monkey between the carved work of the balcony. "How wiltthou catch him? Let us see."
Hugh promptly stood under the balcony, opened his arms, and uttered acall, to which Agrippa responded, though fearfully, by swinging down bytail and hands and dropping into his master's arms.
"Well climbed indeed," said Edward; and seeing that Stephen was in somedegree recovered, he bade one of the men-at-arms lend him his horse andgo with him to the convent. "And here is a gold piece for thee, boy--for remembrance," he added, tossing him the coin as he moved off.
"And a silver one for the monkey," said a young knight, with a merrylaugh, stooping to offer the mark to Agrippa, who cleverly clutched it,and then trotting after the king.
All had passed so quickly that Hugh scarcely knew where he was or whathad happened. He stood staring at the gold noble in his hand, while thebystanders closed up curiously, and one rough fellow, who looked as ifhe had been drinking, made as though he would have snatched it from hishand. A fat monk, with a red good-natured face, hit the fellow a soundbuffet; the crowd laughed, and the man-at-arms made haste to get Bassetton his horse, and to hurry his charges away, the king being alwaysroused to anger by any brawling in the streets.
"Keep close to me," he said to Hugh; "and give thy money to thy father.Now, where are we bound? The Grey Friars? I warrant me they brew goodale there, and supper-time is nigh enough to make a tankard rightwelcome."
"And that was the king," said Hugh, drawing a deep breath.
"Ay, the king. What thinkest thou of him?"
"I would I could fight for him," burst out the boy.
"Why, so thou shalt!" said Hob Trueman, with a laugh. "Eat good beef,and drink good ale, and grow up a lusty yeoman. The king's a goodmaster, I have nought to say against him--saving that he is somewhatover strict," he added, with qualifying remembrance. "We should be nearby this time--"
That night, before lying down in the wooden crib which served for bed,Stephen Bassett called his boy.
"Hugh, thou hast not forgotten thy promise," he said anxiously.
"No, father;" in a low voice.
"Fight for the king thou must, or be ready to fight. That is the lawfor all Englishmen. Does not that content thee?"
Silence. Then--"I should like to be near him, to be one of themen-at-arms."
Bassett sighed.
"I cannot yield to thee, Hugh."
"No, father."
"And I have no breath for talking to-night. We will speak of it again."
CHAPTER FIVE.
THE VOYAGE, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.
Stephen Bassett was not the better for that day's work, though theaccident was too slight to have harmed a man in fair health, and it madea sound reason for Friar Luke to urge upon him that he should give uphis wild project of going west in the _Queen Maud_. But the carver was,if possible, only the more bent upon the scheme. He wanted to get Hughout of London, where was more stir of arms and rumour of wars than inthe shires, and have him safely bound apprentice where there should beno withdrawing.
"He will not fail me, poor little lad," he said; "but were I to be takenfrom him here his task would be ten times harder. Besides, I see noopening for him except what the good brothers offer, which he would hateworst of all."
So he kept the tales of his aches and weakness to himself as much as hecould, though it cost him not a little to avoid Friar Luke's reproachfuleye when he came in from the garden with his herbs; and, armed with aletter from the prior--written in Latin on a strip of vellum--to thehead of the Franciscans in Exeter, and accompanied to the water's edgeby several of the brethren, and a hospitable store of provisions withwhich they insisted on supplying them, the little party and their geargot safely on board the vessel, and would go down the river by the nexttide. Little Moll and her mother were there, which made it seem morefriendly to poor Hugh, who looked about him with dismay, and had had allpossible mischances put before him by the friars, who thought Bassett'saction nothing less than flying in the face of Providence.
Still, when the farewells had all been spoken, the cumbersome anchordragged out of the mud, and the great square sail with its sprawlingcentre device rigged up, they went merrily down the river. It wasgetting towards the middle of October, and the great buildings ofLondon, the Abbey of Westminster, the Church of the Templars, the Gothicspire of St Paul's, the Tower, and various beautiful conventualbuildings, stood, mostly surrounded by fine trees, in all the glory ofautumnal gold and red. The lesser buildings--the very hovels--werepicturesque, the river ran clear and strong, the vessels flaunted brightsails, colour was everywhere, and the soft blue mists but made a fairbackground for the scene.
Stephen Bassett stood watching, with a feeling that it was for the lasttime, when Andrew the ship-master joined him.
"A fair prospect," said the carver.
"Ay, though I love my red Devon hills better. But, tell me, master, isit true, as thy boy relates, that you met King Edward yesterday andspoke with him?"
"I said not much, I had no breath left in my body," said Stephen,smiling; "but it is true that the king spoke to us, chiefly to Hugh, andwas very gracious."
"To think of that!" said the sailor, staring. He walked away, but afterthis it was evident that his respect for his passengers was mightilyincreased, and he seldom came near Stephen without putting some questionas to how the king looked and spoke, while Hugh had the same to answerfrom them all--more, indeed, since he never tired of the subject, andhis pride in it was immense. His father had sewn his gold piece intothe lining of his vest; Hugh never intended to spend it, it was for"remembrance," as he was never tired of telling his father; and Stephenused laughingly to inquire whether Hugh had begun to persuade himselfthat he had been the hero of some courageous adventure, for reward ofwhich the king had bestowed the token upon him? The boy used to reddenat this, for there was a certain truth in the jest, and finding himselflistened to with such interest by the sailors was like to turn his head.
Fortunately, as usual, there was a depreciating element. The youngeston board was a round-shouldered somewhat misshapen lad of seventeen,ill-favoured in temper as well as face, unpopular among his mates,except for one gift, that of storytelling. He could relate or inventtales with amazing ease, and on days when there was an idle calm themen, who at other times knocked him about roughly, would listenspell-bound for hours. This was his moment of glory.
But on this voyage his power seemed gone. The real explanation was verysimple: the wind had shifted so as to follow them favourably, they hadgot safely round the dangerous Goodwins, and swept down the Channel pastDover, its castle and old British church standing out sharply above thewhite cliffs, while the setting sun shone like fire on the great sail ofthe vessel. They cast anchor in the first convenient creek; thisrequired care and labour with the oars to avoid shoals, and the men weretoo sleepy afterwards to listen to stories. So it went on; the breezeblew freshly from the east, Stephen, crouched under what shelter thestern could afford, shivered, but Andrew the master rubbed his hands,and there was no slackening sail or delay.
This was really the reason why the sailors would not listen to the boyJakes, but he chose to lay it to Hugh's charge.
"Young fool," he muttered, "always boasting, and telling about the king,I wonder they hearken!"
Such spite as he could work he was not slow to show. Many roughpractical jokes he played, which Stephen counselled his boy to receivegood-humouredly. But Hugh was set up with his Ludgate Hill adventureand the notice it had brought him, so that it made him mad to be jeeredat for feeling sea-sick, or tripped up over ropes, or brought to theground when he imagined himself to be sitting on something solid. Jakeswas afraid of Agrippa, never having seen a monkey before, and fullysharing the idea that here was something uncanny, which was quite ableto revenge itself if any harm was attempted. Jakes, therefore, let himalone, and even preferred to play his malicious jokes upon Hugh when themonkey had climbed the ropes and was out of reach and sight.
The voyage
had on the whole been a success, and the _Queen Maud_ was atlength coasting along under the white cliffs of Dorsetshire, with thered ones of Devon lying rich and soft against a blue grey sky beforethem, and the sea leaping and whitening under the easterly wind.
"Strange that it should blow so long at this season," said the master,standing by Bassett and looking forwards.
"If it goes on, we may get in to-morrow night?"
"Ay, if it doesn't freshen into a gale, which the saints forbid! I mindnot a gale in my teeth, but rocks before and the wind driving behind iswhat I mislike. Methinks, master," he added, abruptly, "it will be wellfor you to get to your journey's end."
"I have a longer before me," said Stephen, with a smile.
"Ay, to