Chapter II: Part 2

Leaving Andover, they crossed the low land on each side of the Teste, and that river itself near Chilbolton, and then rose over the steep acclivity of Barton Stacey down, with its wide ridge of hills stretching east and west in bleak loneliness, to face the sweeping winds that roared over them from the south-west bringing up the salt of the channel to invigorate the sheep that browsed over their slopes.

The Abbot discoursed from time to time of the various duties Ralph would have to fulfil, how he must conduct himself towards his superiors, equals, and inferiors; and his advice was certainly considerably more worldly-wise than had been that of Ralph's father and mother.

The boy listened attentively; but somehow, with the quick intuition of youthful directness, he detected the ring of worldly wisdom, as differing from the ingenuous simplicity of his' parent's advice. He could not help being amused and interested with the many little anecdotes with which the Abbot illustrated and enlivened his advice, while he felt more than ever how little he knew of the world and its ways.

"Now look you, fair kinsman," said the Abbot. "'Tis a right thing, and one well-pleasing to Holy Church, to be generous and free-handed; but 'tis not wise to give blindly, and without due inquiry. Thou lentest yonder idle vagrant thine horse yesterday. The holy saints guided him aright to thy father's house; but he might, for aught thou knewest, have just as well taken thine horse to Weyhill horse-fair, and there sold him, or ridden away where thou wouldst never have seen him more."

"But, my lord Abbot," cried the boy, "I liked the sound of his voice, and his words were fair: he could not but be honest."

"See there now; alack! good lack! the boy will surely come to harm an he goeth on like that! See you not, fair kinsman, that an you hearken to all fair words and gentle voices, you will e'en be stripped as clean as a rose bush with a blight on it? That is what I say, wait and see. I say not 'give not,' but look well before you give.

"Then again in a quarrel--for hot youth must needs quarrel--be wary how you enter in; see well that your adversary is one from whom you can hope to obtain honour,--one that if you vanquish him can yield you due satisfaction and fair guerdon, or, if he should vanquish you--for you must e'en look to both sides--that he be one to whom you may yield without loss of honour,--sithen he be so puissant a foe that there is as much honour gained in encountering him as there might be in overcoming another.

"In all things give heed and act discreetly. Be no tale-bearer, but listen well to all that goeth on. In all things serve thy master loyally; but be not so besotted as ever to be ruined for any. As for ensample, if thy lord choose a quarrel that must needs bring him to destruction, go not thou after him, but save thyself in time; as rats are said to cross by the hawser that mooreth a ship to the land, when they know of their own natural sagacity that ruin awaiteth that ship. Only give him fair notice thereof first. See how, during the late civil commotions, the Church hath acted discreetly, and saved her possessions in the midst of the broil. Even George, Archbishop of York, allied as he was to the Earl of Warwick and the Duke of Clarence, yet compounded with the late King Edward IV., on whose soul may God have mercy. But, blessed saints! whom have we here? 'Tis some noble baron, I doubt not, going to Winchester too, unless, indeed, it be the train of my Lord Woodville himself."

They had now reached a high bleak hill, and were nearly at the point where another road joined the one they were travelling by, which led from Marlborough and Cirencester to Winchester. Coming along this other road, which led from Reading, and just rising over the brow of the hill, Ralph could see a party of well-armed men. The dust from their horses obscured them partly, but he could make out that there were several footmen, carrying the formidable bill which dealt such deadly wounds, and gleaming above them were the helmets of two or three men-at-arms. The red crosses on their white surcoats, or tabards, showed that they belonged to the troops levied for the king, or at least raised by some noble for service, for which it was customary to take a contract.

"Ay, belike that's what they are," said the Abbot. "Do you, Peter, now ride on, while I tarry here to welcome my Lord Woodville; and take good lodgings for the night in Winchester, for me and my kinsman the Master Ralph de Lisle."

This was said to the chief of his lay brothers who acted as his serving-men, and who were clad in a dress very much resembling their lord's, but of a dark colour, instead of white.

Ralph was glad they were going to wait to meet the approaching party. He had never seen a band of armed men before, and he thought the appearance of these very imposing, as the pennons of the mounted men fluttered in the breeze.

"Ay, there's the banner of my Lord Woodville--he'll not be far behind," said the Abbot, as another little band mounted the hill, the centre figure carrying a little square flag on the end of a lance, which gaily waved its red and white colours as the horseman moved to the swing of his steed.

It was a very pretty sight. The wide-extending view, over broad pasture and swelling down, the distance hidden by a grey haze; the yellow road, leading straight across the green grass of the down, for the summer was hardly begun, while the gleaming weapons, white surcoats, and fluttering banners, mingled with the brilliant red of the crosses, and the blazon on the flag, contrasted well with the deep blue of the cloudless sky, fading away to the warm haze of the horizon. Gaily the grasshoppers chirped among the wild convolvulus on the roadside, the bees hummed over the clover, and the larks were soaring joyously in the azure overhead.

Ralph gave a sigh of enjoyment--life was already beginning.

The little party sat motionless on their steeds, the Abbot having reined up his horse at the junction of the two roads. Ralph sat on his horse beside him, and Humphrey, the other lay brother, and the sumpter horses, were grouped behind them--while behind them again was the poor man, leaning against the pony on which his daughter sat, who had, however, frequently insisted on her father taking her place.

Suddenly the Abbot remembered them.

"Beshrew me," he said, "I wish thy lady mother had not saddled me with these beggars; it beseemeth not a prelate like me to have such rapscallions attending on him."

The girl noticed the impatience of the Abbot, and partly heard his muttered words.

"Come, father, let us get hence before the others come; we but disgrace the noble Abbot and his fair nephew."

"Nay, nay, stay now," said the Abbot testily, relenting a little when he heard the soft voice of the girl. "'T would look worse an thou wert now to slip off as though I were ashamed of thee. Even stay and brave it out. After all, 'twill look seemly that I be busied in the protection of the poor and houseless. Ay, marry! 'twill please my Lord Woodville who ever jibeth at the pride of Mother Church, as he calleth it, when I appear in the state befitting the Abbot of the first house of our order in England, and patron of the Chapel of St Nicholas in his own castle of Carisbrooke. Prythee stay: 'twill be well!"

The advanced guard had now reached the place where the others were awaiting them.

The Abbot recognised the sergeant-at-arms who led the little band.

"Why, how now, Tom o' Kingston, who'd have thought to have met thee here to-day?"

"What, my Lord Abbot, you over here! 'tis my noble lord will be right pleased to see thee," answered a splendid specimen of a man-at-arms, clad from head to foot in brown armour, his horse barbed and protected with body arms as well. He had his slender lance slung behind him, and his long sword clanked against the iron of his stirrup. His moustaches curled over the lower chin-piece of his salade or helmet, and his eyes looked bold and fierce under the shadow of its projecting peak. Over his breastplate he wore a loose white surcoat, blazoned with the red cross of St George, while a heavy mace hung from his high-peaked saddle-bow. The effect of the massive armour was to give the trooper the appearance of immense width of chest and strength of body, while in reality he was only of medium size, in proportion to men of the present day.

"Is my Lord Woodville nigh at hand, worthy Tom?" said the Abbot.

"Ay, my lord, he is just behind his banner, attended by his own gentlemen, and some gentlemen of France. But I must be getting on, or the march will be delayed. Hast thou any further orders, my Lord Abbot?"

"Nay, Master Tom; I will see thee again at Winchester belike, where I would commend to thy care this young springald here, who comes of gentle birth, and is desirous of learning knightly feats of arms under thy noble master."

"He shall be right welcome, whoever he is, but all the more so that he cometh under thy commendation, reverend lord. 'Tis a right gallant youth, and he sitteth his horse full manfully."

So saying, the sergeant-at-arms clapped spurs to his horse, made a salute with his gauntleted hand, and trotted after his party, who had gone on while he was exchanging greetings with the Abbot.

"Note him well, Ralph; he is one of the best soldiers we have in our island, and he comes of gentle blood too. He is the most trusty of all the men-at-arms belonging to my Lord Woodville."

The main body of the troops had now come close to where they were standing. The foremost ranks passed them without any greeting beyond a respectful salute to the Abbot. The men marched along in very loose order, for it was a time of peace, and they were returning from the successful but deadly fight at Stoke. Several of them were bandaged on the arm or head, and those who were wounded were only lightly armed.

After this body had passed, a little interval elapsed, and then came Sir Edward Woodville, commonly called Lord Woodville, Lord and Captain of the Isle of Wight, and knight of the Lancastrian order of S.S.[*] He was attended by several gentlemen, mostly English, but some two or three evidently French. He was preceded by two men-at-arms, and three mounted archers, all splendidly armed and equipped. Behind him came a group of three or four pages, all young men of good birth, aspirants to knightly rank, and being trained in the household of Sir Edward Woodville.

[*] The origin of this symbol is not known. Conjecture has varied between the words "Soveraygno Seneschal" and the swan badge of the House of Lancaster. The collar formed a very graceful ornament, the gold S.S. being linked together, or set on blue and white ribbon.

Ralph looked at these eagerly. They would be his future companions, and he felt a little shy at first, as the boys all scanned him critically, making remarks to each other the while in a low tone.

Lord Woodville instantly recognised the Abbot, and greeted him cordially. After the mutual salutations were over, and the Abbot of Quarr had congratulated him on the success of the King's arms, and his own part in the fray, he introduced Ralph to him, as a present from himself, telling Lord Woodville his previous history and lineage.

At the mention of the word Lisle, a shade seemed to pass over the tranquil face of the Captain of the Wight, like a cloud shadow over the smooth slope of a southerly down; but it passed as quickly as it came, and although he examined the boy more attentively, his expression had resumed its usual serenity.

The boy felt somewhat abashed as the calm grey eyes of the distinguished knight and nobleman fell upon him, searching him through and through; but he scanned the countenance and appearance of his future lord with shy interest, in spite of the awe his glance produced.

He saw before him a gentleman of about thirty to thirty-five years of age, in the prime of life, and strikingly handsome. For all the Woodvilles, both male and female, were remarkable for their personal advantages, and inherited the beauty of person which had caused Jacquetta of Luxemburg, second wife of the great Duke of Bedford, and the cause of the ruin of the English power in France nearly as much as the hapless Joan of Arc, to choose their father, a simple country gentleman, for her second husband. He was dressed magnificently, and very elegantly. Covering his long dark chestnut hair, which hung down on each side of his face, was a velvet bonnet, ornamented with an ostrich plume on one side, fastened by a brilliant ruby brooch. Dark eyebrows surmounted very expressive grey eyes; his complexion would have been fair, had it not been bronzed by long exposure in many a campaign and knightly enterprise. His face was clean shaven, and thus the firm but sweet lines of his mouth were displayed to full advantage. A close-fitting lace collar round his neck contrasted with the spiral ridge of his steel gorget, which the richly-embroidered surcoat, cut straight across the chest, from shoulder to shoulder, allowed to be plainly visible. The short sleeves of this surcoat reached only to the elbows; the rest of his person was encased in rich armour, while a gorgeous gold-studded belt supported his straight long sword and richly-jewelled dagger. His helmet was carried by an esquire fully armed, who also bore his lord's lance. A handsome collar of S.S., ending in a portcullis badge, adorned his neck, while instead of steel gauntlets he wore soft leather gloves, and a splendid falcon rested on his right hand. Another esquire bore his lord's shield, and led a spare horse, fully accoutred in body armour and housing for battle or tilt.

"So this is Master Ralph de Lisle, is it?" said Lord Woodville, who had been appointed on the accession of Henry VII. to succeed his unfortunate but accomplished brother, Lord Scales, in the lordship of the Isle of Wight. "He cometh of an old Isle of Wight family, and is heartily welcome to such training as he can acquire in my poor household. Truly an his deeds shall answer to his fair outside, he will prove a right hardy knight. But tell me," he added, "is he of near kin to old Sir William Lisle of Briddlesford?"

"Nay, my lord, not of close kin," replied the Abbot of Quarr. "Sir William's grandsire returned to the land of his fathers in Harry the Fourth's reign. As thou knowest, he hath but one son and one daughter, and he hath disinherited the son. 'Tis a sad story."

"Ah! I had forgotten," said Lord Woodville. Then turning to the old knight who rode a little behind, he said, "Here, Sir John Trenchard, is one more to add to your charge. I deliver Master Lisle to your care, knowing full well I cannot give him to a better master of chivalry and gentle learning. Teach him as you so well know how, and the King will gain a fine soldier, and you, my friend, more credit than ever."

Lord Woodville then smiled graciously at Ralph and turned to the Abbot to continue the converse interrupted by the presentation of the boy.

So Ralph Lisle was introduced to his future Lord, and from henceforth would be under the orders of the good knight Sir John Trenchard, until he should be declared worthy to rank as an esquire, and take part in warlike expeditions.

*CHAPTER IV.*

*HOW THE FLEDGLING GREW TO A COCKEREL.*

By the time Ralph had reached Winchester, he had learned the names of his future companions, and had already had occasion to experience their love of practical joking, tempered, however, in this case, by the presence of their lord and his gentlemen.

The eldest of the pages was Willie Newenhall, and Ralph was not long in seeing that he was thought little of by the other three, who made him a butt for their wit, which, however, seemed to fall very harmlessly on its object.

"You see he's so parlous full of conceit, he never knows we are making game of him," said Richard de Cheke,[*] the youngest of the pages, and by far the liveliest.

[*] The old family of the Chykes, Cheikes, or Chekes, held the manor of Mottestone from 1370 to 1600, from whom the manor passed to the Dillingtons and Leighs of North Court. Sir John Cheke of their family was professor of Greek in Cambridge, and in 1544 was tutor to Edward VI.

"But when he doth find out, certes he groweth angry?" asked Ralph.

"Nay, what care we for his anger? Even I, small as I am, can teach him a lesson in all things, saving the care of his person and the filling of his skin."

"Marry, young one," said a well-grown, shapely youth, who was riding a little behind and to the left of Ralph Lisle, "here's a missive of great import, 'tis even the business of the last come page to take all such to our right worshipful bear-leader and timber breaker, old Jack in Harness himself. So do thou take it, before worse comes of it."

So saying, the youth handed Ralph a bit of paper, folded neatly, and addressed in a stiff scrawl, "Toe ye rite worchipful Syr Jakke yn Harneis."

"And who is he?" said Ralph, looking at the scrawl and then at the youth.

"Who is he, quotha? why, that you'll soon know, an you do not my bidding. That's the puissant, right valiant, and thrice-renowned knight to whom my Lord Woodville handed thee over, even as we have been handed over, to learn chivalry, and all courtesy. Therefore say I, take you this to him right promptly."

Ralph was a little puzzled. The whole was said so seriously, and in such evident good faith, that he thought he might be violating some rule already. The youth was obviously older than himself, and was doubtless a page of some months' standing. He thought on the whole it would be better to obey, trusting to his good luck to get him out of the scrape with their master if there were any trick, and to his own arm to punish the perpetrator of the joke, if it were one.

"Now, my youngling, what dost wait for?" said the page, whose name was Eustace Bowerman, and who was a second cousin of the lively young page Richard Cheke.

"Why, in sooth I am in doubt whether thou art not making game of me," said Ralph, with a good-humoured twinkle in his eye.

"This cock will crow soon," said young Cheke to the other page, who was on his right; "eh, Maurice?"

"Marry will he. We will pit him against Eustace; they'll make a rare match. Albeit Eustace is the older, I'll lay the new one will beat him. There's a deal of weight in his thews. Look at his leg as he sits his hackney."

"Shall we tell him Eustace is making game of him?"

"Nay; best let him give the missive to old Jack in Harness, and see what comes of it. List; Eustace is taking him to task. I' faith, he doth it well."

"Hark ye, sirrah! You are but just come out of the country, or I'd be wroth with thee; but as it is, I forgive thy manners. Know that all new pages have to do the bidding of the older ones without question, under pain of a leathern strap, and worse torment. Now get thee on thy message."

"Nay, fair page," said Ralph smiling, "I would be loth to do aught that should be misbecoming, and will ever obey in all that I ought, with all humility, but I am not sure in this that I ought to do your behest. Nevertheless, rather than be thought churlish, I will do what you want, only not, I pray you to understand, because I fear your talk of leathern straps and such like, of which I have little dread from thee, but because 'tis the first matter I have been asked to do, and I would rather seem to be over willing to oblige than churlish of mood."

"By my faith, 'tis a good answer," said the last page who had spoken to Richard Cheke, and who was the only one of the pages who was of high birth. He was a son of Anthony, Lord Scales, brother to Lord Woodville, and therefore himself a Woodville, and nephew to the present Captain of the Wight, which office his father had previously held.

"I like this youth dearly, even now--he will be a gain to us. Thou knowest I never cared over-much for thy kinsman Bowerman, he is so mighty coxcombified, and I would much like to see him overmatched," continued Maurice Woodville.

They had now entered the old city of Winchester, whose streets were very narrow, and made more so by the concourse of people, who all came thronging out and stood at their doors and along the pavement to see the gay troop pass.

Ralph, as he said he would deliver the note to Sir John Trenchard, took the opportunity of doing so when they were nearing the city cross, then not more than about fifty years old, perhaps, and where there was more room. He rode up alongside of the old knight, and, doffing his cap, presented to him the missive.

The old knight, who was short-sighted and rather choleric, besides being a very indifferent scholar, took the paper, and stared at Ralph.

"Eh, this for me?" he said shortly; then holding the piece of paper close to his nose, he called out,--"Why--what--By St Thomas! what meaneth this? Boy, art playing me some trick? Is this a time for thy discourteous pranks?" cried the old knight, in high wrath, crumpling up the paper, and flinging it at Ralph. "Tell me what meaneth this! Who gave thee this?"

But Ralph determined he would bear the blame himself, and settle it with his practical joker afterwards, so he said,--

"Noble sir, I was told to give it thee, so I did."

"By St Nicholas! but if thou hadst had mud given thee to bear to me, thou wouldst have done it, wouldst thou? Get thee back for a simpleton, and tell me all afterwards, when I call for thee."

They were now passing a cross street, very narrow and awkward. There was a block in front, so that Lord Woodville halted exactly opposite this street. He was talking to the Abbot of Quarr, who was on his left. Ralph was immediately behind, but a horse's length distant. The rest of the gentlemen were engaged talking together or looking up at the windows, where the burgesses' wives and daughters were gazing down at the gallant show of men-at-arms and gentlemen.

Suddenly, a drove of cattle which was being driven to market crossed the narrow street a little way down. Among them was a magnificent bull--very fierce and irritated with its journey. Seeing the red blazon on Lord Woodville's surcoat, with a bellow of fury he broke from his driver and turned down the street leading to where that nobleman was quietly sitting, with his head turned away talking to the Abbot, and rushed madly at him. It was but a very little distance, and there was no time for warning. In another second the fierce bull would have gored the noble horse and trampled on Lord Woodville.

Ralph, without a moment's hesitation, struck spurs into his horse, which gave a leap forward. He had thought of nothing but of interposing himself between his lord and the raging brute. Fortunately for him, he was not in time. But his gallant steed struck full against the shoulder of the bull with such violence that it knocked the animal over, and Ralph's horse came down at the same time, flinging his rider over his head.

The whole thing had passed so rapidly, and, from the position of the chief performers in the occurrence, was so little seen, that scarcely anybody knew what had happened. Lord Woodville was the first to take in the situation, and seeing the position of the bull, the horse, and the boy, was alarmed for the latter's safety. The horse had stumbled over the bull, which was struggling and kicking wildly with its legs, while, fortunately, Ralph had been thrown clear of them both. He still held the reins in his hands, but he did not move.

"By'r Lady! the child's dead!" cried Lord Woodville, drawing his sword, and leaning down from his horse. So close was the huddled mass of struggling animals, and so narrowly had he escaped destruction, that, without dismounting, he calmly passed the keen edge across the upturned neck of the bull, which gave a few wild plunges and then lay still.

"See to the horse," said the Captain of the Wight, as he got off his own animal and went up to Ralph. There was blood flowing from the side of his head. He had been thrown with considerable force on to the pavement.

The crowd began now to understand what had happened, and the crush became great.

"Clear me a way, knaves!" cried Lord Woodville. "Keep back the varlets, Sir John; and go for a leech, Eustace Bowerman."

Humphrey had by this time made his way to the place where the accident had occurred. Directly he saw it was his young master who was lying on the ground, he pushed sturdily forward, regardless of everyone.

"Body o' me! what will my lady say, if aught evil should befal Master Ralph? He isn't dead, my lord?" he asked anxiously of Lord Woodville, who was bending over the boy.

"Nay, he is not dead; but is there no leech nigh?"

At this moment a shopman came up to Lord Woodville and offered to take the wounded gentleman into his house out of the crowd. This offer was willingly accepted, and the boy was carried in by Humphrey and Maurice Woodville. They took him into a back room, and the mistress of the house bathed his head and staunched the blood. Ralph slowly opened his eyes. Seeing the look of returning consciousness, Lord Woodville left the house, mounted his horse, and went on to his lodgings, which had been taken for him near the cathedral.

Humphrey was left in charge, and the Abbot, who had dismounted when he saw his kinsman taken into the house, having seen that the boy was in safe hands and doing well, went away also to his lodgings.

Very few knew how the accident had occurred, most thought that the bull had charged the boy. Only Lord Woodville, Sir John Trenchard, and the Abbot had seen the noble action of the boy. His fellow pages had seen him urge his horse forward, but could not see for the projecting houses what else had happened. About half an hour after the accident, a timid knock came at the door, and Humphrey was surprised to see the young girl who had been their companion on their journey to Winchester, standing there when he opened it.

"Well, young wench, what dost thou want?" he asked familiarly.

"My father has heard what has happened, and as he could not leave thy pony, he has sent me to ask how Master Lisle doeth," said the girl quietly, and in an educated voice.

"Grammercy, 'tis parlous kind of thy father, and, for a poor vagrant, it showeth much strange breeding. Tell thy father Master Lisle doth well, and will be on his legs anon."

The girl then shut the door very gently, and Humphrey returned to the bedside of his young Master.

"Humphrey, I feel right hungry," said the boy presently; "canst get me a bit of something to eat?"

"Ay, marry can I!" cried Humphrey cheerily. "That's right good news--I'll be back anon," and he left the room in search of some food.

He had scarcely been gone two minutes when another rap came at the door. Ralph bid them come in, and Maurice Woodville, accompanied by Richard Cheke, entered.

"Well, youngling, and how dost thou fare?" said the latter, in a kind tone. "Thou hast done well for a beginner, and I'd give a good deal to be lying there in thy place. Why, Maurice, he's had the good luck, hasn't he?"

"Ay truly. Thy fortune's made, lad. We've come from the Lord Captain to inquire into thy estate, and to bring thee these dainties from his own table, in case thy wounds allow of thine eating."

"Grammercy," cried Ralph joyously, "my varlet hath but now gone out to get me some provender, for I feel parlous hungry."

"Then here's what will tickle thy gizzard right merrily. John, bring in the cates."

A serving-man entered bearing a basket, out of which he took first a very clean damask cloth; this he spread neatly on a table, which he placed close to the bed; then he took out a dish covered with a plate. he put a knife and fork and winecup by the side of the plate, which he removed, and disclosed two large salmon trout, with a garnish of fresh watercresses. A flagon of ruby red Burgundy followed, flanked by some tasty-looking rolls, fresh butter, and cheese.

"There, my friend, there's a dainty little banquet for thee; eat, drink, and get well," said Richard.

Ralph sat up, he had his head bandaged. He felt in his wallet for his purse, and handed the servingman a groat, and then he attacked the food with all the ardour of a healthy appetite, contented with himself and all the world.

Whilst their new comrade was refreshing himself, the other pages talked of all their pastimes and occupations, and freely discussed the virtues and failings of their companions and superiors. They made no secret of their dislike of Eustace Bowerman, and utter contempt for Willie Newenhall.

"I tell you what, Lisle, when you're quite game again, we'll get up a tilt between you and Bowerman, and I'll bet my greyhound pup to what you like, you'll beat him," said Maurice Woodville.

"But I have never tilted yet," said Ralph, rather ashamed of the admission.

"Oh, what matter; you sit your horse like a stout jockey, and you'll very soon learn where to place your lance. Old Tom o' Kingston'll soon teach you that, trust him!" cried Richard Cheke.

"Shall I get into a scrape with Sir Jack in Harness, as you call him?"

"No fear. Old Jack is a right good chap, and he'll stand your friend. He knew you were put up to that game by one of us, and I don't doubt he knows very well which it was; but even had you done it yourself, what you did just now will make him your friend for life. He's a tough old ironsides. His father was constable of Carisbrooke Castle in good Duke Humphrey's time, and he's seen a lot of hard knocks. There's not much he loves, but he dearly loveth a hard fight, and my Uncle Woodville."

"Ay, marry he doth," said Richard; "and you've shown him you're made of good stuff for the one, and saved the life of the other."

"It's great sport your coming just now. Dicky and I are a match for Bowerman together, but that great lout Willie Newenhall just turns the balance. He's a mortal coward by himself, but with Bowerman to back him, his fat weight is too much for us; but now you, with your stout limbs and big body, could beat them both single-handed. Do you ever get into a rage?" said Maurice.

"No, not often," said Ralph, laughing. "I was always told to keep my temper. Now, Jasper, he often lost his, and so I thrashed him at most things."

"Ah!" said Maurice, sighing, "I wish I could keep mine. I do get so mad when Bowerman sneers at me."

And so the boys wiled away the time until Humphrey came back with one of the servants of the Abbot of Quarr, and a grave ecclesiastic, who was the infirmarer of Hide Abbey.

The boys, with the courtesy which was especially a part of their education, rose when they saw this dignified monk enter, and remained standing while he undid the bandages, and examined Ralph's cut.

"'Tis a light matter," he said to Humphrey; "thou canst tell my Lord Abbot he need be in no wise anxious--the boy will be healed by to-morrow. Thou hadst best keep quiet to-day, young master, and if thou hast a quiet night, thou mayest travel to-morrow whithersoever thou mindest. But drink but little wine, my son, for wine is heating for a wound, and may bring on fever."

"May we offer thy Reverence a cup?" said Maurice Woodville.

"Thank thee, fair sir, but I touch not wine, except it be ordered me."

However, Humphrey and the lay brother had no such scruples, and quaffed off a cup each, directly Dicky offered it them.

The two pages now took leave of Ralph, saying they must not tarry longer, as their lord would wish to hear how they had sped; but they promised to come again as soon as they could.

When Humphrey and Ralph were alone, the latter said,--

"Humphrey, it seems years since I left home, and yet it was but four hours agone."

"Ay, Master Ralph, time flies apace when one is busy."

"Didst thou see to my horse?"

"Trust me, Master Ralph; he's ne'er a bit hurt, not even a scratch. He knocked over that bull like ninepins, so they tell me. But, marry, 'twas a mercy you didn't get in front of him. You mustn't be that rash again. Whatever would they have said to me up Thruxton way?"

"Humphrey, I want you to see after that poor vagrant and his daughter. Mother was kind to them. I would like to help them over to the Isle of Wight, where they are going. You have seen to my pony?"

"Not yet, but I will by-and-by."

"Then take them this noble, 'twill help them to a night's lodging and food," said Ralph shyly, drawing out a coin from his purse.

Humphrey took it surlily.

"I don't know as how you did ought to go giving away your mother's presents like this, Master Ralph; you'll be wanting all your money among them gay springalds yonder, I'm thinking."

"Nay, Humphrey, do my bidding," said Ralph quietly.

And so Humphrey went off shaking his head, and muttering,--

"Young master be right masterful. The saints grant he be not led astray to overmuch almsgiving. I'd rather see him squander a bit on his own sports. 'Twould be more akin to his age."

*CHAPTER V.*

*OF THE COMING TO THE ISLE OF WIGHT.*

The next morning found Ralph Lisle refreshed and eager for the day's work. His head felt quite well, and had it not been for a piece of plaster which the infirmarer of Hide, who came to dress his wound early in the morning, placed over the cut, he would hardly have remembered the occurrence.

Neither the Abbot of Quarr nor Lord Woodville had forgotten him. The former sent some money for his expenses at the worthy citizen's house, and the latter sent him a tabard of white taffeta, embroidered with the badge of the captain of the Island, in all respects like the other pages, with a supply of food from his own table; and the servant who brought these was directed to say that they would start at eight o'clock, and that he was to arrange all matters with his host.

Punctually at half-past seven Humphrey brought round Ralph's horse, well brushed and groomed, and Ralph, looking more handsome than ever in his new surcoat, with his sword buckled to his belt, and his silver-hilted poignard, stood in all the pride of conscious importance at the doorstep, the admired of all the little street-boys and burgesses who were up and about at that hour; while he was conscious of many a girlish face looking out from the casements of the houses opposite and above him, glancing down smiles of approval, for all the city knew what he had done, and who he was, the Lisles of Thruxton and Mansbridge being well-known throughout the county.

His worthy host and hostess were loud in their regrets at his departure, and at first refused all offer of remuneration, but Ralph pressed it on them with so much gratitude and delicacy, that their scruples yielded, and they accepted it with evident reluctance, and only on condition that when he was a belted knight he would come back and see them. This was touching Ralph in his weakest point. He promised with a conscious smile, and mounted his horse amid the loudly-expressed admiration of the little crowd.

As he rode down the street, Humphrey caught sight of a well-known face.

"Why, there's old Dickon of Andover! Dickon, I say," he called out, "an you be a-going home to-night, go up to Thruxton and say how you seen the young master all well, and say as how he sends greetings to my lord and her leddyship. Ye mind now?"

"Oh, ay, I'se mind," cried back old Dickon, stopping to gaze upon Ralph. "Well now he do look foine, to be sure."

And so they turned into the street where the _cortege_ was in waiting for the Captain of the Wight to come out.

Ralph felt a little shy as he rode up to the large body of archers and men-at-arms that blocked up the street, but he soon felt at ease as he was greeted kindly by Maurice Woodville and Dicky Cheke, who were on the look out for him.

"Willie Newenhall is still stuffing," said the latter, "and as for Eustace, he is putting the last touch of paint to his cheeks; he's such a coxcomb, you'd never guess half he does."

But now all drew up in order. The men-at-arms sat erect, and held their lances upright; the knights and mounted archers drew their swords; the yeomen and billmen held their halberds and bills at attention and a flourish of trumpets announced that the Captain of the Wight was issuing from the house.

As Lord Woodville came out, followed by his guests, among whom Ralph recognised his kinsman the Abbot of Quarr, he glanced quickly over the assembled troop. His keen eye took in everything, but with the dignity befitting his rank he never mentioned what he saw amiss at the time, making a note of it in his memory, to call the attention of the proper officer to it privately, while if he saw anything to praise he always publicly expressed his approval.

In the present case his eye fell on Ralph, but knowing how trying it would be for the young boy to be called out before all that assembly, he merely nodded to him with a kind smile of recognition, and said,--

"Ah, there's my trusty young friend; right glad am I to see him so blythe this morning. Sir John Trenchard, you will see to his comfort, I know."

He then mounted his steed, the stirrup being held for him by Willie Newenhall, as the oldest of his pages.

The captain of the guard gave the order to march, and the leading files turned down to the right, and directed their way to Southampton.

Ralph did not see much of the old city of Winchester, but he had been there several times before, and old buildings had little charms for him, with the animation of life before him. Men, not grey stones, however skilfully carved, or however cunningly piled up, were his attraction.

The delicious air of the morning played over his face; the delightful sensation of being part of what men stopped to look at, an object of awe and admiration, this thrilled him, and he yielded to the temptation, so natural to exuberant youth, of giving himself airs, and thinking of his appearance. At first the sense of shyness had kept this feeling of self-admiration down, but as he rode along, and noticed the glance of the passers-by, how they stopped to gaze open-mouthed at them, and how loud were the expressions of approval at the fine appearance of the cavalcade, he began to feel his own importance, and was fast adopting the easy self-satisfaction of the other pages.

By the time they had reached Southampton, which they did in rather less than three hours from leaving Winchester, he felt on perfectly easy terms with everyone, including Eustace Bowerman even, who, however, did not seem inclined to be very friendly to him, seeming not to relish the remark of Maurice Woodville when he said,--

"Certes, Bowerman, Lisle oweth thee many thanks. Had it not been for thy kind thought, he would never have done so hardily as he hath. He would have been sitting his nag like any stick, such as you and old Pudding Face, when the bull ran at our lord--but now he hath gotten himself a name at the first start; our Captain will never forget."

Bowerman bit his lip. It was quite true.

"Marry, young Maurice, don't you be talking. If Lisle's horse took fright and bolted when the bull came blundering down that alley, I don't see why the Captain should make such a fuss about it."

"His horse didn't bolt," said Dicky hotly; "you know right well Lisle spurred him in the way."

"Nay, Master Dicky malapert, I know no such thing."

"Then you don't know much, as I always said," retorted Dicky.

"Marry, Dicky, I'll have to wallop thee once more, I see. You're growing saucy again."

"Wallop me i' faith!" sneered Dicky; "I'd like to see you doing it."

"Wait till we get on board the barge then, and you'll soon be satisfied."

Willie Newenhall never engaged in these wordy contests. He only thought of his appearance, when he was going to feed again, or of the danger he was always in from the fair sex, by reason of his own good looks. The other pages knew well his weak points, and would always chaff him on the risks he ran from his many fascinations.

"I' faith, Willie, there's a pretty lass looking at thee; and that's her brother, or sweetheart, with her. How fierce he looks. Ah, if you look at her that way, he'll be murdering you presently," added Dicky, as Willie looked round nervously, to see the group his comrade was referring to, only to meet with a jeering remark from the apprentice who was standing by the girl, of "Hi, young round knave, pudding chops or pig's eyes, what do you lack here?" or some equally elegant observation, which caused Maurice and Dicky to laugh derisively, and the men-at-arms and archers, who were close behind, to grin broadly.

But Willie was far too stupid to make any retort, he only grunted angrily, and leered at the people on the other side of the street.

Then they passed through Southampton, under the noble Bargate, with its figure of Bevis of Hampton, and the giant Ascapart, whose reality all true townsfolk believed in, and of whose doughty deeds with Guy of Warwick Ralph had often heard and longed to emulate. The cavalcade rode down the long street under the old west gate tower, and outside the splendid old walls, on to the town quay.

Oh, the sight of the gleaming water! Ralph had never seen the sea before--how it glanced and sparkled in the mid-day sun of June. The dim haze of the opposite shore, where stretched the New Forest away and away far into the land and down the coast, with all its memories of ancient times. The splash of the little waves, rippling before the fresh north breeze, as they sparkled against the bluff bows of the unwieldy barges or straighter stems of the swifter galleys. How stately was the curve of a high-prowed, lofty-pooped merchant ship as she came round to the helm, while all her sails fluttered in the breeze as her bows ran up in the wind, and the heavy splash told of the weighty anchor dropping to the muddy bottom of the Teste.

Then the smells, the sounds, the cries. Ralph had never enjoyed life before. All the instincts of his race came out in him,--of that ancient race of the island, whose origin was lost in the dim vista of antiquity, whose lands belonged to the mysterious sons of Stur long before the Norman Conquest, and passed by marriage to De Lisle, if indeed De Lisle was not simply the Norman form of expression for the original lord of the island, for who could more worthily be called "de insula" or "of the island" or "De Lisle" than that family which was above all others "of the island?" since the possessions of the "filius Azor" or "Stur" are the most important of any, as recorded in Domesday book.

The instincts of his sea-girt ancestors rose in him, and Ralph Lisle gazed at the dancing water with eager delight.

The scene of confusion that then followed delighted him still more. The getting the horses on board, the telling off the various parties each to its own barge, the excitement of pushing out into the stream, or warping the larger vessels off to their kedge anchors, which were dropped in the middle of the fairway, all this was delicious, and Ralph felt he was in a wonderful dream.

"Mind your eye, young Popinjay!" bawled a burly seaman. "Stand clear o' that warp now," as Ralph took his stand on a large coil of rope near the bows. "Such a gay bird as you should know better than to stand on a warp that way. Did yer think 'twas a doormat?"

In a few minutes the barge was hauled out into the stream, the anchor was right up and down.

"Haul away there," called the captain.

Out flapped the big foresail in the breeze, the jib was run out, the anchor was up, and hanging at the bows, already the water was chattering under her stem.

"Now then, my lads, shake out that mainsail. Look alive there!" bawled the skipper, and the great white sail dropped down from the mainmast and longyard, where it had been brailed up, and swelled out in the breeze, louder chattered the wavelets under the bow, and merrily the seamen sheeted home the ropes.

Ralph had now time to look round him. He was on the same barge as Lord Woodville and his immediate escort. The horses with the grooms and men-at-arms were on a large barge that was running alongside of them. On their right, but a little astern, was another barge containing the rest of the troop, and among them Ralph was glad to see the beggar man and his daughter.

The baggage and vanguard had gone on early in the morning, under the charge of Tom o' Kingston.

Ralph looked up at the swelling sails and the tall masts. The barge was bluff-bowed and high-sterned, like those remnants of the Middle Ages the Breton and Norman _chasses marees_ of modern times, and like them she carried three large lug sails, and one jib, set far out on a high peaked bowsprit.

As this was the barge of the captain of the Island, she was far better appointed than the other vessels. Her sails were white, and adorned with the arms of the Lord Woodville, argent, a fess, and canton, gules, while the mainsail bore the arms of Newport, the capital of the Island. The ropes were all white and new, and the decks and bulwarks were scrupulously clean, and the latter fresh varnished.

Ralph was never tired of looking aloft at the large blocks or pulleys, the strong ropes, the stout masts, and the swelling sails lazily falling in graceful folds as the breeze died down, or bellying out to the fresher puffs of the fair weather wind.

He leaned over the side and watched the ripple of the water as the hull glided through it. How dark green the sea looked on the side where the shadow of the hull and sails fell, how mellow and blue it sparkled on the side where the sunlight shone upon it. He looked at the other barges; they were rippling through the sea, a little fount of water spouting up under the cutwater, and glancing off the bows in a lovely curve of spray, the one vessel all shadow, the other all bright and gleaming in the sun.

The tide was running out strongly. Swiftly they flew past Netley, its abbey towers rising out of the green woods, the toll of its bell sounding over the water the hour of nones; gaily they flew past the mouth of the Hamble, and in a short time were gliding out by Calshott Spit, running before the breeze into the stronger ripple of the main tide of the Solent.

But long ere this Ralph had been summoned to dinner, and for the first time he was called upon to wait upon his lord. It was his duty to serve him with wine, and deftly he performed his task, for he had been well taught at home. The motion of the vessel was scarcely perceptible, and his hand was very steady. After the Captain of the Wight and his guests had been served, the pages sat down apart to their repast, and Ralph was astonished at his own appetite.

"I tell you what it is, little eyes," cried Dicky, "you'll have to look after yourself, or Lisle will leave you nothing to eat."

To this Willie Newenhall made no answer, but glanced askance at Ralph, and eat away harder than ever.

"There, there, Willie, dear, don't be afraid; he'll leave you a bit, if you are a good lad, I don't doubt," laughed Maurice.

It had been Bowerman's duty to attend closely upon his lord, and he had found no opportunity to put his threat in execution. However, now the repast was over, he began to remember what had passed.

"Dicky," he said, "come hither."

"Not I," said that lively young gentleman. "You can come here, if you want me."

"Be quiet, varlets!" called out Sir John Trenchard, who was sitting on a settle on the deck not far off. "If you want to jangle, wait till you get ashore."

They were now splashing through the tide, which ran swiftly over the Brambles, the steersman keeping the vessel's head well up to it, so as not to be carried down past the Newport river.

Larger and larger loomed up the island. Away to their left lay Portsmouth and the ridge of Portsdown; to their right they could see far down the Solent, point after point standing up in ever-decreasing clearness, until the distant Node Hill, above Freshwater, where the land trended away to the south-west, loomed up faint and grey in the shimmering haze of the lovely afternoon.

Nearer and nearer they drew to the island, and as they approached the land Ralph saw that a fine stretch of water opened up ahead.

"The tide's making out amain yet," said the skipper, approaching Lord Woodville, with cap in hand. "What will be your lordship's pleasure? Shall we run in and anchor, and land your lordship, or will it please you that we try to stem the tide? Natheless it will be but a poor job we shall make of it till the tide turns; and then we sha'n't have water far up for some while."

"Run us ashore at Northwood,[*] we will ride up to Carisbrooke. Our baggage can come up afterwards, in the evening, when the tide makes enough to float you up to Newport Quay."

[*] Cowes as yet (1487) was not. The building of the castles by Henry VIII., sixty years afterwards, was the beginning of Cowes.

"Ay, ay, my lord."

Ralph watched the movements of the crew with curiosity. As they ran in before the wind, which was very fitful, he saw them brail up the mainsail, then as they ran up past the land, which was all covered with woods and bush, they took in the foresail, and gently, under the light pressure of the jib, the barge slithered on the mud, close to a shingle hard, where it was possible to disembark at low tide.

And now again all was confusion. The other barges ran in alongside the Captain's. The gangways were lowered down. The horses with great difficulty were partly lowered, partly driven out on to the shingle. The grooms and men-at-arms got out, and led the horses up to form their ranks on the grass sward at the foot of the woods, which then stretched in unbroken verdure from Northwood Church to Gurnard Bay and Thorness, forming part of the King's Forest of Alvington, Watchingwell, or Parkhurst.