Sir Ludar Part 14

"I make no complaint for myself," said he. "'Tis a good cause on which I am embarked, and I shall see it through yet. As for my wife and little ones, let your last service to me be to see them safe to Master Udal's. Had it been possible, I would have had them safe at Roch.e.l.le, where even their Graces have no jurisdiction. But for the present I have a claim on the minister for this shelter. Peter Stoupe I mistrust, the more so that he bade me mistrust you. When I am released, you may still claim me as master, though I can no longer claim you as apprentice."

I a.s.sured him I wanted no better master, and hoped I might yet serve him. Meanwhile, I promised, that same day, to conduct his family to Kingston.

I had some trouble to persuade Peter Stoupe that his service was neither expected nor desired. Nay, he claimed so stoutly his master's authority to be the guardian of the family, that I had to shake his obstinacy out of him a bit before he would be still. My mistress and the pretty Jeannette were, I think, glad to be rid of him; and after many thanks to Mistress Straw, we embarked on a fair tide, by which. Prosper and I plying the oars diligently, we reached Mortlach; whence in a cart we drove as night fell to Kingston. Little enough baggage we had, for the Company's men had forbidden aught to be removed from the house till such time as a further search should be made. So all had to be left until then.

You may fancy Master Udal's amazement, when we landed at his door. He had gone to bed, and had our cart come to take him off to Tyburn, he could scarcely have shown himself more alarmed. However, he was a good man, and owed much to Master Walgrave. So, after praying for strength, he took us all in and bade us lie as we could till morning, when he would make better provision. His own chamber he gave to my mistress and her little ones, while Prosper and he and I lay on the hard floor of the kitchen. Many were the religious exercises in which he led us before he let us sleep; and even when they were done, he fell on me, and drew from me a full and penitent account of my journey to Oxford and my follies there, for the which he called me many hard names, and bade me take shame to myself, and pray G.o.d I might not one day become a knave as well as a fool. Which prayer I humbly uttered then and there, and many a time since.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

HOW I WAS CAST ADRIFT.

Master Udal, the minister, was not a man to bandy compliments. He told me, as we rose next morning, that he had neither the means nor the desire to keep me at Kingston. There was nothing to make my stay of any service to him; nor did the thickness of my skull encourage him to keep me there for my soul's sake.

"In short," said he, "what is to prevent you from going at once? You can find breakfast for yourself on the road as soon as I could find it for you here, and it beseems a body of your size,"--heavens! what a name to call me--"better to be serving your calling in London than dangling here at the skirts of a parcel of women. So away with you, Humphrey Dexter, and if you should visit us a week hence, come at an hour when you can return by the road you came the self-same evening."

I should have been angry, but that I knew I had lost him his nag at Oxford, and that the good man (how, I could not guess), was going to board and lodge my poor mistress and her little ones while their distress lasted. I had nothing for it but to obey him meekly. Only I was glad he hinted that I might presently come back to see them.

And now, what was to become of me? My master was in the White Lion, my mistress was at Kingston, the house without Temple Bar was in the custody of Timothy Ryder; there was warrant against me for a.s.saulting a Queen's officer; if I went to Richmond there was a dungeon for me there; if I went home my mother could ill afford to keep me; if I went to the Stationers' Company I was too old now to apprentice to anybody. I was in a bad plight, and what was worst of all, it seemed as if no one cared much what I did or what became of me.

"At any rate," said I to myself as I jogged Londonwards, "I can go to the wars and fight for my Queen--Heaven bless her!"

It was a sore temptation as I pa.s.sed near Richmond to climb the hill and see what was going forward at the Hall. That house harboured the two people I held dearest in the world, and the one I hated most. Yet I was afraid to go, not because of Captain Merriman or the cellar, but lest I should not read a welcome on Ludar's brow, or should be scorned by that fair lady. No; I must wait till Ludar came to me in London. Meanwhile, forward thither.

I took the boat we had left last night at Mortlach, and went down on the tide. The hard labour of rowing did me good, and made me forget all but the biggest of my troubles. I resolved first to go to my master's house, and see more closely how the land lay there. To my surprise, as I entered, unexpected, I found great noise and revelry afoot; and there sat in my mistress' snug little parlour Timothy Ryder himself making merry with no other than my fellow-apprentice, Peter Stoupe. And if I mistook not, the good cheer on the table came out of Mistress Walgrave's own larder.

"Oh, he!" thought I. "You are a pretty pair. Now there is like to be a pretty three of us."

So I walked in, and just as Master Peter was lifting the tankard to his hypocritical face, I caught him a whack on the back which sent him off his chair, choking, and groaning aloud that the end of the world was come.

When they saw who it was, their jaws fell a bit, and Timothy Ryder began to bl.u.s.ter.

"Come, come," said he. "What do you here? Who bade you here, pray?

Know you not this place is in the Company's keeping? Come, make off with you, rascal, or some of us will see you go keep your rogue of a master company."

"Hold your peace, beadle," said I, "or you shall swing on the beam over your head. Here, Peter, get up."

Peter rose, purple in face, and not very steady in the knees.

"Now," said I, "tell me, where got you that ale?"

"Indeed, Humphrey, I was invited to it. I never--"

"Where got you that beef and bread?"

"I--oh, dost thou think so ill of me as to suppose--"

"That when your master is in gaol, and your mistress and her little ones are homeless, you would come here and gorge your vile paunch with the food that belongs to them? yes, I suppose every word of it, Peter Stoupe."

"But," said he, "I have a right as a 'prentice--"

"'Prentice!" shouted I, "you a 'prentice! a mean, chicken-livered, gluttonous sneak like you, a 'prentice! 'fore heaven, you do the craft honour! Come, bustle away with you, and G.o.d save my master from such dirty thieves as you."

Here Timothy Ryder was foolish enough to laugh; which enraged me past all enduring.

So, beadle and all as he was, I took him by the nape of his neck like a puppy, and flung him into the Strand, bidding him, as he valued his bones, not come within arm's length of me or my master's house till I asked him. As for Peter, he made off without my help; and here I was with the house to myself.

Then I knew I was in a sc.r.a.pe beside which all the troubles of the past few weeks were as nothing. I had shamefully outraged the beadle of the Worshipful Company of Stationers, acting under the authority of his Grace the Bishop of London! Nothing I could say or do could undo that.

Even if I fled now--which I was not in the humour of doing, since my blood was up--it was too late. For already a crowd was in the Strand, some led by curiosity and Peter's lamentations, others by Timothy's halloos; and before I knew where I stood, I was besieged.

I had barely time to bolt the door and heap up reams of paper across the pa.s.sage, before such a battering began as you never heard. I ran upstairs and surveyed the enemy from a window. There were half the men of the Watch there--they wanted me for a.s.saulting a beadle. There were Timothy and a body of Company's men--they wanted me for defying the authority of the Master and Wardens. There were my old friends the Court bullies--they wanted me for the trouble that had happened in Finsbury Fields. There were a crowd of idle town-boys--they wanted their fling against a 'prentice. Take it altogether, I seemed to be in request.

It was not much use hurling types at them from the window; there was nothing bigger than Brevier to give them, and that was too small to break any bones. Nor had I any other weapon. So I put out my head and shouted "Clubs! Clubs!" with all my voice, and then went down to be ready for the first man that should break in.

'Twas not long before the door came down; but then they had to pa.s.s the barrier I had put up in the pa.s.sage. I had at a few of them across that, and sent them sprawling; but the enemy was too many for me. And the clubs outside, although they rose to my call, kept themselves to the town-boys and court bullies, and were hands-off to the Watch and the Company. At last one slippery rogue scrambled over the barrier and dodged past me. And while I was engaging him, three or four more did the same; till presently it seemed the game was up. I had to yield the outer pa.s.sage and retreat to the printing room, where three of the besiegers got in with me before I could make to the door. There was no time to lose, for the door was a weak one, and in five minutes would be down. So I laid about me with the printer's b.a.l.l.s, and stunned one of my men and upset another. Then I put the third down the trap-door, which stood open, just as the door began to totter inwards. It was time to go. No good could be got by staying, and whatever came of it, no one would be the better for my capture. So I darted out by the back way that I knew of, where n.o.body looked for me; and running down the garden, and over my Lord's ground to the river's edge, I took a wherry and made for the other bank.

I could see the crowd presently break through my master's house into the garden, and stand disappointed when they saw I had given them the slip.

But I was beyond pursuit; and they trooped back angrily, I suppose to make fast the place against my further intrusion.

Much good I had done by my silly riot! My master's house was wrecked, where it need only have been robbed. My mistress' goods and chattels were no nearer being handed over than they were before; and, since some one must suffer for it all, and I had escaped, it was likely enough my master's lot would be all the worse for him by what had happened. I had no cause to be proud of myself; and to be just, I was not proud.

Now, I knew enough of Peter Stoupe to be sure he would guess I had fled to Kingston. So to disappoint him and the watch both, I turned my boat's head down stream, and resolved to lie hid a week in the city before I showed myself again there. By that time the hue and cry would have ceased, and, further, the time named by Master Udal for my visit would be come.

As luck would have it, I was hailed, as I rowed under London Bridge, by a man from a vessel which had just dropped anchor in the pool. She was a French craft, full of merchandise, part for London and part for Leith, in Scotland; and being under-manned, the captain, seeing me idle, offered me and a few others plying about three days' work in helping to unload. The offer suited me well; and if ever a free man worked like a galley slave, I did for that week. Yet the French fellow was kindly enough, and hearing I was a fugitive from the law, he suffered me to lie on his boat at nights, and even let me feed with his men. Finding, too, that I could talk a smattering of his tongue he tempted me sorely to take service northward with him, and become a sailor. I would have done it but for two things--I must see how my mistress and Jeannette and the little ones fared; and, further, I knew not when I might receive a summons from Ludar to fulfil my pledge to him. So I refused, to his regret, yet we parted friends; and, as you may hear later on, not for the last time.

At the week's end, I found myself once more knocking at Master's Udal door at Kingston. The place looked pleasanter already for the presence of my gentle mistress and her daughter. The little garden was trim and well kept, the windows were brighter, and the children's voices near made the air gladder. As for Master Udal himself, when he opened the door, I could have laughed to see the change in him. His hair was kempt, and the rents in his garments were mended; there was a peep of ruffle at his wrists, and his stockings, which had ever lagged down at his heels, now held up bravely by the buckle at his knee. More than that, he looked scared and jaded, like a man undergoing some penance, and doubtful what will be wanted of him next.

But when he saw me his face grew black, and without a word he flung-to the door in my face. I was so taken aback, that I was minded to laugh and suppose the good man to have lost his wits. But when I came to knock again, and no answer, then the jest went out of the business.

What had happened? I walked round the house, hoping to meet someone, but not a soul could I see. Then I tried the door again, but with the same luck as before. At last, quite dazed by the mystery, I gave it up and wandered off anywhere. In the village I met an old man, carrying wood; him I accosted, and asked how the minister fared.

He cackled and laid down his f.a.ggots.

"Grammercy, the poor lad's head is turned, neighbour. The Frenchwoman who has come has looked over him. Why--he! he!--he's been to the barber's, and--he! he!--he preached an hour short on Sunday, and, forgive us! he hath gotten him a new shirt. She's a witch, I tell'ee; and mark me if the next bundle of sticks I carry up be not for her burning. Ha! ha!"

I told him he was a fool; but the idea was firm stuck in his head, and more I could not get out of him. No doubt but the presence of two sweet women in his house had sorely exercised the minister, but that was not enough to make him shut the door just now in my face and vouchsafe me not a word after my journey.

I wandered on towards the river, wondering what I was to do, when I came upon a sight which explained everything in a twinkling. Down on the bank sat, side by side, Peter Stoupe and the boy Prosper, fishing amicably in the stream. It needed no conjurer to say now who had come betwixt me and my master's family. Peter, no doubt, had brought down a pretty story of me from London; and if, as I feared, my riot with the Company had made matters only worse for my master in the White Lion, it would be easy for my mistress to believe any evil that was told of me.

And as for Master Udal, Peter Stoupe was just the lad to pay dutiful heed to his exhortations, and so find admittance where I, a fool and reprobate, was not allowed.

I came on them so suddenly that I had not time to retire before they saw me. Peter seemed taken aback at the sight of me, but the boy Prosper, being a gallant lad, and greatly emboldened by the presence of his protector, rose up with a red face, and shouting, "There goes the villain! Have at you!" flung a stone my way, and would have followed it up had not Peter taken his arm and forcibly held him back.

That was quite enough for me. Had I been guilty of the villainy they suspected, I could not have turned tail more miserably. Had Peter been there alone, I might perhaps have solaced myself by pitching him out into the river. As it was, I could find nothing to say or do except to sneak away and leave them--one smiling, the other storming at my retreat.

That was not the worst. As I pa.s.sed once more near the minister's house on my way to reach the London road, I came upon my mistress and Jeannette, walking slowly beneath the willows. At sight of them, my heart thumped hard within me, and I resolved at least to say a word for myself. But as I doffed my cap and crossed the way to meet them, I saw that my mistress looked hurt and distant, and, turning her head from me, drew the maid's arm in hers, and walked forward without heeding me. It stunned me, so that I could not even put one foot before the other, but stood there in the road, cap in hand, gasping for breath, and gazing after them like a man in a trance. Once, when they had gone a step or two, Jeannette glanced round with tears in her eyes, and a look that seemed not all reproach. But her mother drew her forward, and she turned; after which, for long enough, I saw her face no more.

That moment, as I stood there, was a crisis with me. My old life seemed suddenly to have drifted from me. One after another the bonds that held me to it had snapped and sundered. The pleasant 'prentice days were over. My master was in gaol, my occupation was gone, the Company from which I hoped promotion were out against me--London was no place for me now. Even my mistress frowned on me, and my sweet Jeannette, who was wont to believe in me through thick and thin, had turned away.