[image]"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.When Humphrey and Ralph were alone, the latter said,--"Humphrey, it seems years since I left home, and yet it was but four hours agone.""Ay, Master Ralph, time flies apace when one is busy.""Didst thou see to my horse?""Trust me, Master Ralph; he's ne'er a bit hurt, not even a scratch. He knocked over that bull like ninepins, so they tell me. But, marry, 'twas a mercy you didn't get in front of him. You mustn't be that rash again. Whatever would they have said to me up Thruxton way?""Humphrey, I want you to see after that poor vagrant and his daughter. Mother was kind to them. I would like to help them over to the Isle of Wight, where they are going. You have seen to my pony?""Not yet, but I will by-and-by.""Then take them this noble, 'twill help them to a night's lodging and food," said Ralph shyly, drawing out a coin from his purse.Humphrey took it surlily."I don't know as how you did ought to go giving away your mother's presents like this, Master Ralph; you'll be wanting all your money among them gay springalds yonder, I'm thinking.""Nay, Humphrey, do my bidding," said Ralph quietly.And so Humphrey went off shaking his head, and muttering,--"Young master be right masterful. The saints grant he be not led astray to overmuch almsgiving. I'd rather see him squander a bit on his own sports. 'Twould be more akin to his age."
[image]"RALPH WAVED HIS CAP IN TRIUMPH."
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"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.
When Humphrey and Ralph were alone, the latter said,--
"Humphrey, it seems years since I left home, and yet it was but four hours agone."
"Ay, Master Ralph, time flies apace when one is busy."
"Didst thou see to my horse?"
"Trust me, Master Ralph; he's ne'er a bit hurt, not even a scratch. He knocked over that bull like ninepins, so they tell me. But, marry, 'twas a mercy you didn't get in front of him. You mustn't be that rash again. Whatever would they have said to me up Thruxton way?"
"Humphrey, I want you to see after that poor vagrant and his daughter. Mother was kind to them. I would like to help them over to the Isle of Wight, where they are going. You have seen to my pony?"
"Not yet, but I will by-and-by."
"Then take them this noble, 'twill help them to a night's lodging and food," said Ralph shyly, drawing out a coin from his purse.
Humphrey took it surlily.
"I don't know as how you did ought to go giving away your mother's presents like this, Master Ralph; you'll be wanting all your money among them gay springalds yonder, I'm thinking."
"Nay, Humphrey, do my bidding," said Ralph quietly.
And so Humphrey went off shaking his head, and muttering,--
"Young master be right masterful. The saints grant he be not led astray to overmuch almsgiving. I'd rather see him squander a bit on his own sports. 'Twould be more akin to his age."