The king's visit was short, for the next day he departed, and Hugh with
a swelling heart saw Sir Thomas ride away, and with him all chance of
changing his condition. Still, he had got over the first pangs, was
more content, and resolved that, whatever Franklyn might do, he would
not be discouraged. He made another resolve. As has been said, the
apprentices had plenty of holidays, and Hugh cared nothing for the
cock-fighting, which was a favourite amusement. He liked football
better, but he made up his mind that some of his holiday time should be
spent in a stone carving of Agrippa. If it pleased Master Gervase,--
why, then, his hopes flew high.
He worked hard at his design, keeping it jealously hid from all but Wat,
whom he would have found it difficult to shut out, and who was
profoundly impressed by his ambition. Agrippa was not the easiest of
models, since to keep still was an impossibility, but Hugh managed to
get him into clay very fairly, and in a good position. He was
dreadfully disheartened when he tried to reproduce it in stone; it fell
far short of his conception, and appeared to him to be lifeless.
Indeed, had it not been for Wat, he might have given up his attempt in
despair; but Wat's interest was intense, and he was never weary of
foretelling what Master Gervase would say of it, and how even Franklyn
might be compelled to admire in spite of grudging. How this might have
been, it is impossible to say; Hugh was spared from making the trial,
for, as it happened, just when Lent began Franklyn was seized with
severe rheumatic pains, which made it impossible for him to work, or
even come to the yard. Generally one of the other journeymen on such an
emergency stepped into his place, but this time, for some reason or
other, Master Gervase overlooked things himself. He made a very careful
examination, and, for almost the first time in his life, Wat received
actual praise.
"Thou hast got a notion into thy head at last."
Wat could not resist making a face expressive of his amazement.
"'Twas thou hammered it there," he whispered to Hugh. "If I tell the
gammer she will think all her prophecies are coming true. Now where's
thy work? Hast stuck it where he must needs see?"
"Ay, see a failure," said Hugh, dolefully.
But Wat was too intent upon watching Elyas to have an ear for these
misgivings of the artist. He fidgeted about instead of working, and got
a sharp rebuke from the master for wasting his time; indeed, Gervase was
so much taken up with seeing that the right vein of the Purbeck quarry
was being used for carrying on the delicate arcades of the triforium,
that it was long before he left the men engaged upon it and came to
Hugh. His eye fell immediately upon the little figure.
"When didst thou this?" he demanded, taking it up.
"In holiday time, goodman."
Long and silently the master examined it, and every moment Hugh's
fluttering hopes sank lower. He was sure it had never looked so ill
before. At last Elyas raised his head.
"It doth credit to thine age," he said, warmly. "Faults there are, no
doubt: the head a little larger than it should be except in fashioning
the grotesque; the space across the forehead too broad. But what
pleases me is that thou heist caught the character of the creature,
thine eye having reported it to thee faithfully. If Franklyn saw it he
would own," he added, raising his voice so that all might hear, "that
thou hadst earned advancement. Finish this moulding, and I will set
thee on some small bosses which Dame Alicia de Mohun hath commanded for
her private chapel, and if thou wilt thou mayest work Agrippa into one
of them."
If Hugh were pleased, Elyas was hardly less so. He had been greatly
desirous to find some excuse by which, without seeming to set aside
Franklyn's rule, he might give the boy a chance which he considered he
well deserved. He had understood something of Hugh's feelings when the
hopes he had given up were once more dangled before his longing eyes,
and the kindly master longed for an opportunity of encouraging him in
his present work. The carving of the monkey was clever enough to have
really surprised him. Franklyn's illness came at an excellent time, and
no one could complain of favouritism. So he thought Oddly enough, the
only one who did was Roger, the elder prentice, who had hitherto seemed
quite indifferent. He was manifestly out of temper, muttering that it
was enough to have the beast jabbering at you in life, without having
him stuck up in stone, and for the first time doing his best in the
small room the three apprentices shared to make things bad for Hugh.
But Hugh was much too proud and happy to care for this, and he had Wat
on his side, so that Roger's enmity could not do much. Wat's great
desire was to be himself perpetuated as a grinning mask in the centre of
a boss. He was for ever making horrible faces in order that Hugh might
judge whether they were not grotesque enough, and poor little Joan,
coming upon him one day with a mouth as it seemed to her stretching from
ear to ear, and goggle saucer eyes, was so frightened that it was all
the boys could do to quiet her.
"If only I could round my eyes and yet frown fearfully!" cried Wat,
making ineffectual struggles to carry out his aspiration. "There, is
that better? What do I look like now?"
"Like a grinning cat," said Hugh, bursting into a laugh.
"Not a demon? Perchance if I squinted?"
"Hearken, Wat, I will not spoil my bosses by such an ill-favoured
countenance, but the very first gargoyle the master sets me to make,
thou shalt be my model. That is a pact."
"I shall?"
"Ay, truly."
"I will practise the most fearsome faces," cried Wat, joyfully. "There
shall be no such gargoyle for miles around! Where do you think it will
be placed? There is a talk of a new Guildhall in the High Street, and
it would be fine to stare down and grin at the citizens. Then, whenever
he saw it, it would remind the master of Prentice Wat. Art thou coming
out on Refreshment Sunday?"
"Where?"
"I never saw such a boy as thou, thou knowest naught! Why, we make a
figure of straw--Hugh, you could make it finely!"
"What to represent?"
"Nay, I know not--oh, ay, I remember me, it is Winter, only the country
people will have it 'tis Death, 'tis so gruesome and grisly, and they
hate to have us bring it to their houses, and give us cakes to keep it
away. A party of us are going as far as Topsham and Clyst this time.
Wilt come?"
"'Tis naught but mumming!"
Nevertheless Hugh consented to shape the figure, which represented
Winter in the last stage of decrepitude, and Wat begged an old tattered
cloak and hood, so that it really gave not a bad idea of a tottering old
man, when about twenty apprentices, sinking their constant rivalries,
set out in high glee to visit the neighbouring hamlets, and, when all
was done, burn Winter in the meadows outside the walls, Agrippa, by
common consent, of the party.
They had great merriment, though not by any means universal welcome, for
some of the country folk were so frightened that they closed the doors
of their huts, and stuffed up the window lest the hateful thing should
be thrust in that way. Others, seeing them in the distance, ran out
with cakes and spiced ale, and even pennies, begging them to come no
nearer. The boys were very scornful of such fears.
"What harm could it bring thee, goody?"
"Alack, alack, young sirs, I know not, but this I know, that come last
March Snell the smith would have it into his house, and before the year
was out, the goodwife, who had been ailing for years, and never died
before, was a corpse. Here's as good a simnel cake as you will find for
miles round, and welcome, but, prithee, bring the thing no nearer."
Others there were, however, who made the boys welcome, and feasted them
so bountifully that Hugh vowed he had never eaten so much in his life,
and Agrippa grew to treat his dainties with scorn. They took their way
at length back to the meadows, bestowed the cloak and hood upon a blind
beggar, who, guessing what was going on, besought the charity of a few
rags, and built a grand bonfire, on the top of which Winter was seated,
in order, as they said, that he might be warm for once. There were
other groups of the same sort scattered about the fields, and many
elders had ridden out to see the fun, which reminded them of their own
boyish days. Joan was perched in front of her father on the
broad-backed grey, insisting upon keeping as near to Hugh's bonfire as
the grey could be induced to go, and crying out with delight as the
tongues of fire leapt up, and the brushwood crackled, and at last, old
Winter's straw being reached, a tall and glorious pyramid of fire rushed
upwards; the lads shouted, and the reign of Winter was held to be ended.
Before Lent finished, Franklyn hobbled back to the yard. Hugh expected
that he would have been very angry at finding him put to really advanced
work, but it is possible that Franklyn was himself not sorry that things
had changed without his having had to give way. He muttered gruffly
that the boy was no wonder, but had improved with teaching; and he
showed no spite, for though always strict with Hugh, he took pains to
correct his faults carefully, so that his training was thoroughly good,
and Gervase was well satisfied with the two bosses which were Hugh's
share of Dame Alicia's work. Agrippa peeped from one, half concealed by
foliage, and the other was formed of ivy and holly. When summer came he
was resolved to follow the master's advice and study different plants
and leaves, so as to catch the beautiful free natural curves. He had
grown to love his work dearly, and to have high hopes about it, but
perhaps it was the recollection of his father's last words, at a time
when visions of earthly fame seemed dim and worthless, which kept him
from thinking only, as Roger thought, of his own advancement and glory,
and ever held before him, as the crown of his work, the hope some day to
give of his best for the House of the Lord.
The bishop had not forgotten him, often asking Master Gervase for the
little prentice who meant to carve one of the corbels.
"_Ay_, my lord, and it would not greatly surprise me if he carried out
his thought," said Elyas, with a smile. And he told the bishop of his
work for Dame Alicia's chantry. "He hath a marvellous fancy for his
age," he added.
"Brother Ambrose at the Kalendarhay complains that he is idle, but says
he can do anything with his fingers," remarked the bishop. "He would
fain he were a monk, that he might paint in the missals, but thou and I
would have him do nobler work. Not that I would say aught against the
good brothers," he added, rapidly crossing himself. "Everyone to his
calling, and the boy's lies not between their walls. Keep him to it,
keep him to it, goodman; give him a thorough training, for which none is
better fitted than thyself. It is my earnest desire that proper workers
may be trained to give their best in this building, as of old the best
was given for the Temple. Thou and I may never see the fruit of our
labours--what of that? One soweth and another reapeth, and so it is for
the glory of God, let that suffice. The walls of the choir go on well,
methinks, and in another year or two we shall have reached the Lady
Chapel."
"Ay, my lord."
"And then there must be no more work done by thee for town or country.
I claim it all. So thou hadst best finish off Dame Alicia's chantry."
"No fear, my lord. The lady is impatient, and will not tarry till then.
I shall have to go down in the summer to see after the fixing of these
bosses, and of some other work which she hath confided to me, and that
will end it."
The good bishop, indeed, was inclined to be jealous over anything which
took away Gervase's time and attention, and the stone mason had some
difficulty in keeping his own hands free, his skill being of great
repute among all the gentlemen round, and some of them being of fiery
dispositions, ill-disposed to brook waiting. There was plenty doing in
the yard, and often visitors to see how the work got on or to give
orders, and, as Hugh was the only one in the house who could write or
read, his master frequently called him to his aid when a scroll was
brought from some neighbouring abbot or prior.
At Easter they had, as usual, the gammon of bacon, to show widespread
hatred of the Jews, and the tansy pudding in remembrance of the bitter
herbs. Also another old custom there was, the expectation of which kept
Gervase on the watch with a comical look on his face, and set Joan
quivering with excitement for, as she confided to Hugh in a very loud
whisper, mother had promised that she should be by "to see father
heaved."
She was terribly disappointed when he went out, and scarcely consoled by
his taking her with him, and when at last he brought her home, clasping
a great bunch of primroses in her little hot hands, she was not to be
separated from him.
"Why dost thou not go and look for thy friend Hugh?"
"They might come and do it."
"Perhaps I shall slip away and not let them find me at all."
But the bare idea of this produced so much dismay, that Elyas was
obliged to hasten to assure her that he would not resort to any such
underhand proceeding. He turned to Prothasy with a smile.
"An I am to endure it, I would the silly play were over."
"Thou wilt not escape, goodman. Master Allen, the new warden of the
Tuckers' Guild, has had such a lifting that he was fain to give twelve
pennies to be set down again."
"They'll not get twelve pennies from me. Richard Allen is an atomy of a
man."
"Ay, thy broad shoulders will make it a different matter," said
Prothasy, looking proudly at him; "but be not over-confident, goodman,
for King Edward is a bigger man than thou, and they heaved him one
Easter till he cried for mercy and offered ransom."
Nothing more was heard till supper-time, when, as Elyas sat at the head
of his table, four stout girls rushed into the room, and, amid loud
laughter from everyone and ecstatic shrieks and clappings from Joan,
lifted the rough stool on which he was seated into the air, and swung
him backwards and forwards.
"There, there, ye foolish wenches! I'm too heavy a load. Put me down,
and the goodwife shall give ye your cakes."
"Twelve pennies, goodman! Thou, a new warden, wouldst not pay less than
Richard Allen of the Tuckers?"
"Ay, would I though."
Whereupon he was screamed at and rocked as unmercifully as any boat in a
storm, until between laughter and vexation he promised all that they
asked, and the four girls went away declaring their arms would ache for
a week.
"Ye will not be able to make the dumb cake on Saint Mark's Eve," Gervase
called after them, "and then, no chance for you to see your sweethearts
at midnight."
"No need for that, goodman," answered the eldest and prettiest, "we know
who they are already."
So many holidays fell at that fair time of the year that the master
grumbled his work would ne'er be done.
"May Day come and gone, ye shall have no more."
But May Day itself could not be slighted, for long before sunrise the
lads and lasses were out to gather May, or any greenery that might be
got, and the prentices tramped through mud and mire, and charged the
thickets of dense brushwood valiantly. Wat was covered with scratches,
and a sorry object as they trudged home by sunrise, in order to decorate
the house door with branches, and all the other boys and girls were at
the same work, so that in a short time the street looked a very bower of
May.
And now the days growing longer and the country drier, there was less
danger from travelling, and a general desire in everyone's heart to be
doing something or going somewhere, or otherwise proving themselves to
have some part in this world, which never looks so fair or so hopeful as
at the beautiful spring season. Many of the neighbouring gentry rode
into the city, and the ladies were glad to wear their whimsically
scalloped garments, and their fine mantles, and to display their tight
lacing in the streets instead of country lanes, as well as to visit the
clothiers and drapers for a fresh supply; while their lords took the
opportunity of looking at horses, playing at tennis, and some times,
when much in want of ready money, disposing of a charter of liberties,
to gain which the citizens were ready to pay a heavy fine.
Master Gervase had many visits from these lords and knights, and more
work pressed upon him than he would undertake. My Lord of Devon had
pretty well insisted upon his carrying out some change in his house at
Exminster, where some forty years later was born William Courtenay, the
future Archbishop of Canterbury, and Gervase was one day cutting the
notches in a wooden tally, made of a slip of willow--which was the
manner of giving a receipt--and handing it to the bailiff, when a tall
man holding a little girl by the hand strode into the yard.
"It is Sir Hereward Hamlin," Wat whispered to Hugh.
Sir Hereward Hamlin, it appeared, had a commission which he would
entrust to none but Elyas, and very wroth he became when he found it
could not be undertaken. It was evident that he was not used to be
gainsaid, for he stormed and tried to browbeat the stonemason, who
showed no signs of disturbance. The little girl also listened quite
unmoved.
"They say she is as proud as he is," Wat the gossip commented under his
breath, "for all her name is Dulcia; and the poor lady her mother scarce
can call her soul her own between them."
"I hope the master will not yield," muttered Hugh indignantly.
There was small fear of that. Sir Hereward's fiery temper and
passionate outbreaks had caused him to be much disliked in the city, and
Gervase would at no time have been disposed to work for him even had
time been at his disposal.
"It is impossible, your worship," he said coldly, nor could anything
turn his resolution, so that Sir Hereward had to leave, muttering angry
maledictions upon upstart knaves who know not how to order themselves to
their betters.
"I would he knew how to order himself to his own," said Gervase to
Franklyn, "but he has never been friendly to the king since he was
forced to restore the crown lands and divers of our rights which his
fathers had illegally seized. If I had yielded and done his work he
would have thought the honour sufficient payment."
When the week of rogations was at an end, with its processions and
singing of litanies all about the streets from gate to gate, Gervase
told Hugh of a plan which mightily delighted him, for it was none other
but to take him with him on his journey to Tor Brewer, or Tor Mohun,
where he had to go on this business of the Dame Alicia's chantry. She
had already sent serfs and horses to fetch the carved work, and with
them an urgent message for Master Gervase to come; and as Hugh had done
his work well--marvellously well, Elyas privately thought--he determined
to give him the delight of seeing it fixed in its place, and the two set
off together one morning in early June, with Joan kissing her hand from
the balcony. The only pang to Hugh was the leaving Agrippa, but Wat was
his devoted slave, and solemnly vowed not to neglect him, and, moreover,
to protect him from Roger, who had developed a keen dislike for the
creature, while Mistress Prothasy had quite forgotten hers.
It was a fair morning, and the country, then far more thickly wooded
than now, was in its loveliest dress of dainty green. The brushwood was
full of birds, thrushes and blackbirds drowning the smaller notes by the
jubilance of their whistling, while, high up, the larks were pouring out
a rapturous flood of song. It was the same road along which Hugh had
journeyed twice before, but how different it looked now, and how strange
it seemed to him that he should ever have run away from the home where
he was so happy! Something of the same thought may have been in
Gervase's mind, for when they were not very far from Exminster, riding
between banks, and under oaks, of which the yellow leaf was not yet
fully out, he pointed to a spot in the hedge, and said with a smile:
"'Twas there I found thee, Hugh, and a woe begone object thou wast!"
Then, as he saw the boy redden, he went on kindly, "But that is all over
and done with long ago, and now thou art content, if I mistake not."
"More than content, good sir."
"That is well, that is well. A little patience will often carry us
through the darkest days. By-and-by show me about where thou wast
wrecked. Ay, the sea is a terrible place for mischances, and for myself
I cannot think how men can be found willing to encounter such risks.
There is talk of building larger vessels and adventuring longer voyages,
but 'tis a rash idea. What know we of the awful regions that they might
light upon, or whether the vessels might not be carried too close to the
edge of the world? Nay, nay, keep to land, say I. Those who must
explore may travel there as Marco Polo hath done, and indeed there are
many tales going about the wonders of the Court of the great Khan of
Tartary."
The road, as they journeyed on, became very beautiful, so wooded was it
and broken, and with ever-widening views of water to the left, while on
the right after a time they saw the ridges of Dartmoor, a very bleak and
barren country, as Elyas told the boy, but now looking softly grey and
delicate in colour. By this time they had reached the Teign, and here
at Kingsteignton stopped to rest their horses, at a house belonging to
the Burdons of that place, Elyas having done some work for them, and
requiring to see it in its finished condition. Plain country people
they were, and awkward and uncouth in manners, two or three boys on
bare-backed colts riding up as Gervase and Hugh arrived, and pointing at
them with bursts of laughter. The girls, Hugh thought, were little
better, and the fashion of their garments curiously odd and slatternly.
When supper--which was very plentifully provided--was over, they set
forth again on their journey, getting into a most vile road, which
lasted for some miles, but took them without adventure to Tor Mohun,
although it led them through an extraordinary number of rocks and tors,
and also between exceedingly thick woods.
Gervase had never been there before, and was no more prepared than Hugh
for the view which met their eyes when they came out of the circle of
these woods. For there lay a very noble bay, well shut in, and with
very beautiful and thickly wooded cliffs rising up on the eastern side.
In a hollow of these cliffs and hills there clustered a few miserable
hovels, otherwise it was a wild solitude, only so tempered by a kindly
climate and the softness of the sea breezes that there was nothing rough
or savage about it; and just now, towards sunset, with the sea like opal
glass, and the colours all most bright and yet delicate, and the thorns
yet in blossom, it was exceedingly pleasant to the eye, and Dame
Alicia's house, though standing back, had it well in view.
It was plain that she was a great lady by the size of the building and
the number of retainers about, but they heard afterwards that these were
not all hers, Sir William de Sandridge from Stoke Gabriel, and Sir
Robert le Denys of Blagdon in the moor, having ridden over to spend two
or three nights. An elderly squire took charge of Gervase and his
apprentice, showing them the little room that was to be theirs, and
telling the warden that his lady had been eagerly expecting his coming,
and would see him the next day.
Elyas asked whether he should find workmen in the chapel early in the
morning.
"No fear, goodman," said the squire with a laugh; "Dame Alicia is not
one to let the grass grow under her feet, and I would not answer but
what she may keep them there all night. Go as early as thou wilt;
follow this passage, turn down another to the right, and thou wilt come
to a door with steps, which will take thee there."
The next few days were days of both wonder and amusement to Hugh. Dame
Alicia was a fiery and impetuous little lady, using such strong language
as would have brought her a heavy fine had she been an apprentice;
ruling her household and serfs with much sharpness, disposed to
domineer, yet with a kind heart which prevented any serious tyranny, and
sometimes moved her to shame for too hasty acts. She was at times very
impatient with Elyas, expecting her wishes to be carried out in an
unreasonably short time, and that all other work should give way to
hers; but the stonemason had a dignity of his own, which never failed
him, and kept him quietly resolute in spite of sudden storms. He would
not consent to undertake the carving of the pulpit, or ambo, which she
wanted set about, declaring that he had too much already on hand, nor
would he yield to Sir Robert le Denys and go to Blagdon to advise on
alterations there. All, however, that he had to do at Tor Mohun he did
admirably. It was a proud day to Hugh when he saw the bosses he had
carved fixed in the vaulted roof. He worked all day in the chantry with
delight, and would scarcely have left it had not Gervase insisted on his
going forth into the air. Then sometimes he would go out in one of the
rude fishing-boats, and was delighted to find a man who knew Andrew of
Dartmouth, and promised to convey tidings of Hugh to him.
At the end of a week, in spite of Dame Alicia's reluctance, Elyas and
Hugh went back to Exeter again, and to the old life, which had become so
familiar.