Part 4

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.