by Tom Bevan
Chapter XVII
SIR WALTER AS CHAPERON.
That same evening the Devonshire knight, apprised by Master Jeffreys ofthe arrival of his forest friends, paid them a visit in the Wood Streethostelry. He himself had lodgings at Whitehall, near to the court. Hewelcomed them most warmly, paid Dorothy many pretty compliments, andenjoined the hostess to have the greatest care of her precious charge.
"Let but a hair of Mistress Dawe be injured beneath thy roof,goodwife," said he, with a twinkle in his eye, "and a whole host ofwild fellows from caves and holes in the mighty forest will swarmhither for revenge. Dark, terrible beings are they, who spend much oftheir time in the gloomy depths of the mighty woodland or in the verybowels of the earth. Wild Irish or Spaniards are nought to them. Ihave seen them eat up such folk at a mouthful! This nymph is theirmaiden queen. Have a care how ye all treat her!"
The plump hostess, who knew her knight for a merry jester, was yet halfinclined to believe his account of the forest dwellers, and she lookedwith added interest upon the blushing Dolly. Master Morgan was quiteto her mind.
"I am a widow," she said in confidence to the captain, "and 'tis agreat comfort to have a fellow of so many inches, and an honest faceatop of them, under one's roof."
The captain agreed, and accepted the invitation of Mistress Stowe (thehostess) to drink a cup of sack with her in her own parlour.
Sir Walter left his man with the forest folk in the capacity of guideand counsellor, promising to come again early on the morrow and takethem the round of the city sights. Johnnie went abroad that evening,down Chepe as far as Cornhill; but Dorothy and the captain preferred toremain indoors, and Mistress Stowe entertained them with stories of thegreat city, telling of the great changes that had taken place of lateyears--how scores of churches and religious houses had been pulled downand hundreds of priests and monks driven out because of the Reformation.
"I have heard my father say," she declared, "that in his time everysecond man you met with in the streets of London was monk or priest;churches stood everywhere, and there was a perpetual ding-dong of bellsfrom morn till night. Now you will look in vain for a monk; the bellsare grown silent; and the churches are heaps of ruins, or their sitesoccupied by warehouses built of their stones. The monasteries andnunneries are turned into dwelling-places for the rich folk andfavourites of the court."
She told them of the tournaments held in the great street called"Chepe;" of the pageants on the river; the bull-baiting, bear-baiting,and morris-dancing, and the plays at the theatres. She had anentranced audience of two until Morgan and Jeffreys returned from theirramble.
The next morning about eleven o'clock Sir Walter came in and found thedinner just served, so he dined with his friends; and then, after apipe of tobacco--in which neither the captain nor Morgan ventured tojoin him--he took them abroad. Down Chepe they went, past the fineshops of goldsmith, silversmith, and mercer. The broad thoroughfarewas thronged with gaily-dressed people, afoot and on horseback, and theapprentices cried their masters' wares so lustily that the place rangagain. 'Twas "What d'ye lack, pretty mistress? Is it gold or jewels,fal-lals or laces? Buy, buy, gallant sirs; knick-knacks, prettythings, and gew-gaws for the lady!"
"Bones o' me!" gasped Johnnie, as he wriggled from the clutches of twopersevering apprentices; "an I had the fee-simple of my scrap of landin the forest in my pocket, these rogues would have it from me in anafternoon walk. What wouldst thou like, Dolly? Let me buy theesomething."
But Dorothy, who was just in front leaning on the knight's arm, hadeyes more for the crowd than for the brave things displayed in theshops. Gallant after gallant bowed gracefully to her, for all knew thefamous knight; and the ladies eyed her keenly and critically, wonderingwho she might be. It was a proud day for Dorothy. She was quickenough to notice that her clothing was not quite according to Londonfashions; but if she were not as gaily dressed as the ladies who staredat her, she had the comforting thought that her cavalier was thebest-dressed and handsomest man that walked along Chepe that Septemberday. So she answered Johnnie's question with, "Buy me whatever thouwilt; I shall say 'thanks!' But ask me not to make a choice at thistime and from such a bewilderment of riches."
So the young forester shook his head to all pestering salesmen, andkept his money in his pocket for that day.
By the Royal Exchange on Cornhill Sir Walter was stopped for a momentby the Lord Mayor, who wanted a little court news on a certain matteraffecting the city. Then on he went again to the Tower. The governor,a close friend of the knight's, readily admitted the party, and showedthem over the grim old fortress and palace in which, alas! the braveRaleigh was destined to spend so many lonely years. He seemed to havesome foreboding of this that day, and when the governor was tellingDorothy stories of some unfortunates who had spent their last dayswithin the frowning walls, or left them only for the block on TowerHill, Raleigh sighed and remarked, "'Tis but a step from a sovereign'ssmile and the summer of the court to the gloom and winter of thisplace. In dreams I sometimes see myself taking the very fateful step."
This he said aside to Morgan, and the young fellow was so struck by thetone in which the words were said that they remained fixed in hismemory, and he recalled them with bitter sorrow in after years when thebrave knight's fears had reached their awful fulfilment.
From the Tower steps the knight took a wherry and went up the river asfar as Blackfriars. Shooting the arches of London Bridge gave Dorothyone quick spasm of fear, for the craft that went ahead of them, beingsomewhat clumsily handled, went crash into a pier, spun round, filledand sank, and left its occupants screaming and struggling in the water.All were rescued, the boatman himself scrambling nimbly into Raleigh'sboat.
"The tide is not so strong as that which races up the Severn," saidJohnnie; "sure 'tis bad boating that comes to grief here."
"Not so, my master," replied the dripping boatman; "'tis the plaguynarrowness of these arches and the jutting of the pier foundations thatcause the mishaps. Every fool that has handled an oar cannot shootLondon Bridge."
"That may be," assented the forester; "every stream has its shoals andcurrents; nevertheless this Thames tide is to the Severn bore as calfis to angry bull."
Meanwhile Sir Walter was pointing out objects of interest to his faircompanion. "Yonder building," he said, pointing to a hexagonalstructure on the Surrey side of the river, "is the Globe Theatre. Imust take ye all there some afternoon to hear some pretty comedy ofsweet Will Shakespeare's. Master Morgan hath an ear for poetry, Ibelieve; he will not snore through the love-making scenes."
Dolly blushed. At Blackfriars steps they landed, went into the city bythe Lud Gate, passed through St. Paul's and out into the Chepe again;thence to the "Swanne," where the knight took leave of them, promisingto have them down to Whitehall next day if his duties at court gave himany leisure.
The shops in Chepe were closed; the apprentices ran loose with plentyof noise and racket. The sober merchants walked out to the Moorfields,with wife on arm and daughters dutifully following in modest train.Work was ended. London was taking its evening recreation.
