CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.
UNWELCOME PREFERMENT.
"I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now To be thy lord and master. Seek the king! That sun I pray may never set." Shakespeare.
Matters flowed on peaceably with Stephen and Dennet. The alderman sawno reason to repent his decision, hastily as it had been made. Stephengave himself no unseemly airs of presumption, but worked on as one whoseheart was in the business, and Dennet rewarded her father's trust by herdiscretion.
They were happily married in the summer of 1522, as soon as Stephen'sapprenticeship was over; and from that time, he was in the position ofthe master's son, with more and more devolving on him as Tibble becameincreasingly rheumatic every winter, and the alderman himself grew inflesh and in distaste to exertion.
Ambrose meanwhile prospered with his master, and could easily haveobtained some office in the law courts that would have enabled him tomake a home of his own; but if he had the least inclination to the loveof women, it was all merged in a silent distant worship of "sweet paleMargaret, rare pale Margaret," the like-minded daughter of Sir ThomasMore--an affection which was so entirely devotion at a shrine, that itsuffered no shock when Sir Thomas at length consented to his daughter'smarriage with William Roper.
Ambrose was the only person who ever received any communication fromGiles Headley. They were few and far between, but when Stephen Gardinerreturned from his embassy to Pope Clement the Seventh, who was then atOrvieto, one of the suite reported to Ambrose how astonished he had beenby being accosted in good English by one of the imperial men-at-arms,who were guarding his Holiness in actual though unconfessed captivity.This person had sent his commendations to Ambrose, and likewise alaborious bit of writing, which looked as if he were fast forgetting theart. It bade Ambrose inform his mother and all his friends and kin thathe was well and coming to preferment, and inclosed for Aldonza a smallmother-of-pearl cross blessed by the Pope. Giles added that he shouldbring her finer gifts by and by.
Seven years' constancy! It gave quite a respectability to Giles's love,and Aldonza was still ready and patient while waiting in attendance onher beloved mistress.
Ambrose lived on in the colony at Chelsea, sometimes attending hismaster, especially on diplomatic missions, and generally acting aslibrarian and foreign secretary, and obtaining some notice from Erasmuson the great scholar's visit to Chelsea. Under such guidance, Ambrose'sopinions had settled down a good deal; and he was a disappointment toTibble, whose views advanced proportionably as he worked less, and readand thought more. He so bitterly resented and deplored the burning ofTindal's Bible that there was constant fear that he might bring onhimself the same fate, especially as he treasured his own copy andstudied it constantly. The reform that Wolsey had intended to effectwhen he obtained the legatine authority seemed to fall into thebackground among political interests, and his efforts had as yet noresult save the suppression of some useless and ill-managed smallreligious houses to endow his magnificent project of York College atOxford, with a feeder at Ipswich, his native town.
He was waiting to obtain the papacy, when he would deal better with theabuses. Randall once asked him if he were not waiting to be King ofHeaven, when he could make root and branch work at once. Hal had neverso nearly incurred a flogging!
And in the meantime another influence was at work, an influence onlyheard of at first in whispered jests, which made loyal-hearted Dennetblush and look indignant, but which soon grew to sad earnest, as shecould not but avow, when she beheld the stately pomp of the twoCardinals, Wolsey and Campeggio, sweep up to the Blackfriars Convent tosit in judgment on the marriage of poor Queen Katharine.
"Out on them!" she said. "So many learned men to set their wits againstone poor woman!" And she heartily rejoiced when they came to nodecision, and the Pope was appealed to. As to understanding all theexplanations that Ambrose brought from time to time, she called themquirks and quiddities, and left them to her father and Tibble to discussin their chimney corners.
They had seen nothing of the jester for a good while, for he was withWolsey, who was attending the King on a progress through the midlandshires. When the Cardinal returned to open the law courts as Chancellorat the beginning of the autumn term, still Randall kept away from home,perhaps because he had forebodings that he could not bear to mention.
On the evening of that very day, London rang with the tidings that theGreat Seal had been taken from the Cardinal, and that he was underorders to yield up his noble mansion of York House and to retire toEsher; nay, it was reported that he was to be imprisoned in the Tower,and the next day the Thames was crowded with more than a thousand boatsfilled with people, expecting to see him landed at the Traitors' Gate,and much disappointed when his barge turned towards Putney.
In the afternoon, Ambrose came to the Dragon court.
Even as Stephen figured now as a handsome prosperous young freeman ofthe City, Ambrose looked well in the sober black apparel and neat ruffof a lawyer's clerk--clerk indeed to the first lawyer in the kingdom,for the news had spread before him that Sir Thomas More had become LordChancellor.
"Thou art come to bear us word of thy promotion--for thy master's isthine own," said the alderman heartily as he entered, shaking hands withhim. "Never was the Great Seal in better hands."
"'Tis true indeed, your worship," said Ambrose, "though it will lay aheavy charge on him, and divert him from much that he loveth betterstill. I came to ask of my sister Dennet a supper and a bed for thenight, as I have been on business for him, and can scarce get back toChelsea."
"And welcome," said Dennet. "Little Giles and Bess have been wearyingfor their uncle."
"I must not toy with them yet," said Ambrose, "I have a message for myaunt. Brother, wilt thou walk down to the Temple with me beforesupper?"
"Yea, and how is it with Master Randall?" asked Dennet. "Be he gonewith my Lord Cardinal?"
"He is made over to the King," said Ambrose briefly. "'Tis that which Imust tell his wife."
"Have with thee, then," said Stephen, linking his arm into that of hisbrother, for to be together was still as great an enjoyment to them asin Forest days. And on the way, Ambrose told what he had not beenwilling to utter in full assembly in the hall. He had been sent by hismaster with a letter of condolence to the fallen Cardinal, and likewiseof inquiry into some necessary business connected with thechancellorship. Wolsey had not time to answer before embarking, but asSir Thomas had vouched for the messenger's ability and trustiness, hehad bidden Ambrose come into his barge, and receive his instructions.Thus Ambrose had landed with him, just as a messenger came riding inhaste from the King, with a kind greeting, assuring his old friend thathis seeming disgrace was only for a time, and for political reasons, andsending him a ring in token thereof. The Cardinal had fallen on hisknees to receive the message, had snatched a gold chain and preciousrelic from his own neck to reward the messenger, and then, casting aboutfor some gift for the King, "by ill-luck," said Ambrose, "his eye litupon our uncle, and he instantly declared that he would bestow Patch, asthe Court chooses to call him, on the King. Well, as thou canst guess,Hal is hotly wroth at the treatment of his lord, whom he truly loveth;and he flung himself before the Cardinal, and besought that he might notbe sent from his good lord. But the Cardinal was only chafed at aughtthat gainsaid him; and all he did was to say he would have no more ado,he had made his gift. `Get thee gone,' he said, as if he had beenordering off a horse or dog. Well-a-day! it was hard to brook thesight, and Hal's blood was up. He flatly refused to go, saying he wasthe Cardinal's servant, but no villain nor serf to be thus made overwithout his own will."
"He was in the right there," returned Stephen, hotly.
"Yea, save that by playing the fool, poor fellow, he hath yielded up therights of a wise man. Any way, all he gat by it was that the Cardinalbade two of the yeomen lay hands on him and bear him off. Then therecame on him that reckless mood, which, I trow, banished him long agofrom the Forest, and brought him to the
motley. He fought with themwith all his force, and broke away once--as if that were of any use fora man in motley!--but he was bound at last and borne off by six of themto Windsor!"
"And thou stoodst by, and beheld it!" cried Stephen.
"Nay, what could I have done, save to make his plight worse, and forfeitall chance of yet speaking to him?"
"Thou wert ever cool! I wot that I could not have borne it," saidStephen.
They told the story to Perronel, who was on the whole elated by herhusband's promotion, declaring that the King loved him well, and that hewould soon come to his senses, though for a wise man, he certainly hadtoo much of the fool, even as he had too much of the wise man for thefool.
She became anxious, however, as the weeks passed by without hearing ofor from him, and at length Ambrose confessed his uneasiness to his kindmaster, and obtained leave to attend him on the next summons to Windsor.
Ambrose could not find his uncle at first. Randall, who used to pervadeYork House, and turn up everywhere when least expected, did not appearamong the superior serving-men and secretaries with whom his nephewranked, and of course there was no access to the state apartments. SirThomas, however, told Ambrose that he had seen Quipsome Hal among theother jesters, but that he seemed dull and dejected. Then Ambrosebeheld from a window a cruel sight, for the other fools, three innumber, were surrounding Hal, baiting and teasing him, triumphing overhim in fact, for having formerly outshone them, while he stood amongthem like a big dog worried by little curs, against whom he disdained touse his strength. Ambrose, unable to bear this, ran down stairs toendeavour to interfere; but before he could find his way to the spot, anarrival at the gate had attracted the tormentors, and Ambrose found hisuncle leaning against the wall alone. He looked thin and wan, the lightwas gone out of his black eyes, and his countenance was in sad contrastto his gay and absurd attire. He scarcely cheered up when his nephewspoke to him, though he was glad to hear of Perronel. He said he knewnot when he should see her again, for he had been unable to secure hissuit of ordinary garments, so that even if the King came to London, orif he could elude the other fools, he could not get out to visit her.He was no better than a prisoner here, he only marvelled that the Kingretained so wretched a jester, with so heavy a heart.
"Once thou wast in favour," said Ambrose. "Methought thou couldst haveavailed thyself of it to speak for the Lord Cardinal."
"What? A senseless cur whom he kicked from him," said Randall. "'Twasthat took all spirit from me, boy. I, who thought he loved me, as Ilove him to this day. To send me to be sport for his foes! I think ofit day and night, and I've not a gibe left under my belt!"
"Nay," said Ambrose, "it may have been that the Cardinal hoped to securea true friend at the King's ear, as well as to provide for thee."
"Had he but said so--"
"Nay, perchance he trusted to thy sharp wit."
A gleam came into Hal's eyes. "It might be so. Thou always wast atoward lad, Ambrose, and if so, I was cur and fool indeed to baulk him."
Therewith one of the other fools danced back exhibiting a silver crownthat had just been flung to him, mopping and mowing, and demanding whenPatch would have wit to gain the like. Whereto Hal replied by pointingto Ambrose and declaring that that gentleman had given him better thanfifty crowns. And that night, Sir Thomas told Ambrose that the Quipsomeone had recovered himself, had been more brilliant than ever and hadquite eclipsed the other fools.
On the next opportunity, Ambrose contrived to pack in his cloak-bag, thecap and loose garment in which his uncle was wont to cover his motley.The Court was still at Windsor; but nearly the whole of Sir Thomas'sstay elapsed without Ambrose being able to find his uncle. Wolsey hadbeen very ill, and the King had relented enough to send his ownphysician to attend him. Ambrose began to wonder if Hal could havefound any plea for rejoining his old master; but in the last hour of hisstay, he found Hal curled up listlessly on a window seat of a gallery,his head resting on his hand.
"Uncle, good uncle! At last! Thou art sick?"
"Sick at heart, lad," said Hal, looking up. "Yea, I took thy counsel.I plucked up a spirit, I made Harry laugh as of old, though my heartsmote me, as I thought how he was wont to be answered by my master. Ieven brooked to jest with the night-crow, as my own poor lord calledthis Nan Boleyn. And lo you now, when his Grace was touched at mylord's sickness, I durst say there was one sure elixir for such as he,to wit a gold Harry; and that a King's touch was a sovereign cure forother disorders than the King's evil. Harry smiled, and in ten minutesmore would have taken horse for Esher, had not Madam Nan claimed hisword to ride out hawking with her. And next, she sendeth me a warningby one of her pert maids, that I should be whipped, if I spoke to hisGrace of unfitting matters. My flesh could brook no more, and like aborn natural, I made answer that Nan Boleyn was no mistress of mine tobid me hold a tongue that had spoken sooth to her betters. Thereupon,what think you, boy? The grooms came and soundly flogged me foruncomely speech of my Lady Anne! I that was eighteen years with my LordCardinal, and none laid hand on me! Yea, I was beaten; and then shut upin a dog-hole for three days on bread and water, with none to speak to,but the other fools jeering at me like a rogue in a pillory."
Ambrose could hardly speak for hot grief and indignation, but he wrunghis uncle's hand, and whispered that he had hid the loose gown behindthe arras of his chamber, but he could do no more, for he was summonedto attend his master, and a servant further thrust in to say, "Concernyourself not for that rogue, sir, he hath been saucy, and must mend hismanners, or he will have worse."
"Away, kind sir," said Hal, "you can do the poor fool no further good!but only bring the pack about the ears of the mangy hound." And he sanga stave appropriated by a greater man than he--
"Then let the stricken deer go weep, The hart ungalled play."
The only hope that Ambrose or his good master could devise for poorRandall was that Sir Thomas should watch his opportunity and beg thefool from the King, who might part with him as a child gives away theonce coveted toy that has failed in its hands; but the request wouldneed circumspection, for all had already felt the change that had takenplace in the temper of the King since Henry had resolutely undertakenthat the wrong should be the right; and Ambrose could not but dread theeffect of desperation on a man whose nature had in it a vein ofimpatient recklessness.
It was after dinner, and Dennet, with her little boy and girl, was onthe steps dispensing the salt fish, broken bread, and pottage of theLenten meal to the daily troop who came for her alms, when, among them,she saw, somewhat to her alarm, a gipsy man, who was talking to littleGiles. The boy, a stout fellow of six, was astride on the balustrade,looking up eagerly into the face of the man, who began imitating thenote of a blackbird. Dennet, remembering the evil propensities of thegipsy race, called hastily to her little son to come down and return toher side; but little Giles was unwilling to move, and called to her, "Omother, come! He hath a bird-call!" In some perturbation lest the manmight be calling her bird away, Dennet descended the steps. She wasabout to utter a sharp rebuke, but Giles held out his hand imploringly,and she paused a moment to hear the sweet full note of the "ouzel cock,with orange tawny bill," closely imitated on a tiny bone whistle. "Hewill sell it to me for two farthings," cried the boy, "and teach me tosing on it like all the birds--"
"Yea, good mistress," said the gipsy, "I can whistle a tune that thelittle master, ay, and others, might be fain to hear."
Therewith, spite of the wild dress, Dennet knew the eyes and the voice.And perhaps the blackbird's note had awakened echoes in another mind,for she saw Stephen, in his working dress, come out to the door of theshop where he continued to do all the finer work which had formerlyfallen to Tibble's share.
She lifted her boy from his perch, and bade him take the stranger to hisfather, who would no doubt give him the whistle. And thus, havingwithout exciting attention, separated the fugitive from the rest of herpensioners, she made haste to dismiss them.
/> She was not surprised that little Giles came running back to her,producing unearthly notes on the instrument, and telling her that fatherhad taken the gipsy into his workshop, and said they would teach himbird's songs by and by.
"Steve, Steve," had been the first words uttered when the boy was out ofhearing, "hast thou a smith's apron and plenty of smut to bestow on me?None can tell what Harry's mood may be, when he finds I've given him theslip. That is the reason I durst not go to my poor dame."
"We will send to let her know. I thought I guessed what black ouzel'twas! I mind how thou didst make the like notes for us when we were nobigger than my Giles!"
"Thou hast a kind heart Stephen. Here! Is thy furnace hot enough tomake a speedy end of this same greasy gipsy doublet? I trust not thevarlet with whom I bartered it for my motley. And a fine bargain he hadof what I trust never to wear again to the end of my days. Make me asmith complete, Stephen, and then will I tell thee my story."
"We must call Kit into counsel, ere we can do that fully," said Stephen.
In a few minutes Hal Randall was, to all appearance, a very shabby andgrimy smith, and then he took breath to explain his anxiety and alarm.Once again, hearing that the Cardinal was to be exiled to York, he hadventured on a sorry jest about old friends and old wine being betterthan new; but the King, who had once been open to plain speaking, wasnow incensed, threatened and swore at him! Moreover, one of the otherfools had told him, in the way of boasting that he had heard MasterCromwell, formerly the Cardinal's secretary, informing the King thatthis rogue was no true "natural" at all, but was blessed, (or cursed),with as good an understanding as other folks, as was well known in theCardinal's household, and that he had no doubt been sent to serve as aspy, so that he was to be esteemed a dangerous person, and had best beput under ward.
Hal had not been able to discover whether Cromwell had communicated hisname, but he suspected that it might be known to that acute person, andhe could not tell whether his compeer spoke out of a sort of good-natured desire to warn him, or simply to triumph in his disgrace, andleer at him for being an impostor. At any rate, being now desperate, hecovered his parti-coloured raiment with the gown Ambrose had brought,made a perilous descent from a window in the twilight, scaled a wallwith the agility that seemed to have returned to him, and reachedWindsor Forest.
There, falling on a camp of gipsies, he had availed himself of oldexperiences in his wild Shirley days, and had obtained an exchange ofgarb, his handsome motley being really a prize to the wanderers. Thushe had been able to reach London; but he did not feel any confidencethat if he were pursued to the gipsy tent he would not be betrayed.
In this, his sagacity was not at fault, for he had scarcely made hisexplanation, when there was a knocking at the outer gate, and a demandto enter in the name of the King, and to see Alderman Sir Giles Headley.Several of the stout figures of the yeomen of the King's guard wereseen crossing the court, and Stephen, committing the charge of his uncleto Kit, threw off his apron, washed his face and went up to the hall,not very rapidly, for he suspected that since his father-in-law knewnothing of the arrival, he would best baffle the inquiries by sinceredenials.
And Dennet, with her sharp woman's wit, scenting danger, had whiskedherself and her children out of the hall at the first moment, and takenthem down to the kitchen, where modelling with a batch of dough occupiedboth of them.
Meantime the alderman flatly denied the presence of the jester, or theharbouring of the gipsy. He allowed that the jester was of kin to hisson-in-law, but the good man averred in all honesty that he knew noughtof any escape, and was absolutely certain that no such person was in thecourt. Then, as Stephen entered, doffing his cap to the King's officer,the alderman continued, "There, fair son, this is what these gentlemenhave come about. Thy kinsman, it seemeth, hath fled from Windsor, andhis Grace is mightily incensed. They say he changed clothes with agipsy, and was traced hither this morn, but I have told them the thingis impossible."
"Will the gentlemen search?" asked Stephen.
The gentlemen did search, but they only saw the smiths in full work; andin Smallbones' forge, there was a roaring glowing furnace, with a bare-armed fellow feeding it with coals, so that it fairly scorched them, andgave them double relish for the good wine and beer that was put out onthe table to do honour to them.
Stephen had just with all civility seen them off the premises whenPerronel came sobbing into the court. They had visited her first, forCromwell had evidently known of Randall's haunts; they had turned herlittle house upside down, and had threatened her hotly in case sheharboured a disloyal spy, who deserved hanging. She came to consultStephen, for the notion of her husband wandering about, as a sort ofoutlaw, was almost as terrible as the threat of his being hanged.
Stephen beckoned her to a store-room full of gaunt figures of armourupon blocks, and there brought up to her his extremely grimy new hand!
There was much gladness between them, but the future had to beconsidered. Perronel had a little hoard, the amount of which she wastoo shrewd to name to any one, even her husband, but she considered itsufficient to enable him to fulfil the cherished scheme of his life, ofretiring to some small farm near his old home, and she was for settingoff at once. But Harry Randall declared that he could not go withouthaving offered his services to his old master. He had heard of his"good lord" as sick, sad, and deserted by those whom he had cherished,and the faithful heart was so true in its loyalty that no persuasioncould prevail in making it turn south.
"Nay," said the wife, "did he not cast thee off himself, and serve theelike one of his dogs! How canst thou be bound to him?"
"There's the rub!" sighed Hal. "He sent me to the King deeming that heshould have one full of faithful love to speak a word on his behalf, andI, brutish oaf as I was, must needs take it amiss, and sulk and mopetill the occasion was past, and that viper Cromwell was there to back upthe woman Boleyn and poison his Grace's ear."
"As if a man must not have a spirit to be angered by such treatment."
"Thou forgettest, good wife. No man, but a fool, and to be entreated assuch! Be that as it may, to York I must. I have eaten of my lord'sbread too many years, and had too much kindness from him in the days ofhis glory, to seek mine own ease now in his adversity. Thou wouldsthave a poor bargain of me when my heart is away."
Perronel saw that thus it would be, and that this was one of the pointson which, to her mind, her husband was more than half a veritable foolafter all.
There had long been a promise that Stephen should, in some time of slackemployment make a visit to his old comrade, Edmund Burgess, at York; andas some new tools and patterns had to be conveyed thither, a suddenresolution was come to, in family conclave, that Stephen himself shouldconvey them, taking his uncle with him as a serving-man, to attend tothe horses. The alderman gave full consent, he had always wishedStephen to see York, while he himself with Tibble Steelman, was able toattend to the business; and while he pronounced Randall to have a heartof gold, well worth guarding, he still was glad when the risk was overof the King's hearing that the runaway jester was harboured at theDragon. Dennet did not like the journey for her husband, for to hermind it was perilous, but she had had a warm affection for his uncleever since their expedition to Richmond together, and she did her bestto reconcile the murmuring and wounded Perronel by praises of Randall, atrue and noble heart; and that as to setting her aside for the Cardinal,who had heeded him so little, such faithfulness only made her moresecure of his true-heartedness towards her. Perronel was moreover tobreak up her business, dispose of her house, and await her husband'sreturn at the Dragon.
Stephen came back after a happy month with his friend, stored withwondrous tales and descriptions which would last the children for amonth. He had seen his uncle present himself to the Cardinal at CawoodCastle. It had been a touching meeting. Hal could hardly restrain histears when he saw how Wolsey's sturdy form had wasted, and his roundruddy cheeks had fallen away, while the attitude in
which he sat in hischair was listless and weary, though he fitfully exerted himself withhis old vigour.
Hal on his side, in the dark plain dress of a citizen, was hardlyrecognisable, for not only had he likewise grown thinner, and his browncheeks more hollow, but his hair had become almost white during hismiserable weeks at Windsor, though he was not much over forty years old.
He came up the last of a number who presented themselves for theArchiepiscopal blessing, as Wolsey sat under a large tree in CawoodPark. Wolsey gave it with his raised fingers, without special heed, buttherewith Hal threw himself on the ground, kissed his feet, and cried,"My lord, my dear lord, your pardon."
"What hast done, fellow? Speak!" said the Cardinal. "Grovel not thus.We will be merciful."
"Ah! my lord," said Randall, lifting himself up, but with clasped handsand tearful eyes, "I did not serve you as I ought with the King, but ifyou will forgive me and take me back--"
"How now? How couldst thou serve me? What!"--as Hal made a familiargesture--"thou art not the poor fool, Quipsome Patch? How comest thouhere? Methought I had provided well for thee in making thee over to theKing."
"Ah! my lord, I was fool, fool indeed, but all my jests failed me. Howcould I make sport for your enemies?"
"And thou hast come, thou hast left the King to follow my fallenfortunes?" said Wolsey. "My poor boy, he who is sitting in sackclothand ashes needs no jester."
"Nay, my lord, nor can I find one jest to break! Would you but let mebe your meanest horse-boy, your scullion!" Hal's voice was cut short bytears as the Cardinal abandoned to him one hand. The other was dryingeyes that seldom wept.
"My faithful Hal!" he said, "this is love indeed!"
And Stephen ere he came away had seen his uncle fully established, as arational creature, and by his true name, as one of the personalattendants on the Cardinal's bed-chamber, and treated with the affectionhe well deserved. Wolsey had really seemed cheered by his affection,and was devoting himself to the care of his hitherto neglected and evenunvisited diocese, in a way that delighted the hearts of theYorkshiremen.
The first idea was that Perronel should join her husband at York, butsafe modes of travelling were not easy to be found, and before anysatisfactory escort offered, there were rumours that made it prudent todelay. As autumn advanced, it was known that the Earl of Northumberlandhad been sent to attach the Cardinal of High Treason. Then ensued otherreports that the great Cardinal had sunk and died on his way to Londonfor trial; and at last, one dark winter evening, a sorrowful manstumbled up the steps of the Dragon, and as he came into the brightlight of the fire, and Perronel sprang to meet him, he sank into a chairand wept aloud.
He had been one of those who had lifted the brokenhearted Wolsey fromhis mule in the cloister of Leicester Abbey, he had carried him to hisbed, watched over him, and supported him, as the Abbot of Leicester gavehim the last Sacraments. He had heard and treasured up those mournfulwords which are Wolsey's chief legacy to the world, "Had I but served myGod, as I have served my king, He would not have forsaken me in my oldage." For himself, he had the dying man's blessing, and assurance thatnothing had so much availed to cheer in these sad hours as his faithfullove.
Now, Perronel might do what she would with him--he cared not.
And what she did was to set forth with him for Hampshire, on a pair ofstout mules with a strong serving-man behind them.