The Armourer's Prentices. Yonge Charlotte Mary

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СКАЧАТЬ tilting match on hand for the Lady Mary’s wedding.  Here have been half the gentlemen in the Court after you, and my Lord of Buckingham sent twice for you since Sunday, and once for Tibble Steelman, and his squire swore that if you were not at his bidding before noon to-morrow, he would have his new suit of Master Hillyer of the Eagle.”

      “He shall see me when it suiteth me,” said Mr. Headley coolly.  “He wotteth well that Hillyer hath none who can burnish plate armour like Tibble here.”

      “Moreover the last iron we had from that knave Mepham is nought.  It works short under the hammer.”

      “That shall be seen to, Kit.  The rest of the budget to-morrow.  I must on to my mother.”

      For at the doorway, at the head of the stairs, there stood the still trim and active figure of an old woman, with something of the mouse likeness seen in her grand-daughter, in the close cap, high hat, and cloth dress, that sumptuary opinion, if not law, prescribed for the burgher matron, a white apron, silver chain and bunch of keys at her girdle.  Due and loving greetings passed between mother and son, after the longest and most perilous absence of Master Headley’s life, and he then presented Giles, to whom the kindly dame offered hand and cheek, saying, “Welcome, my young kinsman, your good father was well known and liked here.  May you tread in his steps!”

      “Thanks, good mistress,” returned Giles.  “I am thought to have a pretty taste in the fancy part of the trade.  My Lord of Montagu—”

      Before he could get any farther, Mistress Headley was inquiring what was the rumour she had heard of robbers and dangers that had beset her son, and he was presenting the two young Birkenholts to her.  “Brave boys! good boys,” she said, holding out her hands and kissing each according to the custom of welcome, “you have saved my son for me, and this little one’s father for her.  Kiss them, Dennet, and thank them.”

      “It was the poor dog,” said the child, in a clear little voice, drawing back with a certain quaint coquetting shyness; “I would rather kiss him.”

      “Would that thou couldst, little mistress,” said Stephen.  “My poor brave Spring!”

      “Was he thine own?  Tell me all about him,” said Dennet, somewhat imperiously.

      She stood between the two strangers looking eagerly up with sorrowfully interested eyes, while Stephen, out of his full heart, told of his faithful comradeship with his hound from the infancy of both.  Her father meanwhile was exchanging serious converse with her grandmother, and Giles finding himself left in the background, began: “Come hither, pretty coz, and I will tell thee of my Lady of Salisbury’s dainty little hounds.”

      “I care not for dainty little hounds,” returned Dennet; “I want to hear of the poor faithful dog that flew at the wicked robber.”

      “A mighty stir about a mere chance,” muttered Giles.

      “I know what you did,” said Dennet, turning her bright brown eyes full upon him.  “You took to your heels.”

      Her look and little nod were so irresistibly comical that the two brothers could not help laughing; whereupon Giles Headley turned upon them in a passion.

      “What mean ye by this insolence, you beggars’ brats picked up on the heath?”

      “Better born than thou, braggart and coward that thou art!” broke forth Stephen, while Master Headley exclaimed, “How now, lads?  No brawling here!”

      Three voices spoke at once.

      “They were insolent.”

      “He reviled our birth.”

      “Father! they did but laugh when I told cousin Giles that he took to his heels, and he must needs call them beggars’ brats picked up on the heath.”

      “Ha! ha! wench, thou art woman enough already to set them together by the ears,” said her father, laughing.  “See here, Giles Headley, none who bears my name shall insult a stranger on my hearth.”

      Stephen however had stepped forth holding out his small stock of coin, and saying, “Sir, receive for our charges, and let us go to the tavern we passed anon.”

      “How now, boy!  Said I not ye were my guests?”

      “Yea, sir, and thanks; but we can give no cause for being called beggars nor beggars’ brats.”

      “What beggary is there in being guests, my young gentlemen?” said the master of the house.  “If any one were picked up on the heath, it was I.  We owned you for gentlemen of blood and coat armour, and thy brother there can tell thee that, ye have no right to put an affront on me, your host, because a rude prentice from a country town hath not learnt to rule his tongue.”

      Giles scowled, but the armourer spoke with an authority that imposed on all, and Stephen submitted, while Ambrose spoke a few words of thanks, after which the two brothers were conducted by an external stair and gallery to a guest-chamber, in which to prepare for supper.

      The room was small, but luxuriously filled beyond all ideas of the young foresters, for it was hung with tapestry, representing the history of Joseph; the bed was curtained, there was a carved chest for clothes, a table and a ewer and basin of bright brass with the armourer’s mark upon it, a twist in which the letter H and the dragon’s tongue and tail were ingeniously blended.  The City was far in advance of the country in all the arts of life, and only the more magnificent castles and abbeys, which the boys had never seen, possessed the amount of comforts to be found in the dwellings of the superior class of Londoners.  Stephen was inclined to look with contempt upon the effeminacy of a churl merchant.

      “No churl,” returned Ambrose, “if manners makyth man, as we saw at Winchester.”

      “Then what do they make of that cowardly clown, his cousin?”

      Ambrose laughed, but said, “Prove we our gentle blood at least by not brawling with the fellow.  Master Headley will soon teach him to know his place.”

      “That will matter nought to us.  To-morrow shall we be with our uncle Hal.  I only wish his lord was not of the ghostly sort, but perhaps he may prefer me to some great knight’s service.  But oh! Ambrose, come and look.  See!  The fellow they call Smallbones is come out to the fountain in the middle of the court with a bucket in each hand.  Look!  Didst ever see such a giant?  He is as big and brawny as Ascapart at the bar-gate at Southampton.  See! he lifts that big pail full and brimming as though it were an egg shell.  See his arm!  ’Twere good to see him wield a hammer!  I must look into his smithy before going forth to-morrow.”

      Stephen clenched his fist and examined his muscles ere donning his best mourning jerkin, and could scarce be persuaded to complete his toilet, so much was he entertained with the comings and goings in the court, a little world in itself, like a college quadrangle.  The day’s work was over, the forges out, and the smiths were lounging about at ease, one or two sitting on a bench under a large elm-tree beside the central well, enjoying each his tankard of ale.  A few more were watching Poppet being combed down, and conversing with the newly-arrived grooms.  One was carrying a little child in his arms, and a young man and maid sitting on the low wall round the well, seemed to be carrying on a courtship over the pitcher that stood waiting to be filled.  Two lads were playing at skittles, children were running up and down the stairs and along the wooden galleries, and men and women went and came by the entrance gateway between the two effigies of knights in armour.  Some were servants bringing helm or gauntlet for repair, or taking the like away.  Some might be known СКАЧАТЬ