"I would fain stay at home and care for you and my lady mother, and mind
the fair lands God and my ancestors have left me."
"Then, my son, as God wills it, and you have chosen, so be it, and may
God's blessing and thy parents' be upon thee. Now, Ralph, my son, what
willest thou?"
The young boy hesitated. He looked at his mother, and then down, and
finally, raising his eyes with a keen light of joyous but rather shy
determination said,--
"Noble sire, I would fain go to learn arms, and be trained in some noble
prince's household, for I am of an age now when I could do some deed
which might earn me knighthood."
"Well, fair son, thou hast answered as I would have thee. 'Tis sad to
thy lady mother and me to part with thee, even for a space, but it is
thy life that must be spent, not ours, and we have ever thought on thy
weal. I will take thought what can be determined to try purveyance and
maintenance as befitteth a son of the De Lisles. And now, son Walter,
what willest thou?"
Walter was a delicate, slight boy, with a studious face, and one who had
always been looked upon as the scholar of the family. He knew well what
his parents wished, and also what was the custom of those of gentle
blood who were the youngest sons. They must either seek their fortune in
war, or else in the Church. He had not physical strength, nor
sufficiently combative instincts, for the profession of arms, although,
boylike, he had often been led away, when reading the romances of the
time, to wish to imitate the deeds of Roland, or Tristram, or Launcelot;
but then he was very fond of their worthy chaplain, who was also the
boys' tutor, and he had been strongly imbued with a desire to sacrifice
himself to God, as it was called. He therefore answered,--
"Father, I would like much to be a clerk, and follow in the steps of Our
Lord and Master. Perchance I may do some good work some day."
"Ay, in sooth wilt thou, my dear son; and thou hast made the choice most
after thy mother's heart, albeit, weak man that I am, had I been a
youth, I would have thought scorn of a clerkly life, yet, now I am old,
I know well what awaiteth those who have devoted themselves to God and
Mother Church from their youth upward. I will avise me what hath best
be done for thee also, and will send a missive to my right reverend
kinsman the Abbot of Quarr, and perchance he will do his best to help
us. And now, my sons, since all is in fair trim for your future
welfare, and thy noble and fair mother is right pleased, I know, as
truly am I--and I give God thanks that He hath given me such right
trusty and well-nurtured sons--let us all go to supper, for we have even
to drink the health of our Ralph, who by God's will from henceforth will
soon become a right honest varlet and trusty page, and in time will
proceed to be a very worshipful knight, like his ancestors have
been--worthy men, and leal to their liege lord."
So saying, the old knight rose up with difficulty, assisted by his sons,
who ran to aid him, for he had received a severe wound from a bill, over
his left thigh, and had never recovered the use of it since.
"Grammercy, fair sons! but, Ralph, do thou lead in thy lady mother, for
to thee belongs the honour of the day."
And so the little party went down the passage and entered the hall,
where supper was laid at the upper end. The servants were all assembled
in the body of the hall, and the sons carved for their parents at the
high table. Ralph's health was duly drunk amid much festivity, and the
whole household retired to rest at a reasonable hour.
The next day a messenger was despatched to Salisbury, where the Abbot of
Quarr, who was related to Sir John Lisle, or De Lysle, was staying, to
ask him to come over to Thruxton Hall, and advise his kinsman on the
future of his sons. The worthy Abbot came without delay; and that
evening a family consultation was held in the old parlour, round the
knight's armchair.
The old knight briefly explained the matter, and then left the worthy
Abbot to comment on it.
"By the Holy Rood! but thy gentle sons have all well bethought them, and
I could not have directed them better myself. Truly, 'tis the
overruling spirit of God who has guided them to a right judgment!" said
the Abbot. "Now for Jasper there will need to be no thought taken. Out
of the abundance of thy lands he will be provided for, and may marry and
raise up a fair lineage; but for our nephew Ralph other thoughts will be
requisite. He will need fair clothes, as becometh one of a noble house,
and an honest varlet to go with him, and a mettlesome courser; one not
too fiery, that will lead him astray, and perchance disgrace him, or his
clothes, but one that is stout withal, and not of a too tame spirit. And
now methinks I know of just such a one, which the Prior of Christchurch,
who is at Sarum now on business, wisheth to part with, having become too
feeble or too stout for so mettlesome a nag. Nephew Ralph, I will e'en
give him thee, with my blessing."
"My Lord Abbot, I give thee humble thanks," stammered Ralph delighted.
"And now we must bethink us to what noble lord we may apprentice him.
Thou knowest what state my Lord Scales, lately deceased, kept in his
Castle of Carisbrooke. He, poor man--and may the Lord have mercy on his
soul--was grievously done to death near Stoney Stratford, by the late
King Richard, whom the devil led far astray. Nevertheless, he was a man
of war, and well skilled in subtle council. However, King Henry hath
made his brother Captain-General of our land; and Sir Edward Woodville,
whom most men call the Lord Woodville, and who some even think will be
called to the council by the style of Lord Rivers, is but now on his way
back from the hard fight at Stoke by Newark, where he hath gained
himself fresh glory. Certes he is a gallant, very puissant, and right
hardy lord, and one under whom much knighthood and gentleness might be
learnt, and as he is the uncle of our sovereign lord the King's most
noble wife, there is much hope Ralph might be advanced in the King's
household. Now I can present our fair nephew to him, and he can be
brought up under my eye in the right pleasant Castle of Carisbrooke, of
the honour of which the Lisles hold the Manor of Mansbridge. How say
you, kinsman mine, will this serve you?"
"Ay, marry will it, my Lord Abbot, and I see fair promise of the boy's
doing well, and faring right puissantly. And now I bethink me, our
kinsman of Briddlesford may take an interest in the lad. His own son, I
hear, hath been disinherited by him for his wilfulness and strong fealty
to the house of York. I would fain see them reconciled, but an that may
not be, I see no wrong in Ralph marrying his only daughter. But now,
canst thou do somewhat also for son Walter here?--he would like well to
be a clerk."
"By Our Lady, but he is a good lad, and we will take order that he be
well advanced, as far as our poor influence in the Holy Church goeth;
but he should be entered at Oxen ford shortly, for he is of age to go
thither. I will write to my well-beloved brother and kinsman, the Abbot
of Abyngdon, who will get him entered at Queen's College, over which,
when I was a scholar, the very puissant prince Cardinal Beaufort was
provost."
Thus the future of the boy was well arranged, and it was agreed that the
Abbot of Quarr should take Ralph with him, as soon as his outfit was
ready; and in order to expedite matters, a serving-man was sent to
Salisbury to fetch out a tailor with the necessary cloth and stuff
suitable to apparel a young man of good birth who was going to be page
to so potent a lord as the Lord Woodville. At the same time, the varlet
received orders to negotiate with the Prior of Christchurch for the
horse.
Meanwhile Ralph and his brother had tried the qualities of his new hawk.
"Thou well knowest, brother Ralph," said Jasper to him, as they rode
along on their small ponies towards Chute Forest, "my peregrine will fly
faster than thy gerfalcon."
"Marry, will it? that we shall see, I trow. See there's a bird yonder;
'tis a heron, now fly our birds at her."
No sooner said than done; off went the jesses, away went the hoods, and
with a swing of the arm and wrist, the noble birds were cast off the
fist. Up they sprang high in air. The gerfalcon mounted quicker, but
the peregrine went straighter. Away they sped and the boys after them,
halloing to the dogs to keep to heel.
"See, Ralph, I told thee so, thy bird can't hold a candle to mine. Well
flown, Swiftwing, well mounted! Now she sees the quarry!"
"Ay, and the quarry sees her. Look, Jasp, she has turned, and, by St
Edmund, she'll cross my beauty! Listen to the sweet tinkle of her
bells. How swift she mounteth. Ah! my little lady, thou knowest thy
work well."
"I'll bet you my new riding-whip against your new set of bells, that my
hawk strikes her first."
"Done!" cried Ralph eagerly.
The attention of the two boys was keenly fixed on the two birds, and
they rode on, heeding nothing, the varlet who attended his young lords
keeping well up with them.
"Hi! Master Jasper, look where thou goest," cried out the servant;
"thou will ride down yon old man!"
Jasper was not best pleased at being interrupted in his view of the
sport, and, glancing down, saw a man with a hood drawn over his head,
and an old tattered gown on, who was with difficulty walking across the
heath, attended by a young girl, meanly attired, but very modest and
sweet-looking.
"Why, old man, wherefore crossedst thou my path? Didst not see the game
toward? Fie, I should have thought an old man like you wouldst have
known better!"
"Nay, fair gentleman, I did cross thy path purposely. I have lost my
way, and am parlous footsore; so is this poor lass, my daughter; and I
crave you of your kindness tell me where we may get shelter."
"Ay, that will my father right willingly give you. Go you on, keep the
path over the common, and we shall follow you anon. Thou canst not miss
thy way. Say young Master Jasper of Thruxton sent thee. Thou wilt meet
with care enough there."
"Grammercy, fair young master; but I will not keep thee from thy sport
to waste thy time hearing a poor man's thanks."
So saying, the man and the young girl continued their way.
Ralph had been looking on; he saw how weary the man was, and his
generous young heart beat with pity. He rode after the strangers, and,
dismounting, insisted on the poor man getting up and taking his daughter
on the croup behind him. There was something in the manner of the
wanderers which seemed to tell him they were not common people. The man
was evidently much touched. He thanked the boy with quiet dignity, and
accepted his offer with ready pleasure; while the large hazel eyes of
the girl filled with grateful emotion. She gave him a shy glance, full
of gratitude.
At this moment a loud shout of disappointment came from Jasper.
"By St Edmund, thy falcon hath risen above the heron, and will strike in
another second!"
This was too much for Ralph. With a joyous bound he left the new-comers
on his pony, and ran after his brother, just in time to see his
gerfalcon give a swoop, and the next minute descend like a falling bolt
right on to the doomed heron, who, however, with prompt instinct, turned
up its long neck, and held its beak like a sword on which the falcon
should impale itself.
"Gare beak, my beauty; strike him sideways. There, by all the saints,
she has done it! There they come. Ah! Melampus; ah! Ringwood; heel,
sir, heel!"
And the boy ran as hard as he could to the spot where the heron, still
struggling, but feebly, was falling with the hawk's claws and talons
fixed firmly in its back, and its strong beak pecking into its brain.
"Well done! well sped, brave bird!" cried Ralph joyously.
"Ay, but I have lost my riding-whip," said Jasper ruefully.
"Nay, Jasp, I will never take it; 'twas but in sport."
And thus the first flight of Ralph's gerfalcon ended. They recalled the
goshawk, and with hawks hooded, jesses on legs, and fast on fists, they
returned home, carrying the heron with them.
*CHAPTER II.*
*HOW THE FLEDGLING LEFT THE NEST.*
When the boys drew near home, talking volubly all the time, as boys do,
and wondering whether the poor man and his daughter had reached the
manor before them, they met Humphrey, who was returning from Salisbury
with the tailor and the new horse.
Ralph descried them some way off, and darted away like a hare, before
Jasper and the groom had guessed the cause of his flight. Breathless
the boy ran up to Humphrey, and could scarcely pour out the torrent of
questions, mingled with ejaculations of pleasure and admiration, with
which he overwhelmed the varlet, so scant of breath was he.
The horse was certainly a beauty, and did great credit to the taste and
judgment of the worthy Abbot of Quarr.
"Ay, certes 'tis a fine beast; but the main fault, to my mind, is that
he's too much for thee, Master Ralph. 'Tis a mettlesome hackney, and I
don't marvel that fat Prior of Christchurch wanted to part with him.
He'll find a difference between thy light weight and that old round
shaveling yonder."
"Tush! Humphrey, let me get on him, that's all--an I bring him not to
reason, beshrew me for a dullard and walk-a-foot."
By this time Jasper and the other groom had come up, and they were loud
in their praises of the new horse.
"My faith! Ralph, thou'rt in luck to-day," said Jasper, somewhat
discontentedly. "Thy falcon hath beat mine, and now thou ownest a horse
the best, well-nigh, to look at in our stables. Thou'rt a lucky wight,
that thou art."
They were approaching the manor house, and as they came within sight of
the old buildings, they saw the Abbot of Quarr coming out of the hall
door with Lady Lisle.
"Humphrey, let me mount him," said Ralph eagerly, "before they see us.
I'd wager a mark my lady mother would be astonished, and so would my
right reverend Lord Abbot."
"Nay, Master Ralph, better let one of the stable knaves try him first;
he's a bit fresh and mettlesome. Maybe thou wouldst not master him."
"Marry, Humphrey, thou'rt parlous cautelous. Nay, but I will mount him;
he's mine. An thou dost not hold him, I will e'en vault on him as he
is, and take my chance."
Humphrey, seeing how wilful his young master was, and fearing lest the
horse should kick him if he tried to mount as he threatened, drew up and
held the horse. The boy, with a little run, vaulted on to the back of
his steed, which stood quite still, only turning his head round, and
looking at his new master with wise, mild eye. When the boy was firmly
seated, and had taken the reins in his hand, for the horse was bitted
and bridled, although there was only a cloth over its back, he clapped
his heels to the animal's side, and urged him to a trot.
The others all watched him, and wondered to see the boy, who had
hitherto only ridden his pony, sit so well and masterfully on the fine
animal's back. His seat was firm, and the grip of his knees strong.
The horse, unaccustomed to so light a weight, sprang forward with a
plunge, for it was fresh, and had been worked but little lately. With
eager excitement the boy urged it on to a canter, and clapped both heels
to its sides. Nothing loth, the splendid animal threw up its head, gave
a snort of answering joy, and broke into a long easy stride.
In another minute they had reached the approaching figures, and Ralph
waved his cap with joyous triumph.
[Illustration: "RALPH WAVED HIS CAP IN TRIUMPH."]
"Why, 'tis Ralph!" cried his mother, in amazement. "My son, have a care;
'tis a parlous great horse for so young a boy."
"Nay, fair lady," said the Abbot; "see how well he manageth him: there
is naught to fear. He is a likely lad enough, and will make a fine
brave present for me to give to my Lord Woodville. There is promise of
a noble knight in that stripling. In sooth, he cometh of fair lineage."
Meanwhile the boy was galloping round the greensward in front of the
house, talking to the horse all the while, patting his neck and mane,
perfectly at home on the back of the animal, and radiant with joy.
As he came round again he drew up in front of his mother and the Abbot,
and, reining in the horse, made a low reverence to them with his cap.
"Grammercy, my Lord Abbot, for thy right noble present; 'tis the most
brave horse in all England, and I am right thankful to thee for thy
gracious kindness," said the boy.
"Well, young master, thou managest him well enough, and I am glad to see
that thou hast profited by the lessons of thy lady mother, and hast
learned courtesy and easy manners. An thou goest on thus, thou wilt
bring credit on thy family, and my Lord Woodville will value thee and us
right worthily. Take the horse with my benediction, and may the Lord be
with thee, even as He was with David. May He make thine arm strong, and
thy spear sharp against all that is vile, mean, and base in this world.
Mayest thou win knighthood, and not filthy lucre, by thy prowess; though
indeed, as Paul saith, 'The workman is worthy of his hire,' and they do
err grievously who think that the ministrations of Holy Church should be
rewarded only by thanks, and naught else."
During this speech, the tailor and Humphrey, with Master Jasper and his
varlet, had come up, and the inferiors all doffed their caps as they
listened respectfully to the Abbot.
"'Tis a learned man and a holy," said the tailor as they went round to
the servants' offices, "and he draws a right subtle distinction in that
same matter of the acquisition of goods; for as a rolling stone
gathereth no moss, so a knight that acteth full knightly hath no means
to acquire wealth for himself, whereas an Abbot, or churchman, who
liveth well in one place, layeth up much goods for himself and Mother
Church. Piety without wealth is as an addled egg that showeth a fair
outside but is all fruitless and deceitful within. And as 'tis the duty
of the Church to spend and be spent in the service of the saints, how
can they spend if they have naught to give away."
While the tailor moralised thus to Humphrey, they entered the kitchen.
Ralph and Jasper were walking by the side of their mother and the Abbot;
they had dismounted from their horses, and had given them to the groom
to take round to the stables.
After taking a few turns up and down in front of the house, Lady Lisle
said she must go in and see the tailor, for no time was to be lost in
cutting out and making the necessary clothes for Ralph to take with him.
It had been settled that all must be ready by to-morrow early, as the
Abbot had to travel to Winchester to meet Sir Edward Woodville, who was
going to stay there one night, on his way to Southampton to cross over
to the Isle of Wight. There was, therefore, a great deal to be done,
and Ralph was taken in by his mother to be measured and fitted, while
she set her maids to work to sew the various pieces together as the
tailor cut them out.
There was one part of the preparation Ralph liked very much; that was
the selecting the weapons he would need as a page, and which might serve
him if he should reach the rank of esquire before he returned home
again. He was a tall boy and strong, therefore his father bade the old
major-domo, who had acted as his esquire, select sound and strong arms,
such as a good sword, a well-tempered dagger, and a stout bow with
fitting arrows; while a target, a back and breast piece, and a light
steel cap, with a strong under jerkin of leather, completed his
defensive attire.
It was decided that Humphrey should go with him, and a sumpter horse was
to take the baggage of master and man. The evening was passed in great
excitement on the part of Ralph, who could not keep still for a minute,
and caused Jasper to break out in wrath several times, while his father
and mother watched him silently, the latter with eyes full of
affectionate sadness. It was the first time the family circle had been
broken up.
Suddenly Jasper remembered the poor man and his daughter, and, glad of
an opportunity of directing attention to some other matter, he said,--
"Marry, Ralph, we never asked what became of that old beggar and thy
nag; didst hear whether they had left him in the stables?"
"Was it a poor man and a young girl?" said Lady Lisle.
"Ay, mother; didst thou see them?"
"Certes I did, and a quandary it put me into too. For I saw it was thy
pony, Ralph, and I marvelled what had come to thee. But the vagrant put
me at ease. Poor old man, and poor little wench, they were sorely
bested; and when I heard their tale, I felt proud of my son Ralph.
'Twas well done to succour the weary and footsore."
"Humph!" said the Abbot. "I know not, fair lady, whether 'twere
altogether a wise action. The beggar was a stranger, and 'tis a mad
prank to lend thy goods to people thou dost not know."
"Maybe, Lord Abbot; but I bethink me of One who not only lent but gave
to those whom He did not know."
"Ay, marry, so do I, fair lady, but we who live in the world must be
careful not to be visionaries or unlike other folk; and if Ralph goeth
with me, he must be mindful of the saying, 'Honour to whom honour is
due.' Now a beggar and his slut of a daughter are not fit people to
give one's pony too--unless, indeed, he is mindful of being a saint; if
so, he'd best not go to my Lord Woodville."
The evening was soon gone, and all things were in fair way for an early
start to-morrow. The hospitable Lady Lisle had given a night's lodging
to the two weary wayfarers, who had told her their journey lay to the
Isle of Wight, where the aunt of the young girl lived; and Lady Lisle
had said she would see what could be done to further them on their
way--perhaps even the Abbot of Quarr would allow them to go in his
train.
Before retiring to rest, Sir John Lisle called his son to him, and gave
him solemn words of advice, and as Ralph listened, boy as he was, he
felt proud of his father for speaking such noble words.
"My son," the old knight said, sitting in his large arm-chair, laying
his hand on the boy's head, who sat at his feet on a low stool, looking
up into his father's face, "my son, thou art going forth like a
fledgling from the nest. Thou hast been gently nurtured, and hast
proved that the good lessons of thy lady mother and Sir Thomas Merlin[*]
have sunk into thy heart. But the world into which thou goest will
offer many trials and sore temptations. I cannot guard thee beforehand
against all; but there are some few things I can tell thee, and thy
mother will tell thee some others. Fear God before all things! Fight
the King's enemies, and those of thy country; and never turn thy back on
the foe as long as thy chief bids thee fight. In all things be
obedient, and pay reverence to those in authority over thee. Be liberal,
courteous, and gentle. Let thy charges be as thy purse can pay. Thy
kinsman, the Abbot of Quarr, will aid thee in all that is right for thy
place in life; for I have assigned him certain lands and rents in trust
for thee, and thou must maintain the rank of thy family and name. Brave
I know thou art, and truthful, I well believe; but of the matters that
appertain to thy gentle life, these thy lady mother will tell thee. I
have been too much a man of war in these troublous times, and, I fear
me, God loveth not those who have used the sword too freely. But 'tis
in the blood, and we are not able to fight against it. And now, my son,
may God be with thee. Fare thee well. Win thy spurs, and come home a
very gentle, perfect knight."
[*] Priests were in that age called "Sir."
So saying, the old knight laid his hands on the boy's wavy hair, and let
them rest there a little space, while his lips moved, as if in prayer.
When he removed his hands, he raised the boy and kissed him on his
forehead, and bid him "Good-night."
Ralph was touched, and went up to his room, for the first time that day
sorry he was going; but soon the glorious life before him caused him to
forget tender thoughts, and he got into bed longing for the night to be
over and his adventures to begin. While he was lying wide awake, unable
to sleep through excitement, he heard his mother's step outside the
door, and in another minute she came in.
"My little son--nay, not so little after all, but to me always my little
son--I have come to wish thee good-night, and to say farewell; for
to-morrow we must all be busy, and I cannot then say what I would say
now. Thy father hath told thee what appertains to knighthood, I would
fain tell thee of what concerneth thy soul--albeit this also belongeth
more to Sir Thomas Merlin's office; but a mother's words are always
blessed, if God guideth her, as He surely doth. Remember always to say
thy prayers, night and morning; and pray not only in thy words and
memory, but with the real fervour of a thinking heart. Repeat not
simply set sentences, but think of thy daily needs, and daily sins, and
lay all before God. Be mindful to give thanks in thy prayers, for
gratitude is the sign of a gentle heart. Remember, also, always to be
generous to the poor; if thou gainest riches, give freely to those who
need, for in so doing, thou layest up treasure in heaven. Help the
weak, the widow, and the fatherless, and in all thy youthful strength
and rejoicing, forget not the sick, the miserable, and those in grievous
dolour. Avoid all bad words; be cleanly of speech, as well as of life;
and think ever on thy Blessed Lord, the saints, and thy mother. And,
lastly, be courteous, obedient, and humble. Be gay and light-hearted,
as becometh youth, but never let wine overcome thee, or the temptations
of the tavern and the dice-box. Avoid all boastfulness, but let thine
arm and hand ever maintain thy word, as is fit for one who professeth
arms, which is a calling honoured of Heaven, in the person of those
puissant captains of Rome, the captain of the Italian company, and the
captain that confessed our Blessed Lord. Now, good-night, fair son, and
may God bless thee. I have brought thee a little purse; it containeth
some small pieces that may procure thee favour with thy companions when
thou meetest with them. Humphrey hath charge of thy wardrobe and
body-linen, and will see to thy proper furnishing as one of gentle birth
and fair lineage. God bless thee, my son, and bring thee back to us, as
thy noble father said, 'a very gentle, perfect knight,' and, better
still, bring thee, and all of us, to that rest above, where there is no
more fighting--no more parting."
So saying, the sweet lady bent down and kissed her son with fervent
love, and left him to his thoughts.
The next morning all were astir early--Ralph among the earliest. The
worthy Abbot said Mass, assisted by the excellent Chaplain, Sir Thomas
Merlin, and after breakfast the preparations for departure were
completed.
The little cavalcade came round to the front of the old mansion, and a
pretty scene it made. There were the sumpter horses of the Abbot and
his two servants; Humphrey, and the baggage horse of Master Ralph; and
Ralph's new present, the handsome charger, newly harnessed with new
saddle and gay housings. Behind, mounted on Ralph's pony, was the young
girl, while her father stood by her side ready to lead the pony, for
Lady Lisle had bethought her of them, and had persuaded the Abbot to let
them journey with him as far as Winchester, at least, although that
worthy prelate was much averse to taking stray waifs in his train.
Ralph was already dressed in a new suit of clothes. Three suits had
already been made, and more were to follow, if it was found that he was
not dressed suitably to his rank and companions. And very handsome he
looked in his gay attire. He wore a velvet bonnet on one side of his
head, his wavy hair falling on each side of his free, merry face; a
little linen collar was round his neck, and a close-fitting tunic of
parti-coloured cloth, puffed at the shoulders and elbows, and pleated
down the front and back below the chest and shoulder blades, was
fastened round his waist by a leathern belt, from which hung a wallet
and a poignard. Tight-fitting hose clad his well-formed legs, and were
of different colours, according to the fashion of the time, on each leg.
He held his falcon on fist, and carried a little riding-whip in his left
hand. A riding-cloak was strapped over the pommel of his saddle, from
which also hung some saddle bags containing a few needful articles for
the journey and for immediate use.
All the household had come out to see the start.
The Abbot took leave of his kinsfolk, giving them his benediction, and
promising to care well for their son. He then mounted his horse with
the aid of his varlets, for he was a large and portly ecclesiastic, and,
when mounted, presented a very majestic and dignified appearance in his
white Cistercian cassock, with its black scapular hood and cloak, with a
square, rather high black cap on his head.
"Come, cousin Ralph, haste thee, the day grows apace, and we should be
at Winton before noon or little after."
Ralph had gone up to his father, and knelt down to receive his blessing,
saying,--
"Farewell, my noble father, when I come again may I find thee and my
lady mother well and in good state, and may I do naught that will bring
dolour on thy life."
"Amen, fair son. Go and do valiantly--and the God of thy fathers go
with thee."
Rising up, Ralph embraced his father and mother, took leave of his
brothers and the servants, and mounted his horse. His heels were armed
with spurs, and, touching the animal's flank he caused him to rear and
paw the air.
"Marry, the lad sits the horse like a man of thirty. He will do well,
and gain himself a name."
The cavalcade now turned off down the glade and disappeared round a bend
of the ride, Ralph waving his cap as a last adieu.
"Well, fair wife, so our fledgling hath flown, let us get indoors and
pray to God for His mercy."
*CHAPTER III.*
*OF THE FLEDGLING REJOICING IN HIS FREEDOM.*
When Ralph trotted after the little cavalcade, which he had allowed to
get ahead of him as he waved his final adieu to his parents and his
home, he felt all the pride of boyhood budding into independent manhood.
He had long chafed at his inactive life. The rough experience of the
late civil wars had taught men to live fast, and many a hardy knight had
begun the fierce struggle in the hand-strokes of war at the age of
twelve or thirteen. The boyhood of King Edward the Fourth had often
been told him, how early he had learned the accomplishments of the
tilt-yard, and how early he had practised them on the stern field of
war. A king by the right of his own good sword at the age of twenty, he
had fought in many deadly fights as leader and simple man-at-arms for
several years before.
Ralph had always been a good boy at his lessons, for he was fond of the
chaplain who taught him, but the book he loved most of all was the
recently printed book of Sir Thomas Malory, who had compiled and
translated the Mort-d'Arthur. He gloated over the description of the
single combats, the jousts, and the tourneys in that poetic story, and
never tired of the numberless tales of "how the good knight Sir Bors or
Sir Lamorak laid on either strokes, and how they foined and lashed, and
gave each other blows till the blood ran down, and each stood astonied."
His favourite knight was Sir Beaumains. He admired Sir Launcelot, but
he was too far above him, while Sir Beaumains was only a beginner, and
went through adventures which were not too far out of the common as
possibly to occur to himself.
And now he was on the actual road to fortune. He was going to be trained
in the household of a great knight, live in a castle, and have daily
instruction with youths like himself, aspirants to fame and martial
deeds.
The fresh air of the morning seemed never before so fresh, never had the
birds sung so blithely. How springy the turf seemed under his horse's
hoofs. He sang gaily as he trotted along, and flicked at the flies that
tried to settle on his horse's neck.
"Softly, Master Ralph," cried Humphrey. "Thou art a light weight, I
know, but we have far to go, and 'tis best to let the cattle go quiet."
The Abbot had settled himself comfortably in his saddle, and called his
young kinsman up to him. The servants fell a little behind, Humphrey
trying to draw the mendicant and his young daughter into conversation.
But he only received short answers from the man, while the girl barely
answered at all. The serving-man, unable to make anything out of either
of them, gave up the attempt, and began to talk to the attendants of the
Abbot.
It was a lovely June day. All the country looked crisp and bright in
the clear sunlight. The road lay over a high hill, whence a broad
landscape stretched before them, then it dipped down into the old town
of Andover, where the cavalcade stopped before the rambling old wooden
hostelry, and the Abbot refreshed himself with a cup of malmsey before
they entered on the rather wild track of forest and down that lay
between Andover and Winchester.
Leaving Andover, they crossed the low land on each side of the Teste,
and that river itself near Chilbolton, and then rose over the steep
acclivity of Barton Stacey down, with its wide ridge of hills stretching
east and west in bleak loneliness, to face the sweeping winds that
roared over them from the south-west bringing up the salt of the channel
to invigorate the sheep that browsed over their slopes.
The Abbot discoursed from time to time of the various duties Ralph would
have to fulfil, how he must conduct himself towards his superiors,
equals, and inferiors; and his advice was certainly considerably more
worldly-wise than had been that of Ralph's father and mother.
The boy listened attentively; but somehow, with the quick intuition of
youthful directness, he detected the ring of worldly wisdom, as
differing from the ingenuous simplicity of his' parent's advice. He
could not help being amused and interested with the many little
anecdotes with which the Abbot illustrated and enlivened his advice,
while he felt more than ever how little he knew of the world and its
ways.
"Now look you, fair kinsman," said the Abbot. "'Tis a right thing, and
one well-pleasing to Holy Church, to be generous and free-handed; but
'tis not wise to give blindly, and without due inquiry. Thou lentest
yonder idle vagrant thine horse yesterday. The holy saints guided him
aright to thy father's house; but he might, for aught thou knewest, have
just as well taken thine horse to Weyhill horse-fair, and there sold
him, or ridden away where thou wouldst never have seen him more."
"But, my lord Abbot," cried the boy, "I liked the sound of his voice,
and his words were fair: he could not but be honest."
"See there now; alack! good lack! the boy will surely come to harm an he
goeth on like that! See you not, fair kinsman, that an you hearken to
all fair words and gentle voices, you will e'en be stripped as clean as
a rose bush with a blight on it? That is what I say, wait and see. I
say not 'give not,' but look well before you give.
"Then again in a quarrel--for hot youth must needs quarrel--be wary how
you enter in; see well that your adversary is one from whom you can hope
to obtain honour,--one that if you vanquish him can yield you due
satisfaction and fair guerdon, or, if he should vanquish you--for you
must e'en look to both sides--that he be one to whom you may yield
without loss of honour,--sithen he be so puissant a foe that there is as
much honour gained in encountering him as there might be in overcoming
another.
"In all things give heed and act discreetly. Be no tale-bearer, but
listen well to all that goeth on. In all things serve thy master
loyally; but be not so besotted as ever to be ruined for any. As for
ensample, if thy lord choose a quarrel that must needs bring him to
destruction, go not thou after him, but save thyself in time; as rats
are said to cross by the hawser that mooreth a ship to the land, when
they know of their own natural sagacity that ruin awaiteth that ship.
Only give him fair notice thereof first. See how, during the late civil
commotions, the Church hath acted discreetly, and saved her possessions
in the midst of the broil. Even George, Archbishop of York, allied as
he was to the Earl of Warwick and the Duke of Clarence, yet compounded
with the late King Edward IV., on whose soul may God have mercy. But,
blessed saints! whom have we here? 'Tis some noble baron, I doubt not,
going to Winchester too, unless, indeed, it be the train of my Lord
Woodville himself."
They had now reached a high bleak hill, and were nearly at the point
where another road joined the one they were travelling by, which led
from Marlborough and Cirencester to Winchester. Coming along this other
road, which led from Reading, and just rising over the brow of the hill,
Ralph could see a party of well-armed men. The dust from their horses
obscured them partly, but he could make out that there were several
footmen, carrying the formidable bill which dealt such deadly wounds,
and gleaming above them were the helmets of two or three men-at-arms.
The red crosses on their white surcoats, or tabards, showed that they
belonged to the troops levied for the king, or at least raised by some
noble for service, for which it was customary to take a contract.
"Ay, belike that's what they are," said the Abbot. "Do you, Peter, now
ride on, while I tarry here to welcome my Lord Woodville; and take good
lodgings for the night in Winchester, for me and my kinsman the Master
Ralph de Lisle."
This was said to the chief of his lay brothers who acted as his
serving-men, and who were clad in a dress very much resembling their
lord's, but of a dark colour, instead of white.
Ralph was glad they were going to wait to meet the approaching party.
He had never seen a band of armed men before, and he thought the
appearance of these very imposing, as the pennons of the mounted men
fluttered in the breeze.
"Ay, there's the banner of my Lord Woodville--he'll not be far behind,"
said the Abbot, as another little band mounted the hill, the centre
figure carrying a little square flag on the end of a lance, which gaily
waved its red and white colours as the horseman moved to the swing of
his steed.
It was a very pretty sight. The wide-extending view, over broad pasture
and swelling down, the distance hidden by a grey haze; the yellow road,
leading straight across the green grass of the down, for the summer was
hardly begun, while the gleaming weapons, white surcoats, and fluttering
banners, mingled with the brilliant red of the crosses, and the blazon
on the flag, contrasted well with the deep blue of the cloudless sky,
fading away to the warm haze of the horizon. Gaily the grasshoppers
chirped among the wild convolvulus on the roadside, the bees hummed over
the clover, and the larks were soaring joyously in the azure overhead.
Ralph gave a sigh of enjoyment--life was already beginning.
The little party sat motionless on their steeds, the Abbot having reined
up his horse at the junction of the two roads. Ralph sat on his horse
beside him, and Humphrey, the other lay brother, and the sumpter horses,
were grouped behind them--while behind them again was the poor man,
leaning against the pony on which his daughter sat, who had, however,
frequently insisted on her father taking her place.
Suddenly the Abbot remembered them.
"Beshrew me," he said, "I wish thy lady mother had not saddled me with
these beggars; it beseemeth not a prelate like me to have such
rapscallions attending on him."
The girl noticed the impatience of the Abbot, and partly heard his
muttered words.
"Come, father, let us get hence before the others come; we but disgrace
the noble Abbot and his fair nephew."
"Nay, nay, stay now," said the Abbot testily, relenting a little when he
heard the soft voice of the girl. "'T would look worse an thou wert now
to slip off as though I were ashamed of thee. Even stay and brave it
out. After all, 'twill look seemly that I be busied in the protection
of the poor and houseless. Ay, marry! 'twill please my Lord Woodville
who ever jibeth at the pride of Mother Church, as he calleth it, when I
appear in the state befitting the Abbot of the first house of our order
in England, and patron of the Chapel of St Nicholas in his own castle of
Carisbrooke. Prythee stay: 'twill be well!"
The advanced guard had now reached the place where the others were
awaiting them.
The Abbot recognised the sergeant-at-arms who led the little band.
"Why, how now, Tom o' Kingston, who'd have thought to have met thee here
to-day?"
"What, my Lord Abbot, you over here! 'tis my noble lord will be right
pleased to see thee," answered a splendid specimen of a man-at-arms,
clad from head to foot in brown armour, his horse barbed and protected
with body arms as well. He had his slender lance slung behind him, and
his long sword clanked against the iron of his stirrup. His moustaches
curled over the lower chin-piece of his salade or helmet, and his eyes
looked bold and fierce under the shadow of its projecting peak. Over
his breastplate he wore a loose white surcoat, blazoned with the red
cross of St George, while a heavy mace hung from his high-peaked
saddle-bow. The effect of the massive armour was to give the trooper
the appearance of immense width of chest and strength of body, while in
reality he was only of medium size, in proportion to men of the present
day.
"Is my Lord Woodville nigh at hand, worthy Tom?" said the Abbot.
"Ay, my lord, he is just behind his banner, attended by his own
gentlemen, and some gentlemen of France. But I must be getting on, or
the march will be delayed. Hast thou any further orders, my Lord
Abbot?"
"Nay, Master Tom; I will see thee again at Winchester belike, where I
would commend to thy care this young springald here, who comes of gentle
birth, and is desirous of learning knightly feats of arms under thy
noble master."
"He shall be right welcome, whoever he is, but all the more so that he
cometh under thy commendation, reverend lord. 'Tis a right gallant
youth, and he sitteth his horse full manfully."
So saying, the sergeant-at-arms clapped spurs to his horse, made a
salute with his gauntleted hand, and trotted after his party, who had
gone on while he was exchanging greetings with the Abbot.
"Note him well, Ralph; he is one of the best soldiers we have in our
island, and he comes of gentle blood too. He is the most trusty of all
the men-at-arms belonging to my Lord Woodville."
The main body of the troops had now come close to where they were
standing. The foremost ranks passed them without any greeting beyond a
respectful salute to the Abbot. The men marched along in very loose
order, for it was a time of peace, and they were returning from the
successful but deadly fight at Stoke. Several of them were bandaged on
the arm or head, and those who were wounded were only lightly armed.
After this body had passed, a little interval elapsed, and then came Sir
Edward Woodville, commonly called Lord Woodville, Lord and Captain of
the Isle of Wight, and knight of the Lancastrian order of S.S.[*] He
was attended by several gentlemen, mostly English, but some two or three
evidently French. He was preceded by two men-at-arms, and three mounted
archers, all splendidly armed and equipped. Behind him came a group of
three or four pages, all young men of good birth, aspirants to knightly
rank, and being trained in the household of Sir Edward Woodville.
[*] The origin of this symbol is not known. Conjecture has varied
between the words "Soveraygno Seneschal" and the swan badge of the House
of Lancaster. The collar formed a very graceful ornament, the gold S.S.
being linked together, or set on blue and white ribbon.
Ralph looked at these eagerly. They would be his future companions, and
he felt a little shy at first, as the boys all scanned him critically,
making remarks to each other the while in a low tone.
Lord Woodville instantly recognised the Abbot, and greeted him
cordially. After the mutual salutations were over, and the Abbot of
Quarr had congratulated him on the success of the King's arms, and his
own part in the fray, he introduced Ralph to him, as a present from
himself, telling Lord Woodville his previous history and lineage.
At the mention of the word Lisle, a shade seemed to pass over the
tranquil face of the Captain of the Wight, like a cloud shadow over the
smooth slope of a southerly down; but it passed as quickly as it came,
and although he examined the boy more attentively, his expression had
resumed its usual serenity.
The boy felt somewhat abashed as the calm grey eyes of the distinguished
knight and nobleman fell upon him, searching him through and through;
but he scanned the countenance and appearance of his future lord with
shy interest, in spite of the awe his glance produced.
He saw before him a gentleman of about thirty to thirty-five years of
age, in the prime of life, and strikingly handsome. For all the
Woodvilles, both male and female, were remarkable for their personal
advantages, and inherited the beauty of person which had caused
Jacquetta of Luxemburg, second wife of the great Duke of Bedford, and
the cause of the ruin of the English power in France nearly as much as
the hapless Joan of Arc, to choose their father, a simple country
gentleman, for her second husband. He was dressed magnificently, and
very elegantly. Covering his long dark chestnut hair, which hung down on
each side of his face, was a velvet bonnet, ornamented with an ostrich
plume on one side, fastened by a brilliant ruby brooch. Dark eyebrows
surmounted very expressive grey eyes; his complexion would have been
fair, had it not been bronzed by long exposure in many a campaign and
knightly enterprise. His face was clean shaven, and thus the firm but
sweet lines of his mouth were displayed to full advantage. A
close-fitting lace collar round his neck contrasted with the spiral
ridge of his steel gorget, which the richly-embroidered surcoat, cut
straight across the chest, from shoulder to shoulder, allowed to be
plainly visible. The short sleeves of this surcoat reached only to the
elbows; the rest of his person was encased in rich armour, while a
gorgeous gold-studded belt supported his straight long sword and
richly-jewelled dagger. His helmet was carried by an esquire fully
armed, who also bore his lord's lance. A handsome collar of S.S.,
ending in a portcullis badge, adorned his neck, while instead of steel
gauntlets he wore soft leather gloves, and a splendid falcon rested on
his right hand. Another esquire bore his lord's shield, and led a spare
horse, fully accoutred in body armour and housing for battle or tilt.
"So this is Master Ralph de Lisle, is it?" said Lord Woodville, who had
been appointed on the accession of Henry VII. to succeed his unfortunate
but accomplished brother, Lord Scales, in the lordship of the Isle of
Wight. "He cometh of an old Isle of Wight family, and is heartily
welcome to such training as he can acquire in my poor household. Truly
an his deeds shall answer to his fair outside, he will prove a right
hardy knight. But tell me," he added, "is he of near kin to old Sir
William Lisle of Briddlesford?"
"Nay, my lord, not of close kin," replied the Abbot of Quarr. "Sir
William's grandsire returned to the land of his fathers in Harry the
Fourth's reign. As thou knowest, he hath but one son and one daughter,
and he hath disinherited the son. 'Tis a sad story."
"Ah! I had forgotten," said Lord Woodville. Then turning to the old
knight who rode a little behind, he said, "Here, Sir John Trenchard, is
one more to add to your charge. I deliver Master Lisle to your care,
knowing full well I cannot give him to a better master of chivalry and
gentle learning. Teach him as you so well know how, and the King will
gain a fine soldier, and you, my friend, more credit than ever."
Lord Woodville then smiled graciously at Ralph and turned to the Abbot
to continue the converse interrupted by the presentation of the boy.
So Ralph Lisle was introduced to his future Lord, and from henceforth
would be under the orders of the good knight Sir John Trenchard, until
he should be declared worthy to rank as an esquire, and take part in
warlike expeditions.
*CHAPTER IV.*
*HOW THE FLEDGLING GREW TO A COCKEREL.*
By the time Ralph had reached Winchester, he had learned the names of
his future companions, and had already had occasion to experience their
love of practical joking, tempered, however, in this case, by the
presence of their lord and his gentlemen.
The eldest of the pages was Willie Newenhall, and Ralph was not long in
seeing that he was thought little of by the other three, who made him a
butt for their wit, which, however, seemed to fall very harmlessly on
its object.
"You see he's so parlous full of conceit, he never knows we are making
game of him," said Richard de Cheke,[*] the youngest of the pages, and
by far the liveliest.
[*] The old family of the Chykes, Cheikes, or Chekes, held the manor of
Mottestone from 1370 to 1600, from whom the manor passed to the
Dillingtons and Leighs of North Court. Sir John Cheke of their family
was professor of Greek in Cambridge, and in 1544 was tutor to Edward VI.
"But when he doth find out, certes he groweth angry?" asked Ralph.
"Nay, what care we for his anger? Even I, small as I am, can teach him
a lesson in all things, saving the care of his person and the filling of
his skin."
"Marry, young one," said a well-grown, shapely youth, who was riding a
little behind and to the left of Ralph Lisle, "here's a missive of great
import, 'tis even the business of the last come page to take all such to
our right worshipful bear-leader and timber breaker, old Jack in Harness
himself. So do thou take it, before worse comes of it."
So saying, the youth handed Ralph a bit of paper, folded neatly, and
addressed in a stiff scrawl, "Toe ye rite worchipful Syr Jakke yn
Harneis."
"And who is he?" said Ralph, looking at the scrawl and then at the
youth.
"Who is he, quotha? why, that you'll soon know, an you do not my
bidding. That's the puissant, right valiant, and thrice-renowned knight
to whom my Lord Woodville handed thee over, even as we have been handed
over, to learn chivalry, and all courtesy. Therefore say I, take you
this to him right promptly."
Ralph was a little puzzled. The whole was said so seriously, and in
such evident good faith, that he thought he might be violating some rule
already. The youth was obviously older than himself, and was doubtless a
page of some months' standing. He thought on the whole it would be
better to obey, trusting to his good luck to get him out of the scrape
with their master if there were any trick, and to his own arm to punish
the perpetrator of the joke, if it were one.
"Now, my youngling, what dost wait for?" said the page, whose name was
Eustace Bowerman, and who was a second cousin of the lively young page
Richard Cheke.
"Why, in sooth I am in doubt whether thou art not making game of me,"
said Ralph, with a good-humoured twinkle in his eye.
"This cock will crow soon," said young Cheke to the other page, who was
on his right; "eh, Maurice?"
"Marry will he. We will pit him against Eustace; they'll make a rare
match. Albeit Eustace is the older, I'll lay the new one will beat him.
There's a deal of weight in his thews. Look at his leg as he sits his
hackney."
"Shall we tell him Eustace is making game of him?"
"Nay; best let him give the missive to old Jack in Harness, and see what
comes of it. List; Eustace is taking him to task. I' faith, he doth it
well."
"Hark ye, sirrah! You are but just come out of the country, or I'd be
wroth with thee; but as it is, I forgive thy manners. Know that all new
pages have to do the bidding of the older ones without question, under
pain of a leathern strap, and worse torment. Now get thee on thy
message."
"Nay, fair page," said Ralph smiling, "I would be loth to do aught that
should be misbecoming, and will ever obey in all that I ought, with all
humility, but I am not sure in this that I ought to do your behest.
Nevertheless, rather than be thought churlish, I will do what you want,
only not, I pray you to understand, because I fear your talk of leathern
straps and such like, of which I have little dread from thee, but
because 'tis the first matter I have been asked to do, and I would
rather seem to be over willing to oblige than churlish of mood."
"By my faith, 'tis a good answer," said the last page who had spoken to
Richard Cheke, and who was the only one of the pages who was of high
birth. He was a son of Anthony, Lord Scales, brother to Lord Woodville,
and therefore himself a Woodville, and nephew to the present Captain of
the Wight, which office his father had previously held.
"I like this youth dearly, even now--he will be a gain to us. Thou
knowest I never cared over-much for thy kinsman Bowerman, he is so
mighty coxcombified, and I would much like to see him overmatched,"
continued Maurice Woodville.
They had now entered the old city of Winchester, whose streets were very
narrow, and made more so by the concourse of people, who all came
thronging out and stood at their doors and along the pavement to see the
gay troop pass.
Ralph, as he said he would deliver the note to Sir John Trenchard, took
the opportunity of doing so when they were nearing the city cross, then
not more than about fifty years old, perhaps, and where there was more
room. He rode up alongside of the old knight, and, doffing his cap,
presented to him the missive.
The old knight, who was short-sighted and rather choleric, besides being
a very indifferent scholar, took the paper, and stared at Ralph.
"Eh, this for me?" he said shortly; then holding the piece of paper
close to his nose, he called out,--"Why--what--By St Thomas! what
meaneth this? Boy, art playing me some trick? Is this a time for thy
discourteous pranks?" cried the old knight, in high wrath, crumpling up
the paper, and flinging it at Ralph. "Tell me what meaneth this! Who
gave thee this?"
But Ralph determined he would bear the blame himself, and settle it with
his practical joker afterwards, so he said,--
"Noble sir, I was told to give it thee, so I did."
"By St Nicholas! but if thou hadst had mud given thee to bear to me,
thou wouldst have done it, wouldst thou? Get thee back for a simpleton,
and tell me all afterwards, when I call for thee."
They were now passing a cross street, very narrow and awkward. There
was a block in front, so that Lord Woodville halted exactly opposite
this street. He was talking to the Abbot of Quarr, who was on his left.
Ralph was immediately behind, but a horse's length distant. The rest of
the gentlemen were engaged talking together or looking up at the
windows, where the burgesses' wives and daughters were gazing down at
the gallant show of men-at-arms and gentlemen.
Suddenly, a drove of cattle which was being driven to market crossed the
narrow street a little way down. Among them was a magnificent bull--very
fierce and irritated with its journey. Seeing the red blazon on Lord
Woodville's surcoat, with a bellow of fury he broke from his driver and
turned down the street leading to where that nobleman was quietly
sitting, with his head turned away talking to the Abbot, and rushed
madly at him. It was but a very little distance, and there was no time
for warning. In another second the fierce bull would have gored the
noble horse and trampled on Lord Woodville.
Ralph, without a moment's hesitation, struck spurs into his horse, which
gave a leap forward. He had thought of nothing but of interposing
himself between his lord and the raging brute. Fortunately for him, he
was not in time. But his gallant steed struck full against the shoulder
of the bull with such violence that it knocked the animal over, and
Ralph's horse came down at the same time, flinging his rider over his
head.
The whole thing had passed so rapidly, and, from the position of the
chief performers in the occurrence, was so little seen, that scarcely
anybody knew what had happened. Lord Woodville was the first to take in
the situation, and seeing the position of the bull, the horse, and the
boy, was alarmed for the latter's safety. The horse had stumbled over
the bull, which was struggling and kicking wildly with its legs, while,
fortunately, Ralph had been thrown clear of them both. He still held
the reins in his hands, but he did not move.
"By'r Lady! the child's dead!" cried Lord Woodville, drawing his sword,
and leaning down from his horse. So close was the huddled mass of
struggling animals, and so narrowly had he escaped destruction, that,
without dismounting, he calmly passed the keen edge across the upturned
neck of the bull, which gave a few wild plunges and then lay still.
"See to the horse," said the Captain of the Wight, as he got off his own
animal and went up to Ralph. There was blood flowing from the side of
his head. He had been thrown with considerable force on to the pavement.
The crowd began now to understand what had happened, and the crush
became great.
"Clear me a way, knaves!" cried Lord Woodville. "Keep back the varlets,
Sir John; and go for a leech, Eustace Bowerman."
Humphrey had by this time made his way to the place where the accident
had occurred. Directly he saw it was his young master who was lying on
the ground, he pushed sturdily forward, regardless of everyone.
"Body o' me! what will my lady say, if aught evil should befal Master
Ralph? He isn't dead, my lord?" he asked anxiously of Lord Woodville,
who was bending over the boy.
"Nay, he is not dead; but is there no leech nigh?"
At this moment a shopman came up to Lord Woodville and offered to take
the wounded gentleman into his house out of the crowd. This offer was
willingly accepted, and the boy was carried in by Humphrey and Maurice
Woodville. They took him into a back room, and the mistress of the
house bathed his head and staunched the blood. Ralph slowly opened his
eyes. Seeing the look of returning consciousness, Lord Woodville left
the house, mounted his horse, and went on to his lodgings, which had
been taken for him near the cathedral.
Humphrey was left in charge, and the Abbot, who had dismounted when he
saw his kinsman taken into the house, having seen that the boy was in
safe hands and doing well, went away also to his lodgings.
Very few knew how the accident had occurred, most thought that the bull
had charged the boy. Only Lord Woodville, Sir John Trenchard, and the
Abbot had seen the noble action of the boy. His fellow pages had seen
him urge his horse forward, but could not see for the projecting houses
what else had happened. About half an hour after the accident, a timid
knock came at the door, and Humphrey was surprised to see the young girl
who had been their companion on their journey to Winchester, standing
there when he opened it.
"Well, young wench, what dost thou want?" he asked familiarly.
"My father has heard what has happened, and as he could not leave thy
pony, he has sent me to ask how Master Lisle doeth," said the girl
quietly, and in an educated voice.
"Grammercy, 'tis parlous kind of thy father, and, for a poor vagrant, it
showeth much strange breeding. Tell thy father Master Lisle doth well,
and will be on his legs anon."
The girl then shut the door very gently, and Humphrey returned to the
bedside of his young Master.
"Humphrey, I feel right hungry," said the boy presently; "canst get me a
bit of something to eat?"
"Ay, marry can I!" cried Humphrey cheerily. "That's right good
news--I'll be back anon," and he left the room in search of some food.
He had scarcely been gone two minutes when another rap came at the door.
Ralph bid them come in, and Maurice Woodville, accompanied by Richard
Cheke, entered.
"Well, youngling, and how dost thou fare?" said the latter, in a kind
tone. "Thou hast done well for a beginner, and I'd give a good deal to
be lying there in thy place. Why, Maurice, he's had the good luck,
hasn't he?"
"Ay truly. Thy fortune's made, lad. We've come from the Lord Captain
to inquire into thy estate, and to bring thee these dainties from his
own table, in case thy wounds allow of thine eating."
"Grammercy," cried Ralph joyously, "my varlet hath but now gone out to
get me some provender, for I feel parlous hungry."
"Then here's what will tickle thy gizzard right merrily. John, bring in
the cates."
A serving-man entered bearing a basket, out of which he took first a
very clean damask cloth; this he spread neatly on a table, which he
placed close to the bed; then he took out a dish covered with a plate.
he put a knife and fork and winecup by the side of the plate, which he
removed, and disclosed two large salmon trout, with a garnish of fresh
watercresses. A flagon of ruby red Burgundy followed, flanked by some
tasty-looking rolls, fresh butter, and cheese.
"There, my friend, there's a dainty little banquet for thee; eat, drink,
and get well," said Richard.
Ralph sat up, he had his head bandaged. He felt in his wallet for his
purse, and handed the servingman a groat, and then he attacked the food
with all the ardour of a healthy appetite, contented with himself and
all the world.
Whilst their new comrade was refreshing himself, the other pages talked
of all their pastimes and occupations, and freely discussed the virtues
and failings of their companions and superiors. They made no secret of
their dislike of Eustace Bowerman, and utter contempt for Willie
Newenhall.
"I tell you what, Lisle, when you're quite game again, we'll get up a
tilt between you and Bowerman, and I'll bet my greyhound pup to what you
like, you'll beat him," said Maurice Woodville.
"But I have never tilted yet," said Ralph, rather ashamed of the
admission.
"Oh, what matter; you sit your horse like a stout jockey, and you'll
very soon learn where to place your lance. Old Tom o' Kingston'll soon
teach you that, trust him!" cried Richard Cheke.
"Shall I get into a scrape with Sir Jack in Harness, as you call him?"
"No fear. Old Jack is a right good chap, and he'll stand your friend.
He knew you were put up to that game by one of us, and I don't doubt he
knows very well which it was; but even had you done it yourself, what
you did just now will make him your friend for life. He's a tough old
ironsides. His father was constable of Carisbrooke Castle in good Duke
Humphrey's time, and he's seen a lot of hard knocks. There's not much he
loves, but he dearly loveth a hard fight, and my Uncle Woodville."
"Ay, marry he doth," said Richard; "and you've shown him you're made of
good stuff for the one, and saved the life of the other."
"It's great sport your coming just now. Dicky and I are a match for
Bowerman together, but that great lout Willie Newenhall just turns the
balance. He's a mortal coward by himself, but with Bowerman to back him,
his fat weight is too much for us; but now you, with your stout limbs
and big body, could beat them both single-handed. Do you ever get into
a rage?" said Maurice.
"No, not often," said Ralph, laughing. "I was always told to keep my
temper. Now, Jasper, he often lost his, and so I thrashed him at most
things."
"Ah!" said Maurice, sighing, "I wish I could keep mine. I do get so mad
when Bowerman sneers at me."
And so the boys wiled away the time until Humphrey came back with one of
the servants of the Abbot of Quarr, and a grave ecclesiastic, who was
the infirmarer of Hide Abbey.
The boys, with the courtesy which was especially a part of their
education, rose when they saw this dignified monk enter, and remained
standing while he undid the bandages, and examined Ralph's cut.
"'Tis a light matter," he said to Humphrey; "thou canst tell my Lord
Abbot he need be in no wise anxious--the boy will be healed by
to-morrow. Thou hadst best keep quiet to-day, young master, and if thou
hast a quiet night, thou mayest travel to-morrow whithersoever thou
mindest. But drink but little wine, my son, for wine is heating for a
wound, and may bring on fever."
"May we offer thy Reverence a cup?" said Maurice Woodville.
"Thank thee, fair sir, but I touch not wine, except it be ordered me."
However, Humphrey and the lay brother had no such scruples, and quaffed
off a cup each, directly Dicky offered it them.
The two pages now took leave of Ralph, saying they must not tarry
longer, as their lord would wish to hear how they had sped; but they
promised to come again as soon as they could.