>J I U VHWtt SO =■? LU c? «*» %I3AJN( I/O" I is .lif.HRBi 1(3 OSWALD BARNES REMOVES THE SPURRIER'S SIGN. HUBERT ELLIS. §1 Storu of KING RICHARD'S DATS THE SECOND. LONDON: s o. B E ET ON, _' l s s T R \ \ I), W C. (ir.N DOOBfl FROM TEMPLE isaii.) HUBERT ELLIS; % Maw of (VV OV KING RICHARD'S DATS THE SECOND. BY FRANCIS DAVE N ANT, AUTHOR OF "RALPH DE WALDEN," &c. LONDON: WARD, LOCK, AND TYLER. WAEWICK HOUSE, FATEENOSTER ROW. PR PEEEACE. Some time ago, when my friend, Mr. Beeton, invited me to write for the " Boy's Own Magazine " a story " such as poor Edgar" used to write, I hesitated between a desire to accept the offer of an occupation so thoroughly congenial to me, and doubt as to my ability to undertake it. There were other considerations, also, to make me pause. Foremost among them was the natural shrinking from step- ping into a place which Death had made vacant — a shrinking especially strong in this case, where "poor Edgar's" death had been as unexpected as it was mourned. For all who knew him respected him and liked him — knew him for ;i kind-hearted, good fellow, as well as a most painstaking, conscientious discharger of whatsoever his hand found to do ; a well-read man, but no pedant ; a lover of his work, and one who felt with all his heart the chivalrous spirit of the men whose deeds he delighted to chronicle. To come after such a man was no light thing, and it was not modesty, but a serious apprehension of the position, that made me hesitate about filling the empty seat. iv PEEFACE. The doubt as to whether, apart from this, my shoulders were broad enough to wear the mantle of him who had won a name in the minds of thousands of English lads, by his attractive stories attractively told, and had made friends of them through the medium of his pen, swayed my mind, and whispered me to decline ; but the further thought that this might act as a spur, more strongly perhaps than a deterrent, backed up as it was by the kind encouragement which my friend Mr. Beeton gave, determined me to accept the offer that was made. I found the work, as I anticipated, a most congenial one, and with the abundant aid which was afforded me in the shape of rich materials for history, by the kindness of several friends, I buckled to my work with a will, and the result is before my readers. While fully aware of imperfections which may be found on reviewing the book, I am not without hope that in the main it will be credited with accuracy and some interest. No pains have been spared in the discharge of my duty, and I trust to find, in the approval of my readers, a justification for the course which Mr. Beeton adopted when he asked me to write a story, "such as poor Edgar" used to write. Erancis Davenant. Temple, 1866. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. HOW JOnN WYCLIF APPEARED BEFORE BISHOP COURTNEY IN ST. PAUL'S 1 II. HOW THE DTJKE OF LANCASTER WENT TO DINE WITH JOHN OF YPRE8 15 HI. MY FATHER — BROOKLET — MASTER PHILPOT's HOUSE NEAR THE GARLAND .... 22 IV. A SUPPER PARTY AT MASTER PHILPOT'S . . 31 V. OSWALD BARNES BECOMES MY GOOD FRIEND . 41 VI. THE GAMES IN SMITIIFIELD, AND HOW SIR WALTER nOOD PUT AN END TO THEM .... 47 VII. HOW SIR WALTER HOOD ESCAPED THE FURY OF THE LONDONERS — ALICE PHILPOT ... 57 VIII. DEATH OF EDWARD III. — JOHN PHILPOT VISITS PRINCE RICHARD AT KENNINGTCN, AND MAKES AN ADDRESS TO HIM — JOHN OF GAUNT . . G2 IX. THE ABBOT OF BATTLE SENDS WILLIAM ARCHDALE TO SAY HOW THE TOWN OF RYE HAD BEEN BURNED BY THE FRENCH — WILL ARCHDALE . 70 X. KING RICHARD IS CROWNED AT WESTMINSTER — WHAT WE SAW AT TnE CORONATION . . 77 XI. WE MEET WITH AN ADVENTURE, AND HAVE TO VISIT LUDGATE 85 VI CONTENTS. CITAPTER TAG XII. WE ARE RELEASED, BUT OUR FRIENDS THINK IT DESIRABLE WE SHOULD HATE CHANGE OE AIR — BARNES AND I ACCOMPANY ARCHDALE TO HASTINGS 92 XIII. THE ABBOT OE BATTLE 99 XIV. THE ABBOT TAKES US TO FLY HIS NEW HAWKS — A MESSAGE FROM WINCHELSEA . . . 104 XV. THE MEN OF RYE FETCH THEIR BELLS OUT OF NORMANDY 115 XVI. WE GET A LECTURE, BUT DO NOT THINK THE ABBOT IS REALLY ANGRY .... 129 XVII. OSWALD BARNES AND I LEAVE BATTLE ABBEY AND GO BACK TO LONDON — GILBERT d'aRCY . . 134 XVIII. I GIVE ALICE WHAT I TOOK FOR HER AT PETER'S HAVEN 139 XIX. JOHN PHILPOT HAS " A FEW WORDS " WITH ME, AND I PREPARE TO LEAVE LONDON AGAIN — OSWALD BARNES HAS LEAVE TO JOIN US . 144 XX. OUR SHIPS DROP DOWN THE THAMES AND ARRIVE AT THE NORE 150 XXI. HOW WE DISCOVERED JOnN MERCER THE SCOT, AND WHAT CAME OF THE DISCOVERY — A FIGHT AT SEA 156 XXII. WE COME BACK NOT EMPTY-HANDED, AND ARE WELL RECEIVED BY THE PEOPLE ; BUT MASTER PHILPOT IS SENT FOR TO THE COUNCIL . . 167 XXIII. THE COUNCIL IN THE TOWER — I AM INTRODUCED TO SIR HUGH CALVERLEY, WHO PROMISES TO TAKE ME NEXT TIME HE GOES TO SEA . . 174 XXIV. THE FALCON OF FOWEY 180 XXV. JOHN WYCLIF IN TROUBLE AGAIN — HOW HE AP- PEARED BEFORE THE SYNOD AT LAMBETH, AND HOW THE LONDONERS PUT AN END TO THE SITTING 1SS CONTENTS. VI) CHAPTER XXVI. XXVII. XXVIII. XXIX. XXXI. XXXII. XXXIII. XX XIV. XXXV. XXXVI. \ XXVII. XXXVIII. scxxrx. SIR HUGH CALVERLEY IS MADE ADMIRAL OP THE SEAS — WE GET ORDERS TO SAIL, AND 1 ONLY HALE LIKE IT HOW AVE BEAT THE SPANISH SHIPS OEE THE COAST OE BRITTANY, AND HOW THE COG GREENWICH TOOK THE GROUND IN ST. MALO HARBOUR — SIR HUGH CALVERLEY" . HOW SIR JOHN ARUNDEL SAILED FOR BRITTANY, AND HOW VENGEANCE OVERTOOK HIM WHEN HE GOT TO SEA SIR HUGH CALVERLEY'S EXPEDITION IN AID OF THE DUKE OP BRITTANY .... THE EXPEDITION CROSSES TO FRANCE — SIEGE OP FOLANT CASTLE THE ATTACK ON TROYES — DEATH OF SIR WALTER HOOD — A FRENCH PRISON .... OUR ESCAPE EROM TROYES .... AVHY THE COMMONS OF ENGLAND WERE DIS- SATISFIED WITH THE LORDS .... THE NEW TEMPLE THE FRIAR'S SERMON AT PAUL'S CROSS — A RIOT — THE COMMONS COMPLAIN OF THE CLERGY. OLD PHILIP ALBERT — ABTHUB TBEM IN RIDES WITH ME FROM SHEEN ..... THOMAS DE BAMPTON's MISSION TO ESSEX — ARCHDALE'S ESCAPE ..... SIR SIMON BURLEV CLAIMS ROBERT DELL AS HIS VILLEIN — AND JOHN THE TILER OF DART- FORD RESENTS AN INSULT TO HIS DAUGHTER PAG I 19^ THE RISING OF THE COMMONS BESIEGES ROCHESTER CASTLE ■WAT TYLER 201 213 224 282 242 250 259 266 27! 284 292 299 310 Vlll CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE XL. THE MARCH TO BLACKHEATH — AN AFFRONT TO THE PRINCESS OF WALES — ANXIETY OF THE LONDON- ERS — SIR JOHN NEWTON SENT ON A MISSION . 325 XLI. THE TOWER OF LONDON IN 1381 — SIR JOHN NEW- TON'S VISIT — THE KING PROMISES TO MEET HIS FAITHFUL COMMONS 333 XLIT. THE KING'S INTERVIEW WITH THE COMMONS — " ON TO LONDON ! " — THE CITY THREATENED WITH A SIEGE — A TAIN ATTEMPT TO REMOTE ALICE TO THE CONVENT AT SHEEN — PREPARATIONS FOR DEFENCE 342 XLIII. THE PRIOR OF ST. JOHN SENDS A MESSAGE INTO THE CITY — BURNING OF THE SAVOY — SACK OF THE TEMPLE ....... 353 XLIV. A COUNCIL AT WILLIAM WALWORTH S — SACK OF THE TOWER SMITHFIELD WAT THE TILER MEETS HIS REWARD 363 XLV. SIR WALTER ATTE LEE TRIES PACIFIC MEASURES — KING RICHARD COMES TO ST. ALBAN'S — THE DEATH OF JOHN BALL, ST. MARY PRIEST OF YORK 389 XLVI. SIR JOHN PHILPOT DIES, AND LEAVES A GREAT CHARGE TO ME 399 HITBEET ELLIS: A STORY OF KING RICHARD'S DAYS THE SECOND. IX TIM) D U CTOET. WBITING the follow- ing pages, which con- tain the memoirs or personal history of one who actually lived in the time of Edward III. and Eichard II., and who is not a mere creature of the imagi- nation, there have been several difficulties to en- counter. There has been the difficulty of telling :; story, essentially old, in language sufficiently ileru to make it in- telligible to readers of the present day. The language in which the memoirs themselves, or the materials from which they have been derived, are written, is the same as that in which the poet iffrey Chaucer wrote his poems; and a glance at his works will serve to show that, had this story been written in his language, very few indeed would have been able to read it. i 2 HUBERT ELLIS. When he wrote, the English language as now spoken was only being formed. The words which we now speak of as derived from the Saxon — and there are as many as sixty-five out of every hundred English words which are so derived — were then written more like the Saxon derivatives themselves ; indeed, they were pure Saxon ; and though, after some painstaking and study, we may recognise in them the old forms of modern words, it does require that painstaking and acquaintance with the old language to enable us to make them out. Thus " carpettis," " enmyes," " sikerlye," " inowgh," " togedre," " idoo," are now written "carpets," "enemies," "surely," "enough," "together," "done." We should not at first sight, perhaps, understand this ; and if all the words were spelt in the old way, we might as well be set to read so much double Dutch, unless we had gone through a course of instruction to make us acquainted with them. Then there are many words which have, as it were, slipped out of the language — slipped through— which were current and perfectly correct in Chaucer's time, such as "shent" (ruined), "selcouthe" (strange), "quentise" (cunning), "reede" (counsel): now we should want a dictionaiy to find out what they meant. There was also a very large admixture of Erench or Norman words, since become obsolete. It was not until Edward III.'s time that English as a language could be said to exist. Before his reign the peasants had spoken a dialect of Saxon and Celtic, and the nobles and lords of the soil spoke Erench. Even in his reign the possession of the Erench language was considered to be one of the marks of a gentleman. " Jack would be a gentleman if he could speak Erench " was a saying common enough at the time ; the law was written and administered in French, excepting in some of the quite minor courts ; Erench was the language spoken at court ; so that it is not surprising to find in the writings of a man like Chaucer a large number of Frenchified words, which, like some of their Saxon companions, have fallen into desuetude, or have so far changed their old dress for a modern garb that they are altogether different-looking from what they were. Edmund Spenser, who wrote in Queen Elizabeth's time, himself using a INTEODUCTOEY. 3 vocabulary not always easy to make out, speaks of Chaucer as the "well of English undefiled" — and so undoubtedly he was; but then the undefiled English that he wrote was the English of the period, a language which, if this story had been written in it, would have made the acts of the people commemorated sealed to those to whom the modern form makes them accessible. This difficulty, therefore, in respect of the mere language, has had to be overcome, and the writer is not without hope that he has succeeded. A few words, perhaps, which would have been spoiled by conversion, have been suffered to remain ; but these are accompanied, when they occur, by a modern equivalent. There has been another difficulty which the writer is not without hope that he has surmounted, and that is the difficulty of investing a story laid in such remote times as those of Eichard IT. with sufficient attractions to make it interesting. There is a general sort of interest lent by historical associations, and by speaking of that of which all of us know something, more or less, by having heard and read about it in our school time ; but this interest more properly belongs to the books of history them- selves ; and in a story founded on materials drawn from them, something more particular is needed to fix the attention. The magnetic influence which draws one to the perusal of Eroissart or Monstrelet, Thomas \\ r alsingham or Stowe, is no longer felt when tried upon a story created out of them. It lias, therefore, been necessary to show the persons written about in much the same sort of light as that in which they really appeared. The writer has made them appear in the performance of the acts of daily life, instead of merely relating their historical deeds as facts; and while the greatest pains have been taken to ensure accuracy in mentioning events purely historical, and trouble has not been spared to allow of the introduction of facts not narrated in the general histories, it has been endeavoured to make the description as lifelike as possible, and to make the men long dead speak in their own persons. An additional value is given to the story in the fact that all the incidents arc true, and most of the characters had actual 4 HUBEKT ELLIS. existence. Philpot, "Walworth, Mercer, Sir Hugh Calverley, the noblemen mentioned by name, Wyclif, and the others, are men whose histories survive. They are to be found enshrined in the chronicles of the times ; and if the writer has succeeded in brushing off some of the cobwebs which surrounded them, bring- ing them out into the light, and clothing them with so much personal interest as shall not only make the following story a pleasant one, but also beget a desire in the readers of it to search further for themselves, he will be amply compensated for the trouble he has been at. Some of the key mottoes to the chapters will serve to give an idea of the English language spoken at the time. In order to anticipate by an explanation any question that may arise upon the wording of the second part of the title to this story — "A Story of King Richard's Days the Second" — it may be as well to state that the editor has authority for wording it as he has done, in the title of one of Wyclif 's books, written about the date at which this story begins. The book is called " Wyck- liffe's "Wycket, whyche he made in Kyng Ricard's day's the second. A verye brefe diffinition of the wordes Hoc est corpus meum." The " "Wycket" was first printed by " Wylljam Tyndail at Norenburch (Nuremberg), 1546." CHAPTER I. how john wyclif appeared before bishop courtney in st. Paul's. " I siuoll a lollor (Lollavd) in the wind, quod he." CnAUCEE— The Shipman's Talc. HE morning of the 19th of February, 1377, was beautifully bright. The birds were singing merrily, and the trees seemed to rejoice with them, as I pushed back the lattice of my bed-room window and looked forth from East Cheap upon the silver Thames. I was never a lie-a-bed, but this morning I was up and dressed by half-past four, in anticipation of the demand which I knew would be made for my services. My kind and good master, of whom much will be said later, had bidden me attend him as early as might be with the scores of the merchandise he was sending to Master Aldane, at Calais, and to receive his orders about other matters which required despatch, because it behoved him to repair betimes to St. Paul's Church, to give what countenance he might to his dear friend Master "Wyclif, who was there to appear before the Bishop of London, and answer the charges which were to be made against him. For a kind and good man too much can never be done ; and though all his lifetime I strove to do my best to serve him, I have often regretted J had not done more. .Now that he is gone whither I pray to follow him, and is beyond the reach or the need of service, I reproach myself with the omission of a hundred little things V might have done for him to make his way the smoother while he remained with us. G HUBERT ELLIS. On this day it was my good fortune to please him by the fulfil- ment of all that he required. We settled our business before six o'clock had chimed, and by half-past seven I was returning from on board our new caraek, The Leopard, which lay at anchor off Billingsgate, and had now got her final orders to make all haste to Calais, in time for the grand market to be held in ten days' time. By eight o'clock my master, Master Nicholas Twiford, of Maiden Lane, and Richard Lions, the lapidary, of Dowgate, were afoot and ready to start. Leaving Philpot House, we went through Fenchurch Street, crossed the Langbourne which runs adown it towards the river, and so out on to Cornhill. Here we were joined by one out of the many hundreds then streaming westwards, who will make a figure in this history, my master's tried and trusty friend, Master William Walworth. " Well met and good morrow, Master Philpot," said Walworth, coming up, and shaking my master's hand in an iron grasp, as if he meant to make him feel the heartiness he felt himself. " Are you going on yonder ? " " As far as to Paul's," said Philpot, " to see what may be seen of our good friend Wyclif, who, Master Twiford tells me, will be hard pressed by charges which are none of the lightest." "Ay, and sure 'tis so," added Twiford. "I was told but yes- terday that he denies the miracle of the Holy Mass, and holds- other doctrines no less displeasing to their reverences the clergy." " For all that he may teach against those drones of monks," waid Walworth, " I hold him none the worse. Those fellows have become a clog upon us that must be shaken off somehow, and soon, too. I wonder, for my part, that the bishop should coun- tenance them, for they are a sore hindrance to the parish priests, and set themselves up for their betters. They are scant observers of the authority of the bishops ; and were it not for the hold the bishops have at Borne, these Jack priests would have it all their own way with them. But what the mischief makes my lord Duke of Lancaster so forward to aid our friend Wyclif ? He was not wont to favour resistance to authority, of whatever sort it might be." IN WEST CHEAP. 7 <: Ay, that 's the point," interposed Philpot : " the duke may love Wyclif much, but he hates Bishop Courtney more. The bishop is a man that will not yield to him as most men will — one that boasts as good blood as a Plantagenet, that knows his duty and stands to it, and checks to the utmost the encroachments which the duke would make upon the king's power. I doubt the duke means so much to help Wyclif as to rouse the people's sympathy on his behalf against the bishop ; but let him beware what he does. The Londoners won't see my lord bishop come to harm." " The Bishop of Winchester is to be one of the judges, men say — William Wykeham," said Twiford. " He 's not to the duke's taste either," added Philpot, some- what mysteriously ; " but I observe he is always careful not to quarrel with him." "Has the bishop some secret power over him, think you?" said Walworth. " Nay, I cannot tell," answered Philpot ; " but this I know, that Master Wykeham was confessor to the king's late queen, and shrove her on her death-bed, and I have heard from those who should know, that " What it was that my master was told, which might so much concern the Duke of Lancaster, did not then appear, for having walked by this time to the bottom of West Cheap, we found our- selves in the crowd of people who were nocking to the church ; and just as my master was speaking, the crowd had to make way for a person of consequence, whose servants began pushing and elbowing their way in a manner which called forth many a hard nam3 for them from the citizens. " Ptoom for my lord of Lancaster — give way there ! " shouted the stalwart Englishman who was in comma ml of the advanced part of the cortege. " Let him wait, Master Serving-man, till we let him pass," sung : to know the secret, not loving the bishop the more therefore, i <-. but a canard of the time, and quite untrue. 12 HUBEET ELLIS. citizens, did not hear what the bishop said to him ; but the Duke of Lancaster heard and answered for him : " He is earl marshal, and shall exercise his authority whether you will or not." Bishop Courtney made no reply to this speech. He remained standing in front of his chair, apparently waiting in calmness the coming of Wyclif ; but the tightly-set teeth, compressed lips, and the increased paleness of his face showed that he was making a strong effort to keep his temper. He succeeded in his attempt, maintaining a dignified silence, until, a space having been cleared, John "Wyclif and his friends stood before him. "Wyclif made a lowly obeisance to his superior, which was ac- knowledged, and then Bishop Courtney, after resuming his seat, ordered silence to be kept, and called upon his proctor to read the Papal Bull under which these proceedings had been instituted. As of course the attendance of visitors had not been expected, not any accommodation had been prepared for them. There were seats for the Court and for some of those in attendance on it, but none for any others. Wyclif was infirm, having been lately attacked by the fore- runners of those seizures which afterwards killed him. On this morning he was particularly unwell, and the walk from his lodgings to the church had greatly tired him. He showed signs of distress, and it was perhaps expedient that he should have a seat. But he knew it was not customary on such occasions and in such a presence to be seated, and his pride would not suffer him to ask any indulgence. The Duke of Lancaster, who, careless of the want of accom- modation for himself, was contenting himself with the support he found in leaning against a pillar, noticed Wyclif's weakness, and, scorning to ask a favour of the bishop whose want of courtesy towards himself in the matter of seats he had duly noticed, whispered to Lord Henry Percy, who was standing beside him, that a chair should be brought for their friend. The earl marshal beckoned to a servant, who fetched a stool A TUMULT IN THE CHUKCH. 13 from the sacristy, which was given to Wyclif, with an intimation that he should sit down. " Not so," said the bishop, interfering ; " it is contrary to law and most unreasonable that one should sit down who is cited to appear before his ordinary. He must and shall stand." " What Lord Percy says is most reasonable," answered the duke : " Wyclif has much to answer, and needs a soft seat. And as for you, my lord bishop, who are so higli and proud, I will bring down not only your pride, but the pride of all the bishops in England." " I am to give orders here, my lord," said the bishop. " And as for your language, give me leave to say it is unbecoming. You might have shown your ill wiil in more seemly terms. You seem to forget that, our respective dignities apart, I am of as good blood" — here a sardonic smile played about the corner of his mouth — " as my lord of Lancaster." The duke missed the point of the speech, where it alluded to the false libel about him which I have already noticed, and continued : " Trust not in your parents, for I promise you they shall profit you little." " Sir," said the bishop, " my confidence is not in my parents nor in any man else, but only in God, in whom I trust, and by whose assistance I will be bold to speak the truth." The duke was now thoroughly angered, the more so because he felt that his conduct had been wrong and ungenerous ; and, like other men when ridden by passion, he gave himself to unbridled extremes of talk. "Kather than hear these words from him," said he to Lord Percy, " I '11 drag him from the church by the hair of his head." And these words, being heard by the bystanders, were passed from mouth to mouth until the people too began to show their anger. Loud and angry cries rang through the building. "Who is he that insults our bishop?" "Down with the nobles!" "Down with the enemies oi" the commons !" resounded from arch to arch, 14 HUBERT ELLIS. and a movement, with the evident design of doing some mischief, was made towards the place where the noblemen stood. The knights and gentlemen who attended the duke closed round him, and presented a ring, which in that confined space could not be broken. Swords flew out of their scabbards and flashed thirstily in the air ; the hubbub and uproar increased in the church, and it seemed impossible to prevent a serious collision, when the bishop rose up, beckoned to the people, and in a voice which was heard above the din and confusion, begged and ordered the multitude to depart peaceably. Some time elapsed ere the stream of people flowing out of the church gave opportunity to the principal actors to effect their departure. Bishop Courtney meantime addressed Wyclif, who had remained standing, unquestioned and silent, during all this unseemly riot, like some rock in the midst of a stormy sea that foams and surges round it — told him of the sentence which the Pope had passed upon his Conclusions, and commanded him to keep silence upon such topics for the future. "Wyclif essayed to make him some answer, but his voice was drowned in the noise which, within and without the cathedral, the Londoners made in their zeal for their bishop. John of Gaunt had stood, with folded arms, an unmoved and apparently careless spectator of the scene. There was a scornful look upon his face as he heard the threats of the people. He waited until the hubbub had somewhat abated, and until a mes- senger whom he had despatched to the Savoy as soon as he had entered the church — seemingly foreboding something unpleasant — had returned with fifty more of his household well armed and appointed. Under the protection of this guard, he offered his arm to Wyclif, and escorted him into the churchyard. Perhaps Master Wyclif's presence was of more service to the duke than the duke's was to Master Wyclif. The Londoners, seeing their enemy Avith their friend, desisted from attacking him, and suffered the Duke of Lancaster and his followers to retire unmolested to the Savov. CHAPTER II. HOW THE DUKE OF LANCASTER WENT TO DINE WITTl JOHN OF YPRES. "Of that wassail men told great tale." Robeet de Brunne.— About 1320. N Knight Eider Street, in the ward of Yintry, John of Ypres lived in his own handsome house. He was born, as his name implied, at Ypres in Flanders, where his father's family had dwelt for many gene- rations. But when John was yet quite young, his parents had come over to England and established themselves in London, to found a trade in connection with their Flemish friends at Ypres. They bad profited by the services they had many times ren- dered to the sovereign, and still more by their industry and thrift. Their house in Knight Eider Street was known all London •over for the finest linen which the foreign trade had to show, and whoso needed good Flanders cloth knew that he could get it from John of Ypres. John was a rich man, and would have been given to hospitality had it not been that the Londoners resented his being a foreigner, and held themselves as much as possible aloof from all dealings with him except in the way of trade. His social circle was not, therefore, large, and, with the exception of one or two citizens whose judgment got the better of their prejudices, his society consisted of some of his own countrymen and of the Genoese merchants who lived in Mincheon Lane. To many of the nobility he was as well known and as useful as his father had been. Ee made heavy loans to them when in difficulties, and his gold it was 16 HUBERT ELLIS. tliat fitted out many a .handsome expedition which the soldier or ambassador could not pay for at the time. My lord of Lancaster even, the king's son, thought no scorn to use the Flemish merchant's purse ; and it so happened that on the day after the events narrated in the last chapter, he and Lord Percy went to John of Tpres' house to arrange some money difficulty which was inconveniently pressing. John knew of their intention to visit him, and prepared a reception worthy of such guests. Out of deference to the quality of his visitors, John had post- poned his dinner to the hour now customary at court, and the meal was not served till half-past one o'clock. The dining-room was a fair chamber on the first floor, Avith panels of oak, and heavy beams of the same crossing each other at intervals of three feet along the ceiling, so as to give it the appearance of being vaulted. The length was full twenty feet, and the breadth could not have been less than eighteen. At the far end was a fine open grate, in which a blazing stack of wood was burning cheerily, sending a ruddy glow of warmth and comfort through the room. Two of the three windows which looked on to Thames Street were filled with the painted glass in the manufacture of which the Flemings greatly excelled, and the paintings in them repre- sented the Adoration of the Lamb and the Martyrdom of St. Bavon, the patron saint of Ghent. It was only within the last few years that John had followed the now general custom of using a chimney, and the intrusion of the fireplace into the room, though a substantial comfort, rather blocked up the end of the apartment, which had been built before the birth of the innova- tion. Round the walls were hung sets of arms and pieces of body armour which a prince might have worn ; and where these did not serve to cover the nakedness of the walls some beautiful tapestry from French or Flemish hands, representing the history of St. Ursula and the Eleven Thousand Virgins, was suspended. The floor had been lately scraped and strewn with fresh straw. Nothing had been left undone which might minister to the comfort of the noble visitors. In this room a sumptuous meal was served after John and the AN UNTOWAED INTEEEUPTION. 17 duke had settled their business matters in the warehouse, and to it sat down my lord of Lancaster, Lord Henry Percy, with two of their favourite knights, and John of Ypres. At the top of the board smoked a noble boar's head, flanked by huge pasties that would have sufficed to feed a score of schoolboys. Large pieces of roasted beef formed a succulent escort to a fine haunch of venison that once had graced, in the form of a noble buck, the forest glades of Windsor ; whilst several dainty dishes of special virtue sent up a fragrant steam from the lower end of the table. Massive flagons and smaller tankards, all of purest silver, attested the wealth of the Flemish merchant; and the quality of the wines that were to make glad the heart of the duke and his com- panions was second to none that London could boast of. All was excellent and in abundance. The host and his guests sat down to as splendid a table-load as could be found anywhere away from the court. The diners were in good spirits and prepared to do full justice to the good cheer. The duke had just commenced operations on a dish of oysters which was before him, and had made some sally apropos of their beards, about pulling the "proud bishop " out of his church by his priest-cut beard, when a loud knocking at the outer gate of the mansion startled the host out of his dignity, and made him run to the window to ascertain the cause. Two bloodhounds, who were leashed and lying on the rushes before the fire, growled angrily as the knocking was con- tinued, and John of Ypres himself was scarcely less put out when he heard his gate so continuously and impatiently battered. "By Our Lady !" said the duke, who still applied himself to his oysters, " yon man must have got good St. Vitus's dance, and 1 1 icans to communicate the maladv to your knocker." " Mischief seize him," cried John, " for a breaker of the peace ! I 've a mind to ply my cudgel on his head to the same tune that he is playing on my gate. But forgive me, your grace, my rough speech; the gentleman who claims admittance has your grace's badge on his arm. What a mischief does Haveland mean byjnot seeing to the gale ? Bun, there, some of you. See that the gentleman be admitted, and straightway, too." 18 HUBERT ELLIS. Away ran two of the serving-men in obedience to their master's orders, but before they reached the gate, old Haveland the porter had become convinced of the respectability of the applicant, whose haste brooked so little delay, and with many mutterings and words to himself, expressive of his own discontent, had turned the heavy gate upon its hinges to admit the stranger, and then let it swing back again into its sockets. The courtyard once gained, the stranger ran across it, and reached the entrance-door. There the two men who had been sent to admit him met him in the passage, and he, thinking they meant to stop him, hurled one of them to the other end of the hall, and calling to the other not to hinder him as he loved the duke and his own life, rushed to the apartment above the warehouse, in which the party was dining. Pale and out of breath, he entered the room and advanced to where the duke was. " "What means this haste, Sir Walter Hood ? " inquired Lan- caster, looking up into his servant's eyes, which were full of apprehension and terror. " Fly my lord ! Fly at once ! Stay not for anything ! A brutal rabble, set on by those who should know better, have been at the Savoy to seek you. They swear they will have your head, that you are a traitor to the people of England, and that they will not be satisfied till they take your life. They have found out you are not at the Savoy, and from some of the terrified slaves about the place they have an inkling of your being here. As I forced my way through them to get hither, I heard them say they would unearth the traitor wherever he might be hidden ; and when I left they had already turned their steps in this direction." The duke turned pale at the word " traitor," but showed no sign of fear at the danger which threatened him. He conferred a moment, with Lord Percy, and then turning with a smile to John of Ypres, who stood apalled at what he heard from Sir Walter Hood, excused himself for so scurvily running away from such good cheer. The merchant began to stammer out some words of regret, but the duke, Lord Percy, and their attendants had quitted the room ; and before John well knew that his guests THE MOB PUESUE THE DUKE. 19 were gone, they were down by the water-side looking for the means of safety. The duke, who knew the house, threaded the passages which led to the water-gate, and by the time the bank was reached could hear the roar of the mob sounding hoarse and savage above the rush of the river. " Fools ! " said Lancaster, " do they think to catch me like a fox in its hole ? Let them bray and blare to their hearts' content. They cry ' Crucify ' me to-day, but to-morrow they shall say ' All hail ! ' " A skiff which lay moored hard by where they stood was un- loosed. Sir Walter, the other two knights, and Lord Percy seized the oars, and the Duke of Lancaster, wrapped in his long furred robe, sat down in the stern-sheets, and took the tiller. " Push off ! " cried Percy as soon as the party were seated ; and in another minute a few vigorous strokes had shot the boat a good twenty yards into the stream. IN"ot a minute had been lost in getting away, and not a minute too soon had the start been made, for just as the rowers were settling to their work in the boat, a yell from the shore announced that the people had discovered the fugitives. Whiz ! whiz ! came two arrows hurtling through the air, falling into the boat not a yard from the stroke oar. " Pull steadily," said the duke, " but do not distress yourselves : we are safe from anything they can do, and we shall want our strength to meet the force of the stream higher up. They sliall pay for this insult, by all that 's horrible ! but for the present we must bide our time." Again and again the shafts flew through the air, but luckily wide of the mark. The wild shouts of the populace were borne upon the wind and startled the snipe in the marshes of Lambeth ; but they had no other effect upon the objects of them than to assure them of what was already known, namely, that it would be the worse for them if they fell into the hands of the rioters. X') pursuit was attempted on the part of the mob, who, baffled in two quests after their enemy, seemed not inclined to push the 20 HUBERT ELLIS. matter further. Bishop Courtney, as I heard afterwards, had hurried from his house as soon as the doings of the rioters were made known to him, and coming among the people, had forbidden them, under pain of the Church's displeasure, to follow out their evil intentions. Adam Staple, the mayor, too, had not been idle, and ere the mob at John Ypres' house could succeed in battering down the gate, he was upon them with a large number of the citizens, and drove them away to their homes. Before this could be done, however, an immense amount of mischief had been committed. The duke's palace of the Savoy had been attached, and the lower part entered. Pillage, and even murder, had been committed in the assault ; and it was only by dint of the most determined resistance that the duke's servants had managed to hold the place at all against the assailants. Baulked there, the people betook themselves to Lord Percy's house in the Marshal's Inn. Lord Percy they hated because he was earl marshal, and because he had used his authority to favour the duke. He had also pro- posed to the king that the lord mayor should no longer rule in the city, but that the king should appoint a governor of his own ; and he had been chiefly instrumental in procuring the imprison- ment of Sir Peter de la Mare, who was much beloved. At his house the gates were broken up. The people rushed in and sought everywhere for him ; but not finding him, they ransacked the house, destroyed many valuable records apper- taining to the earl marshal's office, which they found there, and made a ruin of what had been a comely house. In one of the rooms they found a priest, of whom they inquired where Lord Percy was hidden; and as he answered them with words bolder than they thought becoming, one of them cried out, " Here is Lord Percy ! " upon which others rushed in and killed the poor priest with their knives. Meanwhile the boat with its noble freight shot swiftly up the river towards "Westminster, and, being favoured by the deepening twilight, passed unchallenged till it reached its destination at Lambeth. Near the spot where the king's palace gardens slope THE DUKE ESCAPES. 21 down to the river, the rowers ceased pulling, and running the boat close in under the grassy bank, the duke and Lord Percy stepped out, and walked through the grounds to the manor-house, where the Princess of "Wales and the young Prince Richard then lay. Sir "Walter Hood was told to get back if possible to the Savoy, and to report when he should have learned what mischief had been done. CHAPTER III. MY FATHER — BROOKLET — MASTER PHILPOT's HOUSE NEAR THE GARLAND. ' He was in all his deedis leal ; Eor him dedeynyeit not to deal With treachery, na with falset : His heart on high honour was set ; And him contentit on sic man ere, That all him loved that were him near." John Bakbouk — About 1390. A YIN Gr thus far spoken more of others tliau myself, and given an inkling of what my position was, I deem it now necessary to give a more exact account of the relation in which I stood to Master Philpot, and how it came about that I lived with him. My mother was a daughter of the noble house of Estrades, and married my father because she loved him. Her family were adverse to the match, and did all in their power to prevent it. It liked them ill that their blood should mingle with that of a family whose stock was pure Saxon. Their ancestors had been liegemen of the Norman Conqueror, and had clone good service for him in the winning game which he played for England. My father's ancestors had also fought at Hastings, although on the other side, and had dealt strong blows against the foreign tyranny wherever blows were to be exchanged. They had followed Here- ward to the Camp of Refuge, and adhered to the fortunes of the noble Waltheof so long as he ranged free as the vindicator of his countrymen's rights. The house of Estrades were mighty, and as " no one disputes the nobility of conquerors," they were taken for the nobles they MY PARENTAQE. 23 claimed to be. After they had once planted themselves in Eng- land in the capacity of lords of land, no more was ever heard of how they once tended sheep in the valley of the Seine, nor of the ill condition from which the Norman freebooting expedition had relieved them. They glittered and were counted for gold, and to say truth, they were of right good metal, faithful to the charges intrusted to them, and never shirking or skulking when work was wanted from them. Towards the conquered race, which hated them with deadly hatred, they could not bear themselves other- wise than as conquerors, and their descendants, therefore, did but adopt the family traditions when they resented the marriage of their kinswoman with a mere Englishman. It made nothing that, under the Saxon rule, that Englishman's forefathers had been king's Thanes, trusty in council and valiant in war ; and that though the family estates and title had gone when all save honour was lost, the family had preserved themselves from the galling chain of feudalism, and had farmed the land my father possessed, without owning the supremacy of any other lord than the king himself. The properly was small, but enough to live on ; and when my mother met the owner of it at Rochester Castle on the occasion of some gathering of the landowners of the district, and loved him for his noble person and yet nobler disposition, she thought no scorn to accept his offer to share the living with him. Her family raved and cursed at what they called a degradation, but my father only smiled at their folly, and remembering, though he was too generous to speak of it, the story about the sheep in the valley of the Seine, wrapped himself in the consciousness of right- doing, and took the fair Dame Adeline to be his wedded wife. She died when I was only two years old, so that I have only a very faint recollection of her ; but that recollection is sufficient to make me think that the portrait of a pale, dark-haired lady, with Norman features and large black eyes, which was painted by a limner employed in the cathedral to decorate the choir, is a fair representation of her who gave me birth. The loss of my mother had the effect of knitting me more 24 HUBEET ELLIS. closely than perhaps otherwise would have been the case to my dearest-loved father, whose soul may God rest and take into His keeping ! He loved me tenderly, and strove by all the means in his power to make amends for the irreparable loss I had incurred. ~No one could have been kinder or more solicitous for my welfare, and the manliness of his character only served to heighten the contrast which his almost womanly gentleness established. As soon as I was big enough to do so, he made me partaker in all the few enjoyments with which his life was blessed : no sport or game, no sight, no pleasure which admitted of a division, but he shared it with me. We were inseparable, and though by example and precept he ever taught me to act in a manly and generous spirit, he did not scruple, out of the great love he bore me, to check me whenever my natural petulance or churlishness made me act un- seemly. His two chief friends, whom he was wont to call the dividers of his sorrows, were the parson of the village next to his estate, and my afterwards dear master and friend, John Philpot, of the city of London, merchant. The former I remember as a man much beloved by all his flock, over whom he had truly a father's authority — one who never spared a rebuke to high or low if he thought it his duty to administer one, and who was ever ready to do a kind action or a friendly service even to the tasking of his own very scanty means. My father once said of him, when talking to Master Philpot, that "To drawe folk to heven by fairnesse, By good ensample was his biisynesse ; " and this business he endeavoured his utmost to carry out, earning fairly for himself the truthful epitaph which the people put over him when he died, and which ended by saying that " Christe's lore, and his apostles twelve, He taught, and ferst he folwed it hiniselve." * * These two quotations are from Chaucer's line description of the parson of a town, in the Prologue to the " Canterbury Tales." The first is adapted by Goldsmith, when describing the parish priest of Auburn, who " Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way." MY CHILDHOOD'S HOME AND FKIENDS. 25 This good man taught me not only the rudiments of our holy- religion, but those other mental accomplishments of reading and singing which are so graceful. For writing, he knew nothing of it, though he did not despise those, better informed, who had a knowledge of that art. In doctrine he never touched those points which have been mooted so seriously since good Master "Wyclif 's time, but he preached and practised love to God and brotherly kindness to all human creatures. Dumb animals, too, were his care, and many an over-driven horse and toil-worn ox might have counted him among their best friends. The very birds seemed to know him for their guardian, for they did not avoid his coming as they did that of other men. He was constantly at our house, and was my father's confidant and adviser in everything. The visits which Master Philpot made to Brooklet were few and at long intervals. I have but a faint recollection of his presence until that time when he came, shortly before the date at which this story begins, and then it was for the last time. When he left I left with him, never to return. The circumstances under which this happened were as follow : — I had noticed for many months that my dear father's health was failing. Although he was not actually ill, he would often complain of feeling tired, and sometimes when we were out on the moors, or in the forest, he would stop suddenly, turn very pale, and say that he felt a weight upon his chest. Before my anxiety could find employment in relieving him he would say that he was quite well again, and, thanking God for the ease he felt, would walk on to our destination. Many a time have I poured my troubles on this head into the patient ear of the good priest, and often and often on my knees did I beg the kind Father in heaven not to take away my dear father on the earth. I loved him too much to part with him, and the bare notion of losing him filled me with great unhappiness. Sometimes I thought he seemed desirous to follow my mother, whom he loved tenderly, to the place whither she had gone ; and then again I knew his passing love for me, and that he would cling to hope of life, for my sake, as long as he could. Once as I 26 HUBERT ELLIS. watched Lira sleeping in his chair, and thought of all he was to me, and how good and noble he was, he awoke suddenly, and caught me gazing. "Whether he had been dreaming of what was coming, or whether he read on my face the thoughts which were passing through my mind, I know not, but he said as he roused himself from slumber, and put his hand on my head, as his habit was when talking seriously to me — " The time will soon be that I shall have to leave you, my boy ; and as my summons, when it comes, will brook no dilatory answer, it may be I shall have to quit you with scant leave-taking. There are a few words I should like to say to you whilst I have power to say them. " First of all, I may as well tell you, you will not remain here after my death : the estate will not support you. It came to me with heavy debts upon it, and, notwithstanding all my thrift, I have been unable to get rid of them. You must make your way in the world as others are making theirs ; and there is no reason on earth, Hubert, why you should not do so, whilst you keep faithful to the principles in which you have been brought up. Hate deceit, my boy, and all the vices of the Normans ; be true to yourself ; never wantonly give cause of offence, yet hold your own when others offend you. " Tou do not remember your mother, lad." he continued, after a short interval of painful breathing, "and the worse for you; you have lacked the precious benefits which her care would have brought to you. But you will be able to remember me, I trust ; and sometimes when your thoughts shall be inclined to run back- wards, think of me, Hubert, as of a father who loved his boy dearly, and whose great comfort in dying was to know that if such matters can pass beyond the grave, he would see his son doing things worthy of himself, and worthy of the noble Saxon thanes whose blood flows pure and fresh about his heart. " There are troubles coming on this country, Hubert — troubles which it may be difficult for the lords to stem. Already there is a talk among the people against the power of their superiors. TflK LAST HOURS OF HUBEHrS FATHKR. MY FATHER'S GOOD COUNSEL. 27 They ask what difference is there between one of themselves and a, gentleman. The question is a natural one, and will possibly be some day asked in the same fashion as it was asked by the French peasants of their masters after the capture of King John at Poictiers. The people do not see any difference, except in the power to do harm, between themselves and most of their lords ; there are few who have the gentle ways — and by gentle I do not mean womanish — which alone make the gentleman. They are, for the most part, selfish, cruel, greedy, and overbearing ; they do not show by their acts that there is any real reason why they should command, and the others obey ; and so long as that is so, the question will assuredly be put to them, and woe betide them if they have to answer it at the sword's point. " What part you may play in these troubles if they come I cannot now foresee, but you will remember that your forefathers were ever on the side of liberty — liberty and order together. It would be strange if my son should be found fighting on the side of feudal oppression, and still more strange if he were in the army of that liberty which is nothing but confusion. True leaders of the people will be wanted, not mere applause-seekers — men who will disinterestedly bring the folk to that Avhich is best for them, without respect to the antiquity or the newness of rights. Let your calm judgment be your guide, and pray that it may be enlightened to form a just decision. Be true, just, courageous, and unselfish, and you may do your country service, and win honour to yourself. There will be no sufficient reason, if you abide by these things, why you should not command and guide the people as well as my lord of Lancaster himself — an honour- able ambition, my boy, so you pursue it rightly." This and much more to the same effect did the dear old man say to me, explaining the significance of the gentle life, and the manner in which a Christian man should live. It is many years now since the words were spoken, and I am declining, as the speaker then was, in the vale of years ; yet the impression they made is as fresh as ever, and the feelings they called up in me as green now as then. 28 HUBEET ELLIS. They were the legacy my dear father bequeathed to rue, and great have been the blessings which have flowed from them. Throughout the years which followed, when hesitation or poor spirit has made me pause in the attempt to do something sup- posed to be beyond my power, the remembrance of that evening at Brooklet has flashed across my mind, and as I brought my inten- tion to the test of that standard which he set up for me — " Be true, just, courageous, and unselfish" — I have felt my meanness vanish as at a magician's touch. Thus it is that in civil life, in the field, at sea, on land, in the battle of life, and in the cause of my country, I have taken my small share, and am enabled to say now in my old age, not for my own glorification, but for the instruction of others, that I have striven not without honour. My dear father's example and teaching, and my love for him, have made me do these things. Soon after the evening on which these words were spoken, that happened of which even now I cannot bring myself to write at length. My father sank and died. His friend and mine, Master John Philpot, had been intrusted with the care of his temporal affairs. He himself lies in the sweet " acre of God " at Rochester. Brooklet was sold ; the debts upon it were paid ; and, after all to whom aught was owing had been satisfied, there remained a small sum of money, which Master Philpot took in charge for my benefit. I came with the good man to his house in London, and there I was at the time this story opens. The house itself was a large one near the centre of the city, being not more than two hundred yards from London Stone, which stands in the middle of it. The garden, which was large and well stocked with trees, ran down as far as the gardens of the Garland Brewery in East Cheap ; Fenchurch stood to the north, and Gracious Street to the west, while to the south lay the Thames, into which Langbourne stream, which rises in Fen- church Street, ran in many rivulets through Lombard Street and Shearers Lane. The house was not new, and had not as yet many of the improvements which others in the neighbourhood enjoyed. Thus the rooms in the upper story were without chimneys, and MY NEW HOME AND ITS MASTEE. 29 had not any glazed windows. They were, moreover, small, not being able to compare with those of Master "Walworth, in Candle- wick Street, which measured at least nine feet on the square ; or with those of Sir Nicholas Brembre, in Lime Street, some of which were eleven feet on a side. The house formed a quadrangle, of which three sides only were inhabited, the fourth, which faced the street, being nothing more than a thick wall, pierced for the entrance-gates, and having two or three minor openings leading to the offices, which lay on the west side. The courtyard was ornamented in the middle by a carved stone seat, to which were attached large iron rings, used in tying up visitors' horses ; and here and there in the yard were small plots of ground which the industry of old Peter, the gardener, strove to keep gay with flowers, despite the exertions of dogs and poultry in a contrary direction. Opposite the great gates was the entrance-door, reached by a flight of stone steps, and opening into a spacious hall. The hall was lighted by four large windows, and hung with weapons, specimens of outlandish things from beyond the sea, and, in the parts from which passages led into the interior, with handsome tapestry. From one side of the hall a door led to the large dining- room, called, on account of the subject depicted on the hangings, the Magna Charta room ; on the west side were doors communi- cating with the offices and stables ; while the third side looked into the gardens which ran down as far as the Garland. From the hall a winding stair led to the apartments above. Joined into, but not included in the original design of the house, was the large warehouse in which Master Philpot's merchandise was stored. For the owner of this house imagine a man of forty-five years of age, in height about five feet ten inches, broad chested, and with a large head ; his hair of dark brown, streaked here and there with grey, a fine beard reaching down to his chest, high and broad forehead, hazel eyes, a straight nose, and a somewhat large mouth. His customary dress was simple and rich, consisting of a black doublet under a gown of plum-coloured cloth, which fell to half- way down the leg, for Master Philpot never could be induced to adopt the new fashion brought in by the French friends of King 30 HUBERT ELLIS. Bichard, of wearing a scant coat cut short at the hips. His hose were of cloth of like colour to the gown, and his nether legs were protected by leather socks or buskins. He invariably wore rounded shoes, disdaining as frivolous the pointed form which came afterwards into vogue. Bound his neck he carried a massive gold chain, on which were hung the keys of the house, and at his side he wore a straight sword hanging loosely from a leathern belt inside his gown. His manner was dignified and his temper equal, his voice full and rich, and his speech deliberate. No one ever met with discourtesy from him, and the roughest-tongued was moved to speak discreetly in his presence. Like my own dear father, he had lost his wife soon after the birth of his only child, Alice, on whom he centred all his affections and hopes, and who, being every way worthy of his love, returned him ample measure for all he gave. She was, at tbe time I came to live there, but twelve years old, but was, as I remember, even then mistress of the household. Every one strove to please her and to minister to her comfort ; all loved the fair-haired, blue-eyed Saxon maiden, whose merry laugh and cheerful song made the house a pleasant place, even on saddest days and in most troublous times. The first day I was there she got me into her service, made me bring pots of water for the thirsty flowers in her garden, and rewarded me by taking me to see her tame peacock, which Philip Aubert, her father's oldest shipmaster, had brought her from Bordeaux, and which she called Prince Bichard, after the Black Prince's son, who was born there. Dame Margaret, an old servant of the family, acted as house- keeper, and took charge of Alice. Then, besides the women of the household, who were five in number, there were living on the premises the men who had charge of the merchandise in the shed, the ostler and his lads, and old Peter Wall, the gardener ; so that in all we were a goodly company. These were the members of the family with which I came to live after my dear father entered into his rest. CHAPTER IV. A SUPPER PARTY AT MASTER PHILPOT's. "Theicry.'Fylthebowles! Bonus est liquor, hie maneamus : For alle crystone sowllys, Dum durant vasa, bibamus ! ' " Political Song on (he Times. \VO days after the events narrated in the second chapter — that is, the day after the Duke of Lancaster had dined with John of Ypres — there was a gathering at our house of some of the principal citizens to supper. My master was desirous of show- ing hospitality to Mas- ter John "Wyclif, and to revive a friendship which the latters long absence at Oxford and elsewhere had compelled to remain with- out sign of existence for several years. As younger men the two had been warm friends; they had studied, played, and of course fought together as boys ; and it was only because duty in after life led them in two different directions that the commu- nion had been broken. The friendship formed years ago had not died but slumbered, and now that Wyclif was the foremost man 32 HUBERT ELLIS. in a conflict where every assistance which sympathy or kindliness could give was sorely needed, his old friend gladly seized the occa- sion both to revive the friendship and to give what countenance he could to him who wanted it. It had been thought desirable, by means of some demonstration of sympathy, to strengthen the hands of Wyclif, and to show at the same time both that the prosecution by the Church was un- popular, and that it was not in the duke's power that "Wyclif really had to trust for protection. Master Philpot, as the old friend of the Eeformer, claimed the privilege of being the medium through which this demonstration should be made. His house, no other, must be that at which any gathering must take place ; Ms must be the hospitality which was to be extended to all who desired to testify their sympathy with John Wyclif. The claim thus put forward was allowed, and then came dis- cussions as to the form in which the demonstration should be made. Some proposed a special service in some church where "Wyclif might address his supporters ; others thought that a dinner in some public place would be the " eftest way;" and various other proposals were made to which objections were raised, so that it was finally left to Master Philpot to decide in what manner he would most like to entertain his friend, the objects of the citizens generally being kept in view. Master Philpot chose a supper party as being more convenient to the citizens, who were for the most part engaged during the day ; the church service plan he opposed as making Wyclif an actor in the scene where it was most desirable he should be perfectly passive, and the decision of Philpot met the general approval. In order to make the gathering as important as possible, it was resolved, seeing that the supper party was sure to be talked about, to invite as many of the chief citizens as might be to meet him whom the Church folk styled " damnable heresiarch " and " fa- vourer of evil things," but whom the people looked upon as the preacher of freedom. Care was to be taken that these citizens PEEPAEATIONS FOE THE BANQUET. 33 should be men who entertained, the greatest dislike to the Duke of Lancaster. There were therefore at supper M aster Adam Staple, lord mayor ; John Barnes, who had been mayor five years before ; John Nortbampton and Robert Laund, the sheriffs ; "William Walworth and Nicholas Twiford, aldermen ; Richard Lions, the lapidary, of Dowgate ; "William Cosins, and many more whose names have passed out of my memory. Sir Nicholas Brembre, the courtly citizen, whose great wealth, misgotten, was never used but to the people's hurt, was the only man at the table that evening Avho did not sympathise with the principal guest in his trouble. He had been bidden because of his high position, and because it was hoped he might become reconciled to the noble man whom all the others honoured. The day had been a busy one for the household. Dame Mar- garet had been up since long before dawn, ordering, arranging, scolding, cooking, bringing out the rarely-used and costly dishes, which never appeared but on the grandest occasions. Ralph the stableman had tired out two horses, and himself into the bargain, carrying and fetching at the orders of the stern housekeeper, who spared no one, and least of all herself, when the honour of the house for hospitality had to be kept up. The ample kitchen had been found too small to hold the army of good things which her bounty had provided, and she had invaded the room which old Peter, who served as butler as well as gardener, counted as specially his own. This brought about a sharp and long-contested dispute as to their several jurisdictions, in the course of which Margaret gave Peter, and all else whom it might concern, a detailed account of her thirty years' service in the family of Philpot, and an accurate description of all the grand occasions on which the large salvers and the great two-handed drinking-bowls had been used. Peter, equally garrulous by inclination, was silenced by the ceaseless stream of shrill eloquence which flowed from Dame Margaret's lips ; and when he saw the rigour with which his opponent enforced her commands to the servants of lower degree 3 34 HUBERT ELLIS. — for while she was lecturing him she was bustling about her business and administering smart raps with her knuckles to all who were not doing the same about theirs — he gave up the dis- puted point in sheer desperation, and with much muttering and mumbling to himself about the length of a woman's tongue, which he likened, as other rude people have done, to the clapper of a bell, he set himself to work to bring forth from the cellar, over which he presided, such liquors as he thought befitted the occasion. His notions of entertainment were as princely as those of Margaret, and to see the rows of flasks and stone wine-jars which he ranged in his pantry and on the side tressels in the supper- room, you might have supposed the whole garrison of Calais or the half of Sir Hugh Calverly's fleet were coming to sup with my master. Little Peter Wall, an urchin of seven years old, who scarcely passed a week of his life without at least two tastes of the large birch-broom which hung in his father's bed-room, had this morn- ing made himself especially famous. Once he had been detected in the very act of making holes with a rolling-pin in the top of a venison pasty ; and having been put to flight by a stout-armed wench, who brought her hand to bear upon his head before he was aware that he was noticed, he was found within the next few minutes ladling the cream out of a toothsome dish to the prepa- ration of which Dame Margaret herself had devoted a full hour. The treatment he then received put him out of conceit of the kitchen, and, still smarting from the chastisement his curiosity had brought upon him, he crept away to where his father was brewing wonderful compounds to delight the palates of his master's guests that night. The father scarcely noticed the entrance of his dutiful son, so absorbed was he in the great work he had in hand, but seeing him presently, bade him keep quiet, and on no account to venture near the table where he was. Both these orders Peter the small obeyed but too well. A flask of excellent canary stood in the comer, whither the young man retired, and, as was natural THE BANQUET. 35 enough, Peter soon began to take notice of his mute companion. He looked at the top, and then at the sides, and then at the two great handles, shaped like lion's heads, which stuck out of them ; and, having satisfied himself about the outside, he resolved to make acquaintance with the inside ; so, in the spirit of inquiry, he withdrew the bung from the mouth of the flask, and, as his eyes would not serve his purpose of discovery, he began to sniff* the fragrant air which came out of the jar. Finally he fell back upon his sense of taste, and, puttiug his lips to those of the jar, took a long draught of the contents. How much he took he could never say ; but this much is certain, that, when old Peter Wall had finished his labours, and was surveying the results with a satisfaction peculiar to himself, he became suddenly aware of the presence of his hopeful son, who lay stretched at length on the pantry floor, his chubby arms embracing the serpent which had bitten him, and snoring the snore of one in heaviest sleep. No amount of shaking served to arouse him — even Dame Mar- garet's tongue would have failed to make impression on his drowsy senses, so he was put to bed until the sleepy fit had passed away, when he awoke to a bad headache and a worse whipping. By eight o'clock all was ready for the guests, who had come in by driblets as soon as their respective occupations allowed them ; and ere the curfew had rung out, the company sat down to supper in the Magna Charta room. The long board bent under the weight of food and plate with which it was loaded, and seemed to entreat the hunger of the supper-eaters to relieve it of a portion of its burden. Pies, joints, fish, game, fruits, and all sorts of dainties were there. Dame Margaret's own dish of " blank- manger" stood in a raised mass of pastry made to represent the Tower of London ; bowls of mortreux stood imposingly around it, like warders to the fortress ; while partridges, capons, bream, luce, marrow-bones, and curiously-prepared oysters, formed guards of honour to the more substantial dishes which held the spiced boar's head and the noble specimens of English beef. Master Philpot sat at the head of the table, with John Wyclif on his right hand, and Adam Staple, the lord mayor, on his left. 36 HUBEIIT ELLIS. Then came Sir Nicholas Brembre, Master Walworth, and the others in their order, making indeed a goodly company. My place was at the right hand behind my master, where I stood to attend to his wants and to take his messages to the seated guests. Wyclif was dressed in the same habit I have already described. He ate little and drank less, seeming more to enjoy the kindliness which had bidden him be there, than the good things which were served in his honour. Sir Nicholas Brembre, a tall man of swarthy countenance, deep-set black eyes, black hair, and fine, strongly-marked features, was the most richly dressed of all the company. His doublet was of crimson velvet, embroidered with fine gold thread, half covered by a coat of rich blue cloth, cut short at the hips, and with wide sleeves reaching to just below the elbow, the forearm being covered with sleeves of finest lace, bound up at the wrist. Attached to a chain round his neck was a handsome Christopher, which fastened the two top ends of his coat, and from that the chain was continued to the handle of a beautiful Damascus dagger which was thrust into his belt. He wore a handsome sword, the hilt of which sparkled with stones, and which none knew better than he how to handle. His breeches were continuous to the ankle, and were of the finest white kersey, and he wore long-pointed shoes of new scarlet leather. I re- member him well, and am thus particular to describe him because I afterwards saw him under other circumstances and in far dif- ferent sort of clothing, concerning which we shall know more by-and-by. He spoke little, but seemed to observe everything, and more than once I saw him smile, as to himself, when the conversation brought out some topic on which he heard small commends to the. party to which he belonged. Full justice having been done to the supper, the talk became free and lively. "What thought you, Master Wyclif, of your position the other day, when sword and gown seemed about to fight over your head?" asked John Barnes, who was sitting a few seats away from Wyclif. wtclif's opinions. 37 " It was the strangest position I have been in," answered he. " I had almost reason to ask for deliverance from my friends. They prevented what I had long wished for — an occasion of speaking before the heads of our Holy Church. " But that speech might have cost you dear," said "Walworth, " for I hear the clergy and the government too are specially angered at what you advance." " That I cannot help," answered Wyclif, " and, for the issue, God will protect me whilst I am doing His work. I do not fear man so mueh as God, and the truth I must and will speak when He bids me speak it. Long ago, when I was sick and like to die, God's voice told me I should not die, but live to confound the tricks and wickedness of the friars. All gave me up for a dying man, but I revived, and I shall yet live to do my work." " God speed you in it, Master Wyclif !" said Laund, " for the impudency of those friars has grown beyond our bearing. They be the very pests of Christendom, and I think neighbour Lof- ken said right but now when he said that caitiff Cain was the founder of them." " Nay, I know not that," added Wyclif with a smile ; " but this I know, that they are idle, worthless men, who preach but practise not ; who sell holy things for money, and live in splendid buildings ; who shut up God's Word from the ken of the people, and cheat them with impostures most shameful to think on ; that they, desiring power for fhemselves, cry up the omnipotence of that arch-friar the Pope, who favours and maintains them in all their malpractices. They cannot show reason and Holy Writ for their worship. They sell God's mass for a penny, and so set that price upon His body, wherein, to my mind, are they thirty times worse than .Judas, who demanded thirty times that sum as the price of his Lord. Hath not Christ, in His Gospel, told us that His yoke is soft and His burthen light ? AVbat need wc, then, of friars, by their rules to make this yoke heavy and grievous to be borne ? These men do also slight the laws, claiming to he free from the just reward of their offences. They are without the virtues in which ilny say they follow Christ — ohedience, chastity, 38 HUBEET ELLIS. and poverty. As to chastity of body, they break it continually, and they have no chastity of soul, for they forsake Christ, their spouse, and are become apostates from His Church. In respect to true poverty, they are the most covetoxis men in the world ; for, what with simony and with begging, and with selling absolutions, they plunder both great and small. But the time shall come when Josiah shall reign, and make an end of such fiends, and restore Christ's rule." This unexpected burst from the venerable doctor was received at first with silence. Men had not been accustomed to hear such language spoken of such men, and they marvelled at the bold declaration of the Reformer. " It would be well," said Sir Nicholas Brembre presently, "if those who can stir up the people had the power or the will to quell them again. My lord of Lancaster has little cause to thank the inciters of the people on Wednesday that he escaped with his life, and the Savoy can testify to their fury on his property." " You say well, Sir Nicholas," said my master, " but think me not discourteous if I say your remark is ill-timed. Tour words seemed to point at Master AVyclif as the uproar-maker, whereas you must know that the duke himself and Lord Percy were alone to blame for all the harm which came to them. It would indeed be well if tliey had the power to allay the storm they were so careless about raising." " Possibly they have the power," answered Brembre drily, whilst a sinister smile played about his mouth, as if he knew more than he meant to say about the power. " I meant no offence to Master "Wyclif there, nor to any of my good neighbours, and I entreat your pardon for having spoken as I did. St. Julian forbid I should mar the harmony of a feast by aught that was ill-natured ! I pray you let me drink to the health of the com- mons of England and to free speech throughout the land — a toast you cannot refuse to drink." Permission was, of course, immediately granted, and, though the company thought it strange to hear such words from Sir THE DEPUTATION TO THE KING. 39 Nicholas Brembre's mouth, the toast was drunk with enthusiasm in some of Master Philpot's very best wine ; and, after an inter- change of kind words and good wishes, the guests separated to go their several ways. It was not long before Sir Nicholas's words that the Duke of Lancaster had power to quell the people he had enraged were extraordinarily verified. The Princess of Wales, widow of the Black Prince, anxious to mend matters between her brother-in-law and the citizens, had tried through the medium of Sir Simon Burley, Sir Lewis Clifford, and Sir Albert de Yere, to induce the citizens to apologise for the insult which the people had offered to the duke and his friend. But her attempts were vain. A courteous answer was brought to her to the effect that the citizens would do all they could to comply with her wishes ; but that the duke could not appear differently in their sight till he should have released Sir Peter de la Mare, who had been imprisoned for freely speaking his mind ; and that they knew his designs to be those of a traitor. In order to justify themselves to the king, a deputation of the citizens, headed by my master, John Philpot, contrived to get an audience of his Majesty, in spite of the efforts of the duke to prevent them ; and there, in moderate but firm words, declared the grievances under which they laboured, declaring at the same time, what was perfectly true, that his Majesty had not in his kingdom more loyal and obedient subjects than in the city of London. The king, who was in feeble health, gave them a fair answer ; said he knew their faithfulness and valued it highly ; and that for their liberties, they should rather be augmented than diminished. But he desired they should make some reparation to his son for the injury they had done him, and that there should be an honest friendship between them. Master Philpot, on behalf of his fellows, said that they were ready to do all in their power to satisfy the duke, and that they would try to punish those who had offended him, but that they themselves had not conspired against him, nor said nor done am - 40 HUBERT ELLIS. thing of which he could complain ; and therefore they prayed they might not he punished for the folly of the common people, whose rage they were unahle to restrain. The deputation withdrew, promising to give the Duke of Lan- caster satisfaction ; hut the only satisfaction the duke would have was the displacement of the principal officers of the city ; so that Adam Staple, who was mayor of London, and Masters Laund and Northampton, who were the sheriffs, were dismissed by royal order from their places ; and Sir Nicholas Brembre, the friend of my lord of Lancaster and the avowed enemy of the citizens, was chosen by the court influence to be the new lord mayor. CHAPTER V. OSWALD BARNES BECOMES MY GOOD EltlEND. " And he down to tho yird can gae All ilatlings, for him failit micht. This was the first strait: of the fickfc, That was performit douchtily." John Baeboue. WAS far from being an idler in the house where I was living. My own disposition made me hate idle- ness, and Master Philpot was not the man to encou- rage it. Within a few days after my removal from dear old Brooklet, with its quiet nooks and shining fields, its pleasant trout stream, its thickets, and all the glory of the country, I was set to work in a new groove in London, and ere long time had elapsed ran smoothly in it. No longer did I order the day's work for the farm villeins, see that the cows were milked, the cattle fed, the stables swept; no longer did I make sure that the butter was fairly packed, and see it sent oil* under safe keeping with the eggs and chickens to Rochester market ; no longer mine to announce the day's dawn to the noble horses who carried us, to examine them, have them groomed and curried, or, as often it was my pleasure to do, curry them down with my own hands. I loved the horses above any other animals on the estate, and of all the number — for we had ten — I loved Carrow best. She was my own mare. My father had given her to me at her birth, and I had watched her grow up to filly's estate, forming hopes and expectations which were fully justified by the event when I came to back her and break her for use. She was a beautiful bit of horseflesh. There was not any place 42 HUBERT ELLIS. in the country for thirty miles round which she could not take at the end of her fourth year, and she was able to keep up with the best horses in the field when I rode her, as I did whenever I possibly could, after the fox or stag hounds which hunted the district. No other hands than mine were allowed to touch her ; she knew my voice, and knew my step ; and, though she certainly had not the power of speech, I could read all she would have said in her large and flashing bright eyes. Now that I was removed to London, Carrow and I were not separated. By the kindness of my master, who knew my affection for the creature, Carrow was allowed a place in his stable. Daily I tended her as before, and from my hands she received her food. I mention Carrow thus particularly because I shall have to say more about her as the story goes on. Besides, it is pleasant to remember old friends, though they be dumb creatures, and my mare and I had a long acquaintance. She was my first care after I rose in the morning. Her wants supplied, I removed the straw on which I had slept, folded away the blanket, and went to the yard, and got a wash in the clothes- bowl. By the time the household was fully awake I was ready to attend upon my master. He rose at six o'clock, and by seven we were generally together, he to give instructions, I to receive them, about what was to be done that day. It was my duty to go be- tween Master Philpot and the masters of his vessels, to procure the necessary stores and sails, and the ropes and sweeps that the ships required. On me devolved the duty of attending to the re- ceipt of cargoes, and seeing that the ship brought what my master was charged with. If the sea-water had got in and damaged the merchandise, it was for me to ascertain the amount of loss suffered. Besides this, it was my part to go among the merchants who con- gregated in St. Paul's, and who also met, now at John Simonds's in "West Cheap, now at the Mart Hall in Mincheon Lane, near Blanch Appleton, and to gather from what I might there learn the probable wants of the merchants, and the prices they were willing to give. Sometimes I was sent on journeys as far as St. Alban's, Col- OSWALD BAKNES. 43 Chester, Gravesend, with messages to citizens living in those towns, and with whom Master Philpot had commerce. It became a rule with me never to be backward when occasion required my services, and Master Philpot soon got to know that if he wanted any special service done he could reckon upon me for the doing of it. lie knew how I had been brought up, with what ideas of duty, and how that duty should be done to the uttermost ; and I knew not only what my dear father had taught me by his own example, but what he had also exhorted me to do with his dying words ; and his command to be mindful of myself last made me often do that which, but for his precept, I might have been inclined to look on as hard. Close sticking to the observance of this rule, constant readiness to do what lawful authority required of me, and the endeavour to do thoroughly whatsoever my hand found to do, earned for me a respect which I did not seek while attaining to it ; and the know- ledge which soon spread abroad that no one could safely impose upon me, procured for me an exemption from many annoyances to which I might otherwise have been subject. Once, as I remember, an attempt was made to impose upon this ready submission, which my sense of duty made me show to those to whom obedience was due. It was made once, but never re- peated. He who made the attempt became afterwards my very firm friend, and my companion in many a stirring adventure. Oswald Barnes, son to the John Barnes who, in 1371, was lord mayor, and who was mentioned in the last chapter as being pre- sent when Master John Wyclif came to supper at our house, was he who attempted the imposition. He was bound apprentice to Master Philpoj;, and lived in his house with his rest of us. He had been there a few months before the time Avhen I came to London, and then the duty he had hitherto discharged fell to my lot. After my arrival, Master Philpot, really, as I believe, thinking him to be an expert in that branch of the trade, directed him to instruct me in the discharging of it, and set him to minding the goods at the house. Now, Oswald had a particular liking for the charge which lie was called upon to resign, and, moreover, felt himself aggrieved that he should be moved from what was in truth a pleasanter duty 44 HUBERT ELLIS. than that — albeit of more responsibility — to which he was now set. He took no pains to conceal his disgust ; and on the one occasion already alluded to he said that which I could not hear unangered. I had no motive but obedience to my master's orders for doing whatever I was set about, and when one day Oswald said to me in answer to a remark of mine about the urgency of some business which I had in hand, that "favourites, of course, must needs be over-officious," I fired up at the speech, and asked him what he meant by it. I felt that it was an unfair thing for him to say, that it was not true, and that it was an insult ; and my young blood, hotter than it is now, and more prone to imagine as well as to resent an injury, roused at the imputation which was cast upon me. High — or, perhaps let me say, foolish — words passed be- tween us, and it was agreed to appeal to the arbitrament of the fist when occasion should serve us. I think, now that I am writing of it, that we showed our wisdom in not fighting on the spot ; a few hours' interval allowed time for a friendly settlement, if either of us had chosen to make any advances, and although on this occasion no advance was made, the principle on which we de- ferred the combat was a thoroughly sound one, and one that, more generally adopted, might lead to the prevention of much mischief. After the work of the day was over, we repaired to Tassel Close, in Bishopsgate, where our compeers were wont to meet for shoot- ing at the popinjay ; and there, with seconds and umpire like any knights of the kingdom, we settled our difference by an appeal to force. Hugh Aldrich was my second, and Oswald was supported by Alfred Bell. The umpire was Gilbert Marrow, who had presided at similar disputes on mauy an occasion. I remember, even at this distance of time, the feelings with Avhich I took my place opposite to Oswald Barnes. I had from the first moment that I saw him taken a great liking to him. I had, on this very account, forborne to notice many little things which in themselves were not pleasant, and even now, when what I fancied concerned my honour brought me face to face with him, A COMBAT AND ITS EESULT. 45 to prove upon him my sense of his wrong, I could not help feel- ing a strong love for the fellow, and an unwillingness to damage his fine handsome face. But that fever in the blood which has led many to disaster, made us dead to the better feelings which both of us possessed, and in a minute from the time when our seconds arranged us we were hammering at each other's features as if we hated them most direfully. I was tall for my age — that is, I was five feet six inches in height — and had some advantage over my opponent in point of hitting. He was two inches shorter, but broad chested, and had arms that could have swung a sledge-hammer. My muscles were by no means despicable, and the combat was carried on with an energy which bid fair to do harm to somebody, until a lucky blow of mine, though really delivered more through blind accident than skill, caught poor Oswald just behind the ear. He staggered and bent forward ; an expression flitted across his manly face which made me heartily ashamed of being the cause of his mishap, and he fell fainting into the arms of Alfred Bell. I too was nearly exhausted by the severity of the encounter, and owed my victory — such as it was — rather to the chance hit I had made than to any real superiority over my adversary. A cup of strong ale, and a refreshing dip in the pail of cold water from the pump in The Close, served to revive me, and in ten minutes I was able to attend upon my recent foe. He had been well soused with cold water, and some strong cordial had been got down his throat. By the time I was beside him he had revived, and the first words he said on coming to were addressed to me. "Hubert," he said, "forgive me; I did you wrong in saying what I did, and you have punished me as I deserved." : 'The fault was mine," I answered, seizing hold of his hand. " I should not have resented so savagely flu- few words you spoke. Forgive me too, Oswald, for I need to ask pardon far more than you do.' And so, with mutual confessions of having acted harshly to- wards each other, and with far stronger feelings of mutual respect than we had had before, we shook hands with hearty good will, 46 HUBERT ELLIS. and walked Lome, our faces bearing unmistakeable marks of the late encounter. But we were a pair of the best friends in the whole of England. The friendship begun on that day has matured by continuance through many years, and though at the time the incidents attend- ing its formation were exceedingly unpleasant — I refer to the cut which disfigured my face over the right eye, and to the painful swelling which troubled poor Oswald's jaw for a whole se'nnight, and to the real or feigned anger of Master Philpot at our quar- relling — yet in spite of all these, I never could regret the occasion which led me to challenge my fellow-servant, and which took Oswald Barnes and me to settle our differences on the pretty greensward in Tassel Close. CHAPTER VI. THE GAMES IN SMITHFIELD, AND HOW SIE WALTER HOOD PUT AN END TO TnEM. ' In wrestling nimble, and in running swift, In shooting steady, and in swimming strong; Well made to strike, to leap, to throw, to lift, And all the sports that, shepherds are among." Spenser's Faerie Queenc. T was a matter of importance for me that the marks on my face should disappear as quickly as possible, for in a week's time from the date of the fight there were to be grand matches at shooting with the long- bow and arc, assaults at the pel, running at the quintain, shove- groat and shuffleboard, and boat-tilting on the Thames, at which I wished to strive for prizes. By the kindness of old Margaret, whose skill in surgery was nearly as great as her reputation for it, I managed to get rid of the ugly bruise ; not, however, without having to endure by way of payment a set of long lectures upon the folly and wickedness of fighting, and upon the duty of keep- ing all my blows for the heads of Flemings, Frenchmen, and Spaniards, and such-like outlandish folk. Oswald, too, was taken in hand, and though the lump on bis jaw seemed at first unwilling to yield to the art of the surgeon, he was in a condition when the holiday came to take his part in the sports. We were up in good time on the trial day, tricking ourselves out in the best apparel we possessed, and trying over again for the fiftieth time the instruments we intended to use in the contest. " Do you feel safe for the popinjay, Hubert p " said Oswald as 48 HUBERT ELLIS. he furbished up the handle of his crossbow, already as bright as oil and leather could make it. "I doubt I shall try for it," I answered: " I want to keep my arm steady for the sword-play, and not to tire before the quintain time, for I am bent on trying to win the prize there." " Why there particularly ? " replied Oswald. " I would rather be best at the popinjay and the sword-play than hit all the Saracens' heads in Smithfield." "That may be," said I, ".but the first and last time I ran at the quintain was when Will Allein carried off the prize. I was ill mounted then on John Roffe's little pony that did not under- stand the thing, and I being a young hand, between lis we made a regular mess of it. I struck the quintain, but did not avoid the bag ; and as I was recovering from the blow it gave me I heard Will Allein say something about a country clown not being allowed to meddle with such things, and I mean to show him that a bantam must not crow too loudly even on his own dunghill." " Quite right, lad ; go in and win. It '11 do Master Will a world of good to have some of that conceit of his taken out of him, and I hope you '11 do that service for him to-day." "I mean to try," said I, "and with Carrow to help me I am not unhopeful about the result." I had just taken up my spurs, which shone like mirrors, and was about to buckle them on, when a gentle tap came at the door, and Alice entered the room with a new pair of leather gauntlets which she had been making for me with her own hands for weeks past. " There," she said, "now you will be able to look like a gentle- man, without big holes in your gloves, and all proper and clean. I hope you '11 be lucky to-day." " Thank you, Alice," I said ; "it is very kind of you to say so, and still more kind of you to take so much trouble for me. I think I must wear one of these pretty gloves in my cap, and, like St. George and his knights, challenge any one that says the maker is not the kindest and prettiest maiden in all London." "Do nothing of the kind," said Alice ; "I made the gloves for ALICE PHILPOT. 49 your hands, not to wear in your cap. And Oswald, that's for you," she added, as she gave my companion a fine large rosette made of many-coloured ribbon, which he then and there, with many acknowledgments, fastened into his cap. " Sister Alice," I said — for she was like a sister to both of us — " are you coming to see the games ? " "Yes," she answered, "my father means to take me with Mi stress Lofken and your mother, Oswald ; so remember when you begin that our eyes are looking on you, and do your best." " That we will," cried both of us at once, and I ventured to promise she should have the quintain prize in return for the gloves she had given me, but she bade me go and win it before she was asked to accept it ; and when I assured her that I meant beyond all question to get it, she slily reminded me of the last time I ran ; and bidding us good-bye, tripped away to get her father's breakfast. We were engaged in discussing a common theme with us — the merits of the fair maiden who had just left us, and for whom we botli had a considerable liking, when the bell tolled the hour of seven, and warned us that we must get away. I was dressed in a short coat fitting close to the body, made of scarlet taffeta, with full sleeves to below the elbow ; a belt of buff leather fastened with a silver clasp which my dear father had always worn, leaf hi t breeches going to below the knee-cap, dirk brown stockings, and strong black leather shoes. Across my left shoulder and fastened on the right hip I carried a blue silk sash. These, with a black velvet cap and the white gloves which Alice had made for me, caused me to cut no inconsiderable figure, at least in my own opinion. Carrow, upon whom I had that morning bestowed especial care, knew as well as I did that the day was to be an exceptional one. She whinnied again and again as I undid her halter and turned her round in her stall to put the bridle on. No need this morn- ing to coax her into taking the bit into her mouth. She longed to show off her finery as much as her master desired to show oil' his, and the additional trappings which I had hung about her were as strong helps to her vanity as an ell of gay ribbon to the 4, 50 HUBERT ELLIS. vanity of a serving; wench. She was saddled and hridled and I was on her back in five minutes after I entered the stable, and by eight o'clock I had reached the scene of the sports in Smithfield, whither Oswald, joined by Bell, Geoffrey Staple, and other of our comrades, had preceded me. I had ridden down "West Cheap, past Queen Eleanor's Cross, and so by Griltspur Street into the open space where already were assembled a large number of the young men and lads who were to take part in the games. On the west side, between the Horsepool and Turnmill Brook — in the space covered by the elm-trees — was a place set apart for the horses of those who desired to mingle with the crowd on foot. The stables of mine host of the Salutation and of the Golden Crown were not a quarter large enough to comply with the demands, so accommo- dation was furnished in the open ground beneath the elms. In front of the great gate of St. Bartholomew's Priory stood the quintain, a high post of wood rooted firmly in the ground, having at the top a cross-bar of some weight, which revolved when struck on either arm. At the end of one arm was a large shield fastened, whereon was painted in rude fashion the head of a Turk with evil- looking eyes and bloodthirsty expression. Erom the other end hung a bag of sand, which swayed to and fro as the arm of the cross was moved, and which was meant to punish the unskilful tilter who, having struck the Turk's head with his pole, was not deft or active enough to escape the bag which his blow set in motion. It was from such a bag that I drew the enthusiasm which inspired me to-day. A ring had been marked out around the quintain, wherein the horses might run. Just outside of it, and farther to the west- ward, stood the pel, a wooden stump supporting the figure of an armed man, which was to be attacked on foot with wooden lances, the assailant covering himself after each blow as he would be bound to do in actual warfare. Then in an inclosed space before the wall of the hospital was the lane where was to be shooting at the popinjay. Temporary butts had been erected in the northern part of the field towards No Man's Land and the friary which Sir Walter Manny lately built for the monks of the Chartreux, THE SPORTS IN SMITHFIELD. 51 and at these were to be tried the skill of shooters in the long and crossbow. Two rings were marked out in the centre of Smithfield, wherein was to be shown the prowess of those wbo handled the sword and buckler ; so that, all these considered, there was as much of amusement toward as we could desire to have. Sir Eobert Ivnollys, of Crockers Lane, near the White Friars, a valiant soldier, of whom more hereafter, was he who governed the sports; aDd to assist him in the duties of his office, which included those of umpire, prize-giver, settler of disputes, and arranger- general of all that was to be done, were Lord Eobert Eitzwater, of Conyhope Lane, Sir Simon Burley, the king's special friend, of Lime Street, and Sir John Nevill, of the Leadenhall. These gentlemen were early in the field, and having selected the portion of it over which each was to preside, the day's sport began with shooting at the butts. •Oswald Barnes was the first to shoot a quarrel. He strung up his crossbow to the Avheel in the handle, selected a sound square bolt from a number in his bag, and placed it on the rest in front of the string, which was at full tension and ready for work. Oswald took steady aim at the object marked on the butt, grasped the handle of his bow firmly in both hands, and as the word " Shoot ! " left the lips of the master of the crossbowmen, his bolt annihilated the interval between the bow and the mark, striking the targel Full in the centre. A shoul of applause followed the hit, and others came to try their luck and see how near they eoidd match Oswald's play, since it was impossible to beat it. The shooting was excellent, and called forth again and again cries of approval and encourage- ment, as the shooters sent their bolts well home to the mark ; but what they could, there was not one who could do what Oswald had done, and he was declared by Sir John Nevill to be victor in the match. .\ spare bow and two of the best Btrings Grub Street * <; " I halnhi! of stringers and arrow makers, die, an arrow ). 52 HUBERT ELLIS. could produce were the fruits of his victory ; and as he received them from the hands of Sir Eobert Knollys, and that good knight complimented him upon the address he had shown, Oswald's face beamed all over with an honest glow of pleasure, and, thanking the donor, he turned away to the longbow butt. This was placed at two hundred yards from the shooting spot — that is, about double the distance of the crossbow range — and as the longbow was the weapon most popular among the people, and that in the use of which they excelled, this part of the field was crowded with candidates for honours. The shooting was admirable, and in the match which was now on — between the 'prentices of Vintry "Ward and East Cheap — it seemed for a long time a doubtful question to which side the prize would come. Six apprentices upheld the honour of either ward, and tbey shot alternately, first one from Vintry and then one from East Cheap. I was of the six who fought for East Cheap, and just as Oswald came up, flushed with success, I was about to make the last shot on our side, and the last in the match. " Good luck to you, Hubert ! " sang out Oswald. " Hush ! " was my discourteous reply, for the excitement I was in at the prospect of what was before me made me feel apprehen- sive of my attention being taken off; and, greatly impressed by the responsibility of Avhat I had to do, I stepped forward to the shooting line and took my place. The Vintry lads had driven us closer than we, in our conceit, imagined it possible they could have done. To three bull's-eye hits and two hits in the ring surrounding the eye which were scored to E;ist Cheap, Vintry "Ward had four bull's-eyes and two hits in the outer ring. The seven arrows stood stiffly out of the bull's-eye as nearly as possible in a circle on the outer edge of the ring, but one of them, which belonged to Vintry, stood nearest to the centre of the eye, and was adjudged the winning shaft of those that were yet in. My bow was made out of a single piece of yew, and five feet six inches in length. My father's woodman, Gunther, had made it for me, and during the last year of my residence at Brooklet 1 I WIN THE LONGBOW PRIZE. 53 had many times tested its excellent qualities. It was not a showy- weapon, but I knew that I could depend upon it if my own hand did not fail me. Amidst a silence which quite awed me I strung my bow, and drew out of my belt the arrow which I had made for the purpose. As I was about to place it on the string I looked up, and saw Master Philpot, Alice, Mistress Barnes, and other friends standing in the press, and the knowledge that their eyes were looking at me served, instead of shaking my firmness, to nerve me to the shooting point. The arrow lay upon the string. I took a long steady view at the target, being so wholly fascinated by it that I positively saw nothing else for the time, and, without staying to correct my aim, as it is called — but, as I think, to unsteady it — I drew the bow- string up to my ear, bringing the arrow-head to its place in the centre of the arc, and then let it fly. Twang! sounded the cord as it flew forward from its confine- ment, and on rushed the arrow in a gently-curved line, till it buried itself in the centre of the bull's-eye. The breath which had been as it were suspended throughout the crowd now found vent in a most deafening cheer. " Hurrah !" " Well done !" " Excellent !" resounded all around ; and I, elated with my triumph, stood enjoying the victory which lately seemed about to be snatched away. Amongst the loudest in their plaudits were the Vintry lads themselves, who, having done so well in their execution, could afford to be generous to the side that had beaten them. But the greatest pleasure I derived from the lucky liit was when I received from the hand of Alice Philpot the prize which Sir Robert Knollys awarded to me. As daughter of the first merchant in East Cheap AVard, the apprentices had asked permission for her to give away the prize ; and when she, receiving the token — a silver beaker — from Sir Bobert's hand, advanced to where 1 was, and in an unaffected, simple way gave it up to me, looking all the time so pretty in her comely maiden dress, I felt as if I should like to do nothing else than win prizes at shooting- matches, so she might be the distributor of them. 54 HUBERT ELLIS. After this there was sword-aud-buckler play — in which I got but the second prize — more shooting, the popinjay, the pel, foot- races between rival schools, dancing bears and performing apes, and many more diversions, which took up the morning till eleven o'clock. At eleven o'clock Lord Fitzwater, who had charge of the quintain-ground, gave orders to clear a space for the play. While this was being done, I walked over to the elms on the west side of the field, and took the faithful Carrow from the ostler to whose custody I had given her, tightened the girths, vaulted into the saddle, and rode gently over to the gate of the priory. Carrow quivered with excitement, and so exuberant were her spirits that I almost feared to trust her among the crowd. I knew she had hoofs and the crowd had knives, and that, though they might tease her into using her hoofs, they would not be backward to pay her account with them in cold iron. However, we arrived without annoyance at the starting place, and there bided our turn. Will Allein was there, and Alfred Bell, young Simon Burley, Walter Blake, and Francis Cave, with all the youths of the city who could get a decent mount for the occasion. Oswald Barnes was not a runner, having been unable to procure a horse. The quintain was of the usual kind, such as I have described ; perhaps it was a trifle more gorgeous, in respect of the many- coloured paints which adorned it, than was common, and the Saracen was perhaps a little more than wontedly terrific in his aspect to-day, out of deference to the large concourse which had met to gaze on him. The filter's course, in which the horses were to run, was smooth and sanded ; it was circular, having a diameter of thirty- two feet, and was guarded on its outer edge from the pressure of the people by stout barriers covered with scarlet baize. At the starting-place was a little pen in which the filters were arranged according to their order of entry. Will Allein, who, as a quintain filter of established fame, was allowed the privilege of beginning the play, was gathering up his horse for the first course, when a stir was made in the knot of men surrounding Lord Fitzwater, and a gentleman who was A MISCHIEVOUS FLOUT. 55 recognised at once for Sir Walter Hood burst into the open, and pointing to the arm of the cross which was to be struck, demanded in an angry tone who had dared to do that. Every one looked up at the arm, and there, sure enough, nailed over the Saracen's face, and right in the place where the scornful blows were to be delivered, was an exact figure of a grey falcon, which all knew well to be the badge of the Duke of Lancaster. It seems that whilst the spectators had been occupied with the other games in the field, some saucy wight had climbed the quin- tain-post, and lying along the tilt-arm of the cross, had nailed the falcon on the figure ; and not only so, but had nailed it upside downwards, as is done with the arms of those who are adjudged traitors. The bystanders were impatient for the game to begin, and they had not, moreover, such feeling of affection for the duke as would make them desirous of staying until the objectionable emblem should be removed. Lord Fitzwater also seemed dis- inclined to stop the sport, and saying that it was a knavish trick which he woidd punish if he could detect the offender, but that the bird would be knocked down at the first blow on the quintain, and that therefore Sir Walter need not trouble further about it, requested him to move out of Will Allein's path. But Sir Walter was peremptory, and swore by the Mass the game should not proceed till the figure had been removed; and, drawing his sword, he placed himself in front of Allein's horse. The requests and the orders of Lord Fitzwater had no effect. The people began to get excited and angry. Cries of " Ride over him!" "Down with Duke John!" sounded here and there, fol- lowed in less time than it takes to say so by a shower of missiles of all sorts and sizes directed at the person of Sir Walter Hood. Jle stood to his ground grimly and boldly, and whether out of respect for his glittering sword or for the courage with which he resented a most undoubted affront to his lord, no man ventured to lay hands upon him. "Have a care, Sir Walter!" cried Will Allein, as, unable to brook the hindrance any longer, he prepared himself for the trial. "Come at your peril!" shouted Hood, as the lad loosed the 50 HUBERT ELLIS. curb on his horse's mouth. " You touch not that badge if I have power to stop you, and so be warned ! " But the warning came too late or was disregarded, for "Will, fired by the opposition and encouraged by the presence of his comrades, clapped spurs to his horse and rode forward with a cheer. Sir Walter's position seemed a dangerous one. The horse in full career was almost on to him, when, just as it came within five paces of where he was standing, the knight sprang dexterously on one side, and as the noble creature came abreast of him, he plunged his sword right into its heart. The scene that followed is beyond my power to describe. The barriers were broken down, the excited multitude poured like a stream on to the ground, and made for the spot where Hood stood at bay. In an instant he was rushed upon, tripped up, and tightly bound with his arms behind him, and led off by the people in the direction of the Standard in West Cheap. I but saw him as he moved away, pale and bloody with the blows the people had given him, and knew not until afterwards that in the very act of being stripped for execution by the enraged multitude, he had been rescued by Sir Nicholas Brembre and a large body of the city guard. Our whole care was for poor "Will Allein, who, having been violently thrown by the sudden fall of his horse in full gallop, lay on the ground moaning and insensible. With great difficulty he was got home on a litter made for him out of what we could find available on the spot, and then the leech declared that several of his ribs were broken, and that there was a double fracture of the left arm. This made an end of the day's work — a sad one it had been. Lord Fitzwater declared the termination of the sports, and the people dispersed to their different homes to talk over the outrage which they had that morning witnessed, and to take counsel how they might more thoroughly avenge it. CHAPTER VII. HOW SIB WALTEE HOOD ESCAPED THE FUBY OF THE LONDOSEBS — ALICE PHILPOT. "Hir person he shalle afore him sette, Hir laughing cyen, persauut and elere, Hir Bhappe, hir fourme, hir goodly cherc, Hir mouth that is so gracious, So swete, and eke so saverous." ClIAl i I I;. i : : 1 3 V l! ; F^3*&2 ui ILL ALLEIN lay iu a dangerous state for some days, fever having seized him in addition to tbe other ills he was suffering ; but when a week had elapsed, and his naturally good health had got the mastery of this distemper, the leeches declared that his life would be saved, but that time would be wanted to mend the broken bones. And so he lay, poor fellow, for many weeks, strapped and bandaged, and perfectly helpless, bearing with patience and courage his evil plight. His mother, who loved him as mothers that have but one son are wont to do, watched over the sick youth with anxious solicitude ; and to her tender and unwearying care he owed, under Him who is the Great Physician, the preserva- tion of his life. Her hand it was that smoothed his pillow, and cheered him up when depressed by illness ; her gentle voice it was that whispered comfort and consolation to him at times when pain racked him almost to murmuring ; and Will, who, though as brave a lad as ever walked, and as hardy as many wlio numbered more years than he did, was so much endowed with the gentle spirit of her who watched over him, that often- times, rather than cause her the sorrow of witnessing his suffer- ing, he would conceal that he was in pain, and cheat her into 58 HUBEET ELLIS. the belief that he was almost as well as she would wish him to be. Several months passed away before he was able to move about again, and in all tbat time I do not think he uttered one unkind word against the man who was the cause of his disaster. " He did his duty," Will used to say when any one urged Sir "Walter's cruelty ; " he did it somewhat roughly, perhaps, but if it had not been that poor Harold lost his life, I could not have complained of what happened to myself." Will was honest, too, in saying so ; for years afterwards, when imder much altered circumstances Sir Walter and he again met, to fight together under the English flag, not only did Will not show any malice for the injury which the other had done to him, but asked and obtained permission to serve in Sir Walter's own company, because he knew him for a valiant and proper gentle- man, who did thoroughly whatever he professed to do, and allowed no considerations of personal regard to interfere in any way with the execution of his duty. As for Sir Walter, on the day he was pounced upon and 'led away by the infuriated Londoners, he owed his life, as I have already said, to the lucky arrival of Sir Nicholas Brembre. That knight, who was also lord mayor, . having heard of the riot which was going on in Smithfield, although he had avoided the spot where the folk were disporting themselves — for he loved not the commons — in the interests of the city's peace, and for sake of the Duke of Lancaster, his friend, took arms and marched with a strong body of archers towards the scene of the disturbance. Emerging from the street in which Guildhall stands, he turned to the right, past Milk Street and Bread Street, and, coming up to the Standard which stands in Cheap, found Sir Walter Hood in the hands of the people, with neck bared and shirt torn down, about to be put to death. Spurring his horse into the crowd, and followed by a number of his archers, he came to the place where Sir Walter stood, and demanding in an imperious tone what this rabble meant, and ordering the people to depart immediately to their homes under RELEASE OF SIR WALTER HOOD. 59 pain of hanging, directed his men to release the prisoner's arms. Then, ordering Sir Walter to be brought along well guarded as his own prisoner, Sir Nicholas Brembre rode back to the Guild- hall, amid the curses of the people, not so loudly spoken as they were deeply felt. The influence of the Duke of Lancaster procured his servant's liberation, and Sir Walter remained without further punishment than the dreadful danger he had passed through — enough and to spare, perhaps, for the offence he had committed. Both Will Allein and Sir AValter Hood will be mentioned again in the course of this story. Let me now speak a few words about another of our friends, of whom more will also be said before I shall have finished — I mean little Alice. She was, as I observed when first noticing her, only twelve years old when I came to live with Master Philpot, and she looked younger than she really was. She was, as I have also said, complete mistress of the house, not by reason of any im- periousncss of temper, but because her simple, winning ways made her to reign queen paramount in the hearts of the house- hold. She had all our affections in simple fee. All loved her for her own and her father's sake, and all felt a special interest in her for that she was motherless. To me Avho had been brought up entirely among men, whose mother had died before I Avas old enough to form any lasting remembrance of her, and who had never had the advantage of knowing a sister's love, Alice was a1 once a novelty and a charm. Oswald Barnes, who had sisters, used to tell me I talked nonsense wdien I spoke in such admiration as I did about sisters' kindness, and how happy a thing it must be to be a constant recipient of it. He used to say that sisters were all very well, were good enough to make fun of, and nice enough in themselves sometimes, but that for his part he could not see what there was in them to make such a fuss about, and that what I said of them was not worth a broken straw, in fact, he used to talk as many other lads talk of their sisters, to run them down, and even to snub them sharply on occasions ; but I r< 'member that, although lie thus Bpoke, he had really such a Love for them, that he would 60 HUBERT ELLIS. not certainly have been without them ; and once when he had had some difference with little Eglantine, his eldest sister, and was relating the story of his supposed wrongs in the presence ot several of us, he fought and thrashed Arthur Piers, the creed- maker's son of Ave Maria Lane, for saying in a slighting tone, by way of sympathising with him, that Eglantine's hair was of a nasty red. And when his other sister, Mary, a winsome child of ten years, lay on the bed where a mortal sickness had stretched her, who but Oswald would beg to be allowed to wait upon her, brought her fresh flowers which he had been as far as Einsbury to cull for her, and strove in everything to minister to the comfort of the suffering child. So that, in spite of Oswald's lectures, I kept my own opinion about the pleasure of having sisters, and Alice, who to me was in place of a sister, never gave me cause to change it. She the only child of her family, and I the only one of mine, we had kindred sympathies which begot mutual confidences, and so whenever Margaret had spoken harshly, as that good woman sometimes did, or old Peter had been ill-tempered and refused to let her have her own way in the arrangiug of the flower-garden, or whenever anything lay on her heart to oppress it, Alice came to me and told me of it in a sort of civil shrift or confession. She was always sure of sympathy from Hubert, so to Hubert she came whenever she needed it. I, too, on the other hand, made a confidante of the child, and told her most of the thoughts which occupied my mind — my plans for doing things, which for the most part were never realised • — my desire to do something which should make my name famous, and the thousand different schemes which fired my boyish ambi- tion. She used to listen attentively to all I had to say, looking up into my face as if she were reading my thoughts before I expressed them ; and though she never offered any advice, and confined her assistance to wishing me luck and prosperity, I always felt a relief after I had said my say to her, and fancied I could then discuss with clearer understanding the practical part of the story with action-loving Oswald. MY FRIENDSHIP WITH MISTRESS ALICE. 61 Part, perhaps, of this friendship which sprang up between us was due to the knowledge of how extremely fond my dear father had been of Alice, and how on the few occasions when she had been with Master Philpot at Brooklet, he had busied himself to please and amuse her, out of the great affection he had for her. She was never tired of hearing me speak about him, and it was a source of much happiness that I could thus talk of one so emi- nently beloved by me to this child, who herself had of him none but grateful recollections. The relation in which I stood to Master Philpot, the disparity in our respective ages, and a certain reservedness which, although accompanied by the most complete kindness, had the effect of keeping a boy from opening his mind voluntarily before him, prevented me from resorting to him when the thoughts in my mind became too big to be allowed to pass in smother. Oswald Barnes, though my trusty friend and ally, especially after the affair in Tassel Close, had not that similarity of disposition which would make me resort to him on all the occasions in which a friend would be useful. He had not patience enough to listen to all my unpractical suggestions ; and, except when action was to be taken, he was the most unwilling divider of a care of any that I knew. To none other of my acquaintance did I sufficiently bind myself to make me share my thoughts with them ; and as in Alice I found both a ready and sympathising listener, so I desired no better a counsellor in aught that I undertook. There was nothing I would not gladly do for Alice if it might in any way add a grain to her content, and happy in the thought that she was equally desirous of doing all she could for me, I lived on in the regular discharge of my duties in Master Philpot's house, until an event happened which shall be narrated in the next chapter. CHAPTER VIII. DEATH OF EDWAKD III. — JOHN PniLPOT VISITS PEINCE EICHAED AT KENNINGTON, AXD MAKES AN ADDEESS TO HIM — JOHN OF GAUNT. " Mighty victor, mighty lord, Low on his funeral couch he lies ! No pitying heart, no eyes afford A tear to grace his obsequies." G i: \ v. " Le roi est niort— Vive le roi ! " HE event alluded to at the end of the last chapter was no less a momentous one than the death of the king. I wish I could report more pleasantly of his death, which, as I was told by one who was about the king's court at Shene, was on this wise. The noble king had been very ill for four months, and during that time the men who more adore the sun rising than the sun which will presently set had fallen off in their attendance upon him. In spite of the great deeds he had done and the special benefits he had con- DEATH OF THE KING. 63 ferred upon many, there were towards the close of his time none to be found about his sick-room except a few menial servants and Mistress Perrers, to whom he had shown much kindness ; and even these forsook him in his last moments, that they might take for themselves whatever came to their hands, and batten on the pasture from which they must soon be driven out. Even Mistress Perrers — Alice Pierce as men commonly called her — set an example most heinous to all the viler folk. As soon as she per- ceived that the king's breath came less easily, that his eyes were getting heavy with the weight of death, and that vital warmth was leaving him, she, who owed all she had to the dying king's bounty, stripped the rings with precious stones which were placed upon his hands, and talcing them to herself, forsook him and fled. Tli ere was but one poor priest (and he it was that told me of this) who remained with the king, and he, pitying the altered condition of the royal man, and wishing to help his soul to find grace, drew near to the couch on which the king lay dying. Un- able to hear the confession which could not for lack of strength be spoken, the priest made signs that the king should pray for pardon of his sins, and should freely ask forgiveness of all whom he had offended. The king took the crucifix which was put into his hand, kissed it reverently as the big tear3 of contrition rolled down his furrowed cheeks, and then placed his hands together in the act of prayer. The priest stood by, and gave the penitent assurance of God's pardon to those who are truly contrite; and, bending down his ear to catch the words which the lips muttered, he heard in a faint Avhisper mention of the holiest name. A few seconds more, and Edward Plantagenet, the dread of Erance and Scotland, the valiant warrior and most mighty prince, was no more than a lump of lifeless flesh, no more to be feared than the dog who died yesterday. This happened on the 21s1 of June, on tin- Vigil (>!' St. Alban, the English protomartyr. Before the old king was really dead, but when it was known that he was in a dying state, a number of the citizens came to our house and demanded to have speech with Master Philpot: Several of them bul up with him for along lime in the large dining- 64 HUBERT ELLIS. room, and at the end of their discussion I was directed to get things ready on the instant for a journey to Kennington, where the Princess Dowager and the young Prince Richard lay. Master Philpot, in his finest velvet cloak, richest body-coat, and gayest apparel, in half an hour set forth on his horse Plamand, accom- panied by Walworth, Twiford, John Lofken, and many more. Oswald Barnes, to whom was given a large case of parchments to carry, rode on the stable pony, and I, dressed out in my brightest weeds, and with the handsome dagger I had won at the sword- and-buckler play in Smithfield dangling at my waist, followed on Carrow. We had a pleasant ride that morning as we trotted along, talking of many things, and wondering why we were going to the palace, and what sort of place the palace itself might be. We quitted our house at ten in the morning, and riding through Penchurch Street, stayed at Blanch Appleton for Sir Thomas Poos, fetched Sir Simon Burley from Lime Street, Michael Pistoy from Greengate, and Sir John Nevill from the Leadenhall, and thence going towards the river with a constantly increasing company, came to the gate of London Bridge. "How now, old Grim-face?" said Oswald to some one who seemed to be looking at him from one of the upper towers of the bridge-gate. " Wilt know me again when I pass on the return ?" " Let be," said the warder, who was impatient of any notice bestowed upon his topmost tenants ; " leave your bantering, and mind how you come to ask me for lodging. I 've none but top- story places, and not many of them to spare." The remark was a perfectly just one, for that to which Oswald spoke was but one of about thirty severed heads which grinned on the points of pikes on the top of the battlements, and looked down as a warning to those who rode below. The gate being thrown back, and Oswald's parley with the gate- keeper being over, we passed on to the bridge, and between the handsome houses which stood on either side of the narrow way. Master Philpot with his friends rode together in front, and we lads brought up the rear, there being an interval of several yards OSWALD'S TEMPTATION AND PUNISHMENT. 65 between them and us. A part of Carrow's bridle having chafed off and broken, I stayed at a spurrier's half-way across the bridge to get the damage repaired, and while the man was employed in setting the bridle right, an incident occurred which was like to have had an important bearing on what my master and his friends were about. Oswald — for of course he stopped with me — having nothing to do while we waited at the shop, thought it necessary to exercise his spare energies upon the winning of a trophy, which he saw and coveted. From a long pole that stuck out across the path- way in front of the spurrier's stall, hung, as a sign of the man's trade, a huge spur, made of wood and fastened by the foot-chain to the pole. It hung temptingly down, almost within reach of a horseman riding under it. It was dangling just over Oswald's pony's neck as he stood behind me, waiting while the spurrier made good the defect in my bridle. For three minutes Oswald eyed with a hungry look the bait which hung so close. Three minutes — no more — and then he found it irresistible. He drew himself a little on one side, so as to be out of the spurrier's sight, and rising in his stirrups, to come within reach of the fastening of the spur, set briskly to work to disconnect it from the pole. Though the operation was not so easy as my friend had ima- gined, it was highly probable that another minute would have seen it complete, had it not been that the spurrier's son, who was standing on the outside staircase of the house beyond, was, un- known to Oswald, watching the whole of his proceedings with the liveliest interest. Just as Oswald had forced back the link of the chain which held the spur, and was about to take possession of his prize, he found himself suddenly flung forward on his saddle-bow by a smart blow in the back from behind; and in that position his spurs catching the flanks of the pony, caused it to plunge, rear, and run backwards, and in its jibbing to overturn a handbarrow which a countryman was wheeling into the city with provisions for the house of the Black Friars. Oswald came to the ground. 66 HUBEET ELLIS. A scene of confusion ensued which I cannot properly describe. The spurrier called Oswald a thiefson varlet, and threatened to pitch him into the river ; Oswald, disregarding the angry words of the spurrier, flew at the spurrier's son, and pinned him by the throat against the wall of the house, till the countryman, coming up, began to belabour Oswald with the case of parchments, which in the course of the squabble had slipped from my friend's grasp, and was now being used as the handiest weapon that lay within the indignant peasant's reach. All this was done in less time than I have taken to tell it ; but I foresaw that if we did not set forward at once we should miss our master altogether ; so bidding Oswald desist from choking the lad who had assailed him, and threatening the countryman with all the terrors of the Tower dungeons unless he instantly let go his hold on Oswald, I hastily settled with the spurrier, and, joined by Oswald, rode as hard as I could after those who had gone before. Just as we had ridden at full speed over the bridge, and were turning to strike across the fields by the Marshalsea in Southwark, a horseman, travel-stained and spurring a jaded horse, dashed past us at a gallop in the direction of the city. " Whence so quick ? " I shouted as the man rushed by. I bent my head on one side to catch the sound of his voice, and heard, as I thought, the answer, "Battle Abbey." I cursed Oswald for his freak, which had so much delayed us, but for which he had been sufficiently punished, and we rode together as hard as our steeds would carry us until we overtook the advanced party as they were about to enter the garden of the palace. " In mischief again, I suppose," said Master Philpot, addressing us both, but looking at Oswald. " When will you learn to behave like what you are, instead of like the unkempt loons who prowl about in search of injuries they may do ? " Oswald was about to relate the part he had had in the matter which detained us, when Philpot sharply asked him for the case of parchments that had been intrusted to his care. Both Oswald THE DEPUTATION TO THE PEINCE. 67 and myself now felt heartily ashamed. The case, which had slipped from his grasp during our encounter on the bridge, had been forgotten in our hurry to get off; and now it seemed it was essentially necessary to the furtherance of the work these good citizens had in hand. What it contained we neither of us knew when we left home in the morning. Imagine our consternation and horror when we now heard that the case contained no less an important matter than Master Philpot's written speech, which it had cost the company two full hours of that morning's work to elaborate and put together. It was too late now to go back and look for it, though we would gladly have gone, if only to hide our culpable heads. The case might, for aught we knew, be yet lying in the place where it had fallen ; or the vengeful spurrier might have thrown it whither he threatened to throw Oswald — into the river. Anyhow, it was an idle errand to be sent on when the procession was preparing to enter the house where the parchments were to have been used that very hour. If any speech was to be made at all, Master Phdpot must trust to his memory, or to the eloquence with which the occasion might inspire him. "We slunk behind like two whipped dogs, and followed the citizens into the palace. There we found, expecting and ready to receive the citizens, the Princess Joan, widow of the most noble Black Prince, and mother of the young child who Avas soon to become king, the Duke of Lancaster, Lord Latymer, Sir Nicholas Bond, Sir Richard Adderberry, and others of the Princess's Council. There was no trace on the brow of the duke of the recent heavy difference between himself and the citizens. Tou could not Lave; known, had you looked on that calm, thoughtful face, so benignly turned to welcome us, that that was the man whose life a few short weeks before had been eagerly sought by the Londoners, and who was known as a patient waiter upon vengeance, but the rare forgiver of a wrong. Master Philpot could not quite understand the open and coin- 68 HUBEET ELLIS. teous bearing of the great enemy of the commons. He made only the obeisance which good manners required of him to the duke, and then turned towards the spot where Prince Richard stood by the side of his mother and the before-mentioned knights. Ignoring •the prepared oration which the tide, ere this, had borne as far as Gravesend, Master Philpot, out of the natural eloquence of his heart, thus delivered : " "We bring news, most excellent prince, to which we cannot refer without extreme sorrow, concerning the undoubtedly immi- nent death of our most invincible King Edward, who has guarded and ruled us and this kingdom so many years in such perfect peace, but who now, by the evident signs of death upon him, is ceasing to be our sovereign. Wherefore we ask, on behalf of the citizens and community of London, that you will take into your gracious regard this city which is your chamber ; you who alone will shortly be our king ; whom alone " — and here Master Philpot, emphasising the last word, looked hard at my lord of Lancaster, who remained perfectly unmoved — " we recognise as our king ; to whose rule and governance alone we bend, and to whose good will and pleasure we submit ourselves in deed as well as in word. And that we may further carry out the commission given to us, let us inform your Highness how unspeakably your city has been moved by the prolonged absence of your Highness from her ; she who is so famously devoted to you, that not only is she ready to spend her goods for you, but also, if need be, her blood. Therefore we approach you in order to pray that for the solace of the citizens and for your own safety and comfort your Highness will be pleased again to dwell within her. Above all, most excellent prince, we especially pray that you will deign to put an end to the discord which lately has arisen, through the wiles of some, between our citizens and our lord the Duke of Lancaster — a discord profitable to nobody, and hurtful to many — and that you will make a peace beneficial to the duke himself and to our citizens." To this address, delivered with modesty and much dignity, in spite of the absence of Oswald's scroll, which should have re- freshed the speaker's memory, the prince and his councillors lis- THE EECONCILIATION. 69 tened with grave attention ; and after the prince, by way of reply, had assured the citizens that he would endeavour in all things to comply with their dutiful wishes, the Duke of Lancaster stepped forward with most courteous bearing, and spoke a short speech to the deputies. He told them how sorry he was that, through the folly of those who should have known better, this misunderstand- ing had sprung up betwixt himself and the Londoners ; that he deprecated entirely the quarrel and the causes of it, and was most heartily glad of the advance that had been made towards a re- newal of friendship. " For my part," said he, " in proof of my desire to be at one with you, I will, on acknowledgment by you of the wrongs done to me, implore the king to release all who have been imprisoned for despite of me; I will freely forgive all the past, and for the future cherish the good citizens of London as if they were my brethren." Lord Latymer, Sir Simon Burley, and two other gentlemen here stepped forward, and swore by their knighthood that no harm should come to any on account of this submission to the duke ; and the prince using his endeavours, the citizens acknowledged that wrong had been done. Then the duke, in token of reconcilia- tion, embraced each of the citizens one after the other ; and they, glad at heart to have done so good a day's work, made their obeisance to the prince, and set out on their return home. And all this was done on the same day that King Edward died. 'vc I CHAPTER IX. THE ABBOT OF BATTLE SENDS WILLIAM ARCHDALE TO SAT HO"VT THE TOWN OP RYE HAD BEEN BURNED BT THE ERENCH WILL ARCHDALE. " The bote summer hadde made his hewe al broun, And certainly he was a good felowe." Canterbury Tales. HEN we reached East Cheap that evening, there was- intelligence which did not please some of the party. My ear had rightly informed me as to the words which the horseman had shouted in reply to my ques- tion in the morning. The rider had come on an express message to the Duke of Lancaster and to Master John Philpot, from Hamo de Oifyngton, Abbot of Battle, in Sussex, and his name was "Wil- liam Archdale. Archdale was a man whom one could not help liking at first sight. A well-proportioned man, of a build rather sturdy than slight, with florid face and curly brown hair, bright blue eyes, handsome nose and mouth, and an expression of countenance wbich bespoke frankness and good-nature. His dress was simple and serviceable. On his head he wore a plain steel basnet, sur- mounted by a small spike ; in place of a common coat he wore a stout leather acton, padded and guarded so as to save him from any but the most hardy thrust ; his breeches were of stout quilted cloth, and his lower limbs were protected by stroDg buskins of hide. Over his shoulders drooped a dark brown riding-cloak, on which was embroidered the red cross charged with a mitre, the badge of the Abbot of Battle. In the baldrick, which crossed over his right shoulder, hung a long straight sword, which, with a mise- WILL AECHDALE. 71 ricorde, or short dagger, carried in his belt, furnished him — for he knew how to use them — with very fair means of defence. He had just come back from the Savoy, whither he had gone to deliver his packet for the Duke of Lancaster, as we trotted into the stable-yard on our return from Kennington ; and as Master Philpot dismounted from his horse, the messenger accosted him with — " Letters from my Lord Abbot of Battle, worshipful sir. The contents are urgent, and I have lost no time in bringing them. May it please you receive them ? " And drawing a parcel from the breast lining of his acton, he gave it into my master's hand. " How fares it with my good friend Hamo de Oflyngton ? " in- quired Philpot, as he examined the seal and superscriDtion on the cover. " AVell in bodily health, I thank G-od," answered the messenger, " but troubled, sir, by that which he tells you in the letter." " You have ridden far, and must be weary," said my master. ' : How far have you come to-day ? " " From Battle Abbey, sir," replied the man. " I have accounted 1'or three horses on the journey, and confess to feeling somewhat the worse for the travel." " "What is your name, my man ? " inquired Philpot. " Will Archdale, at your service, sir ; a Sussex man and yeoman of the abbey, and humble servant to as good a master as breathes between this and the town of Rye." "Thanks, then, good Archdale, for the despatch you have used. Ifere/ Hubert, take Archdale with you ; see that he wants for nothing we can give him — and good night to you both." So saying, Master Philpot walked into the house, with the abbot's letters in his hand, while "Will Archdale and I turned first to the stable to see that our horses were properly cared for ; and, that done, we too repaired to our quarters. A very short time served to put Archdale and myself on the best possible terms. He was my senior by some four years, but that was no bar to our friendship. On the contrary, I liked him all the better that he was older and yet made himself my equal. 72 HUBERT ELLIS. His jolly nature loved society; and while he was a companion meet for a man, he would, in the largeness of his heart, commend himself to the youngest child, and win its friendship. It was impossible to dislike him ; his very roughness was not rude, but merely the awkwardness which came of his life-long residence in country places. A drench at the pump, and a change of the irksome part of his dress, revived Archdale sufficiently to enable him to do ample justice to the supper old Margaret set before us ; and as platterful on platterful of food vanished down our guest's throat, the old dame seemed utterly bewildered to know wherever he could stow it all away, and began at last to talk to herself about a disease which some forbear of hers had had, the chief feature in which was an enormous capacity for swallowing the best meats in the pantry, and how she thought she could cure it by virtue of some rare herb, which was only to be found on the graves of un- christened babes. Her amazement was no whit abated when she saw Peter "Wall bringing in for the fifth time a great black-jack of strong ale, which had been as many times emptied ; and her feelings could not have been one remove from sheer disgust when Archdale, after performing these prodigies of eating and drinking, flung himself down on her own bench, close to the fire, and began to remark despondingly on the falling off in his appetite. But whatever her feelings were, she kept them at that time to herself. She had a special reason for wanting to keep this strange feeder in good humour, although — but she knew it not then — it would have taken twenty such as she to raise a wrinkle on the smoothness of honest "Will Archdale's temper. She was aware that he had come in urgent haste with some special message from the abbot to her master, and she dearly longed to know, just for the sake of knowing, what that special message which needed such despatch might be. So suppressing her opinions on the trencher- work she had just witnessed, and taking no notice of the unprecedented insolence that had dared to invade and take posses- sion of her own special bench, in the top drawer of which she kept the simples of which the serving-men and wenches stood in MISTRESS MAEGAEET'S CUEIOSITY. 73 profound awe — she commenced her attack upon "Will Archdale's secret, and began to beat about the bush for her game. "It must be dreadful work riding so far as you have done, master," she said in a pitying tone of voice. "Well, I suppose it would screw you up, old lady; but I don't complain so much as the horses do," answered AVill. " Ah ! it 's fearful work for them, poor things, a-trotting and a-bein' spurred and lashed as if they had no more feelings than they that ride them." "No feelings, dame, bless you! why, the horses were born to work, and they don't mind going hard, until they get right down tired. Tor my part, I never distress a horse if I can possibly spare him, unless occasion requires it, and then I don't spare him any more than I spare myself." " But what need had you to be riding in this manner, Master Arch dale ? " inquired Margaret, in her most winning way. " Just to obey my master's orders," answered Will. " The message must have been a big one, indeed," replied Mar- garet, " to make your master — a churchman too — bid you be cruel about taking it." " He bade me be nothing of the kind, old lady, nor did he tell me whether the message I carried was a big one or a little one. All he told me to do was to carry the letters with all speed to London ; and here I am, having obeyed his orders, as tired as a run hare, and, till lately, as hungry as a hunter." " Well, but you must know what it was that made you hurry so," said Margaret, a little peevishly. " It wasn't for nothing you tired out those three horses that Peter heard you tell the master about, I suppose ? " "No, I don't suppose it was," answered Archdale, yawning noisily ; " but do you suppose I read the letters I was carrying ? Bless your old soul, do you think we are such scholars in the country as you town folk, that we can read — or that, if we could, we would read anything intrusted to us ? Do you ever read other people's despatches ? " " Bless the man ! he 's making japes at me. I read ? Lord 74 HUBERT ELLIS. love ye ! I thank God I could never read a word of the monkish stuff and nonsense, which they scratch down on the skins of the dear innocent calves and sheep. Not I, indeed. Do you suppose that I, who have lived here in this city, girl and woman, these I don't know how many years — (Archdale suggested twenty-three, but the old lady rebuked him severely for 'a vain and weak- headed young man') — that I would meddle with such things? No, but when I am set to do a thing, I always like to know the why and the wherefore, like an honest woman, and not to go stupidly about it with no more sense than a post." Even the hit intended by the last words of Margaret's speech failed to stir Archdale. He merely turned himself on his side upon the bench whereon he was stretched at length, and looking at his inquisitor, said, " Tou '11 get no news out of me, old dame, for I have none to give, and would not tell tales if I could. But all this while," he added, leaping up, " I am forgetting the very particular directions which my lord abbot gave to me as I was jumping into my saddle. ' Will,' said he, ' be sure you drink the health of the fair Dame Margaret on my behalf;' and here I am, ready and willing to obey him even in this, but unable to do so, because this plaguy jack won't hold any more than has been poured into it." The hint for another jug of beer was taken, but Margaret failed to get the purport of Will's letters out of the faithful servant, who, being by this time pretty thoroughly tired, was glad to accept my invitation to retire for the night. Wishing the kitchen and its occu- pants good night, we crossed the courtyard which lay between it and our quarters, and climbing the stair which led to our bed-rooms on the upper flat, in ten minutes slept the sleep of weary, healthful lads. Oswald had been severely lectured by our master for the part he had taken in the day's work, and having been set, by way of punishment, to count over a large quantity of nobles and half- nobles which had come" into the king's treasury — Master Philpot being the Parliament's commissioner to receive the taxes voted — did not join us all the evening. AN ALAEM OF INVASION. 75 The letters which Archdale had brought from the abbot were indeed important, and the news he had to tell to those authorised to receive them was in the highest degree momentous. It seems that for some time past the people of Kent and Sussex had known that the French and Spaniards were forming a large armament of troops and ships for the purpose of invading the country ; and, in obedience to directions from the English court, they had given their aid to the Earl of Cambridge, Constable of Dover Castle, the Lords Latymer, Cobham, and Clinton, and Sir Stephen de Yalence, who were directed to guard the coasts. In most of the ports, especially those towards Thames mouth, beacons had been erected, the keepers of which were enjoined to set them on fire as soon as they saw an enemy's vessel approach "with sail or oars," and to make all the noise in their power, with horns and cries, on hearing which every man should hasten to the spot in his best armour. But there was a sad want of ships to meet the enemy on the water ; scarcely a cog or barge in any of the ports was fit to go to sea. This the French knew well, and took their measures accordingly. There Avas no want of courage in the men of the counties, bu£ that could not avail without the means for displaying it, as appeared but too well from the letters of the Abbot of Battle. In them the abbot said that Sir John de Yienne, with five great ships, and a number of smaller Spanish vessels under Sir John de Baix, had appeared unexpectedly off the town of Eye, that soldiers had been landed, and the town taken, with a great quantity of spoil and many prisoners ; that afterwards the Frenchmen had come to Winchelsea, but had there found the abbot with a number of armed men ; and despairing of gaining that, or getting farther entrance into the country, had returned to Eye, and utterly de- stroyed the town by burning it to ashes ; that they had re-em- barked in their ships, without it being possible to attack them, carrying with them, after slaying many score of the others, four of the richest citizens, forty-two hogsheads of wine, a great store of booty, and the four beautiful bells which they stole out of the church. He further told how that the town was quite desolate, 76 HUBEET ELLIS. and begged that aid might at once be sent to resist any further aggressions. "Will Archdale, who had been with the abbot at "Winchelsea, and who had there captured a Frenchman, from whom the designs of the enemy were learned, confirmed by word of mouth all that the abbot had written. These were heavy news indeed ; and in a council held next day by the citizens of London, it was resolved to proceed at once to the coronation of the king, and then to make all the haste they could to go against the French, lest they should do some greater injury. CHAPTER X. KING RICHARD IS CK0WNED AT WESTMINSTER — WHAT WE SAW AT THE CORONATION. " And then I stole all courtesy from heaven, And dressed myself in such humility That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts, Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths." Henry IV. jX the lGth of July, 1377, King Richard was crowned at Westminster, and Oswald and I went to see the pageant. "Will Archdale, who was kept in London till some fitting message could be sent back by him, accompanied us, and off we started as early as we could, with the intention of thoroughly enjoying the fun. How we succeeded will be shown at the end of this chapter. For the present I will only tell of what we saw and did at the coronation itself. "We held a short council as to the best way of proceeding — whether we should take a boat at Dowgate or Queenhithe, and pull up to Westminster, or walk through the streets and see what was going on by the way. As Archdale had not been in London before, and wanted to see the fine houses he had heard of, we decided upon the latter course, and at seven o'clock we started, after eating a breakfast at which Archdale excited as much of old Margaret's wonder by his power of putting things away under his doublet as he had done at supper the night before. The parting injunction of Master Philpot was that we should strictly avoid meddling with anybody, and endeavour our utmost to keep out of all quarrels. We promised compliance, and when we did so we meant to act up to our word. 78 HUBEET ELLIS. Leaving the house, then, as I have said, at seven o'clock, we walked first towards the river on to Fish Street Hill, in order to show Archdale the house which lately was the residence of the Black Prince, thence by the open space on Thames bank to Corn- hill, where Archdale's attention was at once attracted by a scene in which the Tun formed the chief feature. At the door of the prison were a number of sturdy beggars, whose heads had been too addled the night before to be able to distinguish well between " mine " and " thine," and had in this confusion taken to them- selves what did not belong to them. They were now, after a night's lodging in the straitest of dungeons, being led away to be punished according to the size of their offences, some with the stocks, and others with beating. A more wobegone motley crew it was not possible to think of. Some had scarcely any clothes with which to hide their nakedness, others had the tattered rem- nants of better men's coats around them ; all were unkempt, un- shaven, and dirty, and looked like so many specimens of wretched- ness and rascality. " An uneasy sort of place that," said Archdale, as he looked curiously at the Tun. " AVhat is it called ?" " Well, it is called the Tun," said Oswald, " because of its shape, I suppose. The top part is a conduit. The lower part is a prison, and has been for the last hundred years." * "It is not an inviting- looking place, I must say," observed Archdale. " I hope it will not be my lot to pass a night in it;" " No fear of that," replied Oswald. " Master Philpot's name would be your key to get out of any such hole in this city." " I 'd rather not need to use it, however," said Archdale, as the prisoners were led away, and we passed on. Staying a moment to admire the beautiful church of St. * " Then have ye a fair conduit of sweet water, castellated in the middest of that ward and street. This conduit was first built of stone in the year ] 282, by Henry Walles, mayor of London, to be a prison for night walkers, and other suspicious persons, and was called the Tun upon Cornhill, because the same was built somewhat in fashion of a tun standing on the one end." — Stow s &wrvey. THE CITY IN HOLIDAY TEIM. 79 Michael, and to make passing acquaintance with the renowned Pope's Head Tavern, which once was King John's house, where Hubert de Burgh answered the charges which were made against him at the instance of Henry III., and on the front of which were yet to be seen the royal arms of England, we crossed the Horse- shoe Bridge over Walbrook, turned into Bucklersbury, passed the Queen's Wardrobe, and came into Cheap close by the Cernet's Tower. Here the preparations for the king's coming were forward and on a grand scale. The Crounsilde, or stone shed which the late king had built by Bow Church, in order better to witness the jousts and games which were held in Cheap, was gaily decked with drapery, and pennons, devices, and quaint conceits. A large image of the sun, King Richard's badge, appeared outside in the centre, supported on either side by the royal arms and the arms of his late loved father, Prince Edward. Erom the roof streamed the banner of England, in proud contrast with the simple flags which flouted the air from the citizens' houses in countless number. The canvas sheds in which wares were usually sold were for the day removed. No cry this morning of " What d'ye lack, gentles? what d'ye lack?" from the hundreds of apprentices who were wont to ply their masters' trades in this busy part, but who now strutted, like ourselves, in all the licence of holiday, as independent and as free as the air they breathed. On the staircase of each house, and at the lattices of the front upper rooms, were the city ladies in all their beauty, and in the gayest of apparel. Eeasts were preparing, serving-men were hurrying to and fro on festive errands, the citizens were assem- bling for the processions in which they were to take a part — all betokened a city bent on holiday-making, and on throwing cares for the safety of the coasts, for the due prosperity of commerce, to the four winds of heaven. This day was looked on as one of happiness and joy — the day long looked to for the renewing of peace at home, a thing which long ago, and for so long, had been exiled from it. In the market-place at the higher end of Cheap had been 80 HUBERT ELLIS. erected a building in the form of a castle, out of which were to run two streams of wine. On the four turrets of it were four maidens, dressed in white, and of the same age as the king himself. On his appoach they were to blow towards him small shreds of gold-leaf, florins made of paper, and then to come down from the turrets, and offer wine to him and the lords. Finally, there was a small child dressed in cloth of gold, and intended to represent an angel, whose part it was to be let down by machinery from the summit of the tower, and to present a golden crown to the king on behalf of the citizens. In nearly every street we threaded some gay device or pageant had been contrived, but none equalled in beauty or in costliness this which had been pre- pared by the merchants of Cheap. Our object being to reach "Westminster before the king, we did not stay for his passage through the streets, but made the best of our way through the thoroughfares, which were thronged to overflowing by those who wished to welcome their young sove- reign. Down Paternoster Eow to Amen Corner, past my lord of Pem- broke's house in Ave Maria Lane, and so to Ludgate. Prom this we pushed on, elbowing our way through the crowd, across the bridge over the Pleet river, past the church belonging to the Black Priars, and so up Pleet Street to Temple Bar. Every place that we passed was dressed o\it in gayest colours, with pennons and streamers and conceits of heralds — nowhere could be seen any trace of backwardness to welcome. The Bar itself was a mass of drapery, having intertwined all over it the flags of the principal noblemen, the banners of the city guilds, and the arms of the lord mayor, the whole being surmounted as the Crounsilde was, by the royal standard. The prior of the Knights of St. John had not spared to make the Temple do honour to the occasion. The Bishop of Salisbury's palace and the house of Sir Eobert Knollys in Cocker's Lane were also elegantly dressed, while the Savoy, where my lord of Lancaster dwelt, was a perfect pattern of splendour. All this struck Will Archdale with admiration. He had never OSWALD BARNES AGAIN IN TROUBLE. 81 seen so large a town nor so many people together in his life before, while the beauty of the hangings and the richness of the people's dresses filled him with amazement. Who would have thought, to see all this joy and gladness in the people, all this desire to welceme and make him glad whom they delighted to honour, that in a few short years so great a gulf should yawn, and separate the king from his people by an abyss that could not by any means be bridged over ? It was ten o'clock when we arrived at the Abbey of St. Peter at Westminster. In "Westminster Hall were assembled a large company of the principal barons and gentlemen of the kingdom, with the archbishops and bishops in their gorgeous state robes. Between the hall and the abbey, the path by which the king would have to walk was covered over with richest scarlet cloth ; a band of men, consisting of the retainers of the principal lords, dressed in their handsome liveries, with the family badges on the breast, lined the way on either side, whilst the lords themselves within the doors of the hall stood ready to receive the king, and to conduct him into the abbey. "Now then, mind what you do, I say!" I heard shouted be- hind me ; and my attention being at once attracted to the direc- tion from which the voice came, I saw Oswald, whose faculty for getting into mischief was perfectly marvellous, struggling with a burly man full six feet high, who was holding him back from pressing into the inclosed space. Somebody had complained that Oswald had elbowed him too roughly, which complaint Oswald answered by justifying the charge ; and his opponent, a big smith who did not deign to strike a lad, revenged the affront by throw- ing my friend's cap into the inclosure. It was in pursuit of his cap that he came foul of the guard, who utterly declined to listen to his demand to be allowed to pursue his own property. " What a plague do you mean by getting into this hobble ?" I cried. " Leave well alone, man, and don't earn yourself a lodging in the Gatehouse, for you '11 find the key you spoke of this morn- ing won't unlock prison gates at Westminster, at all events." ;t He's got my cap," said Oswald, "and I '11 make him give it 6 82 HUBEET ELLIS. up." And so saying, Oswald fastened himself anew, like a young bulldog, on to the man who had offended him. The struggle was not of long duration, for the guard griped the arm and shoulder of poor Oswald in an iron grasp, dragged him off his legs, and then shook him to the ground. Whilst Oswald, thoroughly convinced of the imbecility of his attempt, was pick- ing himself and his dignity up from the mud, his conqueror good- naturedly skewered the cap, which lay on the centre of the scarlet cloth, with the top of his pike, and flinging it to Oswald, bade him beware how he hit one who was not of his own size. Presently there was a howl sent up from the men all along the guarded line, and a shoving about of sticks and weapons ensued, as if they had been possessed with evil spirits. A dog had done what Oswald had failed to do, and had broken into the space where Majesty was alone to figure. In spite of the yells and hootings which the men raised, by way of amusement more than anything else, the dog proceeded up the line, dodging the missiles and the sticks which were sent at him, till he came near the spot where we were standing. A short, sharp bark, which I fancied I recognised, drew me to notice the creature more particularly, and in him I discovered, to my great astonishment, my own hound Brush. He had slipped his chain somehow or other in the stable- yard, and set out to take his share in the sports of the day as well as we. He had tracked me up through the streets to "West- minster Hall, and now, having forced a passage out of the scarlet place, stood beside me with eyes glistening, mouth open, and tongue hanging down, wagging his tail with intensest delight at having once more found his master. Yery soon after these little incidents occurred, the king arrived at the hall, and preparations were at once made for taking him to the church. The clergy, abbots, and prelates led the way, followed by the great officers of the crown in their robes of state ; then came the king, walking under a canopy of blue silk, which was supported on silver spears, carried by the barons of the Cinque Ports. With the clergy, in the front part of the proces- sion, were the choir of the abbey, and as they moved on to the COEONATION OF EICHAED II. 83 abbey gates they sang a beautiful antipbony in honour of St. Peter, to which was added by way of special prayer this canticle : " O God ! who regardest the lowly-minded, who consolest us humble, with the greatness of thy mercy, grant to thy servant our king thy tender grace, that through him we may feel thy presence amongst us ;" and so singing they passed into the church. There the mass being celebrated, and an address given by the Archbishop of Canterbury to the people, the king took the coro- nation oath. Standing before the high altar whereon the mass had been offered, Eichard, at the instigation of the primate, swore : " That he would permit the Church to enjoy her privileges, and would reverence her and her ministers ; that he would true faith keep, and in all places set his face against rapacity and iniquity of all sorts. Se- condly, that he would cause to be observed the good laws of the land, especially those of St. Edward, king and confessor, who lay at rest in that very church ; and that he would subvert all bad laws. Thirdly, that he would be no accepter of persons, but would give true justice between man and man ; especially that he would be mindful of mercy, even as he himself hoped for mercy from the clement and pitiful God." This being done, the archbishop demanded of the people if they would have Eichard for their king. Loud shouts and salutations declared their assent, and the crown was placed on the young boy's head. Then came the investing with the sword of state, the armlets of sincerity and wisdom, the pall, the ring emblema- tical of the Catholic religion, the sceptre of dominion, the wand of truth and equity, and, finally, the enthroning. We, who had been standing on the outside steps of the church, waiting for the coming of the stately party from within, were sur- prised, towards the end of the time fixed for their advent, to see, prancing up upon a magnificent milk-white charger, a knight clad in complete armour, and preceded by his two esquires bearing his lance and shield. Advancing to the door of the abbey, he raised the beveur from before his face, and in a loud voice chal- lenged the whole realm to deny the right of Eichard to be king, 84 HUBERT ELLIS. at the same time flinging his glove upon the ground, for any one who listed to pick up. No one, however, was present who seemed disposed to enter on the quarrel, and Sir John Dymmok — for so he was called — had no need but to turn his rein and ride home again. Whilst he was at this work, the new king and his nobles came out of the church and fared forth into "Westminster Hall, where earls and knights were to be created, other honours conferred, and a great banquet given to those who were at the court. We, having no entrance there, but having seen thoroughly what we desired, began to think of turning our steps homeward, and as we went eastward, that happened on the way which shall be related in the next chapter. Fleet Bridge. CHAPTER XL WE MEET WITH AN ADVENTURE, AND HATE TO VISIT LUDGATE. " He was to weete a stout and sturdy thiefe, Wont to rob churches of their ornaments." Faerie Queene. " Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn, but I shall have my pocket pick'd P " Henry IV. HE clock had struck two when we quitted the abbey- yard on our return home. Brush was with us, jump- ing and frisking on every side, and looking defiant of every dog he met. We had not gone far beyond the White Eriars Church in Eleet Street, when a stranger, apparently a foreignei*, stopped us, and asked the way to the house of John of Ypres, which he said he had been told lay near the Erber in Dowgate. There was something in the look and manner of the man which made me hold off from him as soon as he spoke to me. His over- hanging eyebrows, thin hooked nose, thin lips, fringed with a shaggy moustache, and his restless glistening eyes, his face bearing marks of exposure to weather, and down the left cheek signs of an old sword-cut, made up a countenance that was not pleasing. Brush did not seem to be any more taken in his favour than I was, for as soon as the stranger stopped us, Brush uttered a low growl, which now and again broke out into the sharp note of a bark as the man moved his eyes from us to the dog. Presently Brush began jumping up at the man, endeavouring to rend his cloak with his teeth, and to give other signs of canine ill-will, so much so that I, who knew the dog to be a good discerner between 86 HUBERT ELLIS. friends and foes, involuntarily stepped back a pace when I noticed his action. " Down, Brush. !" I said ; " come to heel, sir !" for I thought it not unlikely he might fix his teeth in the man's leg ; and when the dog had unwillingly obeyed my order, I answered as civilly as I could that we were going in the direction of the Erber, and if he chose we would bear him company. We walked on to the bottom of Fleet Street, and over the bridge towards Ludgate, conversing of the event which we had witnessed that day, when the stranger proposed we should take a cup of wine together at the Pomegranate, the tavern which stands at the corner of Pilgrim Place. He was beholden to us, he said, for guiding him on his way, and would be glad if we would oblige him by taking a friendly drink with him. Before I had time to excuse us, which I would gladly have done, or to suggest that we should go to the Golden Lion in Pater- noster Bow, where I was well known, Oswald and Archdale both chimed in their thanks to the stranger, and said they were thirsty as fishes, and would willingly be indebted to him for a draught. The man expressed his satisfaction with a smile that made his sinister face look doubly dreadful, and almost made me draw back even then. It seemed, however, unreasonable as well as churlish to refuse a civility for no other reason than because the man's looks were not quite prepossessing, so I overcame my scruples as being uncharitable things, and with my companions stepped from the causeway into the tavern. I fancied — but dismissed the thought as a fancy only — that I detected a glance of intelligence between the taverner and our entertainer as we passed the former in the passage of the house ; and I could not reconcile in my own mind the alleged ignorance of the latter as to his way to Dowgate, with his evident signs of familiarity with the rooms of this house. However, I kept my own counsel, and determined to be on my guard. The tavern was not one that had a very good name, although nothing certain was known against it. The better sort of citizens did not use it, but foreigners resorted thither, and as foreigners OUR NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 87 were not in good odour, so neither was their house of call. It was an old building, having low, small, and dark rooms, which were entered from narrow passages equally gloomy. Cleanliness was a stranger there, and in the hot July day when we made acquaintance with the place, the smell of stale mead and ale came out strongly from the wooden benches and settles, which were imbued with spilt liquors. There was a comfortless appearance about the room which we entered that repelled me ; but I thought, " 'Tis no matter, we shall be here but a minute ;" and chiding myself for being over-nice and squeamish, I went over to the cold hearth, and stood there waiting. The stranger ordered four beakers of spiced hippocras to be served, and having removed his hat, and thereby disclosed a second deep scar extending from the hair on the middle of his forehead to the right eyebrow, begged us to be seated. He was dressed in a suit of what had once been brown, but the colour had faded by long use into a variety of hues. The cut of his clothes was not English ; he wore a long Spanish sword in a plain black leather belt ; his face and manner bespoke the foreigner, and but for his easy fluency with the English tongue, I should have taken him for a Spaniard or an Italian. He was an English- man, however, as he told us, and his name was Gilbert D'Arcy ; and he began to tell us freely of his history, and as he did so he succeeded in removing somewhat of the bad impression he had at first made upon me. Still, as a matter of caution, I resolved to keep on my guard, for, with all his suavity and graceful talk, I could not get rid altogether of the instinctive repugnance I had before felt for him. Oswald and Archdale eagerly drank in every word D'Arcy spoke, and when, he having been long in speaking, the beakers were drained, Archdale insisted on our treating the entertaining stranger. D Arcy told us how he had from his sixteenth year followed the profession of a soldier, that he was made to join the army at the time when the late king set out to prosecute his claim to the crown of Erance, and had been at Crecy when the Prince of 88 HUBERT ELLIS. Wales charged upon the Genoese bowmen and cut his way out from the midst of a swarm of knights who thought to hem him in. He had been at Calais, and seen John de Vienne— the same who had recently burned the town of Eye — coming from the town, which he had defended for twelve months, with fifteen knights and the six burgesses, to lay the keys of the place at King Edward's feet ; and he had been present when Queen Philippa obtained her request that the lives of the prisoners should be saved. Then he told us of the " Great Death " which swept Europe in 1319, how many thousands of people died in the course of six months, and that even the beasts caught the disease and died by scores. " 'T was said at the time," added D'Arcy, " that the pestilence was sent because of God's anger at the extravagant dresses of the people, which perhaps may be a reason why I escaped it." And as he said this he looked with a grim smile at his own well-worn garments. He had been at Poictiers, and with Prince Edward when he took King John prisoner, and he had been in London when King Edward publicly entertained the Kings of Prance and Scotland, who were his captives at the same time. He had been dismissed from the service at the Peace of Bretigni, and had then served as ancient to Sir John Hawkwood in the White Band of the Pree Companies. With him he had been at Avignon when Du Guesclin frightened the Pope out of 200,000 livres, and snapped his fingers, or something like it, when the Pope expressed his wish to excom- municate the whole pack. He had served in the campaign against Don Pedro the Cruel, and received the cut which was visible on his left cheek at the scrimmage in which Don Pedro was slain by his own brother Enrique. He had afterwards served under Hawkwood in Italy, and, being a soldier of fortune, had changed sides as often as his general. He was now, as he said, tired of war, and had come home to seek an honest living in some other way ; but what that other way might be did not appear. Presently he began to tell us of the habits of the different na- tions he had seen — of the tricks the Italians played, the vengeful nature of the Spaniards, the universal knowledge the Prench had AN INNOCENT PASTIME. 89 in the ways of evil, and how Flemings would drink beer " till they were as red as cocks and only a little wiser than their combs." He insisted on being allowed the honour of providing more drink for us, and the landlord, who had come into the room whilst D'Arcy had been talking, was invited to join us. My suspicions of the man had worn off considerably, and in spite of Brush, who lay on the floor beside me and never once had taken his eyes off D'Arcy's face, I began to think I had been wanting in charity to accuse a man upon no sufficient ground, when D'Arcy, with a look towards the taverner which was twin look to that; which had before set me on my guard, offered to show us a trick or two which he had seen practised in Florence. "Without waiting for assent, he produced some dice from his pouch and threw them on the table before him. " Now," said he, " the two aces shall come down !" .Rattle went the dice in the box which the taverner reached him, and down came the dice, showing a deuce and a cater. " Plague upon them ! " said D'Arcy, " that Florentine fellow used to throw them, and I fancied I had got the knave's trick of jerking them. Let 's try again." And so saying, he rolled the dice once more, and down they came, but not showing the aces as he prophesied. "There's no trick at all in it," said Archdale, who had been watching the man, " or if there be, you 've no knowledge of it." '• Well, it Joes seem so," answered D'Arcy, " but 't is a know- ledge one is better without. "Will you wager me a half-noble I don't succeed this time ?" " Yes," said Archdale ; " there 's no trick in it at all." And he put a half-noble on to the table to abide the roll of the dice. Again the dice rattled and came down, and D'Arcy lost his money to Archdale. " I '11 wager you a noble you don't do it now, Master Confi- dence ! " said the taverner, for D'Arcy still maintained his mode of shaking was tight. This time also he lost, and still he perse- vered. 90 HUBEET ELLIS. " Two nobles I do it this time," cried D'Arcy, who had lost but a noble and and a half on the previous play. " Done ! " said Archdale ; and down came the dice showing the two aces. The nobles passed over to D'Arcy, and he again went on with varying success, but invariably winning upon the higher stakes. Archdale had lost on the whole several nobles, Oswald had lost all the money he had in his pocket, and the taverner had lost a little, but only a little. I had declined to wager up to this time, but being rallied by D'Arcy — upon whose face the same restless, anxious expression I had noticed when he first spoke to us had again come — and urged by Archdale "just to try my luck," and further urged by my own desire to test the truth of my observa- tion, I now agreed to play. The first two throws were winners for me, and the third, on which was staked double what I had gained, won for D'Arcy. He was about to pick up the dice for the fourth throw, when I put my hand over them, and said, " These dice are loaded." "Fool!" said D'Arcy, as his face grew a shade paler than before, " have you not won even now with these very dice twice running ? and now, because you lose a higher stake, you accuse me of having loaded dice.". The taverner began to murmur, and to hustle me from my place. Even Archdale and Oswald declared it was impossible, but I stuck to my hold on the dice which were on the table, and, taking no notice of my comrades' remarks, said boldly to D'Arcy, " Tou have another pair of dice : these are loaded and those are not, and you use either, the one or the other according to your admirable discretion;" and, making a dash with my other hand at the box, I shook the other pair of dice out on to the table. This act was rewarded immediately by a heavy blow between the eyes, which made me see a thousand stars flitting before me, and caused me to reel backwards against the wall of the room ; but, ere D'Arcy had time to follow up his attack with a second WE AEE TAKEN TO LUDGATE. 91 blow, the faithful Brush flew at his throat, and fell with him heavily to the ground. The taverner, thinking I had had my quietus, rushed at Oswald, who was nearest to him, with a large meat-knife which he snatched off a tressel ; but before he could do more harm than excite his own desire for blood, Archdale's sword had been whipped out of its scabbard, and found a new sheath in the taverner's shoulder. The cries of D'Arcy — to whom Brush clung in spite of the most strenuous efforts of his victim to get rid of him — the uproar which ensued in the general melee — for the servants and the taverner's wife had now joined the scene — attracted the attention of the passing watch, and, in a few minutes from the time I had charged D'Arcy with cheating, we were all in safe custody of the municipal guard. I called Brush, who had nearly killed D'Arcy, to let go his hold. D'Arcy, from the grasp of the dog, fell into that of Master Constable. The taverner, in spite of his protesta- tions and the entreaties of his wife, was forced to go with his wounded shoulder undressed with the same inexorable officer, and we three, notwithstanding Oswald's brag in the morning about our freedom from arrest, were also marched off by the civic guard ; and, as it was too late to take us before the magistrates that day, we were all locked up in the safe keeping of Ludgate till the following morning. 7 Y vT CHAPTER XII. WE ARE RELEASED, BUT OUR FRIENDS THINK IT DESIRABLE WE SHOULD HATE CHANGE OF AIR — BARNES AND I ACCOMPANY ARCHDALE TO HASTINGS. " Dress'd in a little brief authority." Measure for Measure. AELY on the morning after our arrest we un- derwent a very search- ing examination before the chief of the guard, who professed a desire to know something of the nature of the charge against us before he took us to the magis- trate himself. "Whether this were truly the ob- ject he had in view, or whether he wished us to be impressed with a sense of his authority, I know not ; but he sadly failed to inform himself about the facts of our case. With much ceremony, and frequently reminding us of the exalted character of his office, he thrust us into the small room over the gateway which he used as his own. We had passed the night in a most comfortless place, in com- pany with a number of prisoners arrested by the guard for various WE AEE EXAMINED BY ABEL GIVAS. 93 offences committed in the crowd at the coronation. There were thieves, cutpurses, rascals of all descriptions crowded into the small den where we were confined. Dirty straw to lie on, but not space enough to stretch one's self upon it. A pestilent atmo- sphere, a noisy crowd of unwashed scoundrels, and a hot evening in the height of summer. No threats or entreaties could prevail upon our gaoler to put us in better quarters. Overnight he was too much intoxicated to listen to reason. It was a positive relief when he summoned us, with a voice that was intended to inspire dread, to his presence in the examination-room. Having us, disarmed as we were, guarded as though we had been taken in the act of killing the king, Abel Givas bade us prepare ourselves for the worst. " You have committed a crime," said he, " more horrible than suicide or larceny ; you 've broken the peace of our lord the king, and 't will go hard with you but you '11 swing at Smithfield Elms for it." This terrible announcement, which included us all in the same condemnation, though made with much lifting of the eyebrows, swaying of the mouth, and in a voice somewhat unsteady after last night's potations, not seeming to have the desired effect of killing us with fright, Abel Givas began to examine us after a fashion entirely his own. First of all he would have it 'twas I who began to use the dice ; and, having severely reprehended me for my imputed sin, he fell to moralizing about the early depravity of youth, asked me had I not seen the proclamations of his late Majesty, now in heaven, against the " damnable art of dicing," and finished his lecture with a number of anecdotes of his own early doings, which, if true, showed that he himself must nearly have escaped grace. On my protesting again and again — for I knew not how much power the constable really had, and could not get rid of a dim notion that our heads might in another hour's time go to increase the number of ornaments over the gate at London Bridge — that I was not the dicer who had caused all this trouble, he called me a " naughty varlet" and a " detestable gallows-bird," with many 94 HUBEET ELLIS. more names equally odious, till I knew not how to endure it any- longer, and, despite the visions of swinging halters and head- spikes that floated before my eyes, I bade him hold his tongue from using such words, or I would inform Master Walworth my friend, and my master, Master Philpot, who would have him turned out of his post. The constable was silent for a moment, and I, thinking him to be surprised at the mention of these names, at once followed up my advantage by telling him that he had been drunk the night before, and that, unless he changed his behaviour, I would report that also. The shaft hit home, and Abel, suspecting there might be some truth in what I said, ordered the chain to be removed from my hands and the hands of my companions, and was just turning the full flood of his eloquence upon the really crestfallen D'Arcy, when the door of the room opened, and Master Philpot himself came in. " "What is the meaning of all this ? " said my master, as he scanned the faces of those in the apartment, and in a voice which, though it could not help being kind, was on this occasion a little stern. " I thought better of you," he said, as he saw me about to speak. " This is the second time in seven days yoio have given me pain, Oswald," he said, as he caught the eye of that poor lad, half-melted at the sorrow he saw he was giving his master. " Of you, Archdale, I know not much, but I trusted Hamo de Oflyng- ton's yeoman better than to imagine he would have led two lads like these astray. These men I do not know. Who are they ? " Abel, who now saw that we were whom we had represented ourselves to be, and that our master was no other than Master John Philpot, a magistrate and alderman, began to be as fawning and cringing as before he had been bullying. He commenced to frame excuses for us, and vehemently to accuse D'Arcy and the taverner, when the former, rousing himself from the dogged humour in which he had hitherto remained, and throwing off the hang-dog look which had before made him look so repulsive, pushed back the obtrusive Abel Givas, and proceeded to give OUR LIBERATION. 95 Philpot a true and plain account of the whole affair. He admitted having led us to the inn for the very purpose of making us lose money to him at the dice ; confessed to having cheated Oswald and Archdale, and to his design upon me ; told how I had dis- covered his fraud, his anger and shame at the discovery, the blow he hit me, the uproar that ensued, and all the facts up to the present time. He ended by asking Master Philpot to exonerate us, and to deal with him and the taverner — who confessed to having known of DArey's plot — as leniently as he could. This unexpected conduct on the part of DArcy astonished us as much as it pleased Philpot. It was a source of pleasure to him, which gave signs of its presence on his face, to find that we were so much clearer in the matter than he had at first supposed, and it was evident that he was inclined to deal as gently as he could with the deliquents. His examination of DArcy elicited the facts of his previous life as he had narrated them to us, and which turned out indeed to be true. These considered, it was rather a marvel to think- that so much goodness should have remained in one who had been in such scenes and with such men, as to make him shield us in a matter concerning which, but for him, it would have been diffi- cult to prove us clean, than that he should have practised some of the evil tri