In Doublet and Hose Part 1

In Doublet and Hose.

by Lucy Foster Madison.

CHAPTER I

A QUESTION OF SKILL

It was June, and the peaceful stillness of a summer's day hung over an ancient wood which lay in the heart of the New Forest near the village of Lyndhurst. The wood was a part of a large demesne which had at one time been bordered by hedges of yew and holly, but these, having been untrimmed for years, had grown into great bushes which in many places were choked up by underwood and brambles.

The forest stretched in every direction. Wood after wood rose before the eye, ma.s.ses of color, the birches hung with softest green, the oak boughs breaking into amber and olive made doubly bright by the dark gloom of the firs. Wide-branched oaks were intermingled with beeches and copsewood of various descriptions so closely in some places as to intercept the sunshine. In others the trees receded from each other, forming wide vistas that gave glimpses of other recesses of sylvan solitude.

Down the long sunlit glades the gold belted bees sounded their humming horns through every flowery town of the weald. Gauze-winged dragon-flies darted hither and thither while b.u.t.terflies of every hue sailed by on wings of sheeny bronze. In the bracken wild roses rioted in the richest profusion; the foxglove blazed like pillars of fire through the shadowy underwood and the woodbine flaunted its tall head proudly among the leaves. A gentle breeze rustled the fern, and breathed upon the quaking gra.s.s, setting its beautiful spikelets in motion until they seemed like fairy bells rung by elfin fingers. The flutter and hum of the wild things served but to intensify the stillness of the wood.

All at once the deep ba.s.s notes of a hound broke upon the air. Louder and louder grew the baying, and soon from out of the purplish shade of the trees there dashed a large greyhound followed by a laughing, panting maiden.

"Content thee, Echo," she cried flinging herself upon the sward under a wide-spreading oak. "I have breath to follow thee no more. Rest until our good cousin joins us."

The dog obediently stretched himself by her side, and once more quiet reigned in the wold. Presently the maiden sat up with an impatient movement.

"He tarries long," she said throwing a ma.s.s of auburn curls from a broad, low brow. "Marry! I fear that we have done but an ill turn to the good Hugh."

As she spoke the form of an elderly man emerged from the trees and approached her slowly. He was withered and thin and though but fifty years of age seemed much older. His doublet and hose were of some dark stuff and his short cloak was surmounted by a huge ruff, the edges of which almost joined the brim of the small, high, cone-shaped hat which partly concealed his gray hair.

"By the ma.s.s, Francis! methinks that thou dost grow more unmannerly each day. Thou art as unthinking as the b.u.t.terfly, else thou wouldst not have burdened my fore-wearied flesh with thy bow."

"In sooth, it was but a poor return for thy kindness to leave thee my bow," observed the girl as she hastened to relieve him of the crossbow that he held. "Thy pardon, Master Hugh. I was intent upon the race and thought not of it. It was a good dash, I promise you."

"Ay! I make no doubt of it," grumbled the old man seating himself. "But 'twere meeter for a maiden to embroider, or to play the virginals than to shoot the bow or run with the hounds as thou dost."

"Said I not my Latin well this morning, cousin?" queried Francis. "Doth not my lady mother instruct me in the tent and cross-st.i.tch each day?

Besides doth not even the Queen's Majesty disport herself with the bow?

'Tis the fashion, good my master."

"Ay! 'Dum vitant stulti vitia, in contraria currunt,'"[A] spoke the old man sharply.

"Be not angry, cousin, I did but ill in running from thee."

"Marry! let it pa.s.s, but I mislike such st.u.r.diness, Francis. Thou hast led me a sorry chase and we are far from the Hall. If I mistake not, we are even now in Sanborne Park and that, thou knowest, is trespa.s.s."

"Nay, cousin; not unless we kill some of the red deer with which it abounds, and that we have not done--yet," spoke the maiden demurely.

"The thought of such a thing should not be entertained by the daughter of Lord William Stafford. Thou durst not think it, Francis."

"Durst not?" laughed Francis teasingly. "Should one stray in our path I will show thee what I durst."

"Boast not, girl. It bespeaks ill for thy breeding. Thou art too p.r.o.ne to vaunt thy skill in shooting. Not so was that flower of womanhood, the Lady Jane Grey. Once," and the tutor spoke warmly for this was a favorite theme, "once it was my good hap to pa.s.s some time at Broadgate, her father's seat in Leicestershire, and never have I seen her like for love of learning. Greek, Latin, French and Italian spoke she as well as her own tongue. Some knowledge had she also of Hebrew, Chaldee and Arabic.

She loved not such idle sport as the chase. Would that thou wert like her."

"Out upon thee for so evil a wish," chided Francis, but there was a merry twinkle in her eye that softened the harshness of her tone. "Wouldst have me beheaded? Yet it may be that I am such a dullard that thou dost wish that I should meet with a like fate."

"Nay, child! Thou knowest better." The face of the old man softened involuntarily as he gazed into the laughing countenance of the girl before him.

Her head was crowned by a ma.s.s of red gold hair which, guiltless of crisping or curling pins, fell in ringlets over her shoulders; her complexion was of creamy fairness; her features regular, her eyes dark and luminous; her whole expression full of winsomeness; but there was a sparkle in the dark eyes now so full of mischief, and a set to the rich red lips that spoke volumes for the spirit of Mistress Francis Stafford.

"I would only that thy desire for learning was like to that of the Lady Jane's," went on the tutor. "Yet I do not dislike thy courage, and thou art a good wench, surely."

"Hark!" cried Francis springing to her feet. "I hear the hounds. Look ware, Echo! Look ware! Ware, ware!"

The greyhound, answering with short sharp yelps, rushed forward frantically, and then stood at gaze as a tall red deer bounded from the covert into the open glade. The n.o.ble animal's strength was almost spent.

His mouth was embossed with foam and large round tears were dropping from his eyes. With a motion that was at once despairing and majestic he turned to face his pursuers as a pack of hounds dashed from the trees and surrounded him, making the air hideous with their clamor.

Instantly the maiden fitted a shaft to her bow and let fly a bolt as the tutor uttered a shrill cry of remonstrance:

"Stay thy hand, girl! Knowest thou not the danger?"

Before the wounded animal could turn to charge this new a.s.sailant an answering tw.a.n.g sounded from among the trees and a second arrow, sent with unerring precision, imbedded itself in the deer's body. As the stag fell, a lad of some sixteen years, clad in the dress of a forester, ran hastily forward and reached the animal at the same moment that Francis did.

"Behold, cousin," cried the girl triumphantly, "I have slain the deer.

Could thy Lady Jane Grey have done so well, thinkest thou?"

"Nay, fair maid," and the boy turned quickly, "'twas mine own bolt that did the deed. Behold for thyself that thy shaft struck too far to the left."

"'Tis false," cried Francis angrily. "'Twas mine arrow that slew him.

This one is mine, and thou seest that it alone hath entered the vital part. 'Tis thine that is too far to the left."

"Nay; not mine, but thine," retorted the lad. "What? Would I, who lack but little of man's estate be excelled by a girl? See for thyself, mistress. The two are not an inch apart. The point is only which did the deed. On mine honor, I tell thee, that it was mine own arrow. Thou seest that it hath penetrated deeper than thine."

"I see naught of the kind," answered Francis with pa.s.sion. "It was mine that did it."

"Good master," said the boy appealing to the tutor, "didst mark that the stag fell not until he received my shot?"

"Ay! I noted it, lad, and 'tis a point well taken," quoth Master Hugh.

"But a truce to thy quibbling. Here are the huntsmen."

The noise of the horns had been growing louder and louder as the hunting party drew near, but the boy and girl were so absorbed in their controversy that they had not heeded it.

"Fair maiden, there is a penalty," began the lad, but one of the hunters called out:

"Beshrew me! if the quarry be not slain! What varlet hath done this?"

As Francis started forward the lad spoke,

"I, good my master. Give me thy knife, I pray thee, that I may make the essay."

"What, ho, boy? Thou? Then instead of breaking the stag, thou shalt break the jail. Knowest thou not that it is trespa.s.s to kill deer upon the land of another?"