block, waiting to be some day carved intoshape. Gervase, also, was fired into enthusiasm when he spoke of them,and if Gervase, then yet more Hugh. Much of his handiwork was alreadyto be found in the Cathedral, but this was of more importance, and therewas even talk of the guild admitting into their number a skilled workmanfrom France, famous for his skill in stone carving.
One day, in the June of 1302, master and apprentice were standing in thechoir, Hugh having just come down from work on the triforium.
"I find my eye ever running over those blocks," said Elyas with a smile,"and picturing them as they might look, finished. To-day, at any rate,I have brought one question to an end."
"What, goodman?"
"I shall be offered my choice of which to work upon myself."
"Ay?" said Hugh eagerly.
"I shall choose that," he said, pointing to one about half-way betweenthe entrance of the choir and the spot where it was designed that thebishop's seat should be. "There is something friendly and inviting inthat pillar, it fits in with my design. Thou, Hugh, must take whicheverthey offer thee."
"If they will accept me at all!"
"I think so," said Elyas gravely. "'Tis true thy lack of years isagainst thee, but there is no other hindrance, and I believe they willtrust me in the matter. How old art thou now, Hugh?"
"Just seventeen, sir."
"Already? But, yes, it must be so. It is all but six years since Istumbled upon thee in the street, a little fellow, no older than ourJoan is now. Much has happened in the kingdom since then, but here thetime has flown peacefully."
Much, indeed, had happened to weight the last years of the reign of thegreat king. The second war in Scotland was over; Edward had marriedagain, the Princess Margaret of France being his chosen wife.Parliaments had by his efforts become more frequent and more important,and the parliament of Lincoln, in 1301, marked an era in representativegovernment, when one hundred and thirty seven cities and boroughs sentup representatives. Archbishop Winchelsey was still trying to enforcethe papal supremacy, which Edward ever resisted, and certain disaffectednobles joined the archbishop. The king dealt with the two principalconspirators, Norfolk and Hereford, both firmly and leniently.Winchelsey he would not himself judge, but his ambassador placed thematter in the hands of the pontiff, who immediately cited the archbishopto Rome, to answer for his conduct. William Thorn, a monk ofCanterbury, thus describes the next scene: "When the archbishop knewthat he was thus cited, he went to the king to ask for permission tocross the sea. And when the king heard of his coming, he ordered thedoors of his presence chamber to be thrown open, that all who wishedmight enter, and hear the words which he should address to him. Andhaving heard the archbishop, he thus replied to him:--`The permission tocross the sea which you ask of us we willingly grant you--but permissionto return grant we none:--bearing in mind your treachery, and thetreason which at our parliament at Lincoln you plotted against us;--whereof a letter under your seal is witness, and plainly testifiesagainst you. We leave it to the pope to avenge our wrongs; and as youhave deserved, so shall he recompense you. But from our favour andmercy, which you ask, we utterly exclude you; because merciless you haveyourself been, and therefore deserve not to obtain mercy.' And so wepart with Winchelsey." [_The Greatest of all the Plantagenets_.]
At Exeter, however, as Gervase said, the time had passed peaceably. Twoburgesses had indeed with much pain and trouble journeyed all the way toLincoln, and came back with marvellous stories of the magnificence ofthe barons, the crowds of retainers, the quantity of provisionssupplied, and the deliciousness of sea-wolves, now tasted for the firsttime.
And, greatly to Hugh's delight, it appeared that Sir Thomas de Trafford,being there with his lady and children, applied to one of the Exeterburgesses for news of Hugh, and sent word he was glad to hear that hewas a good lad, and doing credit to his craft. And Dame Edithdespatched him a token, a rosary from the Holy Land, and the two sistersa gift of a mark to Agrippa, to buy him cakes.
On poor Agrippa the years had, perhaps, told the most hardly. Hesuffered much from the cold winters, and had lost a good deal of hisactivity. But on the whole he had a very happy life, with no fear ofill-usage from boy or man, for he was as well-known to all the citizensas any other dweller in the High Street, and was held to be under thespecial protection of the guild of which Elyas was warden.
That June in which Gervase and Hugh talked in the Cathedral found Wat inlow spirits. He had been out of his apprenticeship for nearly a year,but this was the first midsummer that had fallen since he had beenpromoted to what might be called man's estate, which promised to requiremore sacrifices to its dignity than he was at all willing to make. Onone point he had besought Master Gervase so piteously that the masterhad yielded, and allowed him to remain in the house. Anotherapprentice, one Hal Crocker, had been admitted, and of him Wat wasabsurdly jealous, so that Hugh sometimes had to interfere, though Halwas a malapert boy, very well able to take care of himself.
But Midsummer Eve had ever been a time of high revel for the prentices.
"And this year the bonfires will be bigger than ever," cried Wat in atragic voice. "Alack, why couldn't the master keep me on as aprentice?"
"What an oaf thou art!"
"I care not for being an oaf, but I hate to be a journeyman, and have nomerriment."
Poor Wat! He did not so much mind giving up what Hugh liked best in allthe day, the wreathing the doorways with fennel, green birch, andlilies, but to lose the joy of collecting the brushwood and piling it ingreat heaps, with much rivalry among the lads as to which was thehighest and best built--this was indeed doleful. The meadows werethronged with crowds, among which he wandered disconsolate, giving slyhelp when he could do so without loss of dignity, until to his great joyhe espied Gervase himself dragging a great bush to one of the heaps,upon which, with a shout of delight, Wat flung himself into a thornythicket, and emerged with as much as his arms could clasp.
Meanwhile other things besides fuel were being brought into the field bygoodwives and serving maids. Round each bonfire were placed tables onwhich supper was bountifully spread, and when it grew dusk and the fireswere lighted, all passers-by were invited to eat, besides the friends ofthe providers. The whole scene was extremely gay and brilliant, andbetween crackling of green things and chatter of many voices, the noisewas prodigious. Wat was by this time as happy as a king, running hereand there as freely as ever in prentice days, helping the smaller boys,seeing that there was no lack of provisions, and inexhaustible in hisgood humour.
Several of Master Gervase's friends were seated at his tables, and amongthem one Master Tirell, a member of the Goldsmiths' Guild, with his wifeand daughters. Hugh had noticed one of these as a very fair and daintylittle damsel in a pale blue kirtle, who seemed somewhat shy andfrightened, and kept very close to her mother's side. The merriment,indeed, grew somewhat boisterous as the darkness crept on, and thebonfires were constantly fed with fresh fuel, and certain of the youngerof the prentices amused themselves by dragging out burning brands, andpursuing each other with shrieks of excitement about the meadows.Foremost among these was Hal Crocker, who managed more than once to slipby Wat before the elder lad could seize him, and whose wild spirits ledhim to fling about the burning sticks which he pulled out, to the dangerof the bystanders. Suddenly, after one of these wild rushes there was acry of terror. Thomasin Tirell, the fair-haired girl already mentioned,started up and ran wildly forwards, stretching out her hands, andscreaming for help. Almost before the others could realise what hadhappened, Wat had sprung towards her, thrown her on the grass, andpressed out the fire with his hands. She was scarcely hurt at all,though sorely frightened, bursting into sobs and hiding her face on hermother's shoulder as soon as she was on her feet again, and tremblinglike a terrified bird. Her mother soothed her, while Master Tirellheartily thanked Wat, and Gervase looked angrily round in search of theculprit.
"Beshrew me, but it was bravely done, and thou art a gallant lad," saidMa
ster Tirell, a portly, red-faced man; "St Loys shall have a silverchain for this, for the poor silly maid might have been in a sorryplight had she run much farther, and the fire been fanned into flame.Shake hands--what, are thy hands so burned? See here, goodwife, here isroom for thy leechcraft."
It was in vain that Wat protested, he was forced to display his hands,at which Thomasin gazed, horror-struck, with tears running over her blueeyes, and hands clasped on her breast. In fact, Wat was suddenlyelevated into quite a new position, that of a hero, for the citizenspressed to the spot from all sides and heaped praises upon him.
"'Twas nothing!" he kept saying awkwardly, turning redder and redder ateach congratulation, and looking from side to side for a loophole ofescape. Then, as Hugh came rushing up with an eager "What