The Armourer's Prentices

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  CHAPTER SEVEN.

  YORK HOUSE.

  "Then hath he servants five or six score, Some behind and some before A marvellous great company Of which are lords and gentlemen, With many grooms and yeomen And also knaves among them." _Contemporary Poem on Wolsey_.

  Early were hammers ringing on anvils in the Dragon Court, and all wasactivity. Master Headley was giving his orders to Kit Smallbones beforesetting forth to take the Duke of Buckingham's commands; Giles Headley,very much disgusted, was being invested with a leathern apron, andentrusted to Edmund Burgess to learn those primary arts of furbishingwhich, but for his mother's vanity and his father's weakness, he wouldhave practised four years sooner. Tibble Steelman was superintendingthe arrangement of half a dozen corslets, which were to be carried bythree stout porters, under his guidance, to what is now Whitehall, thenthe residence of the Archbishop of York, the king's prime adviser,Thomas Wolsey.

  "Look you, Tib," said the kind-hearted armourer, "if those lads find nottheir kinsman, or find him not what they look for, bring them backhither, I cannot have them cast adrift. They are good and brave youths,and I owe a life to them."

  Tibble nodded entire assent, but when the boys appeared in theirmourning suits, with their bundles on their backs, they were sent backagain to put on their forest green, Master Headley explaining that itwas reckoned ill-omened, if not insulting, to appear before any greatpersonage in black, unless to enhance some petition directly addressedto himself. He also bade them leave their fardels behind, as, if theytarried at York House, these could be easily sent after them.

  They obeyed--even Stephen doing so with more alacrity than he hadhitherto shown to Master Headley's behests; for now that the time fordeparture had come, he was really sorry to leave the armourer'shousehold. Edmund Burgess had been very good-natured to the raw countrylad, and Kit Smallbones was, in his eyes, an Ascapart in strength, and aBevis in prowess and kindliness. Mistress Headley too had been kind tothe orphan lads, and these two days had given a feeling of being at homeat the Dragon. When Giles wished them a moody farewell, and wished hewere going with them, Stephen returned, "Ah! you don't know when you arewell off."

  Little Dennet came running down after them with two pinks in her hands."Here's a sop-in-wine for a token for each of you young gentlemen," shecried, "for you came to help father, and I would you were going to stayand wed me instead of Giles."

  "What, both of us, little maid?" said Ambrose, laughing, as he stoopedto receive the kiss her rosy lips tendered to him.

  "Not but what she would have royal example," muttered Tibble aside.

  Dennet put her head on one side, as considering. "Nay, not both; butyou are gentle and courteous, and he is brave and gallant--and Gilesthere is moody and glum, and can do nought."

  "Ah! you will see what a gallant fellow Giles can be when thou hastcured him of his home-sickness by being good to him," said Ambrose,sorry for the youth in the universal laughter at the child's plainspeaking.

  And thus the lads left the Dragon, amid friendly farewells. Ambroselooked up at the tall spire of Saint Paul's with a strong determinationthat he would never put himself out of reach of such words as he hadthere drunk in, and which were indeed spirit and life to him.

  Tibble took them down to the Saint Paul's stairs on the river, where athis whistle a wherry was instantly brought to transport them to Yorkstairs, only one of the smiths going any further in charge of thecorslets. Very lovely was their voyage in the brilliant summer morning,as the glittering water reflected in broken ripples church spire,convent garden, and stately house. Here rows of elm-trees made a coolwalk by the river side, there strawberry beds sloped down the Strand,and now and then the hooded figures of nuns might be seen gathering thefruit. There, rose the round church of the Temple, and the beautifulgardens surrounding the buildings, half monastic, half military, andalready inhabited by lawyers. From a barge at the Temple stairs a legalpersonage descended, with a square beard, and open, benevolent, shrewdface, before whom Tibble removed his cap with eagerness, saying toAmbrose, "Yonder is Master More, a close friend of the dean's, a goodand wise man, and forward in every good work."

  Thus did they arrive at York House. Workmen were busy on some portionsof it, but it was inhabited by the great Archbishop, the king's chiefadviser. The approach of the boat seemed to be instantly notified, asit drew near the stone steps giving entrance to the gardens, with anavenue of trees leading up to the principal entrance.

  Four or five yeomen ran down the steps, calling out to Tibble that theircorslets had tarried a long time, and that Sir Thomas Drury had beenstorming for him to get his tilting armour into order.

  Tibble followed the man who had undertaken to conduct him through a paththat led to the offices of the great house, bidding the boys keep withhim, and asking for their uncle Master Harry Randall.

  The yeoman shook his head. He knew no such person in the household, anddid not think there ever had been such. Sir Thomas Drury was found inthe stable court, trying the paces of the horse he intended to use inthe approaching joust. "Ha! old Wrymouth," he cried, "welcome at last!I must have my new device damasked on my shield. Come hither, and I'llshow it thee."

  Private rooms were seldom enjoyed, even by knights and gentlemen, insuch a household, and Sir Thomas could only conduct Tibble to thearmoury, where numerous suits of armour hung on blocks, presenting thesemblance of armed men. The knight a good-looking personage, expatiatedmuch on the device he wished to dedicate to his lady-love, a piercedheart with a forget-me-not in the midst and it was not until thedirections were finished that Tibble ventured to mention the inquiry forRandall.

  "I wot of no such fellow," returned Sir Thomas, "you had best go to thecomptroller, who keeps all the names."

  Tibble had to go to this functionary at any rate, to obtain an order forpayment for the corslets he had brought home. Ambrose and Stephenfollowed him across an enormous hall, where three long tables were beinglaid for dinner.

  The comptroller of the household, an esquire of good birth, with a stifflittle ruff round his neck, sat in a sort of office inclosed by panelsat the end of the hall. He made an entry of Tibble's account in a bigbook, and sent a message to the cofferer to bring the amount. ThenTibble again put his question on behalf of the two young foresters, andthe comptroller shook his head. He did not know the name. "Was thegentleman," (he chose that word as he looked at the boys), "layman orclerk?"

  "Layman, certainly," said Ambrose, somewhat dismayed to find how little,on interrogation, he really knew.

  "Was he a yeoman of the guard, or in attendance on one of my lord'snobles in waiting?"

  "We thought he had been a yeoman," said Ambrose.

  "See," said the comptroller, stimulated by a fee administered by Tibble,"'tis just dinner-time, and I must go to attend on my Lord Archbishop;but do you, Tibble, sit down with these striplings to dinner, and then Iwill cast my eye over the books, and see if I can find any such name.What, hast not time? None ever quits my lord's without breaking hisfast."

  Tibble had no doubt that his master would be willing that he should giveup his time for this purpose, so he accepted the invitation. The tableswere by this time nearly covered, but all stood waiting, for thereflowed in from the great doorway of the hall a gorgeous train--first, aman bearing the double archiepiscopal cross of York, fashioned insilver, and thick with gems--then, with lofty mitre enriched with pearlsand jewels, and with flowing violet lace-covered robes came the sturdysquare-faced ruddy prelate, who was then the chief influence in England,and after him two glittering ranks of priests in square caps and richlyembroidered copes, all in accordant colours. They were returning, as ayeoman told Tibble, from some great ecclesiastical ceremony, and dinnerwould be served instantly.

  "That for which Ralf Bowyer lives!" said a voice close by. "He wouldfain that the dial's hands were Marie bones, the face blancmange,wherein the figures should be grapes of Corinth!"

  Stephen looked round and saw a man clos
e beside him in what he knew atonce to be the garb of a jester. A tall scarlet velvet cap, with threepeaks, bound with gold braid, and each surmounted with a little gildedbell, crowned his head, a small crimson ridge to indicate the cock'scomb running along the front. His jerkin and hose were of motley, theleft arm and right leg being blue, their opposites, orange tawny, whilethe nether socks and shoes were in like manner black and scarletcounterchanged. And yet, somehow, whether from the way of wearing it,or from the effect of the gold embroidery meandering over all, theeffect was not distressing, but more like that of a gorgeous bird. Thefigure was tall, lithe, and active, the brown ruddy face had none of theblank stare of vacant idiocy, but was full of twinkling merriment, theblack eyes laughed gaily, and perhaps only so clear-sighted and shrewdan observer as Tibble would have detected a weakness of purpose aboutthe mouth.

  There was a roar of laughter at the gibe, as indeed there was atwhatever was uttered by the man whose profession was to make mirth.

  "Thou likest thy food well enough thyself, quipsome one," muttered Ralf.

  "Hast found one who doth not, Ralf? Then should he have a free gift ofmy bauble," responded the jester, shaking on high that badge, surmountedwith the golden head of an ass, and jingling with bells. "How now,friend Wrymouth? 'Tis long since thou wert here! This house hath well-nigh been forced to its ghostly weapons for lack of thy substantialones. Where hast thou been?"

  "At Salisbury, good Merryman."

  "Have the Wilts men raked the moon yet out of the pond? Did they lendthee their rake, Tib, that thou hast raked up a couple of green Forestpalmerworms, or be they the sons of the man in the moon, raked out andall astray?"

  "Mayhap, for we met them with dog and bush," said Tibble, "and theydropped as from the moon to save my poor master from the robbers onBagshot heath! Come now, mine honest fellow, aid me to rake, as thousayest, this same household. They are come up from the Forest, to seekout their uncle, one Randall, who they have heard to be in this meine.Knowest thou such a fellow?"

  "To seek a spider in a stubble-field! Truly he needs my bauble who sentthem on such an errand," said the jester, rather slowly, as if to taketime for consideration. "What's your name, my Forest flies?"

  "Birkenholt sir," answered Ambrose, "but our uncle is Harry Randall."

  "Here's fools enow to take away mine office," was the reply. "Here's acouple of lads would leave the greenwood and the free oaks and beeches,for this stinking, plague-smitten London."

  "We'd not have quitted it could we have tarried at home," began Ambrose;but at that moment there was a sudden commotion, a trampling of horseswas heard outside, a loud imperious voice demanded, "Is my LordArchbishop within?" a whisper ran round, "the King," and there enteredthe hall with hasty steps, a figure never to be forgotten, clad in abunting dress of green velvet embroidered with gold, with a goldenhunting horn slung round his neck.

  Henry the Eighth was then in the splendid prime of his youth, in histwenty-seventh year, and in the eyes, not only of his own subjects, butof all others, the very type of a true king of men. Tall, and as yet ofperfect form for strength, agility, and grace; his features were of thebeautiful straight Plantagenet type, and his complexion of purely fairrosiness, his large well-opened blue eyes full at once of frankness andkeenness, and the short golden beard that fringed his square chin givingthe manly air that otherwise might have seemed wanting to the femininetinting of his regular lineaments. All caps were instantly doffed savethe little bonnet with one drooping feather that covered his short,curled, yellow hair; and the Earl of Derby, who was at the head ofWolsey's retainers, made haste, bowing to the ground, to assure him thatmy Lord Archbishop was but doffing his robes, and would be with hisGrace instantly. Would his Grace vouchsafe to come on to the privychamber where the dinner was spread?

  At the same moment Quipsome Hal sprang forward, exclaiming, "How now,brother and namesake? Wherefore this coil? Hath cloth of gold weariedyet of cloth of frieze? Is she willing to own her right to this?" as heheld out his bauble.

  "Holla, old Blister! art thou there?" said the King, good-humouredly."What! knowest not that we are to have such a wedding as will be a sightfor sore eyes!"

  "Sore! that's well said, friend Hal. Thou art making progress in mineart! Sore be the eyes wherein thou wouldst throw dust."

  Again the King laughed, for every one knew that his sister Mary hadsecretly been married to the Duke of Suffolk for the last two months,and that this public marriage and the tournament that was to follow wereonly for the sake of appearances. He laid his hand good-naturedly onthe jester's shoulder as he walked up the hall towards the Archbishop'sprivate apartments, but the voices of both were loud pitched, and bitsof the further conversation could be picked up. "Weddings are rife inyour family," said the jester, "none of you get weary of fitting on thenoose. What, thou thyself, Hal? Ay, thou hast not caught the contagionyet! Now ye gods forefend! If thou hast the chance, thou'lt have itstrong."

  Therewith the Archbishop, in his purple robes, appeared in the archwayat the other end of the hall, the King joined him, and still followed bythe jester, they both vanished. It was presently made known that theKing was about to dine there, and that all were to sit down to eat. TheKing dined alone with the Archbishop as his host; the two noblemen whohad formed his suite joined the first table in the higher hall; theknights that of the steward of the household, who was of knightlydegree, and with whom the superior clergy of the household ate; and thegrooms found their places among the vast array of yeomen and serving-menof all kinds with whom Tibble and his two young companions had to eat.A week ago, Stephen would have contemned the idea of being classed withserving-men and grooms, but by this time he was quite bewildered, andanxious enough to be thankful to keep near a familiar face on any terms,and to feel as if Tibble were an old friend, though he had only knownhim for five days.

  Why the King had come had not transpired, but there was a whisper thatdespatches from Scotland were concerned in it. The meal was a lengthyone, but at last the King's horses were ordered, and presently Henrycame forth, with his arm familiarly linked in that of the Archbishop,whose horse had likewise been made ready that he might accompany theKing back to Westminster. The jester was close at hand, and as aparting shaft he observed, while the King mounted his horse, "FriendHal! give my brotherly commendations to our Madge, and tell her that onewho weds Anguish cannot choose but cry out."

  Wherewith, affecting to expect a stroke from the King's whip, he doubledhimself up, performed the contortion now called turning a coachwheel,then, recovering himself, put his hands on his hips and danced wildly onthe steps; while Henry, shaking his whip at him, laughed at the only tooobvious pun, for Anguish was the English version of Angus, the title ofQueen Margaret's second husband, and it was her complaints that hadbrought him to his counsellor.

  The jester then, much to the annoyance of the two boys, thought properto follow them to the office of the comptroller, and as that dignitaryread out from his books the name of every Henry, and of all thevarieties of Ralf and Randolf among the hundred and eighty personscomposing the household, he kept on making comments. "Harry Hempseed,clerk to the kitchen; ay, Hempseed will serve his turn one of thesedays. Walter Randall, groom of the chamber; ah, ha! my lads, if youwant a generous uncle who will look after you well, there is your man!He'll give you the shakings of the napery for largesse, and when he isin an open-handed mood, will let you lie on the rushes that have servedthe hall. Harry of Lambeth, yeoman of the stable. He will make youfree of all the taverns in Eastchepe."

  And so on, accompanying each remark with a pantomime mimicry of the airand gesture of the individual. He showed in a second the contortions ofHarry Weston in drawing the bow, and in another the grimaces of HenryHope, the choir man, in producing bass notes, or the swelling majesty ofRandall Porcher, the cross-bearer, till it really seemed as if he hadshown off the humours of at least a third of the enormous household.Stephen had laughed at first, but as failure after failure occur
red, theantics began to weary even him, and seem unkind and ridiculous as hopeebbed away, and the appalling idea began to grow on him of being castloose on London without a friend or protector. Ambrose felt almostdespairing as he heard in vain the last name. He would almost have beenwilling to own Hal the scullion, and his hopes rose when he heard ofHodge Randolph, the falconer, but alas, that same Hodge came fromYorkshire.

  "And mine uncle was from the New Forest in Hampshire," he said.

  "Maybe he went by the name of Shirley," added Stephen, "'tis where hishome was."

  But the comptroller, unwilling to begin a fresh search, replied at oncethat the only Shirley in the household was a noble esquire of theWarwickshire family.

  "You must e'en come back with me, young masters," said Tibble, "and seewhat my master can do for you."

  "Stay a bit," said the fool. "Harry of Shirley! Harry of Shirley!Methinks I could help you to the man, if so be as you will deem himworth the finding," he added, suddenly turning upside down, and lookingat them standing on the palms of his hands, with an indescribable leerof drollery, which in a moment dashed all the hopes with which they hadturned to him. "Should you know this nunks of yours?" he added.

  "I think I should," said Ambrose. "I remember best how he used to carryme on his shoulder to cull mistletoe for Christmas."

  "Ah, ha! A proper fellow of his inches now, with yellow hair?"

  "Nay," said Ambrose, "I mind that his hair was black, and his eyes asblack as sloes--or as thine own, Master Jester."

  The jester tumbled over into a more extraordinary attitude than before,while Stephen said--

  "John was wont to twit us with being akin to Gipsy Hal."

  "I mean a man sad and grave as the monks of Beaulieu," said the jester.

  "He!" they both cried. "No, indeed! He was foremost in all sports."

  "Ah!" cried Stephen, "mind you not, Ambrose, his teaching us leap-frog,and aye leaping over one of us himself, with the other in his arms."

  "Ah! sadly changed, sadly changed," said the jester, standing upright,with a most mournful countenance. "Maybe you'd not thank me if I showedhim to you, young sirs, that is, if he be the man."

  "Nay! is he in need, or distress?" cried the brothers.

  "Poor Hal!" returned the fool, shaking his head with mournfulness in hisvoice.

  "Oh, take us to him, good--good jester," cried Ambrose. "We are youngand strong. We will work for him."

  "What, a couple of lads like you, that have come to London seeking forhim to befriend you--deserving well cap for that matter. Will ye beguided to him, my broken and soured--no more gamesome, but a sickly oldrunagate?"

  "Of course," cried Ambrose. "He is our mother's brother. We must carefor him."

  "Master Headley will give us work, mayhap," said Stephen, turning toTibble. "I could clean the furnaces."

  "Ah, ha! I see fools' caps must hang thick as beech masts in theForest," cried the fool, but his voice was husky, and he turned suddenlyround with his back to them, then cut three or four extraordinarycapers, after which he observed--

  "Well, young gentlemen, I will see the man I mean, and if he be thesame, and be willing to own you for his nephews, he will meet you in theTemple Gardens at six of the clock this evening, close to the rose-bushwith the flowers in my livery--motley red and white."

  "But how shall we know him?"

  "D'ye think a pair of green caterpillars like you can't be marked--unless indeed the gardener crushes you for blighting his roses."Wherewith the jester quitted the scene, walking on his hands, with hislegs in the air.

  "Is he to be trusted?" asked Tibble of the comptroller.

  "Assuredly," was the answer; "none hath better wit than Quipsome Hal,when he chooseth to be in earnest. In very deed, as I have heard SirThomas More say, it needeth a wise man to be fool to my Lord of York."