Sir Ludar Part 13

I obeyed, and, further, bade the fellow look well to his mistress, and keep his eye on a certain captain, who might be at the place to which they went.

Then, as I a.s.sisted the maiden to mount her horse, I summoned up courage, cost what it would, to say:

"Sir William hath a guest whom you and I saw last at Finsbury Fields. I beseech you, maiden, let me go thither as your servant."

She bridled up proudly, yet, not unkindly.

"No," said she, "if I needed a protector, I could have none better than you. But I need none. Farewell, and thanks, good Master Dexter. The O'Neill's daughter will not forget that one Englishman at least never did her harm. Adieu."

And without waiting for more, she rode forward, followed by her attendants.

Then it seemed as if the sun had gone out of heaven. What was I, a mean London 'prentice, to such as she? Nay, what right had I to suppose she needed either my warning or my protection?

One thing only comforted me. Sir Ludar was still at his guardian's house, and with him there, no harm could well befall any distressed maiden. In my vanity I even wished he could know that in serving her he would be serving me, his friend. Yet, I fancied, if it came to the point, he might as soon wring the captain's neck for the maiden's sake, as for mine.

The one thing this meeting had gained for me, was that it a.s.sured me, however little she cared for me, she yet remembered me; and, further, now I knew her name, and that to one in my plight was no small prize.

"If your worship be not pressed for time," said a voice, "I am; so good- day to you."

I looked round, and there was my old acquaintance the ferryman, making ready to put off.

This roused me, and I jumped into the boat.

This time the ill-looking Charon made no venture for my purse. Little enough he would have found in it, had he got it. He demanded his fare as if he had never before seen me; nor was it till I demanded if his rascally mate, whom I pitched into the river, had ever reached the sh.o.r.e, that he condescended to recall what happened ten days before.

But I was in no humour to heed his bl.u.s.ter; and I let him swear on. Had he been civil I should have had to pay him; as it was, he spared me that, and was lucky that I did not crack his skull with his own oar, into the bargain. I spent the twopence on bread and meat at his inn, and he durst not refuse it; then, with light purse and heavy heart, I set out to reach London that night. It mattered little to me that the way was beset with robbers and bullies. I had neither horse nor cloak; my homely apparel was rent and dirty; my boots were in holes, and my belt was empty. I was not worth robbing, and the few who set on me in mistake, did not stay long when they found the temper I was in. So late that night--it must have been towards midnight--I brought my journey to an end, and stood at my master's door.

Here a sore rebuff met me. For a long time I knocked and called in vain, and woke the echoes of the sleeping Strand. Then from an upper window a voice descended:

"Who goes there? Hold your peace, with a plague on you, or I'll call the watch."

"It is I, Humphrey Dexter. Is that you Master Walgrave?"

"Walgrave! Master Walgrave! you will find him where he has a right to be, in the White Lion; and if you be the apprentice that he spoke of, harkee, the less you are seen about here the better for you; for they say you are as great a knave as your master."

"The White Lion! My master in gaol!" cried I, amazed. "How comes that?

Is it true or a lie? By whose order?"

"Make less noise at this hour," said the voice, "and if you doubt me, go and ask. But take my warning and be not seen too near here. Your indentures are ended for long enough. Go and seek a new master and a better; and leave me to sleep in peace."

With that, the window closed, and there was no more to be said.

I could scarcely believe the news the man told me. And yet, when I remembered my master's disorderly ways, and the secret press in the cellar, it was easier understood. Yet it must be for some other business than that which took me to Oxford. For the Bishop's man I had met certainly never had Mr Walgrave's name from me, nor had a single copy of that scandalous libel, "A Whip for the Bishops," escaped from the hollow tree in Shotover wood.

If Master Walgrave were in durance vile, where was my mistress and her family? It was vain, I knew, to attempt to learn more from the sleepy caretaker, at least till morning; nor was there anyone else, that I knew of, from whom I could get satisfaction. So I had e'en to tramp the streets like a watchman till daybreak; and weary enough I was at the end of it.

Then I remembered that Mistress Walgrave had a constant gossip in Mistress Straw, the horologer's wife, three doors off. Perhaps Mistress Straw could give me news. So I waited till the 'prentices (the same two who had shamefully eaten hasty pudding that day the Queen came into London), came to open the door and set out their ware. With them, to my surprise, I saw Peter Stoupe, my fellow 'prentice. He looked sheepish when I hailed him.

"What, Humphrey," said he, in his doleful drawl, "thou hast returned at last. In what misfortune dost thou find us! Our good master in prison, you and I homeless, my dear mistress and her poor babes--"

"Ay, what of them?" demanded I, in no humour to hear him out.

"My dear mistress and her poor babes," continued he, heedless of my tone, "dependent on the goodness of others. Oh! Humphrey, hadst thou stayed at thy post, instead of--"

"A pox on your canting tongue!" cried I. "Tell me where my mistress is, or, by my soul, I'll shake every tooth out of your head."

And I put my hand, not lightly, on his shoulder.

This brought him to reason; it generally did. Peter Stoupe could never remember how to talk till he was reminded.

"She is here, in this house; and I am here to take care of her, by my master's orders," said he, "and there is no room for thee too."

"And Master Walgrave, when was he arrested, and why?" I asked.

"Only yesterday--pray, unhand me, good Humphrey, thy hand is irksome--a pursuivant of his Grace's, with Timothy Ryder from Stationers' Hall, and a handful of the Company at their backs, made a sudden visitation, and searched us up and down, till they lit on--you know what."

"The secret press," cried I, like a fool, letting him see that I knew of it.

"Alack! Humphrey," said he, "there is nothing secret that shall not be made manifest. Without more ado, my poor master was seized and hauled away to the White Lion. 'Woe is me,' said he, as he departed, 'an enemy hath done this, Peter--a viper whom I have nourished at my hearth. Look to my poor wife and little ones, my faithful friend'--these were his words--'and Heaven will reward thy faithful service.' It seemed to me, Humphrey, that when he spoke of the viper, he meant thee. Pray Heaven I may be wrong." Fancy if I felt merry at this speech! But that I knew by the blink of his eyes the rogue was lying, I could have saved the gallows a job. As it was, I flung him aside and went into the house.

No one but the 'prentices were stirring; so I sat in the shop and waited. It cost me a pang to see the gourmands devour their breakfast, with never a bite for myself; yet, since Peter Stoupe was of the company, it would have cost me a greater pang to eat, had any been offered me--which it was not. For a round hour I sat there, like a hungry bear, neither speaking nor spoken to, when at last there came the sound of a halting footstep on the stairs.

It was my sweet little mistress, and at sight of me she broke forth into crying and laughing.

"Oh, he has come! _Maman! voici notre bon Humphrey_. Why did you stay so long? Why were you not there to save our _pauvre pere_? Oh, I am glad to have you back. We shall be happy again."

And she put up her face to be kissed, which I did with beating heart; for she had never looked to me so sweet, nor had her voice sounded so like music to my ears.

"They said you had deserted us," said she, "but I knew it was a bad lie.

Peter, _mechant_, what think you now, he has come back, our Humphrey?

Go and tell _maman_, and Prosper and the little ones."

You would have been sorry for Peter at that! His face was glum enough when I kissed my little mistress; but it looked fairly ugly when she sent him on this errand. What cared I? There were some yet who thought not ill of Humphrey Dexter.

Mistress Walgrave, my dear mistress, received me sadly yet kindly.

Whether she had believed the false tales of my fellow 'prentice or not, I know not. But she had nothing but welcome for me when she heard my story. And when it was done she told me how she wished I had been home when all the trouble happened.

"'Tis as well this journey of yours failed," said she. "It might have brought us even greater peril. Your master is too busy a man; one press was not enough for him, nor one libel. What they took was I know not what, some lamentable complaint, far less harmful than that we sewed in your cloak. How they knew of it, we know not."

"And what is to be done now?" I asked.

"We cannot stay here," said she, "Mistress Straw, kind as she is, hath not the room nor the means to keep us. Besides, my husband bade me, when this happened, seek shelter from Master Udal, the minister, at Kingston. To him we must go, anon. As for you and poor Peter--who means well, I think--I grieve for you. For I can give you neither work nor board."

"Nay," said I, "you are not done with me, mistress. I will at least see you and the little ones safe to Kingston. But first I would see my master, if I may."

"You may try," said she, brightening up, "but before that, you must have food, for you look weary and half-starved. Come, Jeannette, make ready something for breakfast, and do you, Peter, help us."

After much ado, I was admitted to see Master Walgrave, in the White Lion. He was in a sour mood and well disposed to look on me as the author of his troubles. When I showed him how that could not be, he softened a little.