C3f Bennett f , MASTER SKYLARK "MASTEB 8KVLARK, THOU SHALT HAVE THY WISH. 1 SATI) QUEEN ELIZABETH." (Seep. 261) MASTER SKYLARK A Story of Shakspere's Time BY JOHN BENNETT ILLUSTRATIONS BY REGINALD B. BIRCH NEW YORK Century Co. Copyright, 1896, 1897, by THE CENTURY Co. Copyright, 1897, by JOHN BENNETT PB1NTE0 IN U. S. A. SRLi URlj ALL THAT NICHOLAS ATTWOOD'S MOTHER WAS TO HIM, AND MORE, MY OWN MOTHER HAS BEEN TO ME AND TO HER HERE I INSCRIBE THIS BOOK WITH A NEVER-FAILING LOVE CONTENTS CHAPTER PAOB I THE LOKD ADMIRAL'S PLAYERS .... 1 II NICHOLAS ATTWOOD'S HOME .... 9 III THE LAST STRAW 17 IV OFF FOR COVENTRY ...... 25 V IN THE WARWICK ROAD ..... 28 VI THE MASTER-PLATER 33 VII "WELL SUNG, MASTER SKYLARK!" ... 39 VIII THE ADMIRAL'S COMPANY ..... 46 IX THE MAY-DAY PLAY 52 X AFTER THE PLAY 60 XI DISOWNED 64 XII A STRANGE AIDE 69 XIII A DASH FOR FREEDOM ..... 79 XIV AT BAY 87 XV LONDON TOWN 91 XVI MA'M'SELLE CICELY CAREW .... 102 XVII CAREW'S OFFER 113 XVIII MASTER HEYWOOD PROTESTS .... 120 XIX THE ROSE PLAY-HOUSE 127 XX DISAPPOINTMENT ....... 134 XXI "THE CHILDREN OF PAUL'S" . . . .140 XXII THE SKYLARK'S SONG 147 vii Vlll CONTENTS CHAPTER XXIII PAGE 155 XXIV THE MAKING OF A PLAYER ... . 161 XXV THE WANING OF THE YEAR . . . 170 XXVI TO SlNG BEFORE THE QUEEN . . . . 179 XXVII THE QUEEN'S PLAISANCE .... . 187 XXVIII CHRISTMAS WITH QUEEN BESS . . . . 194 XXIX XXX BACK TO GASTON CAREW .... . 208 214 XXXI IN THE TWINKLING OF AN EYE . . . . 221 XXXII THE LAST OF GASTON CAREW . 231 XXXIII CICELY DISAPPEARS . 241 XXXIV THE BANDY-LEGGED MAN .... . 245 XXXV A SUDDEN RESOLVE ..... . 259 XXXVI WAYFARING HOME ..... . 266 XXXVII TURNED ADRIFT ...... . 278 XXXVIII A STRANGE DAY ..... . 282 XXXIX ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL . . . . 288 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS "MABTEH SKYLARK, THOU SHALT HAVE THT WISH," SAID QUEEN ELIZABETH Frontispiece FACING PAGE THE LORD ADMIRAL'S PLATERS. THE TRUMPETERS AND THE DRUMMERS LED, THEIR HORSES PRANCING, WHITE PLUMES WAVING IN THE BREEZE 6 "WHUH BE-EST GOING, NICK?" ASKED ROGER DAWSON . . 26 "WHAT! How Now?" CRIED THE STRANGER, SHARPLY. "Dosi LIKE OR LIKE ME NOT?" 34 " NICK THOUGHT OF His MOTHER'S SINGING ON A SUMMER'S EVEN- ING DREW A DEEP BREATH AND BEGAN TO SING ... 56 "NOBODY BREAKS NOBODY'S HEARTS IN OLD JO-OHN SMITHSES SHO-OP," DRAWLED THE SMITH, IN HIS DEEP VOICE; "NoR STEALS NOBODY, NOTHER" 88 "DiccoN HAD OFTEN MADE NICK WHISTLES FROM THE WILLOWS ALONG THE AVON WHEN NICK WAS A TODDLER" . . . 118 NICK PUT ONE LEG OVER THE SILL AND LOOKED BACK . . 132 "On, NICK, THOU ART MOST BEAUTIFUL TO SEE!" CRIED CICELY 142 "THAT VOICE, THAT VOICE!" NAT GILES PANTED TO HIMSELF 152 NICK GAVE THE SILVER BUCKLE FROM His CLOAK TO A BOY WHO STOOD CRYING WITH COLD AND HUNGER IN THE STREET . 174 So NICK RODE HOME UPON THE BACK OF THE EARL OF ARUNDEL'S MAN-AT-ARMS 210 "WHY, SIR, I'LL SING FOR THEE Now," SAID NICK, CHOKING 238 "Do NA THOU STRIKE ME AGAIN, THOU ROGUE!" SAID NICK 250 "On, NICK, WHAT Is IT?" SHE CRIED 272 MASTER SHAKSPERE MET THEM WITH OUTSTRETCHED HANDS 282 MASTER SKYLARK MASTER SKYLARK CHAPTER I THE LORD ADMIRAL'S PLAYERS rTIHERE was an unwonted buzzing in the east end of I Stratford on that next to the last day of April, 1596. It was as if some one had thrust a stick into a hive of bees and they had come whirling out to see. The low stone guard- wall of old Clopton bridge, built a hundred years before by rich Sir Hugh, sometime Mayor of London, was lined with straddling boys, like strawber- ries upon a spear of grass, and along the low causeway from the west across the lowland to the town, brown-faced, barefoot youngsters sat beside the roadway with their chubby legs a-dangle down the mossy stones, staring away into the south across the grassy levels of the valley of the Stour. Punts were poling slowly up the Avon to the bridge . and at the outlets of the town, where the streets came down to the waterside among the weeds, little knots of men and serving-maids stood looking into the south and listening. 2 MASTER SKYLARK Some had waited for an hour, some for two ; yet still there was no sound but the piping of the birds in white- thorn hedges, the hollow lowing of kine knee-deep in grassy meadows, and the long rush of the river through the sedge beside the pebbly shore ; and naught to see but quiet valleys, primrose lanes, and Warwick orchards white with bloom, stretching away to the misty hills. But still they stood and looked and listened. The wind came stealing up out of the south, soft and warm and sweet and still, moving the ripples upon the river with gray gusts ; and, scudding free before the wind, a dog came trotting up the road with wet pink tongue and sidelong gait. At the throat of Clopton bridge he stopped and scanned the way with dubious eye, then clapped his tail between his legs and bolted for the town. The laugh- ing shout that followed him into the Warwick road seemed not to die away, but to linger in the air like the drowsy hum of bees a hum that came and went at intervals upon the shifting wind, and grew by littles, taking body till it came unbroken as a long, low, distance-muffled mur- mur from the south, so faint as scarcely to be heard. Nick Attwood pricked his keen young ears. " They 're coming, Robin hark 'e to the trampling ! " Robin Getley held his breath and turned his ear toward the south. The far-off murmur was a mutter now, denned and positive, and, as the two friends listened, grew into a drumming roll, and all at once above it came a shrill, high sound like the buzzing of a gnat close by the ear. Little Tom Davenant dropped from the finger-post, and THE LORD ADMIRAL'S PLAYERS 3 came running up from the fork of the Banbury road, his feet making little white puffs in the dust as he flew. " They are coming ! they are coming ! " he shrieked as he ran. Then up to his feet sprang Robin Getley, upon the saddle-backed coping-stones, his hand upon Nick Att- wood's head to steady himself, and looked away where the rippling Stour ran like a thread of silver beside the dust-buff London road, and the little church of Atherstone stood blue against the rolling Cotswold Hills. " They are coming ! they are coming ! " shrilled little Tom, and scrambled up the coping like a squirrel up a rail. A stir ran out along the guard-wall, some crying out, some starting up. " Sit down ! sit down ! " cried others, peering askance at the water gurgling green down below. " Sit down, or we shall all be off ! " Robin held his hand above his eyes. A cloud of dust was rising from the London road and drifting off across the fields like smoke when the old ricks burn in damp weather a long, broad-sheeted mist; and in it were bits of moving gold, shreds of bright colors vaguely seen, and silvery gleams like the glitter of polished metal in the sun. And as he looked the shifty wind came down out of the west again and whirled the cloud of dust away, and there he saw a long line of men upon horses coming at an easy canter up the highway. Just as he had made this out the line came rattling to a stop, the distant drumming of hoofs was still, and as the long file knotted itself into a 4 MASTER SKYLARK rosette of ruddy color amid the April green, a clear, shrill trumpet blew and blew again. " They are coming ! " shouted Robin, " they are com- ing ! " and, turning, waved his cap. A shout went up along the bridge. Those down below came clambering up, the punts came poling with a rush of foam, and a ripple ran along the edge of Stratford town like the wind through a field of wheat. Windows creaked and doors swung wide, and the workmen stopped in the garden-plots to lean upon their mattocks and to look. " They are coming ! " bellowed Raf e Hickathrift, the butcher's boy, standing far out in the street, with his red hands to his mouth for a trumpet, " they are coming ! " and at that the doors of Bridge street grew alive with eager eyes. At early dawn the Oxford carrier had brought the news that the players of the Lord High Admiral were coming up to Stratford out of London from the south, to play on May-day there ; and this was what had set the town to buzzing like a swarm. For there were in England then but three great companies, the High Chamberlain's, the Earl of Pembroke's men, and the stage-players of my Lord Charles Howard, High Admiral of the Realm ; and the day on which they came into a Midland market-town to play was one to mark with red and gold upon the calendar of the uneventful year. Away by the old mill-bridge there were fishermen angling for dace and perch; but when the shout came down from the London road they dropped their poles and THE LORD ADMIRAL'S PLAYEKS 5 ran, through the willows and over the gravel, splashing and thrashing among the rushes and sandy shallows, not to be last when the players came. And old John Carter, coming down the Warwick road with a load of hay, laid on the lash until piebald Dobbin snorted in dismay and broke into a lumbering run to reach the old stone bridge in time. The distant horsemen now were coming on again, riding in double file. They had flung their banners to the breeze, and on the changing wind, with the thumping of horses' hoofs, came by snatches the sound of a kettledrummer drawing his drumhead tight, and beating as he drew, and the muffled blasts of a trumpeter proving his lips. Fynes Morrison and Walter Stirley, who had gone to Cowslip lane to meet the march, were running on ahead, and shouting as they ran : " There 's forty men, and sumpter-mules ! and, oh, the bravest banners and attire and the trumpets are a cloth-yard long ! Make room for us, make room for us, and let us up ! n A bowshot off, the trumpets blew a blast so high, so clear, so keen, that it seemed a flame of fire in the air, and as the brassy fanfare died away across the roofs of the quiet town, the kettledrums clanged, the cymbals clashed, and all the company began to sing the famous old song of the hunt : "The hunt is up, the hunt is up, Sing merrily we, the hunt is up ! The wild birds sing, The dun deer fling, The forest aisles with music ring ! Tantara, tautara, tantara ! 6 MASTER SKYLARK "Then ride along, ride along, Stout and strong ! Farewell to grief and care ; With a rollicking cheer For the high dun deer And a life in the open air ! Tantara, the hunt is up, lads ; Tantara, the bugles bray ! Tantara, tantara, tantara, Hio, hark away ! " The first of the riders had reached old Clopton bridge, and the banners strained upon their staves in the freshen- ing river-wind. The trumpeters and the drummers led, their horses prancing, white plumes waving in the breeze, and the April sunlight dancing on the brazen horns and the silver bellies of the kettledrums. Then came the banners of the company, curling down with a silky swish, and unfurling again with a snap, like a broad-lashed whip. The greatest one was rosy red, and on it was a gallant ship upon a flowing sea, bearing upon its mainsail the arms of my Lord Charles Howard, High Admiral of England. Upon its mate was a giant-bearded man with a fish's tail, holding a trident in his hand and blowing upon a shell, the Triton of the seas which Eng- land ruled ; this flag was bright sea-blue. The third was white, and on it was a red wild rose with a golden heart, the common standard of the company. After the flags came twoscore men, the players of the Admiral, the tiring-men, grooms, horse-boys, and serving- knaves, well mounted on good horses, and all of them clad THE LORD ADMIRAL'S PLAYER& "THE TRUMPETERS AND THE DRTTMMERS LED, THEIR HORSES PRANCING, WHITE PLUMES WAVING IN THE BREEZE," THE LOED ADMIRAL'S PLAYERS 7 in scarlet tabards blazoned with the coat-armor of their master. Upon their caps they wore the famous badge of the Howards, a rampant silver demi-lion; and beneath their tabards at the side could be seen their jerkins of many-colored silk, their silver-buckled belts, and long, thin Spanish rapiers, slapping their horses on the flanks at every stride. Their legs were cased in high-topped riding- boots of tawny cordovan, with gilt spurs, and the housings of their saddles were of blue with the gilt anchors of the admiralty upon them. On their bridles were jingling bits of steel, which made a constant tinkling, like a thousand little bells very far away. Some had faces smooth as boys and were quite young ; and others wore sharp-pointed beards with stiff- waxed mus- taches, and were older men, with a tinge of iron in their hair and lines of iron in their faces, hardened by the lif e they led ; and some, again, were smooth-shaven, so often and so closely that their faces were blue with the beard beneath the skin. But, oh, to Nicholas Attwood and the rest of Stratford boys, they were a dashing, rakish, admirable lot, with the air of something even greater than lords, and a keen knowingness in their sparkling, worldly eyes that made a common wise man seem almost a fool beside them ! And so they came riding up out of the south : " Then ride along, ride along, Stout and strong ! Farewell to grief and care ; With a rollicking cheer For the high dun deer And a life in the open air ! n 8 MASTER SKYLARK " Hurrah ! hurrah ! God save the Queen ! " A dropping shout went up the street like an arrow-flight scattering over the throng ; and the players, waving their scarlet caps until the long line tossed like a poppy-garden in a summer rain, gave a cheer that fairly set the crockery to dancing upon the shelves of the stalls in Middle Row. "Hurrah!" shouted Nicholas Attwood, his blue eyes shining with delight. " Hurrah, hurrah, for the Admiral's men ! " And high in the air he threw his cap, as a wild cheer broke from the eddying crowd, and the arches of the long gray bridge rang hollow with the tread of hoofs. Whiff, came the wind; down dropped the hat upon the very saddle-peak of one tall fellow riding along among the rest. Catching it quickly as it fell, he laughed and tossed it back; and when Nick caught it whirling in the air, a shilling jingled from it to the ground. Then up Fore Bridge street they all trooped after into Stratford town. " Oh," cried Robin, " it is brave, brave ! " " Brave ? " cried Nick. " It makes my very heart jump. And see, Robin, 't is a shilling, a real silver shilling oh, what fellows they all be! Hurrah for the Lord High Admiral's men ! " CHAPTER H NICHOLAS ATTWOOiyS HOME NICK Attwood's father came home that night bitterly wroth. The burgesses of the town council had ordered him to build a chimney upon his house, or pay ten shillings fine ; and shillings were none too plenty with Simon Attwood, the tanner of Old Town. " Soul and body o' man ! " said he, " they talk as if they owned the world, and a man could na live upon it save by their leave. I must build my fire in a pipe, or pay ten shillings fine ? Things ha' come to a pretty pass a pretty pass, indeed ! " He kicked the rushes that were strewn upon the floor, and ground the clay with his heel. " This litter will ha' to be all took out. Atkins will be here at six i' the morning to do the job, and a lovely mess he will make o' the house ! " " Do na fret thee, Simon," said Mistress Attwood, gen- tly. " The rushes need a changing, and I ha' pined this long while to lay the floor wi' new clay from Shottery common. 'T is the sweetest earth ! Nick shall take the 9 10 MASTER SKYLARK hangings down, and right things up when the chimley 's done." So at cockcrow next morning Nick slipped out of his straw bed, into his clothes, and down the winding stair, while his parents were still asleep in the loft, and, sousing his head in the bucket at the well, began his work before the old town clock in the chapel tower had yet stmck four. The rushes had not been changed since Easter, and were full of dust and grease from the cooking and the table. Even the fresher sprigs of mint among them smelled stale and old. When they were all in the barrow, Nick sighed with relief and wiped his hands upon the dripping grass. It had rained in the night, a soft, warm rain, and the air was full of the smell of the apple-bloom and pear from the little orchard behind the house. The bees were already humming about the straw-bound hives along the garden wall, and a misguided green woodpecker clung upside down to the eaves, and thumped at the beams of the house. It was very still there in the gray of the dawn. He could hear the rush of the water through the sedge in the mill-race, and then, all at once, the roll of the wheel, the low rumble of the mill-gear, and the cool whisper of the wind in the willows. When he went back into the house again the painted cloths upon the wall seemed dingier than ever compared with the clean, bright world outside. The sky-blue coat of the Prodigal Son was brown with the winter's smoke ; the Red Sea towered above Pharaoh's ill-starred host like NICHOLAS ATTWOOD'S HOME 11 an inky mountain; and the homely maxims on the next breadth " Do no Wrong," " Beware of Sloth," " Overcome Pride/' and " Keep an Eye on the Pence "could scarcely be read. Nick jumped up on the three-legged stool and began to take them down. The nails were crooked and jammed in the wall, and the last came out with an unexpected jerk. Losing his balance, Nick caught at the table-board which leaned against the wall ; but the stool capsized, and he came down on the floor with such a flap of tapestry that the ashes flew out all over the room. He sat up dazed, and rubbed his elbows, then looked around and began to laugh. He could hear heavy footsteps overhead. A door opened, and his father's voice called sternly from the head of the stair : " What madcap folly art thou up to now?" " I be up to no folly at all," said Nick, " but down, sir. I fell from the stool. There 's no harm done." " Then be about thy business," said Attwood, coming slowly down the stairs. He was a gaunt man, smelling of leather and untanned hides. His short iron-gray hair grew low down upon his forehead, and his hooked nose, grim wide mouth, and heavy under jaw gave him a look at once forbidding and severe. His doublet of serge and his fustian hose were stained with liquor from the vats, and his eyes were heavy with sleep. The smile faded from Nick's face. " Shall I throw the rushes into the street, sir?" 12 MASTER SKYLARK " Nay ; take them to the muck-hill. The burgesses ha' made a great to-do about folk throwing trash into the highways. Soul and body o' man ! " he growled, " a man must ask if he may breathe. And good hides going a-begging, too ! " Nick hurried away, for he dreaded his father's sullen moods. The swine were squealing in their styes, the cattle bawled about the straw-thatched barns in Chapel lane, and long files of gabbling ducks waddled hurriedly down to the river through the primroses under the hedge. He could hear the milkmaids calling in the meadows; and when he trundled slowly home the smoke was creeping up in pale-blue threads from the draught-holes in the wall. The tanner's house stood a little back from the thor- oughfare, in that part of Stratford-on-Avon where the south end of Church street turns from Bull lane toward the river. It was roughly built of timber and plaster, the black beams showing through the yellow lime in curious squares and triangles. The roof was of red tiles, and where the spreading elms leaned over it the peaked gable was green with moss. At the side of the house was a garden of lettuce ; be- yond the garden a rough wall on which the grass was growing. Sometimes wild primroses grew on top of this wall, and once a yellow daffodil. Beyond the wall were other gardens owned by thrifty neighbors, and open lands in common to them all, where foot-paths wandered here and there in a free, haphazard way. NICHOLAS ATTWOOD'S HOME 13 Behind the house was a well and a wood-pile, and along the lane ran a whitewashed paling fence with a little gate, from which the path went up to the door through rows of bright, old-fashioned flowers. Nick's mother was getting the breakfast. She was a gentle woman with a sweet, kind face, and a little air of quiet dignity that made her doubly dear to Nick by con- trast with his father's unkempt ways. He used to think that, in her worsted gown, with its falling collar of Ant- werp linen, and a soft, silken coif upon her fading hair, she was the most beautiful woman in all the world. She put one arm about his shoulders, brushed back his curly hair, and kissed him on the forehead. " Thou art mine own good little son," said she, tenderly, " and I will bake thee a cake in the new chimley on the morrow for thy May-day feast." Then she helped him fetch the trestles from the buttery, set the board, spread the cloth, and lay the wooden plat- ters, pewter cups, and old horn spoons in place. Break- fast being ready, she then called his father from the yard. Nick waited deftly upon them both, so that they were soon done with the simple meal of rye-bread, lettuce, cheese, and milk. As he carried away the empty platters and brought water and a towel for them to wash their hands, he said quietly, although his eyes were bright and eager, "The Lord High Admiral's company is to act a stage-play at the guildhall to-morrow before Master Davenant the Mayor and the town burgesses." 14 MASTER SKYLABK Simon Attwood said nothing, but his brows drew down. "They came yestreen from London town by Oxford way to play in Stratford and at Coventry, and are at the Swan Inn with Master Geoffrey Inchbold oh, ever so many of them, in scarlet jerkins, and cloth of gold, and doublets of silk laced up like any lord ! It is a very good company, they say." Mistress Attwood looked quickly at her husband. " What will they play ? " she asked. "I can na say surely, mother ' Tamburlane,' perhaps, or ' The Troublesome Reign of Old King John/ The play will be free, father may I go, sir?" " And lose thy time from school ? " " There is no school to-morrow, sir." " Then have ye naught to do, that ye waste the day in idle folly ? " asked the tanner, sternly. "I will do my work beforehand, sir," replied Nick, quietly, though his hand trembled a little as he brushed up the crumbs. " It is May-day, Simon," interceded Mistress Attwood, " and a bit of pleasure will na harm the lad." " Pleasure ? " said the tanner, sharply. " If he does na find pleasure enough in his work, his book, and his home, he shall na seek it of low rogues and strolling scape- graces." " But, Simon," said Mistress Attwood, " 't is the Lord Admiral's own company surely they are not all graceless ! And," she continued with very quiet dignity, " since mine own cousin Anne Hathaway married Will SKakspere the NICHOLAS ATTWOOD'S HOME 15 play-actor, 't is scarcely kind to call all players rogues and low." "No more o' this, Margaret/ 7 cried Attwood, flushing angrily. " Thou art ever too ready with the boy's part against me. He shall na go I '11 find a thing or two for him to do among the vats that will take this taste for idleness out of his mouth. He shall na go : so that be all there is on it." Rising abruptly, he left the room. Nick clenched his hands. " Nicholas," said his mother, softly. " Yes, mother," said he ; "I know. But he should na flout thee so ! And, mother, the Queen goes to the play father himself saw her at Coventry ten years ago. Is what the Queen does idle folly ? " His mother took him by the hand and drew him to her side, with a smile that was half a sigh. "Art thou the Queen ? " " Nay," said he ; " and it 's all the better for England, bke enough. But surely, mother, it can na be wrong" " To honour thy father ? " said she, quickly, laying her finger across his lips. "Nay, lad; it is thy bounden duty." Nick turned and looked up at her wonderingly. " Mother," said he, " art thou an angel come down out of heaven ? " " Nay," she answered, patting his flushed cheek ; " I be only the every-day mother of a fierce little son who hath many a hard, hard lesson to learn. Now eat thy break- fast thou hast been up a long while." 16 MASTER SKYLARK Nick kissed her impetuously and sat down, but his heart still rankled within him. All Stratford would go to the play. He could hear the murmur of voices and music, the bursts of laughter and applause, the tramp of happy feet going up the guildhall stairs to the Mayor's show. Everybody went in free at the Mayor's show. The other boys could stand on stools and see it all. They could hold horses at the gate of the inn at the September fair, and so see all the farces. They could see the famous Norwich puppet-play. But he what pleasure did he ever have ? A tawdry pageant by a lot of clumsy country bumpkins at Whitsuntide or Pentecost, or a silly school-boy masque at Christmas, with the master scolding like a heathen Turk. It was not fair. And now he 'd have to work all May-day. May-day out of all the year! Why, there was to be a May-pole and a morris-dance, and a roasted calf, too, in Master Wainwright's field, since Margery was chosen Queen of the May. And Peter Finch was to be Robin Hood, and Nan Rogers Maid Marian, and wear a kirtle of Kendal green and, oh, but the May-pole would be brave ; high as the ridge of the guildschool roof, and hung with ribbons like a rainbow ! Geoffrey Hall was to lead the dance, too, and the other boys and girls would all be there. And where would he be ? Sousing hides in the tannery vats. Truly his father was a hard man ! He pushed the cheese away. CHAPTER III THE LAST STRAW ETTLE John Summer had a new horn-book that cost a silver penny. The handle was carven and the horn was clear as honey. The other little boys stood round about in speechless envy, or murmured their A B C's and " ba be bi's " along the chapel steps. The lower-form boys were playing leap-frog past the almshouse, and Geoffrey Gosse and the vicar's son were in the public gravel-pit, throwing stones at the robins in the Great House elms across the lane. Some few dull fellows sat upon the steps behind the school-house, anxiously poring over their books. But the larger boys of the Fable Class stood in an excited group beneath the shadow of the overhanging second story of the grammar-school, talking all at once, each louder than the other, until the noise was deafening. " Oh, Nick, such goings on ! " called Robin Getley, whose father was a burgess, as Nick Attwood came slowly up the street, saying his sentences for the day over and over to himself in hopeless desperation, having had no * 17 18 MASTER SKYLARK time to learn them at home. " Stratford Council has had a quarrel, and there 's to be no stage-play after all." " What ? " cried Nick, in amazement. " No stage-play ? And why not ? " "Why," said Robin, "it was just this way my father told me of it. Sir Thomas Lucy, High Sheriff of Worces- ter, y' know, rode in from Charlcote yesternoon, and with him Sir Edward Greville of Milcote. So the bur- gesses made a feast for them at the Swan Inn. Sir Thomas fetched a fine, fat buck, and the town stood good for ninepence wine and twopence bread, and broached a keg of sturgeon. And when they were all met together there, eating, and drinking, and making merry what? Why, in came my Lord Admiral's players from London town, ruffling it like high dukes, and not caring two pops for Sir Thomas, or Sir Edward, or for Stratford burgesses all in a heap ; but sat them down at the table straightway, and called for ale, as if they owned the place ; and not being served as soon as they desired, they laid hands upon Sir Thomas's server as he came in from the buttery with his tray full, and took both meat and drink." "What? "cried Nick. " As sure as shooting, they did ! n said Robin ; " and when Sir Thomas's gentry yeomen would have seen to it what ? Why, my Lord Admiral's master-player clapped his hand to his poniard-hilt, and dared them come and take it if they could." " To Sir Thomas Lucy's men ? " exclaimed Nick, aghast " Ay, to their teeth ! Sir Edward sprang up then, and THE LAST STRAW 19 said it was a shame for players to oenave so outrageously in Will Shakspere's own home town. And at that Sir Thomas, who, y' know, has always misliked Will, flared up like a bull at a red rag, and swore that all stage-play- ers be runagate rogues, anyway, and Will Shakspere neither more nor less than a deer-stealing scape-gallows." " Surely he did na say that in Stratford Council ? " pro- tested Nick. "Ay, but he did that very thing," said Robin; "and when that was out, the master-player sprang upon the table, overturning half the ale, and cried out that Will Shakspere was his very own true friend, and the sweetest fellow in all England, and that whosoever gainsaid it was a hemp-cracking rascal, and that he would prove it upon his back with a quarter-staff whenever and wherever he chose, be he Sir Thomas Lucy, St. George and the Dragon, Guy of Warwick, and the great dun cow, all rolled up in one ! " " Robin Getley, is this the very truth, or art thou cozen- ing me ? " "Upon my word, it is the truth," said Robin. "And that 's not all. Sir Edward cried out * Fie ! ' upon the player for a saucy varlet ; but the fellow only laughed, and bowed quite low, and said that he took no offense from Sir Edward for saying that, since it could not honestly be denied, but that Sir Thomas did not know the truth from a truckle-bed in broad daylight, and was but the remnant of a gentleman to boot." " The bold-faced rogue 1 20 MASTER SKYLARK " Ay, that he is," nodded Robin ; " and for his boldness Sir Thomas straightway demanded that the High Bailiff refuse the company license to play in Stratford." " Refuse the Lord High Admiral's players ? " " Marry, no one else. And then Master John Shakspere. wroth at what Sir Thomas had said of his son Will, vowed that he would send a letter down to London town, and lay the whole coil before the Lord High Admiral himself. For ever since that he was High Bailiff, the best compa- nies of England had always been bidden to play in Strat- ford, and it would be an ill thing now to refuse the Lord Admiral's company after granting licenses to both my Lord Pembroke's and the High Chamberlain's." " And so it would," spoke up Walter Roche ; " for there are our own townsmen, Richard and Cuthbert Burbage, who are cousins of mine, a,nd John Hemynge and Thomas Greene, besides Will Sfyalbspere and his brother Edmund, all playing in the Lord Chamberlain's company in London before the Queen, ^t would be a black score against them all with the Lorn Admiral I doubt not he would pay them out." " That he would," said Robin, " and so said my father and Alderman Henry Walker, who, y' know, is Will Shakspere's own friend. And some of the burgesses who cared not a rap for that were afeard of offending the Lord Admiral. But Sir Thomas vowed that my Lord Howard was at Cadiz with Walter Raleigh and the young Earl of Sussex, and would by no means hear of it. So Master Bailiff Stubbes, who, 't is said, doth owe Sir Thomas THE LAST STRAW 21 forty pound, and is therefore under his thumb, forthwith refused the company license to play in Stratford guild- hall, inn-yard, or common. And at that the master-player threw his glove into Master Stubbes's face, and called Sir Thomas a stupid old bell-wether, and Stratford bur- gesses silly sheep for following wherever he chose to jump." " And so they be," sneered Hal Saddler. " How ? " cried Robin, hotly. " My father is a burgess. Dost thou call him a sheep, Hal Saddler ? " "Nay, nay," stammered Hal, hastily; "'t was not thy father I meant." " Then hold thy tongue with both hands," said Robin, sharply, " or it will crack thy pate for thee some of these fine days." " But come, Robin," asked Nick, eagerly, " what became of the quarrel ? " "Well, when the master-player threw his glove into Master Stubbes's face, the Chief Constable seized him for contempt of Stratford Council, and held him for trial. At that some cried ' Shame ! ' and some ' Hurrah ! ' but the rest of the players fled out of town in the night, lest their baggage be taken by the law and they be fined." "Whither did they go?" asked Nick, both sorry and glad to hear that they were gone. "To Coventry, and left the master-player behind in gaol." "Why, they dare na use him so the Lord Admiral's own man ! " 22 MASTER SKYLARK "Ay, that they don't! Why, hark 'e, Nick! This morning, since Sir Thomas has gone home, and the bur- gesses' heads have all cooled down from the sack and the clary they were in last night, la ! but they are in a pretty stew, my father says, for fear that they have given offense to the Lord Admiral. So they have spoken the master- player softly, and given him his freedom out of hand, and a long gold chain to twine about his cap, to mend the matter with, beside." " Whee-ew ! n whistled Nick. " I wish I were a master- player ! " " Oh, but he will not be pleased, and says he will have his revenge on Stratford town if he must needs wait until the end of the world or go to the Indies after it. And he has had his breakfast served in Master Geoffrey Inch- bold's own room at the Swan, and swears that he will walk the whole way to Coventry sooner than straddle the horse that the burgesses have sent him to ride." " What ! Is he at the inn ? Why, let 's go down and see him." "Master Brunswood says that he will birch whoever cometh late," objected Hal Saddler. " Birch ? " groaned Nick. " Why, he does nothing but birch! A fellow can na say his 'sum, es, est' without catching it. And as for getting through the ' genitive and 'vocativo' without a downright threshing He shrugged his shoulders ruefully as he remembered his unlearned lesson. Everything had gone wrong with him that morning, and the thought of the birching that he THE LAST STRAW 23 was sure to get was more than lie could bear. "I will na stand it any longer I'll run away!" Kit Sedgewick laughed ironically. "And when the skies fall we '11 catch sparrows, Nick Attwood," said he "Whither wilt thou run?" Stung by his tone of ridicule, Nick out with the first thing that came into his head. "To Coventry, after the stage-players," said he, defiantly. The whole crowd gave an incredulous hoot. Nick's face flushed. To be crossed at home, to be birched at school, to work all May-day in the tannery vats, and to be laughed at it was too much. "Ye think that I will na? Well, I '11 show ye! T is only eight miles to Warwick, and hardly more than that beyond no walk at all; and Diccon Haggard, my mother's cousin, lives in Coventry. So out upon your musty Latin English is good enough for me this day! There 's bluebells blowing in the dingles, and cuckoo-buds no end. And while ye are all grinding at your old ^sop I shall be roaming over the hills wherever I please." As he spoke he thought of the dark, wainscoted walls of the school-room with their narrow little windows over- head, of the foul-smelling floors of the tannery in Southam's lane, and his heart gave a great, rebellious leap. "Ay," said he, exultantly, " I shall be out where the birds can sing and the grass is green, and I shall see the stage-play, while ye will be mewed up all day long in school, and have nothing but a beggarly morris and a farthing May- pole on the morrow." 24 MASTER SKYLARK " Oh, no doubt, no doubt," said Hal Saddler, mockingly " We shall have but bread and milk, and thou shalt have a most glorious threshing from thy father when thou comest home again ! " That was the last straw to Nick's unhappy heart. "'T is a threshing either way," said he, squaring his shoulders doggedly. "Father will thresh me if I run away, and Master Brunswood will thresh me if I don't. I '11 not be birched four times a week for merely tripping on a word, and have nothing to show for it but stripes. If I must take a threshing, I '11 have my good day's game out first." "But wilt thou truly go to Coventry, Nick?" asked Eobin Getley, earnestly, for he liked Nick more than all the rest. "Ay, truly, Eobin that I will"; and, turning, Nick walked swiftly away toward the market-place, never look- ing back. CHAPTER IV OFF FOR COVENTRY AT the Bridge street crossing Nick paused irresolute. t j\ Around the public pump a chattering throng of housewives were washing out their towels and hanging them upon the market-cross to dry. Along the stalls in Middle Row the grumbling shopmen were casting up their sales from tallies chalked upon their window-ledges, or cuffing their tardy apprentices with no light hand. John Gibson's cart was hauling gravel from the pits in Henley street to mend the causeway at the bridge, which had been badly washed by the late spring floods, and the fine sand dribbled from the cart-tail like the sand in au hour-glass. Here and there loutish farm-hands waited for work; and at the corner two or three stout cudgel-men leaned upon their long staves, although the market was two days closed, and there was not a Coventry merchant in sight to be driven away from Stratford trade. Goody Baker with her shovel and broom of twigs was sweeping up the market litter in the square. Nick won- 25 26 MASTER SKYLARK dered if his own mother's back would be so bent when she grew old. " Whur be-est going, Nick ? " Roger Dawson sat astride a stick of timber in front of Master Geoffrey Thompson's new house, watching Tom Carpenter the carver cut fleur-de-lis and curling traceries upon the front wall beams. He was a tenant-farmer's son, this Roger, and a likely good-for-naught. " To Coventry," said Nick, curtly "Wilt take a fellow wi' thee?" Poor company might be better than none. " Come on." Roger lumbered to his feet and trotted after. " No school to-day ? " he asked. "Not for me," answered Nick, shortly, for he did not care to talk about it. " Faither wull na have I go to school, since us ha' corned to town, an' plough-land sold for grazings," drawled Roger ; " Muster Pine o' Welf ord saith that I ha' learned as much as faither ever knowed, an' 't is enow for I. Faither saith it maketh saucy rogues o' sons to know more than they's own dads." Nick wondered if it did. His own father could neither read nor write, while he could do both and had some Latin, too. At the thought of the Latin he made a wry face. "Joe Carter be-eth in the stocks," said Roger, peering through the jeering crowd about the pillory and post ; " a broke Tom Samson's pate wi' 's ale-can yestreen." But Nick pushed on. A few ruddv-faced farmers and BE-EST GOING, NICK?- ASKKU BOOEB DAWSON." OFF FOR COVENTRY 27 drovers from the Red Horse Vale still lingered at the Boar Inn door and by the tap-room of the Crown ; and in the middle of the street a crowd of salters, butchers, and dealers in hides, with tallow-smeared doublets and doubt- ful hose, were squabbling loudly about the prices set upon their wares. In the midst of them Nick saw his father, and scurried away into Back Bridge street as fast as he could, feeling very near a sneak, but far from altering his purpose. " Job Hortop," said Simon Attwood to his apprentice at his side, looking out suddenly over the crowd, " was that my Nick yonder ? " " Nay, master, could na been," said Job, stolidly ; " Nick be-eth in school by now the clock ha' struck. 'T Dawson's Hodge and some like ne'er-do-welL" CHAPTER V IN THE WARWICK ROAD THE land was full of morning sounds as the lads trudged along the Warwick road together. An ax rang somewhere deep in the woods of Arden ; cart-wheels rattled on the stony road ; a blackbird whistled shrilly in the hedge, and they heard the deep-tongued belling of hounds far off in Fulbroke park. Now and then a heron, rising from the river, trailed its long legs across the sky, or a kingfisher sparkled in his own splash. Once a lonely fisherman down by the Avon started a wild duck from the sedge, and away it went pat- tering up-stream with frightened wings and red feet running along the water. And then a river-rat plumped into the stream beneath the willows, and left a long string of bubbles behind him. Nick's ill humor soon wore off as he breathed the fresh air, moist from lush meadows, and sweet from hedges pink and white with hawthorn bloom. The thought of being pent up on such a day grew more and more unbearable, and a blithe sense of freedom from all restraint blunted the prick of conscience. 28 IN THE WARWICK ROAD 29 " Why art going to Coventry, Nick ? " inquired Roger, suddenly, startled by a thought coming into his wits like a child by a bat in the room. " To see the stage-play that the burgesses would na allow in Stratford." "Wulllsee, too?" " If thou hast eyes the Mayor's show is free." " Oh, f eckins, wun't it be fine ? " gaped Hodge. " Be it a tailors' show, Nick, wi' Herod the King, and a rope for to hang Judas ? An' wall they set the world afire wi' a torch, an' make the earth quake fearful wi' a barrel full o' stones ? Or wull it be Sin in a motley gown a-thumping the Black Man over the pate wi' a bladder full o' peasen an' angels wi' silver wingses, an' saints wi' goolden hair? Or wull it be a giant nine yards high, clad in the beards o' murdered kings, like granny saith she used to see ? " " Pshaw ! no," said Nick ; " none of those old-fashioned things. These be players from London town, and I hope they '11 play a right good English history-play, like ' The Famous Victories of Henry Fift,' to turn a fellow's legs all goose-flesh ! " Hodge stopped short in the road. " La ! " said he, " I '11 go no furder if they turn me to a goose. I wunnot be turned goose, Nick Attwood an' a plague on all witches, says I ! " " Oh, pshaw ! " laughed Nick ; " come on. No witch in the world could turn thee bigger goose than thou art now. Come along wi' thee ; there be no witches there at all." " Art sure thou 'rt not bedaffing me ? " hesitated Hodge, 30 MASTER SKYLARK "Good, then; I be na feared. Art sure there be no witches ? " " Why," said Nick, " would Master Burgess John Shak- spere leave his son Will to do with witches ? " "I dunno," faltered Hodge; "a told Muster Robin Bowles it was na right to drownd 'em in the river." Nick hesitated. " Maybe it kills the fish," said he ; " and Master Will Shakspere always liked to fish. But they burn witches in London, Hodge, and he has na put a stop to it and he 's a great man in London town." Hodge came on a little way, shaking his head like an old sheep in a corner. " Wully Shaxper a great man ? " said he. " Why, a's name be cut on the old beech-tree up Snitterfield lane, where 's uncle Henry Shaxper lives, an' t is but poorly done. I could do better wi' my own whittle." " Ay, Hodge," cried Nick ; " and that 's about all thou canst do. Dost think that a man's greatness hangs on so little a thing as his sleight of hand at cutting his name on a tree?" " Wull, maybe ; maybe not ; but if a be a great man, Nick Attwood, a might do a little thing passing well so there, now ! " Nick pondered for a moment. " I do na know," said he, slowly ; " heaps of men can do the little things, but parlous few the big. So some one must be bigging it, or folks would all sing very small. And he doeth the big most beautiful, they say. They call him the Swan of Avon," " Avon swans be mostly geese," said Hodge, vacantly. IN THE WARWICK EOAD 31 " Now, look 'e here, Hodge Dawson, don't thou be calL ing Master Will Shakspere goose. He married my own mother's cousin, and I will na have it." "La, now," drawled Hodge, staring, "'t is nowt to me. Thy Muster Wully Shaxper may be all the long-necked fowls in Warrickshire for all I care. And, anyway, I 'd like to know, Nick Attwood, since when hath a been ' Mus- ter Shaxper 'that ne'er-do-well, play-actoring fellow ? " "Ne'er-do-well? It is na so. When he was hero last summer he was bravely dressed, and had a heap of good gold nobles in his purse. And he gave Rick Hawkins, that 's blind of an eye, a shilling for only holding his horse." " Oh, ay," drawled Hodge ; " a fool and a's money be soon parted." "Will Shakspere is no fool," declared Nick, hotly. " He 's made a peck o' money there in London town, and *s going to buy the Great House in Chapel lane, and come back here to live." " Then a 's a witless azzy ! " blurted Hodge. " If a 's so great a man amongst the lords and earlses, a 'd na come back to Stratford. An' I say a 's a witless loon so there ! " Nick whirled around in the road. " And I say, Hodge Dawson," he exclaimed with flashing eyes, " that 't is a shame for a lout like thee to so miscall thy thousand-time betters. And what 's more, thou shalt unsay that, or I will make thee swallow thy words right here and now ! " " I 'd loike to see thee try," Hodge began ; but the words 32 MASTER SKYLARK were scarcely out of his mouth when he found himself stretched on the grass, Nick Attwood bending over him. " There ! thou hast seen it tried. Now come, take that back, or I will surely box thine ears for thee." Hodge blinked and gaped, collecting his wits, which had scattered to the four winds. "Whoy," said he, vaguely, " if 't is all o' that to thee, I take it back." Nick rose, and Hodge scrambled clumsily to his feet. " I '11 na go wi' thee," said he, sulkily ; " I will na go whur I be whupped." Nick turned on his heel without a word, and started on. "An' what 's more," bawled Hodge after him, "thy Muster Wully Shaxper be-eth an old gray goose, an' boo to he, says I ! " As he spoke he turned, dived through the thin hedge, and galloped across the field as if an army were at his heels. Nick started back, but quickly paused. " Thou needst na run," he called ; " I 've not the time to catch thee now. But mind ye this, Hodge Dawson : when I do come back, I '11 teach thee who thy betters be Will Shakspere first of all ! " " Well crowed, well crowed, my jolly cockerel ! " on a sudden called a keen, high voice beyond the hedge behind him. Nick, startled, whirled about just in time to see a stranger leap the hedge and come striding up the road. CHAPTER VI THE MASTER-PLAYER HE had trim, straight legs, this stranger, and a slen. der, lithe body in a tawny silken jerkin. Square- shouldered, too, was he, and over one shoulder hung a plum-colored cloak bordered with gold braid. His long hose were the color of his cloak, and his shoes were russet leather, with rosettes of plum, and such high heels as Nick had never seen before. His bonnet was of tawny velvet, with a chain twisted round it, fastened by a jeweled brooch through which was thrust a curly cock-feather. A fine white Holland-linen shirt peeped through his jerkin at the throat, with a broad lace collar ; and his short hair curled crisply all over his head. He had a little pointed beard, and the ends of his mustache were twisted so that they stood up fiercely on either side of his sharp nose. At his side was a long Italian poniard in a sheath of russet leather and silver filigree, and he had a reckless, high and mighty fling about his stride that strangely took the eye. Nick stood, all taken by surprise, and stared. The stranger seemed to like it, but scowled nevertheless. 33 34 MASTER SKYLARK " Wliat ! How now ? " he cried sharply. " Dost like or like me not ? " " Why, sir," stammered Nick, utterly lost for anything to say "why, sir," and knowing nothing else to do, he took off his cap and bowed. " Come, come," snapped the stranger, stamping his foot, " I am a swashing, ruffling, desperate Dick, and not to be made a common jest for Stratford dolts to giggle at What ! These legs, that have put on the very gentleman in proud Verona's streets, laid in Stratford's common stocks, like a silly apprentice's slouching heels? Nay, nay ; some one should taste old Bless-his-heart here first ! n and with that he clapped his hand upon the hilt of his poniard, with a wonderful swaggering tilt of his shoulders. " Dost take me, boy ?" "Why, sir," hesitated Nick, no little awed by the stranger's wild words and imperious way, "ye surely are the master-player." " There ! " cried the stranger, whirling about, as if defy- ing some one in the hedge. " Who said I could not act T Why, see, he took me at a touch ! Say, boy," he laughed, and turned to Nick, " thou art no fool. Why, boy, I say I love thee now for this, since what hath passed in Strat- ford. A murrain on the town ! Dost hear me, boy ? a black murrain on the town ! " And all at once he made such a fierce stride toward Nick, gritting his white teeth, and clapping his hand upon his poniard, that Nick drew back afraid of him. "But nay," hissed the stranger, and spat with scorn/ "WHAT I HOW NOW?' CKIEJ) THE 8TRANGEK, SHABPLY. 'DOST LIKE OB ME NOT?"' THE MASTER-PLAYER 35 "a town like that is its own murrain let it sicken on itself!" He struck an attitude, and waved his hand as if he were talking quite as much to the trees and sky as he was to Nick Attwood, and looked about him as if waiting for ap- plause. Then all at once he laughed, a rollicking, merry laugh, and threw off his furious manner as one does an old coat. " Well, boy," said he, with a quiet smile, looking kindly at Nick, " thou art a right stanch little friend to all of us stage-players. And I thank thee for it in Will Shakspere's name ; for he is the sweetest fellow of us all." His voice was simple, frank, and free so different from the mad tone in which he had just been ranting that Nick caught his breath with surprise. " Nay, lad, look not so dashed," said the master-player, merrily ; " that was only old Jem Burbage's mighty tragic style; and I I am only Gaston Carew, hail-fellow-well met with all true hearts. Be known to me, lad ; what is thy name ? I like thy open, pretty face." Nick flushed. " Nicholas Attwood is my name, sir." " Nicholas Attwood ? Why, it is a good name. Nick Attwood, young Nick, I hope Old Nick will never catch thee upon my word I do, and on the remnant of mine honour ! Thou hast taken a player's part like a man, and thou art a good fellow, Nicholas Attwood, and I love thee. So thou art going to Coventry to see the players act? Surely thine is a nimble wit to follow fancy nineteen miles. Come; I am going to Coventry to join my fellows. Wilt thou go with me, Nick, and dine with us this night at the 36 MASTER SKYLARK best inn in all Coventry the Blue Boar ? Thou hast quite plucked up my downcast heart for me, lad, indeed thou hast; for I was sore of Stratford town and I shall not soon forget thy plucky fending for our own sweet Will Come, say thou wilt go with me." " Indeed, sir," said Nick, bowing again, his head all in a whirl of excitement at this wonderful adventure, " indeed I will, and that right gladly, sir." And with heart beat- ing like a trip-hammer he walked along, cap in hand, not knowing that his head was bare. The master-player laughed a simple, hearty laugh. " Why, Nick," said he, laying his hand caressingly upon the boy's shoulder, "I am no such great to-do as all that upon my word, I 'm not ! A man of some few parts, perhaps, not common in the world; but quite a plain fellow, after all. Come, put off this high humility and be just friendly withal. Put on thy cap ; we are but two good faring-fellows here." So Nick put on his cap, and they went on together, Nick in the seventh heaven of delight. About a mile beyond Stratford, Welcombe wood creeps down along the left. Just beyond, the Dingles wind irregularly up from the foot-path below to the crest of Welcombe hill, through straggling clumps and briery hollows, sweet with nodding bluebells, ash, and hawthorn Nick and the master-player paused a moment at tlje top to catch their breath and to look back. Stratford and the valley of the Avon lay spread before them like a picture of peace, studded with blossoming THE MASTER-PLAYER 37 orchards and girdled with spring. Northward the forest of Arden clad the rolling hills. Southward the fields of Feldon stretched away to the blue knolls beyond which lay Oxford and Northamptonshire. The ragged -stretches of Snitterfield downs scrambled away to the left ; and on the right, beyond Bearley, were the wooded uplands where Guy of Warwick and Heraud of Arden slew the wild ox and the boar. And down through the midst ran the Avon southward, like a" silver ribbon slipped through Kendal green, to where the Sto'ur comes down, past Luddington. to Bidford, and away to the misty hills. "Why," exclaimed the master-player "why, upon my word, it is a fair town as fair a town as the heart of man could wish. Wish? I wish 't were sunken in the sea, with all its pack of fools ! Why," said he, turning wrath- f ully upon Nick, " that old Sir Thingumbob of thine, down there, called me a caterpillar on the kingdom of England, a vagabond, and a common player of interludes ! Called me vagabond ! Me ! Why, I have more good licenses than he has wits. And as to Master Bailiff Stubbes, I have permits to play from more justices of the peace than he can shake a stick at in a month of Sundays ! " He shook his fist wrathf ully at the distant town, and gnawed his mustache until one side pointed up and the other down. " But, hark 'e, boy, I '11 have my vengeance on them all- ay, that will I, upon my word, and on the remnant of mine honour or else my name 's not Gaston Carew ! " "Is it true, sir," asked Nick, hesitatingly, "that they despitef ully handled you ? n 38 MASTEE SKYLAEK " With their tongues, ay," said Carew, bitterly ; " but not otherwise." He clapped his hand upon his poniard, and threw back his head defiantly. " They dared not come to blows they knew my kind ! Yet John Shakspere is no bad sort he knoweth what is what. But Master Bailiff Stubbes, I ween, is a long-eared thing that brays for thistles. I '11 thistle him! He called Will Shakspere rogue. Hast ever looked through a red glass ? " " Nay," said Nick. t: Well, it turns the whole world red. And so it is with Master Stubbes. He looks through a pair of rogue's eyes and sees the whole world rogue. Why, boy," cried the master-player, vehemently, "he thought to buy my tongue ! Marry, if tongues were troubles he has bought himself a peck ! What ! Buy my silence ? Nay, he '11 see a deadly flash of silence when I come to my Lord the Admiral again ! " CHAPTER VH "WELL SUNG, MASTER SKYLARK!* IT was past high noon, and they had long since left War- wick castle far behind. " Nicholas," said the master- player, in the middle of a stream of amazing stories of lif e in London town, " there is Blacklow knoll." He pointed to a little hill off to the left. Nick stared ; he knew the tale : how grim old Guy de Beauchamp had Piers Gaveston's head upon that hill for calling him the Black Hound of Arden. " Ah ! " said Carew, " times have changed since then, boy, when thou couldst have a man's head off for calling thee a name or I would have yon Master Bailiff Stubbes's head off short behind the ears and Sir Thomas Lucy's too ! " he added, with a sudden flash of anger, gritting his teeth and clenching his hand upon his poniard. "But, Nicholas, hast anything to eat ? " " Nothing at all, sir." Master Carew pulled from his pouch some barley-cakes and half a small Banbury cheese, yellow as gold and with a keen, sharp savour. " 'T is enough for both of us," said 39 40 MASTER SKYLARK he, as they came to a shady little wood with a clear, mossy-bottomed spring running down into a green meadow with a mild noise, murmuring among the stones. " Come along, Nicholas ; *we '11 eat it under the trees." He had a small flask of wine, but Nick drank no wine, and went down to the spring instead. There was a wild bird singing in a bush there, and as he trotted down the slope it hushed its wandering tune. Nick took the sound up softly, and stood by the wet stones a little while, imitating the bird's trilling note, and laughing to hear it answer timidly, as if it took him for some great new bird Without wings. Cocking its shy head and watching him shrewdly with its beady eye, it sat, almost persuaded that it was only size which made them different, until Nick clapped his cap upon his head and strolled back, singing as he went. It was only the thread of an old-fashioned madrigal which he had often heard his mother sing, with quaint words long since gone out of style and hardly to be un- derstood, and between the staves a warbling, wordless re- frain which he had learned out on the hills and in the fields, picked up from a bird's glad-throated morning- song. He had always sung the plain-tunes in church without taking any particular thought about it; and he sang easily, with a clear young voice which had a fujl, flute- like note in it like the high, sweet song of a thrush singing in deep woods. Gaston Carew, the master-player, was sitting with his "WELL SUNG, MASTER SKYLARK!" 41 back against an oak, placidly munching the last of the cheese, when Nick began to sing. He started, straighten, ing up as if some one had called him suddenly out of a sound sleep, and, turning his head, listened eagerly. Nick mocked the wild bird, called again with a mellow, warbling trill, and then struck up the quaint old madrigal with the bird's song running through it. Carew leaped to his feet, with a flash in his dark eyes. " My soul ! my soul ! " he exclaimed in an excited undertone. " It is not nay, it cannot be why, 't is it is the boy ! Upon my heart, he hath a skylark prisoned in his throat ! Wett sung, well sung, Master Skylark ! " he cried, clapping his hands in real delight, as Nick came singing up the bank. " Why, lad, I vow I thought thou wert up in the sky some- where, with wings to thy back ! Where didst thou learn that wonder-song ? " Nick colored up, quite taken aback. " I do na know, sir," said he ; " mother learned me part, and the rest just came, I think, sir." The master-player, his whole face alive and eager, now stared at Nicholas Attwood as fixedly as Nick had stared at him. It was a hearty little English lad he saw, about eleven years of age, tall, slender, trimly built, and fair. A gray cloth cap clung to the side of his curly yellow head, and he wore a sleeveless jerkin of dark-blue serge, gray home- spun hose, and heelless shoes of russet leather. The white sleeves of his linen shirt were open to the elbow, and his arms were lithe and brown. His eyes were frankly clear 42 MASTER SKYLAEK and blue, and his red mouth had a trick of smiling that went straight to a body's heart. " Why, lad, lad," cried Carew, breathlessly, " thou hast a very fortune in thy throat ! " Nick looked up in great surprise ; and at that the master player broke off suddenly and said no more, though such a strange light came creeping into his eyes that Nick, after meeting his fixed stare for a moment, asked uneasily if they would not better be going on. Without a word the master-player started. Something had come into his head which seemed to more than fill his mind ; for as he strode along he whistled under his breath and laughed softly to himself. Then again he snapped his fingers and took a dancing step or two across the road, and at last fell to talking aloud to himself, though Nick could not make out a single word he said, for it was in, some foreign language. " Nicholas," he said suddenly, as they passed the wind' ing lane that leads away to Kenilworth "Nicholas, dost know any other songs like that ? " "Not just like that, sir," answered Nick, not knowing what to make of his companion's strange new mood; "but I know Master Will Shakspere's 'Then nightly sings the staring owl, tu-who, tu-whit, tu-who ! ' and ' The ousel-cock so black of hue, with orange-tawny bill/ and then, too, I know the throstle's song that goes with it." " Why, to be sure to be sure thou knowest old Nick Bottom's song, for is n't thy name Nick? Well met, both "WELL SUNG, MASTER SKYLAEK!" 43 song and singer well met, I say ! Nay," he said hastily, seeing Nick about to speak ; " I do not care to hear thee talk. Sing me all thy songs. I am hungry as a wolf for songs. Why, Nicholas, I must have songs! Come, lift up that honeyed throat of thine and sing another song. Be not so backward ; surely I love thee, Nick, and thou wilt sing all of thy songs for me." He laid his hand on Nick's shoulder in his kindly way, and kept step with him like a bosom friend, so that Nick's heart beat high with pride, and he sang all the songs he knew as they walked along. Carew listened intently, and sometimes with a fierce eagerness that almost frightened the boy ; and sometimes he frowned, and said under his breath, "Tut, tut, that will not do ! " but oftener he laughed without a sound, nodding his head in time to the lilting tune, and seeming vastly pleased with Nick, the singing, and last, but not least, with himself. And when Nick had ended the master-player had not a word to say, but for half a mile gnawed his mustache in nervous silence, and looked Nick all over with a long and earnest look. Then suddenly he slapped his thigh, and tossed his head back boldly. " 1 11 do it," he said ; " I 01 do it if I dance on air for it! I '11 have it out of Master Stubbes and canting Stratford town, or may I never thrive ! My soul ! it is the very thing. His eyes are like twin holidays, and he breathes the breath of spring. Nicholas, Nicholas Sky- Jark, Master Skylark, why, it is a good name, in sooth. 44 MASTER SKYLARK a very good name ! 1 11 do it I will, upon my word, and on the remnant of mine honour ! " " Did ye speak to me, sir ? " asked Nick, timidly. " Nay, Nicholas ; I was talking to the moon." " Why, sir, the moon has not come yet," said Nick, star- ing into the western sky. " To be sure," replied Master Carew, with a queer laugh. "Well, the silvery jade has missed the first act." " Oh," cried Nick, reminded of the purpose of his long walk, "what will ye play for the Mayor's play, sir?" "I don't know," replied Carew, carelessly; "it will all be done before I come. They will have had the free play tijis afternoon, so as to catch the pence of all the May-day crowd to-morrow." Nick stopped in the road, and his eyes filled up with tears, so quick and bitter was the disappointment. " Why," he cried, with a tremble in his tired voice, " I thought the free play would be on the morrow and now I have not a farthing to go in ! " " Tut, tut, thou silly lad ! " laughed Carew, frankly ; " am I thy friend for naught ? What ! let thee walk all the way to Coventry, and never see the play? Nay, on iny soul ! Why, Nick, I love thee, lad ; and I '11 do for thee in the twinkling of an eye. Canst thou speak lines by heart? Well, then, say these few after me, and bear them in thy mind." And thereupon he hastily repeated some half a dozen disconnecte,d lines in a high, reciting tone. "Why, sir," cried Nick, bewildered, " it is a part ! " "WELL SUNG, MASTER SKYLARK!" 45 ft To be sure," said Carew, laughing, " it is a part and a part of a very good whole, too a comedy by young Tom Heywood, that would make a graven image split its sides with laughing; and do thou just learn that part, good Master Skylark, and thou shalt say it in to-morrow's play." " What, Master Carew ! " gasped Nick. " I truly ? With the Lord Admiral's players ? " " Why, to be sure ! " cried the master-player, in great glee, clapping him upon the back. " Didst think I meant a parcel of dirty tinkers? Nay, lad; thou art just the very fellow for the part my lady's page should be a pretty lad, and, soul o' me, thou art that same ! And, Nick, thou shalt sing Tom Heywood's newest song. It is a pretty song ; it is a lark-song like thine own." Nick could hardly believe his ears. To act with the Lord Admiral's company ! To sing with them before ail Coventry ! It passed the wildest dream that he had ever dreamed. What would the boys in Stratford say ? 'Aha ! they would laugh on the other side of their mouths now ! " But will they have me, sir ? " he asked doubtfully. "Have thee?" said Master Carew, haughtily. "If I say go, thou shalt go. I am master here. And I tell thee, Nick, that thou shalt see the play, and be the play, in part, and well, we shall see what we shall see." With that he fell to humming and chuckling to himself, as if he had swallowed a water-mill, while Nick turned ecstatic cart-wheels along the grass beside the road, until presently Coventry came in sight CHAPTER VIII THE ADMIRAL'S COMPANY ancient city of Coventry stands upon a little hill, JL with old St. Michael's steeple and the spire of Holy Trinity church rising above it against the sky ; and as the master-player and the boy came climbing upward from the south, walls, towers, chimneys, and red-tiled roofs were turned to gold by the glow of the setting sun. To Nick it seemed as if a halo overhung the town a ruddy glory and a wonder bright ; for here the Grey Friars of the great monastery had played their holy mysteries and miracle-plays for over a hundred years; here the trade-guilds had held their pageants when the friars' day was done ; here were all the wonders that old men told by winter fires. People were coming and going through the gates like bees about a hive, and in the distance Nick could hear the sound of many voices, the rush of feet, wheels, and hoofs, and the shrill pipe of music. Here and there were little knots of country folk making holiday : a father and mother with a group of rosy children ; a lad and his lass, 46 THE ADMIRAL'S COMPANY 47 spruce in new finery, and gay with bits of ribbon merry groups that were ever changing. Gay banners flapped on tall ash staves. The suburb fields were filled with booths and tents and stalls and butts for archery. The very air seemed eager with the eve of holiday. But what to Nick was breathless wonder was to Carew only a twice-told tale ; so he pushed through the crowded thoroughfares, amid a throng that made Nick's head spin round, and came quickly to the Blue Boar Inn. The court was crowded to the gates with horses, trav- elers, and serving-men ; and here and there and everywhere rushed the busy innkeeper, with a linen napkin fluttering on his arm, his cap half off, and in his hot hand a pewter flagon, from which the brown ale dripped in spatters on his fat legs as he flew. "They 're here," said Carew, looking shrewdly about; "for there is Gregory Goole, my groom, and Stephen Magelt, the tire-man. In with thee, Nicholas." He put Nick before him with a little air of patronage, and pushed him into the room. It was a large, low chamber with heavy beams overhead, hung with leather jacks and pewter tankards. Around the walls stood rough tables, at which a medley of guests sat eating, drinking, dicing, playing at cards, and talking loudly all at once, while the tapster and the cook's knave sped wildly about. At a great table in the midst of the riot sat the Lord High Admiral's players a score or more loud-swashing gallants, richly clad in ruffs and bands, embroidered 48 MASTER SKYLARK shirts, Italian doublets slashed and laced, Venetian hose, gay velvet caps with jeweled bands, and every man a pon- iard or a rapier at his hip. Nick felt very much like a little brown sparrow in a flock of gaudy Indian birds. The board was loaded down with meat and drink, and some of the players were eating with forks, a new trick from the London court, which Nick had never seen before. But all the diners looked up when Carew's face was recognized, and welcomed him with a deafening shout. He waved his hand for silence. "Thanks for these kind plaudits, gentle friends," said he, with a mocking air ; " I have returned." " Yes ; we see that ye have, Gaston," they all shouted, and laughed again. "Ay," said he, thrusting his hand into his pouch, "ye fled, and left me to be spoiled by the spoiler, but ye see I have left the spoiler spoiled." Lifting his hand triumphantly, he shook in their faces the golden chain that the burgesses of Stratford had given him, and then, laying his hand upon Nick's shoulder, bowed to them all, and to him with courtly grace, and said : " Be known, be known, all ! Gentlemen, my Lord Admi- ral's Players, Master Nicholas Skylark, the sweetest singer in all the kingdom of England ! " Nick's cheeks flushed hotly, and his eyes fell ; for they all stared curiously, first at him, and then at Carew stand- ing up behind him, and several grinned mockingly and winked in a knowing way. He stole a look at Carew ; but THE ADMIRAL'S COMPANY 49 the master-player's face was frank and quite unmoved, so that Nick felt reassured. " Why, sirs," said Carew, as some began to laugh and to speak to one another covertly, " it is no jest. He hath a sweeter voice than Cyril Davy's, the best woman's- voice in all London town. Upon my word, it is the sweetest voice a body ever heard outside of heaven and the holy angels ! " He lowered his tone and bowed his head a little. " I '11 stake mine honour on it ! " " Hast any, Gaston ? " called a jeering voice, whereat the whole room roared. But Carew cried again in a high voice that would be heard above the noise : " Now, hark 'e ; what I say is so. It is, upon my word, and on the remnant of mine honour ! And to-morrow ye shall see, for Master Skylark is to sing and play with us." When he had said that, nothing would do but Nick mnst sit down and eat with them ; so they made a place for him and for Master Carew. Nick bent his head and said a grace, at which some of them laughed, until Carew shook his head with a stern frown ; and before he ate he bowed politely to them all, as his mother had taught him to do. They all bowed mock- ingly, and hilariously offered him wine, which, when he refused, they pressed upon him, until Carew stopped them, saying that he would have no more of that. As he spoke he clapped his hand upon his poniard and scowled biackly. XHey all laughed, but offered Nick no more wine ; instead, they picked him choice morsels, and made a great deal of 50 MASTEK SKYLAEK him, until his silly young head was quite turned, and he sat up and gave himself a few airs not many, for Strat- ford was no great place in which to pick up airs. When they had eaten they wanted Nick to sing ; but again Carew interposed. " Nay," said he ; " he hath just eaten his fill, so he cannot sing. Moreover, he is no jack- daw to screech in such a cage as this. He shall not sing until to-morrow in the play." At this some of the leading players who held shares in the venture demurred, doubting if Nick could sing at all ; but" Hark 'e," said Master Carew, shortly, clapping his hand upon his poniard, " I say that he can. Do ye take me?" So they said no more ; and shortly after he took Nick away, and left them over their tankards, singing uproar- iously. The Blue Boar Inn had not a bed to spare, nor had the players kept a place for Carew; at which he smiled grimly, said he 'd not forget it, and took lodgings for himself and Nick at the Three Tuns in the next street. Nick spoke indeed of his mother's cousin, with whom he had meant to stay, but the master-player protested warmly ; so, little loath, and much flattered by the atten- tions of so great a man, Nick gave over the idea and said no more about it. When the chamberlain had shown them to their room and they were both undressed, Nick knelt beside the bed and said a prayer, as he always did at home. Carew watched him curiously. It was quiet there, and the light THE ADMIRAL'S COMPANY 51 dim ; Nick was young, and his yellow hair was very curly. Carew could hear the faint breath murmuring through the boy's lips as he prayed, and while he stared at the little white figure his mouth twitched in a queer way. But he tossed his head, and muttered to himself, " What, Gaston Carew, turning soft ? Nay, nay. I '11 do it on my soul, I will ! " rolled into bed, and was soon fast asleep. As for Nick, what with the excitement of the day, the dazzling fancies in his brain, his tired legs, the weird night noises in the town, and strange, tremendous dreams, he scarce could get to sleep at all ; but toward morning he fell into a refreshing doze, and did not wake until the town was loud with May. CHAPTER IX THE MAY-DAY PLAY IT was soon afternoon. All Coventry was thronged with people keeping holiday, and at the Blue Boar a scene of wild confusion reigned. Tap-room and hall were crowded with guests, and in the cobbled court horses innumerable stamped and whin- nied. The players, with knitted brows, stalked about the quieter nooks, going over their several parts, and looking to their costumes, which were for the most part upon their backs ; while the thumping and pounding of the carpen- ters at work upon the stage in the inn-yard were enough to drive a quiet-loving person wild. Nick scarcely knew whether he were on his head or on his heels. The master-player would not let him eat at all after once breaking his fast, for fear it might affect his voice, and had him say his lines a hundred times until he had them pat. Then he was off, directing here, there, and everywhere, until the court was cleared of all that had no business there, and the last surreptitious small boy had 52 THE MAY-DAY PLAY 53 been duly projected from the gates by Peter Hostler's hobnailed boot. "Now, Nick," said Carew, coming up all in a gale, and throwing a sky-blue silken cloak about Nick's shoulders, " thou 'It enter here " ; and he led him to a hallway door just opposite the gates. " When Master Whitelaw, as the Duke, calls out, ' How now, who comes ? I '11 match him for the ale ! ' be quickly in and answer to thy part ; and, marry, boy, don't miss thy cues, or tsst, thy head 's not worth a peascod ! " With that he clapped his hand upon his poniard and glared into Nick's eyes, as if to look clear through to the back of the boy's wits. Nick heard his white teeth grind, and was all at once very much afraid of him, for he did indeed look dreadful. So Nicholas Attwood stood by the entry door, with his heart in his throat, waiting his turn. He could hear the pages in the courtyard outside shout- ing for stools for their masters, and squabbling over the best places upon the stage. Then the gates creaked, and there came a wild rush of feet and a great crying out as the 'prentices and burghers trooped into the inn-yard, pushing and crowding for places near the stage. Those who had the money bawled aloud for farthing stools. The rest stood jostling in a wrangling crowd upon the ground, while up and down a girl's shrill voice went all the time, crying high, " Cherry ripe, cherry ripe ! Who '11 buy my sweet May cherries f " Then there was another shout, and a rattling tread of feet along the wooden balconies that ran around the walls 54 MASTER SKYLARK of the inn-yard, and cries from the apprentices below: " Good-day, fair Master Harrington ! Good-day, Sir Thomas Parkes ! Good-day, sweet Mistress Nettleby and Master Nettleby ! Good-day, good-day, good-day ! " for the richer folk were coming in at twopence each, and all the gal- leries were full. And then he heard the baker's boy with sugared cakes and ginger-nuts go stamping up the stairs. The musicians in the balcony overhead were tuning up. There was a flute, a viol, a gittern, a fiddle, and a drum ; and behind the curtain, just outside the door, Nick could hear the master-player's low voice giving hasty orders to the others. So he said his lines all over to himself, and cleared his throat. Then on a sudden a shutter opened high above the orchestra, a trumpet blared, the kettledrum crashed, and he heard a loud voice shout : " Good citizens of Coventry, and high-born gentles all : know ye now that we, the players of the company of His Grace, Charles, Lord Howard, High Admiral of England, Ireland, Wales, Calais, and Boulogne, the marches of Nor. mandy, Gascony, and Aquitaine, Captain-General of the Navy and the Seas of Her Gracious Majesty the Queen" At that the crowd in the courtyard cheered and cheered again. " will, with your kind permission, play forthwith the laughable comedy of ' The Three Grey Gowns,' by Master Thomas Heywood, in which will be spoken many good things, old and new, and a brand-new song will be sung. Now, hearken all the play begins ! n THE MAY-DAY PLAY 55 The trumpet blared, the kettledrum crashed again, and as a sudden hush fell over the throng without Nick heard the voices of the players going on. It was a broad farce, full of loud jests and nonsense, a great thwacking of sticks and tumbling about ; and Nick, with his eye to the crack of the door, listened with all his ears for his cue, far too excited even to think of laughing at the rough jokes, though the crowd in the inn-yard roared till they held their sides. Carew came hurrying up, with an anxious look in his restless eyes. " Ready, Nicholas ! " said he, sharply, taking Nick by the arm and lifting the latch. " Go straight down front now as I told thee mind thy cues speak boldly sing as thou didst sing for me and if thou wouldst not break mine heart, do not fail me now ! I have staked it all upon thee here and we must win ! " " How now, who comes ? " Nick heard a loud voice call outside the door-latch clicked behind him he was out in the open air and down the stage before he quite knew where he was. The stage was built against the wall just opposite the gates. It was but a temporary platform of planks laid upon trestles. One side of it was against the wall, and around the three other sides the crowd was packed close to the platform rail. At the ends, upon the boards, several wealthy gallants sat on high, three-legged stools, within arm's reach of the players acting there. The courtyard was a sea of heads, 56 MASTER SKYLARK and the balconies were filled with gentlefolk in holiday attire, eating cakes and chaffing gaily at the play. All was one bewildered cloud of staring eyes to Nick, and the only thing which he was sure he saw was the painted sign that hung upon the curtain at the rear, which in the lack of other scenery announced in large red print : " This is a Room in Master Jonah Jackdawe's House." And then he heard the last quick words, " I '11 match him for the ale ! " and started on his lines. It was not that he said so ill what little he had to say, but that his voice was homelike and familiar in its sound, one of their own, with no amazing London accent to the words just the speech of every-day, the sort that they all knew. First, some one in the yard laughed out a shock-headed ironmonger's apprentice, " Whoy, bullies, there be hayseed in his hair. 'T is took off pasture over-soon. I fecks ! they Ve plucked him green ! " There was a hoarse, exasperating laugh. Nick hesitated in his lines. The player at his back tried to prompt him , but only made the matter worse, and behind the green cur- tain at the door a hand went " clap " upon a dagger-hilt. The play lagged, and the crowd began to jeer. Nick's heart was full of fear and of angry shame that he had dared to try. Then all at once there came a brief pause, in which he vaguely realized that no one spoke. The man behind him thrust him forward, and whispering wrathfully, "Quick, quick sing up, thou little fool!" stepped back and left him there alone. NICK THOUGHT OF HIS MOTHER'S SINGING ON A SUMMEB'8 EVENING DKEW A DEEP BEEATH AND BEGAN TO SING." THE MAY-DAY PLAY 57 A viol overhead took up the time, the gittern struck a few sharp notes. This unexpected music stopped the noise, and all was still. Nick thought of his mother's voice singing on a summer's evening among the hollyhocks, and as the viol's droning died away he drew a deep breath and began to sing the words of " Hey wood's newest song " : " Pack, clouds, away, and welcome, day ; With night we banish sorrow ; Sweet air, blow soft ; mount, lark, aloft, To give my love good-morrow ! " It was only a part of a madrigal, the air to which they had fitted the words, the same air that Nick had sung in the woods, a thing scarce meant ever to be sung alone, a simple strain, a few plain notes, and at the close one brief, queer, warbling trill like a bird's wild song, that rose and fell and rose again like a silver ripple. The instruments were still ; the fresh young voice came out alone, and it was done so soon that Nick hardly knew that he had sung at all. For a moment no one seemed to breathe. Then there was a very great noise, and all the court seemed hurling at him. A man upon the stage sprang to his feet. What they were going to do to him Nick did not know. He gave a frightened cry, and ran past the green curtain, through the open door, and into the master-player's excited arms. "Quick, quick!" cried Carew. "Go back, go back! There, hark! dost not hear them call? Quick, out again they call thee back ! " With that he thrust Nick through the door. The man upon the stage came up, 58 MASTEE SKYLARK slipped something into his hand Nick, all bewildered, knew not what ; and there he stood, quite stupefied, not knowing what to do. Then Carew came out hastily and led him down the stage, bowing, and pressing his hand to his heart, and smiling like a summer sunrise ; so that Nick, seeing this, did the same, and bowed as neatly as he could ; though, to be sure, his was only a simple, country-bred bow, and no such ceremonious to-do as Master Carew's courtly London obeisance. Every one was standing up and shouting so that not a soul could hear his ears, until the ironmonger's apprentice bellowed above the rest ; " Whoy, bullies ! " he shouted, amid a chorus of cheers and laughter, " did n't I say 't was catched out in the fields it be a skylark, sure enough ! Come, Muster Skylark, sing that song again, an' thou shalt ha' my brand-new cap ! " Then many voices cried out together, " Sing it again ! The Skylark-the Skylark ! " Nick, looked up, startled. " Why, Master Carew," said he, with a tremble in his voice, " do they mean me ? " Carew put one hand beneath Nick's chin and turned his face up, smiling. The master-player's cheeks were flushed with triumph, and his dark eyes danced with pride. " Ay, Nicholas Skylark ; 't is thou they mean." The viol and the music came again from overhead, and when they ceased Nick sang the little song once more. And when the master-player had taken him outside, and the play was over, some fine ladies came and kissed him, to his great confusion ; for no one but his mother or his THE MAY-DAY PLAY 59 kin had ever done so before, and these had much perf umb about them, musk and rose-attar, so that they smelled like rose-mallows in July. The players of the Lord Admiral's company were going about shaking hands with Carew and with each other as if they had not met for years, and slap- ping one another upon the back ; and one came over, a tall, solemn, black-haired man, he who had written the song, and stood with his feet apart and stared at Nick, but spoke never a word, which Nick thought was very singular. But as he turned away he said, with a world of pity in his voice, " And I have writ two hundred plays, yet never saw thy like. Lad, lad, thou art a jewel in a wild swine's snout ! " which Nick did not understand at all ; nor why Master Carew said so sharply, " Come, Heywood, hold thy blabbing tongue ; we are all in the same sty." " Speak for thyself, Gat Carew ! " answered Master Hey- wood, firmly. " I '11 have no hand in this affair, I tell thee once for all ! " Master Carew flushed queerly and bit his lip, and, turn- ing hastily away, took Nick to walk about the town. Nick then, for the first time, looked into his hand to see what the man upon the stage had given him. It was a gold rose-noble. CHAPTER X AFTER THE PLAY/ THROUGH the high streets of the third city of the realm Master Gaston Carew strode as if he were a very king, and Coventry his kingdom. There was music everywhere, of pipers and fiddlers, drums, tabrets, flutes, and horns, and there were dan- cing bears upon the corners, with minstrels, jugglers, chapmen crying their singsong wares, and such a mighty hurly-burly as Nick had never seen before. And wherever there was a wonder to be seen, Carew had Nick see it, though it cost a penny a peep, and lifted him to watch the fencing and quarter-staff play in the market-place. And at one of the gay booths he bought gilt ginger-nuts and caraway cakes with currants on the top, and gave them all to Nick, who thanked him kindly, but said, if Master Carew pleased, he 'd rather have his supper, for he was very hungry. " Why, to be sure," said Carew, and tossed a silver penny for a scramble to the crowd; ''thou shalt have the finest supper in the town." 66 AFTER THE PLAY 61 Whereupon, bowing to all the great folk they met, and being bowed to most politely in return, they came to the Three Tuns. Stared at by a hundred curious eyes, made way for everywhere, and followed by wondering exclamations of envy, it was little wonder that Nick, a simple country lad, at last began to think that there was not in all the world another gentleman so grand as Master Gaston Carew, and also to have a pleasant notion that Nicholas Attwood was no bad fellow himself. The lordly innkeeper came smirking and bobbing obsequiously about, with his freshest towel on his arm, and took the master-player's order as a dog would take a bone. " Here, sirrah," said Carew, haughtily ; " fetch us some repast, I care not what, so it be wholesome food a green Banbury cheese, some simnel bread and oat-cakes; a pudding, hark 'e, sweet and full of plums, with honey and a pasty a meat pasty, marry, a pasty made of fat and toothsome eels ; and moreover, fellow, ale to wash it down none of thy penny ale, mind ye, too weak to run out of the spigot, but snapping good brew dost take me ? with beef and mustard, tripe, herring, and a good fat capon broiled to a turn ! " The innkeeper gaped like a fish. "How now, sirrah? Dost think I cannot pay thy score ? " quoth Carew, sharply. "Nay, nay," stammered the host; "but, sir, where where will ye put it all without bursting into bits ? n 62 MASTER SKYLARK " Be off with thee ! " cried Carew, sharply. " That is my affair. Nay, Nick," said he, laughing at the boy's, astonished look ; " we shall not burst. What we do not have to-night we '11 have in the morning. 'T is the way with these inns, to feed the early birds with scraps, so the more we leave from supper the more we '11 have for breakfast. And thou wilt need a good breakfast to ride on all day long." " Ride ? " exclaimed Nick. " Why, sir, I was minded to walk back to Stratford, and keep my gold rose-noble whole." " Walk ? " cried the master-player, scornfully. " Thou, with thy golden throat? Nay, Nicholas, thou shalt ride to-morrow like a very king, if I have to pay for the horse myself, twelvepence the day ! " and with that he began chuckling as if it were a joke. But Nick stood up, and, bowing, thanked him gratefully ; at which the master-player went from chuckling to laugh- ing, and leered at Nick so oddly that the boy would have thought him tipsy, save that there had been nothing yet to drink. And a queer sense of uneasiness came creeping over him as he watched the master-player's eyes opening and shutting, opening and shutting, so that one moment he seemed to be staring and the next almost asleep ; though all the while his keen, dark eyes peered out from between the lids like old dog-foxes from their holes, looking Nick over from head to foot, and from foot to head again, as if measuring him with an ellwand. When the supper came, filling the whole table and the AFTER THE PLAY 63 sideboard too, Nick arose to serve the meat as he was used at home ; but, " Nay, Nicholas Skylark, my honey-throat," cried Carew, " sit thee down ! Thou wait on me thou songster of the silver tongue ? Nay, nay, sweetheart ; the knave shall wait on thee, or I '11 wait on thee myself I will, upon my word ! Why, Nick, I tell thee I loye thee, and dost think I 'd let thee wait or walk ? nay, nay, thou 'It ride to-morrow like a king, and have all Stratford wait for thee ! " At this he chuckled so that he almost choked upon a mouthful of bread and meat. " Canst ride, Nicholas ? n "Fairly, sir." " Fairly ? Fie, modesty ! I warrant thou canst ride like a very centaur. What sayest I '11 ride a ten-mile race with thee to-morrow as we go ? n " Why," cried Nick, " are ye going back to Stratford to play, after all ? " " To Stratford ? Nay ; not for a bushel of good gold Harry shovel-boards ! Bah ! That town is ratsbane and nightshade in my mouth ! Nay, we '11 not go back to Stratford town; but we shall ride a piece with thee, Nicholas, we shall ride a piece with thee." Chuckling again to himself, he fell to upon the pasty and said no more. Nick held his peace, as he was taught to do unless first spoken to; but he could not help thinking that stage- players, and master-players in particular, were very queer folk. CHAPTER XI DISOWNED NIGHT came down on Stratford town that last sweet April day, and the pastured kine came lowing home. Supper-time passed, and the cool stars came twinkling out; but still Nick Attwood did not come. " He hath stayed to sleep with Robin, Master Burgess Getley's son," said Mistress Attwood, standing in the door, and staring out into the dusk ; " he is often lonely here." " He should ha' telled thee on it, then," said Simon Att- wood. " This be no way to do. I Ve a mind to put him to a trade." " Nay, Simon," protested his wife ; " he may be careless, he is young yet, but Nicholas is a good lad. Let him have his schooling out he '11 be the better for it." " Then let him show it as he goes along," said Attwood, grimly, as he blew the candle out. But May-day dawned; mid-morning came, mid-after- noon, then supper-time again ; and supper-time crept into dusk and still no Nicholas Attwood. His mother grew uneasy ; but his father only growled : 64 DISOWNED 65 " We '11 reckon up when lie coineth home. Master Bruns- wood tells me he was na at the school the whole day yes- terdayand he be feared to show his face. I '11 fear him with a bit of birch ! " " Do na be too hard with the lad, Simon," pleaded Mis- tress Attwood. " Who knows what hath happened to him 1 He must be hurt, or he 'd 'a' come home to his mother " and she began to wring her hands. " He may ha' fallen from a tree, and lieth all alone out on the hill or, Simon, the Avon ! Thou dost na think our lad be drowned ? " " Fudge ! " said Simon Attwood. " Born to hang '11 never drown ! " When, however, the next day crept around and still his son did not come home, a doubt stole into the tanner's own heart. Yet when his wife was for starting out to seek some tidings of the boy, he stopped her wrathfully. " Nay, Margaret," said he ; " thou shalt na go traipsing around the town like a hen wi' but one chick. I wull na ha' thee made a laughing-stock by all the fools in Stratford." But as the third day rolled around, about the middle of the afternoon the tanner himself sneaked out at the back door of his tannery in Southam's lane, and went up into the town. " Robin Getley," he asked at the guildschool door, " was my son wi' thee overnight ? " " Nay, Master Attwood. Has he not come back ? " " Come back ? From where ? " Robin hung his head. " From where ? " demanded the tanner. " Come, boy ! n 66 MASTEE SKYLARK " From Coventry," said Robin, knowing that the truth would out at last, anyway. " He went to see the players, sir," spoke up Hal Saddler, briskly, not heeding Robin's stealthy kick. " He said he 'd bide wi' Diecon Haggard overnight ; an' he said he wished he were a master-player himself, sir, too." Simon Attwood, frowning blackly, hurried on. It ivas Nick, then, whom he had seen crossing the market-square. Wat Raven, who swept Clopton bridge, had seen two boys go up the Warwick road. " One were thy Nick, Mus- ter Attwood," said he, thumping the dirt from his broom across the coping-stone, "and the other were Dawson's Hodge." The angry tanner turned again into the market-place. His brows were knit, and his eyes were hot, yet his step was heavy and slow. Above all things, he hated disobe- dience, yet in his surly way he loved his only son ; and far worse than disobedience, he hated that his son should disobey. Astride a beam in front of Master Thompson's house sat Roger Dawson. Simon Attwood took him by the col- lar none too gently. " Here, leave be ! " choked Roger, wriggling hard ; but the tanner's grip was like iron. " Wert thou in Coventry May-day ? " he asked sternly. " Nay, that I was na," sputtered Hodge. " A plague on Coventry ! " " Do na lie to me thou wert there wi' my son Nicholas." "I was na," snarled Hodge. "Nick Attwood threshed DISOWNED 67 me in the Warrick road; an' I be no dawg to follow at the heels o' folks as threshes me." " Where be he, then?" demanded Attwood, with a sud- den sinking at heart in spite of his wrath. " How should I know ? A went away wi' a play-actor- ing fellow in a plum-colored cloak ; and play-actoring fel- low said a loved him like a's own, and patted a's back, and flung me hard names, like stones at a lost dawg. Now le* me go, Muster Attwood cross my heart, 't is all I know ! " " Is 't Nicholas ye seek, Master Attwood ? " asked Tom Carpenter, turning from his fleurs-de-lis. " Why, sir, he 'a gone got famous, sir. I was in Coventry myseP May-day ; and why, sir, Nick was all the talk ! He sang there at the Blue Boar inn-yard with the Lord High Admiral's players, and took a part in the play ; and, sir, ye 'd scarce believe me, but the people went just daft to hear him sing, sir." Simon Attwood heard no more. He walked down High street in a daze. With hard men bitter blows strike doubly deep. He stopped before the guildhall school. The clock struck five ; each iron clang seemed beating upon his heart. He raised his hand as if to shut the clangor out, and then his face grew stern and hard. " He hath gone his own wilful way," said he, bitterly. " Let him follow it to the end." Mistress Attwood came to meet him, running in the garden-path. " Nicholas 1 " was all that she could say. " Never speak to me of hi again," he said, and passed 68 MASTER SKYLARK her by into the house. " He hath gone away with a pack of stage-playing rascals and vagabonds, whither no man knoweth." Taking the heavy Bible down from the shelf, he lit a rushlight at the fire, although it was still broad daylight, and sat there with the great book open in his lap until the sun went down and the chill night wind crept in along the floor ; yet he could not read a single word and never turned a page. CHAPTER XII A STRANGE RIDE RAT-A-TAT-TAT at the first dim hint of dawn went the chamberlain's knuckles upon the door. To Nick it seemed scarce midnight yet, so sound had been his sleep. Master Carew having gotten into his high-topped rid- ing-boots with a great puffing and tugging, they washed their faces at the inn-yard pump by the smoky light of the hostler's lantern, and then in a subdued, half -wakened way made a hearty breakfast off the fragments of the last night's feast. Part of the remaining cold meat, cheese, and cakes Carew stowed in his leather pouch. The rest he left in the lap of a beggar sleeping beside the door. The street was dim with a chilly fog, through which a few pale stars still struggled overhead. The houses were all shut and barred ; nobody was abroad, and the night- watch slept in comfortable doorways here and there, with lolling heads and lanterns long gone out. As they came along the crooked street, a stray cat scurried away with scared green eyes, and a kenneled hound set up a lonesome howl. 70 MASTER SKYLARK But the Blue Boar Inn was stirring like an ant-hill, with firefly lanterns flitting up and down, and a cheery glow about the open door. The horses of the company, scrubbed unreasonably clean, snorted and stamped in little bridled clumps about the courtyard, and the stable-boys, not scrubbed at all, clanked at the pump or shook out wrinkled saddle-cloths with most prodigious yawns. The grooms were buckling up the packs ; the chamberlain and sleepy-lidded maids stood at the door, waiting their fare- well farthings. Some of the company yawned in the tap-room ; some yawned out of doors with steaming stirrup-cup in hand ; and some came yawning down the stairways pulling on their riding-cloaks, booted, spurred, and ready for a long day's ride. "Good-morrow, sirs," said Carew, heartily. "Good- morrow, sir, to you," said they, and all came over to speak to Nicholas in a very kindly way ; and one or two patted him on the cheek and walked away speaking in under- tones among themselves, keeping one eye on Carew all the while. And Master Tom Heywood, the play-writer, came out with a great slice of fresh wheat-bread, thick with butter and dripping with yellow honey, and gave it to Nick; and stood there silently with a very queer ex- pression watching him eat it, until Carew's groom led up a stout hackney and a small roan palfrey to the block, and the master-player, crying impatiently, " Up with thee, Nick ; we must be ambling ! " sprang into the saddle of the gray. A STEANGE BIDE 71 The sleepy inn-folk roused a bit to send a cheery vol- ley of, "Fare ye well, sirs; come again," after the depart- ing players, and the long cavalcade cantered briskly out of the inn-yard, in double rank, with a great clinking of bridle-chains and a drifting odor of wet leather and heavy perfume. Nick sat very erect and rode his best, feeling like some errant knight of the great Round Table, ready to right the whole world's wrongs. " But what about the horse ? " said he. " We can na keep him in Stratford, sir." " Oh, that 's all seen to," said the master-player. " 'T is to be sent back by the weekly carrier." "And where do I turn into the Stratford road, sir?" asked Nick, as the players clattered down the cobbled street in a cloud of mist that steamed up so thickly from the stones that the horses seemed to have no legs, but to float like boats. " Some distance further on," replied Carew, carelessly. " 'T is not the way we came that thou shalt ride to-day ; that is t' other end of town, and the gate not open yet. But the longest way round is the shortest way home, so let 's be spurring on." At the corner of the street a cross and sleepy cobbler was strapping a dirty urchin, who bellowed lustily. Nick winced. " Hollo ! " cried Carew. " What 's to do ? " " Why, sir," said Nick, ruefully, " father will thresh me well this night." " Nay," said Carew, in a quite decided tone ; " that he '11 72 MASTER SKYLARK not, I promise thee ! "and as he spoke he chuckled softly to himself. The man before them turned suddenly around and grinned queerly; but, catching the master-player's eye, whipped his head about like a weather-vane in a gale, and cantered on. As they came down the narrow street the watchmen were just swinging wide the city gates, and gave a cheer to speed the parting guests, who gave a rouse in turn, and were soon lost to sight in the mist which hid the valley in a great gray sea. " How shall I know where to turn off, sir ? " asked Nick, a little anxiously. " 'T is all alike." " I '11 tell thee," said the master-player ; " rest thee easy on that score. I know the road thou art to ride much better than thou dost thyself." He smiled quite frankly as he spoke, and Nick could not help wondering why the man before them again turned around and eyed him with that sneaking grin. He did not like the fellow's looks. He had scowling black brows, hair cut as close as if the rats had gnawed it off, a pair of ill-shaped bandy-legs, a wide, unwholesome slit of a mouth, and a nose like a raspberry tart. His whole appearance was servile and mean, and there was a sly malice in his furtive eyes. Besides that, and a thing which strangely fascinated Nick's gaze, there was a hole through the gristle of his right ear, scarred about as if it had been burned, and through this hole the fellow had tied a bow of crimson ribbon, like a butterfly alighted upon his ear A STRANGE RIDE 73 " A pretty fellow ! " said Carew, with a shrug. " He '11 be hard put to dodge the hangman yet ; but he 's a right good fellow in his way, and he has served me he has served me." The first loud burst of talk had ceased, and all rode silently along. The air was chill, and Nick was grateful for the cloak that Carew threw around him. There was no sound but the beat of many hoofs in the dust-padded road, and now and then the crowing of a cock somewhere within the cloaking fog. The stars were gone, and the sky was lighting up ; and all at once, as they rode, the clouds ahead, low down and to the right, broke raggedly away and let a red sun-gleam shoot through across the mist, bathing the riders in dazzling rosy light. "Why, Master Carew," cried Nick, no little startled, " there comes the sun, almost ahead ! We 're riding east- ward, sir. We Ve missed the road ! " " Oh, no, we 've not," said Carew ; " nothing of the sort." His tone was so peremptory and sharp that Nick said nothing more, but rode along, vaguely wishing that he was already clattering down Stratford High street. The clouds scattered as the sun came up, and the morn- ing haze drifted away into cool dales, and floated off upon the breeze. And as the world woke up the players wa- kened too, and rode gaily along, laughing, singing, and chattering together, until Nick thought he had never in all his life before seen such a jolly fellowship. His heart was blithe as he reined his curveting palfrey by the mas- ter-player's side, and watched the sunlight dance and spar- 74 MASTER SKYLARK kle along the dashing line from dagger-hilts and jeweled clasps, and the mist-lank plumes curl crisp again in the warmth of the rising sun. The master-player, too, had a graceful, taking way of being half familiar with the lad ; he was besides a mar- velous teller of wonderful tales, and whiled away the time with jests and quips, mile after mile, till Nick forgot both road and time, and laughed until his sides were sore. Yet slowly, as they rode along, it came home to him with the passing of the land that this was country new and strange. So he began to take notice of this and that beside the way ; and as he noticed he began to grow un- easy. Thrice had he come to Coventry, but surely never by a road like this. Yet still the master-player joked and laughed and pleased the boy with little things until Nick laughed too, and let the matter go. At last, however, when they had ridden fully an hour, they passed a moss-grown abbey on the left-hand side of the road, a strange old place that Nick could not recall. "Are ye sure, Master Carew," he ventured timidly "are ye sure we be na going wrong, sir?" At that the master-player took on so offended an air that Nick was sorry he had spoken. " Why, now," said Carew, haughtily, " if thou dost know the roads of England better than I, who have trudged and ridden them all these years, I '11 sit me down and learn of thee how to follow mine own nose. I tell thee I know the A STRANGE RIDE 75 road thou art to ride this day better than thou dost thy- self ; and I '11 see to it that thou dost come without fail to the very place that thou art going. I will, upon my word, and on the remnant of mine honour ! " But in spite of this assurance, and in spite of the mas- ter-player's ceaseless stream of gaiety and marvels, Nick became more and more uneasy. The road was certainly growing stranger and stranger as they passed. The com- pany, too, instead of ambling leisurely along, as they had done at first, were now spurring ahead at a good round gallop, in answer to a shrill whistle from the master- player ; and the horses were wet with sweat. They passed a country village, too, that was quite un- known to Nick, and a great highway running to the north that he had never seen before ; and when they had ridden for about two hours, the road swerved southward to a shining ford, and on a little tableland beyond he saw the gables of a town he did not know. " Why, Master Carew ! " he cried out, half indignant, half perplexed, and thoroughly frightened, " this is na the Stratford road at all. I 'm going back. I will na ride another mile ! " As he spoke he wheeled the roan sharply out of the clattering file with a slash of the rein across the withers, and started back along the hill past the rest of the com- pany, who came thumping down behind. " Stop him ! Stop him there ! " he heard the master- player shout, and there was something in the fierce, high voice that turned his whole heart sick. What right had 76 MASTER SKYLAKK they to stop him ? This was not the Stratford road ; he was certain of that now. But "Stop him stop him there ! '' he heard the master-player call, and a wild, un- reasoning fright came over him. He dug his heels into the paJlr^y's heaving sides and urged him up the hill through the cloud of dust that came rolling down behind the horsemen. The hindmost riders had plunged into those before, and the whole array was struggling, shout- ing, and wrangling in wild disorder ; but out of the flurry Carew and the bandy-legged man with the ribbon in his ear spurred furiously and came galloping after him at the top of their speed. Nick cried out, and beat the palfrey with the rein ; but the chase was short. They overtook him as he topped the hill, one on each side, and, leaning over, Carew snatched the bridle from his hand. " Thou little imp ! " he panted, as he turned the roan around and started down the hill. " Don't try this on again ! " " Oh, Master Carew," gasped Nick, " what are ye going to do wi' me T " "Do with thee? n cried the master-player, savagely clapping his hand upon his poniard, "why, I am going to do with thee just whatever I please. Dost hear ? And, hark 'e, this sort of caper doth not please me at all ; and by the whistle of the Lord High Admiral, if thou triest it on again, thy life is not worth a rotten peascod ! " Unbuckling the rein, he tossed one end to the bandy- legged man, and holding the other in his own hand, with Nick riding helplessly between them, they trotted down the A STRANGE RIDE 77 hill again, took their old places in the ranks, and spattered through the shallow ford. The bandy-legged man had pulled a dagger from be* neath his coat, and held it under his bridle-rein, shining through the horse's mane as they dashed through the still half -sleeping town. Nick was speechless with terror. Beyond the town's end they turned sharply to the north- east, galloping steadily onward for what was perhaps half an hour, though to Nick it seemed a forever, until they came out into a great highway running southward. " Watling street ! " he heard the man behind him say, and knew that they were in the old Roman road that stretched from London to the north. Still they were galloping, though long strings dribbled from the horses' mouths, and the saddle-leathers dripped with foam. One or two looked back at him and bit their lips ; but Carew's eyes were hot and fierce, and his hand was on his poniard. The rest, after a curious glance or two, shrugged their shoulders carelessly and galloped on : this affair was Master Gaston Carew's business, not theirs. Until high noon they hurried on with neither stop nor stay. Then they came to a place where a little brook sang through the grass by the roadside in a shady nook beneath some mighty oaks, and there the master-player whistled for a halt, to give the horses breath and rest, and to water them at the brook-pools. Some of the players sauntered up and down to stretch their tired legs, munching meat and bread ; and some lay down upon the grass and slept a little. Two of them came, offering Nick some cakes and 78 MASTEE SKYLARK cheese ; but he was crying hard and would neither eat nor drink, though Carew urged him earnestly. Then Master Tom Heywood, with an ugly look at Carew, and without so much as an if-ye-please or a by-your-leave, led Nick up the brook to a spot where it had not been muddied by the horses, and made him wash his dusty face and hands in the cool water and dampen his hair, though he complied as if in a daze. And indeed Nick rode on through the long afternoon, clinging helplessly to the pommel of his saddle, sobbing bitterly until for very weariness he could no longer sob. It was after nine o'clock that night when they rode into Towcester, and all that was to be seen was a butcher's boy carting garbage out of the town and whistling to keep his courage up. The watch had long since gone to sleep about the silent streets, but a dim light burned in the tap- room of the Old Brown Cow ; and there the players rested for the night. CHAPTER XIII A DASH FOR FREEDOM NICK awoke from a heavy, burning sleep, aching from head to foot. The master-player, up and dressed, stood by the window, scowling grimly out into the ashy dawn. Nick made haste to rise, but could not atifle a sharp cry of pain as he staggered to his feet, he was so racked and sore with riding. At the boy's smothered cry Carew turned, and his dark face softened with a sudden look of pity and concern. " Why, Nick, my lad," he cried, and hurried to his side, " this is too bad, indeed ! " and without more words took him gently in his arms and carried him down to the court- yard well, where he bathed him softly from neck to heel in the cold, refreshing water, and wiped him with a soft, clean towel as tenderly as if he had been the lad's own mother. And having dried him thoroughly, he rubbed him with a waxy ointment that smelled of henbane and poppies, until the aching was almost gone. So soft and so kind was he withal that Nick took heart after a little and asked tim- idly, " And ye will let me go home to-day, sir, will ye not f " 79 80 MASTER SKYLARK The master-player frowned. " Please, Master Carew, let me go." "Come, come," said Carew, impatiently, "enough of this!" and stamped his foot. " But, oh, Master Carew," pleaded Nick, with a sob in his throat, " my mother's heart will surely break if I do na come home ! " Carew started, and his mouth twitched queerly " Enough, I say enough ! " he cried. " I will not hear; I '11 have no more. I tell thee hold thy tongue be dumb ! I '11 not have ears thou shalt not speak! Dost hear?" He dashed the towel to the ground. "I bid thee hold thy tongue." Nick hid his face between his hands, and leaned against the rough stone wall, a naked, shivering, wretched little chap indeed. " Oh, mother, mother, mother ! " he sobbed pitifully. A singular expression came over the master-player's face. " I will not hear I tell thee I will not hear ! " he choked , and, turning suddenly away, he fell upon the sleepy hos- tler, who was drawing water at the well, and rated him outrageously, to that astounded worthy's great amazement Nick crept into his clothes, and stole away to the kitchen door. There was a red-faced woman there who bade him not to cry 't would soon be breakfast-time. Nick thought he could not eat at all ; but when the savory smell crept out and filled the chilly air, his poor little empty stomach would not be denied, and he ate heartily. Master Hey- wood sat beside him and gave him the choicest bits from A DASH FOR FREEDOM 81 his own trencher ; and Carew himself, seeing that he ate, looked strangely pleased, and ordered him a tiny mutton- pie, well spiced. Nick pushed it back indignantly ; but Heywood took the pie and cut it open, saying quietly: " Come, lad, the good God made the sheep that is in this pie, not Gaston Carew. Eat it come, 't will do thee good ! " and saw him finish the last crumb. From Towcester south through Northamptonshire is a pretty country of rolling hills and undulating hollows, ribboned with pebbly rivers, and dotted with fair parks and tofts of ash and elm and oak. Straggling villages now and then were threaded on the road like beads upon a string, and here and there the air was damp and misty from the grassy fens along some winding stream. It was against nature that a healthy, growing lad should be so much cast down as not to see and be interested in the strange, new, passing world of things about him ; and little by little Nick roused from his wretchedness and began to look about him. And a wonder grew within his brain : why had they stolen him ? where were they tak- ing him ? what would they do with him there ? or would they soon let him go again ? Every yellow cloud of dust arising far ahead along the road wrought up his hopes to a Bluebeard pitch, as regu- larly to fall. First came a cast-off soldier from the war in the Netherlands, rakishly forlorn, his breastplate full of rusty dents, his wild hair worn by his steel cap, swag- gering along on a sorry hack with an old belt full of pis- toJets, and his long sword thumping Rosinante's ribs. i 82 MASTEE SKYLARK Then a peddling chapman, with a dust-white pack and a cunning Hebrew look, limped by, sulkily doffing his greasy hat. Two sturdy Midland journeymen, in search of south- ern handicraft, trudged down with tool-bags over their shoulders and stout oak staves in hand. Of wretched beggars and tattered rogues there was an endless string. But of any help no sign. Here and there, like a moving dot, a ploughman turned a belated furrow ; or a sweating ditcher leaned upon his reluctant spade and longed for night ; or a shepherd, quite as silly as his sheep, gawked up the morning hills. But not a sign of help for Nick. Once, passing through a little town, he raised a sudden cry of " Help ! Help they be stealing me away ! " But at that the master-player and the bandy-legged man waved their hands and set up such a shout that his shrill outcry was not even heard. And the simple country bumpkins, standing in a grinning row like so many Old Aunt Sallys at a fair, pulled off their caps and bowed, thinking it some company of great lords, and fetched a clownish cheer as the players galloped by. Then the hot dust got into Nick's throat, and he began to cough. Carew started with a look of alarm. " Come, come, Nicholas, this will never do never do in the world j thou 'It spoil thy voice." " I do na care," said Nick. " But I do," said Carew, sharply. " So we '11 have no more of it ! " and he clapped his hand upon his poniard. u But, nay nay, lad, I did not mean to threaten thee 't is A DASH FOR FREEDOM 83 but a jest. Come, smooth thy throat, and do not shriek no more. We play in old St. Albans town to-night, and thou art to sing thy song for us again." Nick pressed his lips tight shut and shook his head. He would not sing for them again. " Come, Nick, I 've promised Tom Heywood that thou shouldst sing his song ; and, lad, there 's no one left in all the land to sing it if thou 'It not. Tom doth dearly love thee, lad why, sure, thou hast seen that ! And, Nick, I 've promised all the company that thou wouldst sing Tom's song with us to-night. 'T will break their hearts if thou wilt not. Come, Nick, thou 'It sing it for us all, and set old Albans town afire ! " said Carew, pleadingly. Nick shook his head. "Come, Nick," said Carew, coaxingly, "we must hear that sweet voice of thine in Albans town to-night. Come, there 's a dear, good lad, and give us just one little song ! Come, act the man and sing, as thou alone in all the world canst sing, in Albans town this night ; and on my word, and on the remnant of mine honour, I '11 leave thee go back to Stratford town to-morrow morning ! " "To Stratford to-morrow ?" stammered Nick, with a glad, incredulous cry, while his heart leaped up within him. " Ay, verily ; upon my faith as the fine fag-end of a very proper gentleman thou shalt go back to Stratford town to-morrow if thou wilt but do thy turn with us to-night." Nick caught the master-player's arm as they rode along, almost crying for very joy : " Oh, that I will, sir and do 84 MASTER SKYLARK my very best. And, oh, Master Carew, I ha' thought so ill o' thee ! Forgive me, sir ; I did na know thee well."