CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
PARDON.
"`What if,' quoth she, `by Spanish blood Have London's stately streets been wet, Yet will I seek this country's good And pardon for these young men get.'" Churchill.
The night and morning had been terrible to the poor boys, who only hadbegun to understand what awaited them. The fourteen selected had littlehope, and indeed a priest came in early morning to hear the confessionsof Giles Headley and George Bates, the only two who were in Newgate.
George Bates was of the stolid, heavy disposition that seems armed byoutward indifference, or mayhap pride. He knew that his case washopeless, and he would not thaw even to the priest. But Giles had beenquite unmanned, and when he found that for the doleful procession to theGuildhall he was to be coupled with George Bates, instead of either ofhis room-fellows, he flung himself on Stephen's neck, sobbing outmessages for his mother, and entreaties that, if Stephen survived, hewould be good to Aldonza. "For you will wed Dennet, and--"
There the jailers roughly ordered him to hold his peace, and dragged himoff to be pinioned to his fellow-sufferer. Stephen was not called tillsome minutes later, and had not seen him since. He himself was ofcourse overshadowed by the awful gloom of apprehension for himself, andpity for his comrades, and he was grieved at not having seen or heard ofhis brother or master, but he had a very present care in Jasper, who wassickening in the prison atmosphere, and when fastened to his arm, seemedhardly able to walk. Leashed as they were, Stephen could only help himby holding the free hand, and when they came to the hall, supporting himas much as possible, as they stood in the miserable throng during theconclusion of the formalities, which ended by the horrible sentence ofthe traitor being pronounced on the whole two hundred and seventy-eight.Poor little Jasper woke for an interval from the sense of presentdiscomfort to hear it. He seemed to stiffen all over with the shock ofhorror, and then hung a dead weight on Stephen's arm. It would havedragged him down, but there was no room to fall, and the wretchedness ofthe lad against whom he staggered found vent in a surly imprecation,which was lost among the cries and the entreaties of some of the others.The London magistracy were some of them in tears, but the indictmentfor high treason removed the poor lads from their jurisdiction to thatof the Earl Marshal, and thus they could do nothing to save the fourteenforemost victims. The others were again driven out of the hall toreturn to their prisons; the nearest pair of lads doing their best tohelp Stephen drag his burthen along in the halt outside, to arrange thesad processions, one of the guards, of milder mood, cut the cord thatbound the lifeless weight to Stephen, and permitted the child to be laidon the stones of the court, his collar unbuttoned, and water to bebrought. Jasper was just reviving when the word came to march, butstill he could not stand, and Stephen was therefore permitted the freeuse of his arms, in order to carry the poor little fellow. Thirteenyears made a considerable load for seventeen, though Stephen's arms wereexercised in the smithy, and it was a sore pull from the Guildhall.Jasper presently recovered enough to walk with a good deal of support.When he was laid on the bed he fell into an exhausted sleep, whileStephen kneeling, as the strokes of the knell smote on his ear, prayed--as he had never prayed before--for his comrade, for his enemy, and forall the unhappy boys who were being led to their death wherever theoutrages had been committed.
Once indeed there was a strange sound coming across that of the knell.It almost sounded like an acclamation of joy. Could people be so cruel,thought Stephen, as to mock poor Giles's agonies? There were the knellsstill sounding. How long he did not know, for a beneficent drowsinessstole over him as he knelt, and he was only awakened, at the same timeas Jasper, by the opening of his door.
He looked up to see three figures--his brother, his uncle, his master.Were they come to take leave of him? But the one conviction that theirfaces beamed with joy was all that he could gather, for little Jaspersprang up with a scream of terror, "Stephen, Stephen, save me! Theywill cut out my heart," and clung trembling to his breast, with armsround his neck.
"Poor child! poor child!" sighed Master Headley. "Would that I broughthim the same tidings as to thee!"
"Is it so?" asked Stephen, reading confirmation as he looked from theone to the other. Though he was unable to rise under the weight of theboy, life and light were coming to his eye, while Ambrose clasped hishand tightly, choked by the swelling of his heart in almost an agony ofjoy and thankfulness.
"Yea, my good lad," said the alderman. "Thy good kinsman took my littlewench to bear to the King the token he gave thee."
"And Giles?" Stephen asked, "and the rest?"
"Giles is safe. For the rest--may God have mercy on their souls."
These words passed while Stephen rocked Jasper backwards and forwards,his face hidden on his neck.
"Come home," added Master Headley. "My little Dennet and Giles cannotyet rejoice till thou art with them. Giles would have come himself, buthe is sorely shaken, and could scarce stand."
Jasper caught the words, and loosing his friend's neck, looked up. "Oh!are we going home? Come, Stephen. Where's brother Simon? I want mygood sister! I want nurse! Oh! take me home!" For as he tried to situp, he fell back sick and dizzy on the bed.
"Alack! alack!" mourned Master Headley; and the jester, muttering thatit was not the little wench's fault, turned to the window, and burstinto tears. Stephen understood it all, and though he felt a passionatelonging for freedom, he considered in one moment whether there were anyone of his fellow prisoners to whom Jasper could be left, or who wouldbe of the least comfort to him, but could find no one, and resolved tocling to him as once to old Spring.
"Sir," he said, as he rose to his master, "I fear me he is very sick.Will they--will your worship give me licence to bide with him till thisends?"
"Thou art a good-hearted lad," said the alderman with a hand on hisshoulder. "There is no further danger of life to the prentice lads.The King hath sent to forbid all further dealing with them, and hathbidden my little maid to set it about that if their mothers beg themgrace from good Queen Katherine, they shall have it. But this poorchild! He can scarce be left. His brother will take it well of thee ifthou wilt stay with him till some tendance can be had. We can see tothat. Thanks be to Saint George and our good King, this good City isour own again!"
The alderman turned away, and Ambrose and Stephen exchanged a passionateembrace, feeling what it was to be still left to one another. Thejester too shook his nephew's hand, saying, "Boy, boy, the blessing ofsuch as I is scarce worth the having, but I would thy mother could seethee this day."
Stephen was left with these words and his brother's look to bear himthrough a trying time.
For the "Captain of Newgate" was an autocrat, who looked on his captivesas compulsory lodgers, out of whom he was entitled to wring as much aspossible--as indeed he had no other salary, nor means of maintaining hisunderlings, a state of things which lasted for two hundred years longer,until the days of James Oglethorpe and John Howard. Even in the rarecases of acquittals, the prisoner could not be released till he had paidhis fees, and that Giles Headley should have been borne off from thescaffold itself in debt to him was an invasion of his privileges, whichdid not dispose him to be favourable to any one connected with thataffair; and he liked to show his power and dignity even to an alderman.
He was found sitting in a comfortable tapestried chamber, handsomelydressed in orange and brown, and with a smooth sleek countenance and theappearance of a good-natured substantial citizen.
He only half rose from his big carved chair, and touched withoutremoving his cap, to greet the alderman, as he observed, without theaccustomed prefix of your worship--"So, you are come about yourprentice's fees and dues. By Saint Peter of the Fetters, 'tis anirksome matter to have such a troop of idle, mischievous, daintystriplings thrust on one, giving more trouble, and making more call andoutcry than twice as many honest thieves and pickpurses."
"Be assured, sir, they will scarce trouble you longer th
an they canhelp," said Master Headley.
"Yea, the Duke and my Lord Edmund are making brief work of them," quoththe jailer. "Ha!" with an oath, "what's that? Nought will daunt thoselads till the hangman is at their throats."
For it was a real hurrah that reached his ears. The jester had got allthe boys round him in the court, and was bidding them keep up a goodheart, for their lives were safe, and their mothers would beg them off.Their shouts did not tend to increase the captain's good humour, andthough he certainly would not have let out Alderman Headley's remainingapprentice without his fee, he made as great a favour of permission, andcharged as exorbitantly, for a pardoned man to remain within his domainsas if they had been the most costly and delightful hostel in thekingdom.
Master Hope, who presently arrived, had to pay a high fee for leave tobring Master Todd, the barber-surgeon, with him to see his brother; butthough he offered a mark a day, (a huge amount at that time), thecaptain was obdurate in refusing to allow the patient to be attended byhis own old nurse, declaring that it was contrary to discipline, and,(what probably affected him much more), one such woman could cause moretrouble than a dozen felons. No doubt it was true, for she would haveinsisted on moderate cleanliness and comfort. No other attendant whomMr Hope could find would endure the disgrace, the discomfort, and alarmof a residence in Newgate for Jasper's sake; so that the draper'sgratitude to Stephen Birkenholt, for voluntarily sharing the littlefellow's captivity, was great, and he gave payment to one or two of theofficials to secure the two lads being civilly treated, and that theprovisions sent in reached them duly.
Jasper did not in general seem very ill by day, only heavy, listless anddull, unable to eat, too giddy to sit up, and unable to help crying likea babe, if Stephen left him for a moment; but he never fell asleepwithout all the horror and dread of the sentence coming over him. Likeall the boys in London, he had gazed at executions with the sort ofcuriosity that leads rustic lads to run to see pigs killed, and now thedetails came over him in semi-delirium, as acted out on himself, and heshrieked and struggled in an anguish which was only mitigated byStephen's reassurances, caresses, even scoldings. The other youths,relieved from the apprehension of death, agreed to regard theirdetention as a holiday, and not being squeamish, turned the yard into aplayground, and there they certainly made uproar, and played pranks,enough to justify the preference of the captain for full growncriminals. But Stephen could not join them, for Jasper would not sparehim for an instant, and he himself, though at first sorely missingemployment and exercise, was growing drowsy and heavy limbed in hiscramped life and the evil atmosphere, even the sick longings for libertywere gradually passing away from him, so that sometimes he felt as if hehad lived here for ages and known no other life, though no sooner did helie down to rest, and shut his eyes, than the trees and green glades ofthe New Forest rose before him, with all the hollies shining in thesummer light, or the gorse making a sheet of gold.
The time was not in reality so very long. On the 7th of May, JohnLincoln, the broker, who had incited Canon Beale to preach against theforeigners, was led forth with several others of the real promoters ofthe riot to the centre of Cheapside, where Lincoln was put to death, butorders were brought to respite the rest; and, at the same time, all thearmed men were withdrawn, the City began to breathe, and the women whohad been kept within doors to go abroad again.
The Recorder of London and several aldermen were to meet the King at hismanor at Greenwich. This was the mothers' opportunity. The civicdignitaries rode in mourning robes, but the wives and mothers,sweethearts and sisters, every woman who had a youth's life at stake,came together, took boat, and went down the river, a strange fleet ofbarges, all containing white caps, and black gowns and hoods, for allwere clad in the most correct and humble citizen's costume.
"Never was such a sight," said Jester Randall, who had taken care tosecure a view, and who had come with his report to the Dragon court."It might have been Ash Wednesday for the look of them, when they landedand got into order. One would think every prentice lad had got at leastthree mothers, and four or five aunts and sisters! I trow, verily, thathalf of them came to look on at the other half, and get a sight ofGreenwich and the three queens. However, be that as it might, not oneof them but knew how to open the sluices. Queen Katharine noted wellwhat was coming, and she and the Queens of Scotland and France sat inthe great chamber with the doors open. And immediately there's a knockat the door, and so soon as the usher opens it, in they come, three andthree, every good wife of them with her napkin to her eyes, and workingaway with her sobs. Then Mistress Todd, the barber-surgeon's wife, shespoke for all, being thought to have the more courtly tongue, havingbeen tirewoman to Queen Mary ere she went to France. Verily her husbandmust have penned the speech for her--for it began right scholarly, andflowery, with a likening of themselves to the mothers of Bethlehem,(lusty innocents theirs, I trow!) but ere long the good woman falteredand forgot her part, and broke out `Oh! madam, you that are a motheryourself for the sake of your own sweet babe, give us back our sons.'And therewith they all fell on their knees, weeping and wringing theirhands, and crying out, `Mercy, mercy! For our Blessed Lady's sake, havepity on our children!' till the good Queen, with the tears running downher cheeks for very ruth, told them that the power was not in her hands,but the will was for them and their poor sons, and that she would striveso to plead for them with the King as to win their freedom. Meantime,there were the aldermen watching for the King in his chamber ofpresence, till forth he came, when all fell on their knees, and theRecorder spake for them, casting all the blame on the vain and lightpersons who had made that enormity. Thereupon what does our Hal butmake himself as stern as though he meant to string them all up in aline. `Ye ought to wail and be sorry,' said he, `whereas ye say thatsubstantial persons were not concerned, it appeareth to the contrary.You did wink at the matter,' quoth he, `and at this time we will grantyou neither favour nor goodwill.' However, none who knew Hal's eye butcould tell that 'twas all very excellent fooling, when he bade them getto the Cardinal. Therewith, in came the three queens, hand in hand,with tears in their eyes, so as they might have been the three queensthat bore away King Arthur, and down they went on their knees, and criedaloud `Dear sir, we who are mothers ourselves, beseech you to set thehearts at ease of all the poor mothers who are mourning for their sons.'Whereupon, the door being opened, came in so piteous a sound of wailingand lamentation as our Harry's name must have been Herod to withstand!`Stand up, Kate,' said he, `stand up, sisters, and hark in your ear.Not a hair of the silly lads shall be touched, but they must bide lockand key long enough to teach them and their masters to keep betterward.' And then when the queens came back with the good tidings, such astorm of blessings was never heard, laughings and cryings, and the like,for verily some of the women seemed as distraught for joy as ever theyhad been for grief and fear. Moreover, Mistress Todd, being instructedof her husband, led up Mistress Hope to Queen Mary, and told her thetale of how her husband's little brother, a mere babe, lay sick inprison--a mere babe, a suckling as it were--and was like to die there,unless the sooner delivered, and how our Steve was fool enough to tarrywith the poor child, pardoned though he be. Then the good lady weptagain, and `Good woman,' saith she to Mistress Hope, `the King will setthy brother free anon. His wrath is not with babes, nor with lads likethis other of whom thou speakest.'
"So off was she to the King again, and though he and his master pishedand pshawed, and said if one and another were to be set free privily inthis sort, there would be none to come and beg for mercy as a warning toall malapert youngsters to keep within bounds, `Nay, verily,' quoth I,seeing the moment for shooting a fool's bolt among them, `methinksMaster Death will have been a pick-lock before you are ready for them,and then who will stand to cry mercy?'"
The narrative was broken off short by a cry of jubilee in the court.Workmen, boys, and all were thronging together, Kit Smallbones' headtowering in the midst. Vehement welcomes seemed in progress. "Stephen!St
ephen!" shouted Dennet, and flew out of the hail and down the steps.
"The lad himself!" exclaimed the jester, leaping down after her.
"Stephen, the good boy!" said Master Headley, descending more slowly,but not less joyfully.
Yes, Stephen himself it was, who had quietly walked into the court.Master Hope and Master Todd had brought the order for Jasper's release,had paid the captain's exorbitant fees for both, and, while the sick boywas carried home in a litter, Stephen had entered the Dragon courtthrough the gates, as if he were coming home from an errand; though themoment he was recognised by the little four-year old Smallbones, therehad been a general rush and shout of ecstatic welcome, led by GilesHeadley, who fairly threw himself on Stephen's neck, as they met likecomrades after a desperate battle. Not one was there who did not claima grasp of the boy's hand, and who did not pour out welcomes andgreetings; while in the midst, the released captive looked, to say thetruth, very spiritless, faded, dusty, nay dirty. The court seemedspinning round with him, and the loud welcomes roared in his ears. Hewas glad that Dennet took one hand, and Giles the other, declaring thathe must be led to the grandmother instantly.
He muttered something about being in too foul trim to go near her, butDennet held him fast, and he was too dizzy to make much resistance. OldMrs Headley was better again, though not able to do much but sit by thefire kept burning to drive away the plague which was always smoulderingin London.
She held out her hands to Stephen, as he knelt down by her. "Take anold woman's blessing, my good youth," she said. "Right glad am I to seethee once more. Thou wilt not be the worse for the pains thou hastspent on the little lad, though they have tried thee sorely."
Stephen, becoming somewhat less dazed, tried to fulfil his long-cherished intention of thanking Dennet for her intercession, but theinstant he tried to speak, to his dismay and indignation, tears chokedhis voice, and he could do nothing but weep, as if, thought he, hismanhood had been left behind in the jail.
"Vex not thyself," said the old dame, as she saw him struggling with hissobs. "Thou art worn-out--Giles here was not half his own man when hecame out, nor is he yet. Nay, beset him not, children. He should go tohis chamber, change these garments, and rest ere supper-time."
Stephen was fain to obey, only murmuring an inquiry for his brother, towhich his uncle responded that if Ambrose were at home, the tidingswould send him to the Dragon instantly; but he was much with his oldmaster, who was preparing to leave England, his work here being ruined.
The jester then took leave, accepting conditionally an invitation tosupper. Master Headley, Smallbones, and Tibble now knew who he was, butthe secret was kept from all the rest of the household, lest Stephenshould be twitted with the connection.
Cold water was not much affected by the citizens of London, but smiths'and armourers' work entailed a freer use of it than less grimy trades;and a bath and Sunday garments made Stephen more like himself, thoughstill he felt so weary and depressed that he missed the buoyant joy ofrelease to which he had been looking forward.
He was sitting on the steps, leaning against the rail, so much tiredthat he hoped none of his comrades would notice that he had come out,when Ambrose hurried into the court, having just heard tidings of hisfreedom, and was at his side at once. The two brothers sat together,leaning against one another as if they had all that they could wish orlong for. They had not met for more than a week, for Ambrose's financeshad not availed to fee the turnkeys to give him entrance.
"And what art thou doing, Ambrose?" asked Stephen, rousing a little fromhis lethargy. "Methought I heard mine uncle say thine occupation wasgone?"
"Even so," replied Ambrose. "Master Lucas will sail in a week's time tojoin his brother at Rotterdam, bearing with him what he hath been ableto save out of the havoc. I wot not if I shall ever see the good manmore."
"I am glad thou dost not go with him," said Stephen, with a hand on hisbrother's leather-covered knee.
"I would not put seas between us," returned Ambrose. "Moreover, thoughI grieve to lose my good master, who hath been so scurvily entreatedhere, yet, Stephen, this trouble and turmoil hath brought me that whichI longed for above all, even to have speech with the Dean of SaintPaul's."
He then told Stephen how he had brought Dean Colet to administer thelast rites to Abenali, and how that good man had bidden Lucas to takeshelter at the Deanery, in the desolation of his own abode. This hadled to conversation between the Dean and the printer; Lucas, whodistrusted all ecclesiastics, would accept no patronage. He had alittle hoard, buried in the corner of his stall, which would suffice tocarry him to his native home and he wanted no more; but he had spoken ofAmbrose, and the Dean was quite ready to be interested in the youth whohad led him to Abenali.
"He had me to his privy chamber," said Ambrose, "and spake to me as noman hath yet spoken--no, not even Tibble. He let me utter all my mind,nay, I never wist before even what mine own thoughts were till he setthem before me--as it were in a mirror."
"Thou wast ever in a harl," said Stephen, drowsily, using the Hampshireword for whirl or entanglement.
"Yea. On the one side stood all that I had ever believed or learntbefore I came hither of the one true and glorious Mother-Church to whomthe Blessed Lord had committed the keys of His kingdom, through His holymartyrs and priests to give us the blessed host and lead us in the wayof salvation. And on the other side, I cannot but see the lewd andsinful and worldly lives of the most part, and hear the lies wherebythey amass wealth and turn men from the spirit of truth and holiness todelude them into believing that wilful sin can be committed withoutharm, and that purchase of a parchment is as good as repentance. Thatdo I see and hear. And therewith my master Lucas and Dan Tindall, andthose of the new light, declare that all has been false even from thevery outset, and that all the pomp and beauty is but Satan's bait, andthat to believe in Christ alone is all that needs to justify us, castingall the rest aside. All seemed a mist, and I was swayed hither andthither till the more I read and thought, the greater was the fog. Andthis--I know not whether I told it to yonder good and holy doctor, orwhether he knew it, for his eyes seemed to see into me, and he told methat he had felt and thought much the same. But on that one greattruth, that faith in the Passion is salvation, is the Church built,though sinful men have hidden it by their errors and lies as befellbefore among the Israelites, whose law, like ours, was divine. Whateveris entrusted to man, he said, will become stained, soiled, and twisted,though the power of the Holy Spirit will strive to renew it. And suchan outpouring of cleansing and renewing power is, he saith, abroad inour day. When he was a young man, this good father, so he said, hopedgreat things, and did his best to set forth the truth, both at Oxfordand here, as indeed he hath ever done, he and the good Doctor Erasmus,striving to turn men's eyes back to the simplicity of God's Word ratherthan to the arguments and deductions of the schoolmen. And for theabuses of evil priests that have sprung up, my Lord Cardinal sought theLegatine Commission from our holy father at Rome to deal with them. ButDr Colet saith that there are other forces at work, and he doubtethgreatly whether this same cleansing can be done without some great andterrible rending and upheaving, that may even split the Church as itwere asunder--since judgment surely awaiteth such as will not bereformed. But, quoth he, `our Mother-Church is God's own Church and Iwill abide by her to the end, as the means of oneness with my Lord andHead, and do thou the same, my son, for thou art like to be more sorelytried than will a frail old elder like me, who would fain say his _NuncDimittis_, if such be the Lord's will, ere the foundations be castdown.'"
Ambrose had gone on rehearsing all these words with the absorption ofone to whom they were everything, till it occurred to him to wonder thatStephen had listened to so much with patience and assent, and then,looking at the position of head and hands, he perceived that his brotherwas asleep, and came to a sudden halt. This roused Stephen to say, "Eh?What? The Dean, will he do aught for thee?"
"Yea," said Ambrose, recollec
ting that there was little use in returningto the perplexities which Stephen could not enter into. "He deemed thatin this mood of mine, yea, and as matters now be at the universities, Ihad best not as yet study there for the priesthood. But he said hewould commend me to a friend whose life would better show me how the newgives life to the old than any man he wots of."
"One of thy old doctors in barnacles, I trow," said Stephen.
"Nay, verily. We saw him t'other night perilling his life to stop thepoor crazy prentices, and save the foreigners. Dennet and our uncle sawhim pleading for them with the King."
"What! Sir Thomas More?"
"Ay, no other. He needs a clerk for his law matters, and the Dean saidhe would speak of me to him. He is to sup at the Deanery to-morrow, andI am to be in waiting to see him. I shall go with a lighter heart nowthat thou art beyond the clutches of the captain of Newgate."
"Speak no more of that!" said Stephen, with a shudder. "Would that Icould forget it!"
In truth Stephen's health had suffered enough to change the bold, high-spirited, active lad, so that he hardly knew himself. He was quiteincapable of work all the next day, and Mistress Headley began to dreadthat he had brought home jail-fever, and insisted on his being inspectedby the barber-surgeon, Todd, who proceeded to bleed the patient, inorder, as he said, to carry off the humours contracted in the prison.He had done the same by Jasper Hope, and by Giles, but he followed thetreatment up with better counsel, namely, that the lads should all besent out of the City to some farm where they might eat curds and whey,until their strength should be restored. Thus they would be out ofreach of the sweating sickness which was already in some of the purlieusof Saint Katharine's Docks, and must be specially dangerous in theirlowered condition.
Master Hope came in just after this counsel had been given. He had asister married to the host of a large prosperous inn near Windsor, andhe proposed to send not only Jasper but Stephen thither, feeling howgreat a debt of gratitude he owed to the lad. Remembering well the goodyoung Mistress Streatfield, and knowing that the Antelope was a largeold house of excellent repute, where she often lodged persons of qualityattending on the court or needing country air, Master Headley addedGiles to the party at his own expense, and wished also to send Dennetfor greater security, only neither her grandmother nor Mrs Hope couldleave home.
It ended, however, in Perronel Randall being asked to take charge of thewhole party, including Aldonza. That little damsel had been in a mannerconfided to her both by the Dean of Saint Paul's and by TibbleSteelman--and indeed the motherly woman, after nursing and soothing herthrough her first despair at the loss of her father, was already lovingher heartily, and was glad to give her a place in the home which Ambrosewas leaving on being made an attendant on Sir Thomas More.
For the interview at the Deanery was satisfactory. The young man, aftera good supper, enlivened by the sweet singing of some chosen pupils ofSaint Paul's school, was called up to where the Dean sat, and with him,the man of the peculiarly sweet countenance, with the noble and deepexpression, yet withal, something both tender and humorous in it.
They made him tell his whole life, and asked many questions aboutAbenali, specially about the fragment of Arabic scroll which had beenclutched in his hand even as he lay dying. They much regretted neverhaving known of his existence till too late. "Jewels lie before theunheeding!" said More. Then Ambrose was called on to show a specimen ofhis own penmanship, and to write from Sir Thomas's dictation in Englishand in Latin. The result was that he was engaged to act as one of theclerks Sir Thomas employed in his occupations alike as lawyer,statesman, and scholar.
"Methinks I have seen thy face before," said Sir Thomas, looking keenlyat him. "I have beheld those black eyes, though with a differentfavour?"
Ambrose blushed deeply. "Sir, it is but honest to tell you that mymother's brother is jester to my Lord Cardinal."
"Quipsome Hal Merriman! Patch as the King calleth him!" exclaimed SirThomas. "A man I have ever thought wore the motley rather from excess,than infirmity, of wit."
"Nay, sir, so please you, it was his good heart that made him a jester,"said Ambrose, explaining the story of Randall and his Perronel in a fewwords, which touched the friends a good deal, and the Dean rememberedthat she was in charge of the little Moresco girl. He lost nothing bydealing thus openly with his new master, who promised to keep his secretfor him, then gave him handsel of his salary, and bade him collect hispossessions, and come to take up his abode in the house of the Morefamily at Chelsea.
He would still often see his brother in the intervals of attending SirThomas to the courts of law, but the chief present care was to get theboys into purer air, both to expedite their recovery and to ensure themagainst being dragged into the penitential company who were to ask fortheir lives on the 22nd of May, consisting of such of the prisoners whocould still stand or go--for jail-fever was making havoc among them, andsome of the better-conditioned had been released by private interest.The remainder, not more than half of the original two hundred andseventy-eight, were stripped to their shirts, had halters hung roundtheir necks, and then, roped together as before, were driven through thestreets to Westminster, where the King sat enthroned. There, lookingutterly miserable, they fell on their knees before him, and received hispardon for their misdemeanours. They returned to their masters, and soended that Ill May day, which was the longer remembered because oneChurchill, a ballad-monger in Saint Paul's Churchyard, indited a poem onit, wherein he swelled the number of prentices to two thousand, and ofthe victims to two hundred. Will Wherry, who escaped from among theprisoners very forlorn, was recommended by Ambrose to the work of acarter at the Dragon, which he much preferred to printing.
The Armourer's Prentices Page 18
