, he pushed the matter no
further.
The time that followed was full of bitterness to Hugh. Franklyn, though
not a bad-hearted man, was sore and disappointed to have his nephew, as
he thought, supplanted, and, since he could not visit it upon the master
himself, he visited it upon Hugh. The other men sided with Franklyn,
and Hugh made no efforts to gain their good-will; pride grows quickly,
and he had been a good deal set-up on board the ship, although Jakes's
death had shocked him into a temporary shame. His self-importance was
sorely wounded by finding himself treated as absolutely of no
consequence, he, who had spoken, as he reflected with swelling heart,
with King Edward himself. Mistress Prothasy was sincerely desirous to
pleasure her husband, but she loved not boys, classing them all as
untidy and unmannerly. It had been by her wish that Elyas had hitherto
abstained from taking more than two apprentices, and, as she was proud
of her influence over him, she had made it a matter of boasting when
talking to gossips whose husbands were more wilful. She hated having to
put up with what she now took to be their pitying smiles, and, without
meaning to be unjust, her feelings towards Hugh were not friendly. It
provoked her, moreover, to have the monkey, which she both feared and
disliked, in the house, and she was constantly urging Elyas to send it
away.
But what Hugh felt sharply was Franklyn's treatment of him as of one who
must be taught the very beginning of his craft. He had learned much
from his father, and had been made to use his tools when he was scarce
six years old, so that in point of fact he was advanced already beyond
Wat, who had gone through three years' apprenticeship. But of all this,
and in spite of the master's hints, Franklyn was doggedly unheeding. He
allowed the boy nothing but the roughest and simplest work. He
explained with provoking carefulness each morning how this was to be
carried out, and if, as frequently happened, the boy was inattentive, he
rated him sharply. The discipline might have been good, but injustice
is never wholesome, and feeling himself to be unfairly treated, Hugh set
up his back more and more, took no pains to please, and moped in
solitary corners.
Elyas saw that things were moving wrongly, and was vexed, but he never
willingly interfered with Franklyn's rule, and having an easy-going
genial nature was disposed to believe that with time and patience things
would right themselves. He had ever a kindly word for Hugh, though not
realising how the boy clung to him as to a link with that past which
already seemed so far away and so happy.
The weeks passed and November was well advanced. There was no lack of
holidays and feastings, which Hugh in his present mood found almost more
irksome than work. Agrippa was his chief companion, and yet his
greatest care, as the monkey, if he took it with him, was ever likely to
call a crowd together, and perhaps get pelted, until one day Elyas,
coming upon him in one of these frays, advised him to have a basket and
carry him thus, by which means he was able to take him to the cathedral
itself.
Wat was not unfriendly. He was awkward and ungainly, and ever falling
into disgrace himself, but this afflicted him scarcely at all. He had a
huge appetite, and stores of apples, nuts, and cakes, which he was ready
enough to share, and could not understand that anything more was wanted
for happiness. Hugh, caring little for these joys, despised Wat's
advances, and would not be beguiled into friendship. He was very
miserable, poor boy, and inclined to wish that he had stayed with the
Franciscans in London, as Friar Luke counselled, or to long--oh, how
earnestly!--that his father had suffered him to accept Sir Thomas de
Trafford's offer and be brought up in the good knight's household. As
for learning his craft, that, he said bitterly to himself, was hopeless;
he was more like to forget what his father had taught, and to sink into
such coarse work as Wat's. In fact he made up his mind to the worst,
and would scarce have been contented with easier measure.
Towards the end of November a new personage came into the family, small
in size but of immense importance, Mistress Joan Gervase, aged five, who
had been for some time staying with her grandmother, and had remained so
long, owing to an attack of measles, or some such childish complaint.
Great preparations were made for her home coming; Mistress Prothasy had
the rooms furbished, and made all manner of spice-cakes, and Elyas rode
off one day in high spirits, to sleep at his mothers and to bring back
his little daughter on the morrow.
It was a bad day for Hugh. He was sick of his work, and, instead of
setting himself to do it as well as he could, all went the other way;
careless chippings brought down Franklyn's wrath upon him; he would take
no pains, idled and played with Agrippa, and was altogether
unsatisfactory. Franklyn had good reason for anger, though rather too
ready to jump at it, and he was rating the boy loudly when Mistress
Prothasy came into the yard to deliver some message with which she was
charged from her husband.
It was an expressed wish of his that she should never interfere with the
conduct of the prentices at their work. Indoors she might say what she
liked, and nothing displeased him more than a sign of disrespect on
their part, but in the yard it was understood that she was silent.
Nevertheless, on this occasion she asked Franklyn what Hugh had done,
and hearing that Agrippa was in the matter burst out with her own
grievances.
"The hateful little beast, I would he were strangled! I am frighted out
of my life to think of what he may do to Joan! But I will not bear it.
Hark ye, Hugh, thou wilt have to dispose of him. I have threatened it
before, and now I mean it, and I shall tell thy master that it makes
thee idle over thy work. He or I go out of the house!"
She swept away, leaving Hugh in a whirlwind of grief, bewilderment, and
anger. Part with Agrippa, his one friend? Never! And yet--he knew
from experience, and the men often spoke of it--Master Gervase never
gainsaid his wife. He dashed down his tools, caught Agrippa in his
arms, and faced Franklyn in a fury.
"You have done nothing but spite me, and I hate you!" he cried. "You
may kill me if you like, but I will never part with my monkey!"
In his heart of hearts Franklyn was sorry that things had gone so far,
but such rebellion could not be overlooked, and he fetched Hugh a sound
buffet which made him tingle all over, told him the master should hear
of it, and that he should have no supper but bread and water. Hugh
sullenly picked up his chisel and went on with his work, paying no heed
to Wat's uncouth attempts at comfort. Work was to be put away some
hours earlier than usual, and a feast provided for supper in honour of
Mistress Joan's return; but Hugh would go no farther than the balcony
which ran outside the prentices' room, supported by wooden posts, and
here he crouched in a corner, hugging Agrippa, weeping hot tears of rage
and turning over in his mind possible means of escape.
He had heard tales of prentices running away from harsh masters,
although he had an idea that dreadful penalties were due for such an
offence; but he thought he might manage to avoid being re-taken, and
cared not what risks he ran. Where should he go? If he could get to
Dartmouth someone might keep him till Andrew the shipman came again and
took him back to London, and the boundless hope of childhood made the
wild plan seem possible as soon as it came into his mind. He had the
king's gold noble sewn into his clothes, and though he never intended to
spend it, the feeling that it was about him gave him a sensation of
riches. He had received his first month's pay, as apprentice; this
amounted, it is true, to no more than threepence, but Elyas had given
him two groats from his father's store, and he hoped that people would
be willing to pay something when he had got far enough to let the monkey
display his tricks without fear of detection.
All these plans he made hastily, for the more he thought over the matter
the more determined he was to run away at once. He must slip out of the
gates before sunset, and while Elyas was absent; there would be so much
excitement in the house with Joan's return that he would not be missed
until it was too late to follow him. Wat had gone off to see some men
in the pillory; Hugh hastily rolled his father's things in a bundle,
slipped Agrippa into his basket, and was out of the house without
meeting a soul.
He could not help pausing at Broad Gate to look through it once more at
the Cathedral, but something in the beautiful building, some memories of
his father's hopes, brought such a choking lump into his throat that he
turned hastily away, hurrying down the Western Street and out at the
West Gate, and flattering himself that he had passed unnoticed by the
keeper of the gate.
From one cause or another he had not gone that way since the evening
they entered a month ago. Here was the new stone bridge; there in its
midst stood the fair chapel where lay the good citizen who had given the
bridge to the town, a little light burning ever before the altar. How
well Hugh remembered touching his father's arm to show it to him, and
how he got no sign in return, and was frightened. And then but a minute
or two later Master Gervase had come to their help like a good
Samaritan, and he no longer felt so lonely.
It was an inconvenient recollection, because he could not help recalling
with a rush how thankful his father had seemed when he came to himself,
and knew in whose house they were. Also with what earnestness he had
prayed Master Gervase to take Hugh, telling him that he was a good boy
and would be a credit to him.
"But father never knew!" cried Hugh, stifling uneasy thoughts; "he never
thought I should be set to fool's work, and flouted at, and Agrippa
taken away."
He pushed on with the thought. He fancied that he remembered a house
some five or six miles away, where the woman had been kind, and would
have had them come in and rest. This was the place where he meant to
spend the night.
But travelling in November was harder work than a month earlier. The
road soon became a quagmire, lain began to fall, darkness set in, and
there was no moon. He trudged on as bravely as he could, but he began
to be very much frightened with the loneliness and the darkness, and the
uneasy sense that, unlike the time when he passed before, he was not
going the way in which he could expect the overshadowing Care in which
his father had rested so confidently. Then more than once side roads
branched off; he was not sure that he was keeping to that which was
right, and little as he seemed to have to steal, there was the king's
gold noble which would be excellent booty for any cut-purse. The house
seemed so long in coming that he began to think he must have passed it
in the dark, and when at last he made it out, his heart sank to think
that after all his efforts he had got no further; besides, there was not
a light or sign of life about it, it looked so gloomy and forbidding
that he was scarcely less terrified at it than at the lonely road. He
ventured at last, however, to knock timidly at the door, but was
answered by such a fierce growling that he clasped Agrippa the closer
and fled.
Fled--but where to flee? Wet to the skin, hungry, miserable, before he
had got six miles on his way, what could he do? Creeping back to the
house to see if there were no outside shelter under which he might
crawl, he at last found a small stack of fuel piled close to the mud
walls, and by pulling this out a little formed a small hole where he
made shift to lie, shivering, and in a miserable plight.
He slept, however, and forgot his misery until he awoke, cramped, aching
all over, and hungrier than ever. He was too much afraid of the dog to
venture to wait till the people were up and about, and set off again on
his weary tramp, hoping he might reach some other hut where he could get
food for himself and the monkey. Rain still fell, though not so
heavily, and he could not understand why he got on so slowly, and found
himself scarcely able to drag one leg after the other. Agrippa, too,
also wet, cold, and hungry, shivered and chattered piteously.
At last he reached a hut where the man had gone to work, and the woman
gave him black bread and cider. But she had an evil face, and took more
from him than the food was worth, casting greedy looks at the remainder,
and the children ran after him and pelted him and Agrippa with stones;
so that Hugh was forced to hurry on as fast as his aching limbs could
carry him, and by the time he had gone up a little hill, felt as if all
the breath were out of his body, and he must drop by the road-side. He
knew now that he must be ill, it seemed to him, indeed, that he was
dying, and it was horrible to picture himself lying unheeded among the
piles of dead leaves, the dank and rotting vegetation, the deep red
mud--no one would know, and his only friend, poor Agrippa, would die of
cold and hunger by his side.
It was no wonder that his thoughts went back with longing to Master
Gervase's house in Exeter, where food and shelter were never lacking.
After this he still struggled on, but in a dazed, mechanical sort of
way, until he was quite sure that he had been walking all day, and that
night must be near at hand. And with this conviction, and all the
horror of coming darkness sweeping over him, he felt he could go no
farther, and flung himself down upon the wet bank, under a thick growth
of nut-bushes.
There Master Gervase found him.
When Elyas reached home close on sunset the day before, there was so
much welcoming and hugging of Joan, so many messages to give, so many
things to be spoken about, that he did not at first miss Hugh,
especially as Wat was also absent. By-and-by when Wat returned,
open-mouthed with sights at the pillory, Elyas asked for the little boy,
and Prothasy poured out her grievances. The monkey made him idle, and
she had said it should not stay in the house, and then he had flown into
a rage with William, and had been told he should have nought but bread
and water.
"And that is better than he deserves," she ended. "Look you, husband, I
am resolved. That evil beast shall not remain here with Joan. Thou
knowest that my nay is ever nay."
Elyas looked very grave, but made no answer. Hugh was idle, and no
rebellion against Franklyn could be permitted, yet his kind heart ached
for the fatherless little fellow who had taken his fancy from the first.
He would not interfere with the punishment, but he resolved that when
supper was over, he would go upstairs and see whether he could not mend
matters. And he was a little distraught throughout the long supper,
whereat Joan reigned like a veritable queen, and, it must be owned,
tyrannised in some degree over her subjects. She rather vexed her
mother by demanding the new boy. Father had talked to her of him, and
had told her of a wonderful little beast with a face like an old man's,
and hands to hold things by; she would love to see him--where was he,
why didn't he come to supper?
"Think not of him, Joan," said her mother quickly at last. "He is no
playfellow for thee. He would bite and terrify thee."
This caused an interval of pondering, and Prothasy fondly hoped of
impression, but presently Mistress Joan lifted her little golden head.
"I want him," she said. "I would kiss him." Prothasy looked
reproachfully at her husband, who was smiling.
The supper, as has been said, was long, and before it was finished Joan,
tired out with excitement, was leaning against her father's arm, asleep.
He lifted her tenderly and carried her to their room, where she slept,
and where she was soon lying in her little crib, looking fairer than
ever. Husband and wife stood gazing at her with overfull hearts, and
Elyas, ever large in sympathies, let his thoughts go out to the
wood-carver who had cared so much for his boy, and wished he could have
taken Hugh with him that day, or that he could talk him into readier
obedience to Franklyn. He was very desirous to temper justice with
mercy when he left Joan and went to seek Hugh.
It surprised him exceedingly to get no answer to his call. He lifted
the light and looked round the room in vain, nor was Agrippa to be seen
overhead among the rafters. It was possible that Hugh had slipped out
and stayed thus late, but he had never done it before, and it was seven
o'clock, dark and raining. Elyas began to feel very uneasy. He sought
his wife, called Franklyn, who had not left the house, and questioned
the other apprentices. Roger never paid any attention to Hugh, treating
him as a little boy, whom it would be waste of time to notice; Wat
reported that he had invited him to go out with him, but got no answer.
"He had never seen a man in the pillory, either, and here were three,"
added Wat cheerfully.
Quick compunction seized Prothasy, though rather for her husband's sake
than Hugh's; she said little, but ran hastily about the house, and even
out into the wet yard, where, however, Franklyn had been before her, and
then she stood in the doorway, looking up and down the street. Her
husband's voice behind startled her.
"He hath run away," he said gravely.
"Thinkest thou so?" she said turning quickly. "Elyas, it was not much
that I said, and it was not he but the monkey which provoked me."
"Nay, I am not blaming thee, I blame myself. He is but a little lad to
be left friendless in the world, and I might have been more tender with
him, and kept him more by mine own side. Then this would not have
happened."
"Where will he go?"
"That I must find out at the gates, which I will do presently, though it
is too late to pass out to-night. Most likely he has taken the road he
knew best."
He came back before long, saying it was as he thought, for the keeper of
the West Gate had seen the boy go out. At sunrise Elyas said he would
mount his good grey and follow. There was nothing else to be done, and
he made as light of it as he could to Prothasy, saying the dreariness of
the night might give a useful lesson.
And so it was that early the next day, when poor Hugh had got no further
than a bare two miles from the place where he had slept, although he
felt as if he had been walking all day, Master Gervase came upon a
little figure lying under a clump of nut-bushes, and with a pang in his
heart, sprang off his horse, and gathering Hugh and Agrippa into his
arms, mounted again, and rode back as quickly as he could to Exeter.