A March on London: Being a Story of Wat Tyler's Insurrection, Page 2

  CHAPTER I

  TROUBLED TIMES

  "And what do you think of it all, good Father?"

  "'Tis a difficult question, my son, and I am glad that it is one thatwiser heads than mine will have to solve."

  "But they don't seem to try to solve it; things get worse and worse.The king is but a lad, no older than myself, and he is in the hands ofothers. It seems to me a sin and a shame that things should go on asthey are at present. My father also thinks so."

  The speaker was a boy of some sixteen years old. He was walking withthe prior in the garden of the little convent of St. Alwyth, four milesfrom the town of Dartford. Edgar Ormskirk was the son of a scholar. Thelatter, a man of independent means, who had always had a preference forstudy and investigation rather than for taking part in active pursuits,had, since the death of his young wife, a year after the birth of hisson, retired altogether from the world and devoted himself to study. Hehad given up his comfortable home, standing on the heights ofHighgate--that being in too close proximity to London to enable him toenjoy the seclusion that he desired--and had retired to a small estatenear Dartford.

  Educated at Oxford, he had gone to Padua at his father's death, whichhappened just as he left the university, and had remained at that seatof learning for five years. There he had spent the whole of his incomein the purchase of manuscripts. The next two years were passed atBologna and Pisa, and he there collected a library such as fewgentlemen of his time possessed. Then Mr. Ormskirk had returned toEngland and settled at Highgate, and two years later married thedaughter of a neighbouring gentleman, choosing her rather because hefelt that he needed someone to keep his house in order, than from anyof the feeling that usually accompanies such unions. In time, however,he had come to love her, and her loss was a very heavy blow to him. Itwas the void that he felt in his home as much as his desire forsolitude, that induced him to leave Highgate and settle in the country.

  Here, at least, he had no fear of intrusive neighbours, or otherinterruptions to his studies. The news from London seldom reached hisears, and he was enabled to devote himself entirely to his experiments.Like many other learned men of his age, it was to chemistry that hechiefly turned his attention. His library comprised the works of almostevery known writer on the subject, and he hoped that he might gain animmortal reputation by discovering one or both of the great secretsthen sought for--the elixir of life, or the philosopher's stone thatwould convert all things into gold. It was not that he himself had anydesire for a long life, still less did he yearn for more wealth than hepossessed, but he fondly believed that these discoveries wouldameliorate the condition of mankind.

  He did not see that if gold was as plentiful as the commonest metal itwould cease to be more valuable than others, or that the boon of a longlife would not add to the happiness of mankind. For some years he gavelittle thought to his son, who was left to such care as the oldhousekeeper and the still older man-servant chose to bestow upon him,and who, in consequence, was left altogether to follow the dictates ofhis own fancy. The child, therefore, lived almost entirely in the openair, played, tussled, and fought with boys of his own age in thevillage, and grew up healthy, sturdy, and active. His father scarcelytook any heed of his existence until the prior of the Convent of St.Alwyth one day called upon him.

  "What are you going to do with your boy, Mr. Ormskirk?" he asked.

  "My boy?" the student repeated in tones of surprise. "Oh, yes; Edgar,of course. What am I going to do with him? Well, I have never thoughtabout it. Does he want anything? My housekeeper always sees to that. Doyou think that he wants a nurse?"

  "A nurse, Mr. Ormskirk!" the Prior said with a smile. "A nurse wouldhave a hard time with him. Do you know what his age is?"

  "Four or five years old, I suppose."

  "Nearly double that. He is nine."

  "Impossible!" Mr. Ormskirk said. "Why, it is only the other day that hewas a baby."

  "It is eight years since that time; he is now a sturdy lad, and ifthere is any mischief in the village he is sure to be in it. Why, itwas but three days ago that Friar Anselmo caught him, soon afterdaybreak, fishing in the Convent pool with two of the village lads. Thefriar gave them a sound trouncing, and would have given one to yourson, too, had it not been for the respect that we all feel for you. Itis high time, Mr. Ormskirk, that he was broken of his wild ways andreceived an education suited to his station."

  "Quite so, quite so. I own that I have thought but little about him,for indeed 'tis rarely that I see him, and save that at times hisracket in the house sorely disturbs my studies, I have well-nighforgotten all about him. Yes, yes; it is, of course, high time that hebegan his education, so that if I should die before I have completed mydiscoveries he may take up my work."

  The Prior smiled quietly at the thought of the sturdy, dirty-faced boyworking among crucibles and retorts. However, he only said:

  "Do you think of undertaking his education yourself?"

  "By no means," Mr. Ormskirk said, hastily. "It would be impossible forme to find time at present, but when he has completed his studies Ishould then take him in hand myself, make him my companion andassistant, and teach him all that is known of science."

  "But in the meantime?"

  "In the meantime? Yes, I suppose something must be done. I might gethim a tutor, but that would be a great disturbance to me. I might sendhim up to the monastery at Westminster, where the sons of manygentlemen are taught."

  "I doubt whether the training, or rather want of training, that he hashad would fit him for Westminster," the Prior said, quietly. "There isanother plan that perhaps might be more suitable for him. One of ourbrethren is a scholar, and already three or four of the sons of thegentry in the neighbourhood come to him for three hours or so a day.Our convent is a poor one, and the fees he receives are a welcomeaddition to our means."

  "Excellent!" Mr. Ormskirk said, delighted at the difficulty being takenoff his shoulders, "It would be the very thing."

  "Then perhaps you will speak to the boy, and lay your orders upon him,"the Prior said. "He was in the village as I passed by, and I broughthim up here, very much against his will I admit. Then I gave him incharge on arrival to your servitor, knowing that otherwise the youngvarlet would slip off again as soon as my back was turned. Perhaps youwill send for him."

  Mr. Ormskirk rang a bell. The housekeeper entered.

  "Where is Andrew?" he asked.

  "He is looking after Master Edgar, sir. His reverence told him to doso, and he dare not leave him for a moment or he would be off again."

  "Tell Andrew to bring him in here."

  A minute later the old servant entered with the boy. Edgar was in adishevelled condition, the result of several struggles with Andrew. Hisface was begrimed with dirt, his clothes were torn and untidy. Hisfather looked at him in grave surprise. It was not that he had not seenhim before, for occasionally he had noticed him going across thegarden, but though his eyes had observed him, his mental vision had notin any way taken him in, his thoughts being intent upon the work thathe had reluctantly left to take a hurried meal.

  "Tut, tut, tut!" he murmured to himself, "and this is my son. Well,well, I suppose he is not to be blamed; it is my own fault for being soheedless of him. This is bad, Edgar," he said, "and yet it is my ownfault rather than thine, and I am thankful that the good prior hasbrought your condition before me before it is too late. There must beno more of this. Your appearance is disgraceful both to yourself andme--to me because you are in rags, to yourself because you are dirty. Ihad never dreamt of this. Henceforth all must be changed. You must beclothed as befits the son of a gentleman, you must be taught as it isright for the son of a scholar to be, and you must bear in mind thatsome day you will become a gentleman yourself, and I trust a learnedone. I have arranged with the good prior here that you shall go everyday to the monastery to be instructed for three hours by one of hismonks. In future you will take your meals with me, and I will see thatyour attire is in order, and that you go decent as befits
your station.What hours is he to attend, Prior?"

  "From nine till twelve."

  "You hear--from nine to twelve. In the afternoon I will procure ateacher for you in arms. In these days every gentleman must learn theuse of his weapons. I, myself, although most peacefully inclined, havemore than once been forced, when abroad, to use them. A man who cannotdo so becomes the butt of fools, and loses his self-respect."

  "I shall like that, sir," Edgar said, eagerly. "I can play atquarter-staff now with any boy of my size in the village."

  "Well, there must be no more of that," his father said. "Up to thepresent you have been but a child, but it is time now that you shouldcease to consort with village boys and prepare for another station inlife. They may be good boys--I know naught about them--but they are notfit associates for you. I am not blaming you," he said more kindly ashe saw the boy's face fall. "It was natural that you, having noassociates of your own rank, should make friends where you could findthem. I trust that it has done you no harm. Well, Prior, this day weekthe boy shall come to you. I must get befitting clothes for him, or theother pupils will think that he is the son of a hedge tinker."

  An hour later Andrew was despatched to Dartford in a cart hired in thevillage, with orders to bring back with him a tailor, also to inquireas to who was considered the best teacher of arms in the town, and toengage him to come up for an hour every afternoon to instruct Edgar.

  Seven years had passed since that time, and the rough and unkempt boyhad grown into a tall young fellow, who had done fair credit to histeacher at the convent, and had profited to the full by the teaching ofthe old soldier who had been his instructor in arms. His father had,unconsciously, been also a good teacher to him. He had, with a greateffort, broken through the habits to which he had been so long wedded.A young waiting-maid now assisted the housekeeper. The meals were nolonger hastily snatched and often eaten standing, but were decentlyserved in order, and occupied a considerable time, the greater portionof which was spent in pleasant chat either upon the scenes which Mr.Ormskirk had witnessed abroad, or in talk on the subjects the boy wasstudying; sometimes also upon Mr. Ormskirk's researches and the hopeshe entertained from them; and as Edgar grew older, upon the ordinarytopics of the day, the grievances caused by the heavy taxation, thetroubles of the time and the course of events that had led to them;for, although very ignorant of contemporary matters, Mr. Ormskirk waswell acquainted with the history of the country up to the time when hehad first gone abroad.

  The recluse was surprised at the interest he himself came to feel inthese conversations. While endeavouring to open his son's mind heopened his own, and although when Edgar was not present he pursued hisresearches as assiduously as before, he was no longer lost in fits ofabstraction, and would even occasionally walk down to the village whenEdgar went to school in order to continue the conversation upon whichthey were engaged. Edgar on his part soon ceased to regard his fatheras a stranger, and his admiration for his store of information andlearning served as a stimulant to his studies, for which his previouslife had given him but little liking.

  For the last two years, however, his father had seen with regret thatthere was but little hope of making a profound scholar of him, and thatunless he himself could discover the solution of the problems thatstill eluded him, there was little chance of it being found by hissuccessor.

  Once roused, he had the good sense to see that it was not in such alife that Edgar was likely to find success, and he wisely abandoned theidea of pressing a task upon him that he saw was unfitted to the boy'snature. The energy with which Edgar worked with his instructors inarms--who had been already twice changed, so as to give him a greateropportunity of attaining skill with his weapons--and the interest withwhich the lad listened to tales of adventure, showed the direction inwhich his bent lay. For the last two years his father had frequentlyread to him the records of Sir Walter Manny and other chroniclers ofwar and warlike adventure, and impressed upon him the virtues necessaryto render a man at once a great soldier and a great man.

  "If, my boy," he said, "you should some day go to Court and mingle inpublic affairs, above all things keep yourself clear of any party.Those who cling to a party may rise with its success, but such risesare ever followed by reverses; then comes great suffering to those uponthe fallen side. The duty of an English gentleman is simple: he mustwork for his country, regardless altogether of personal interest. Sucha man may never rise to high rank, but he will be respected. Personalhonours are little to be desired; it is upon those who stand higherthan their neighbours that the blow falls the heaviest; while the rankand file may escape unscathed, it is the nobles and the leaders whoseheads fall upon the block. I think that there are troubles in store forEngland. The Duke of Gloucester overshadows the boy king, but as thelatter grows older he will probably shake off his tutelage, though itmay be at the cost of a civil war.

  "Then, too, there are the exactions of the tax-gatherers. Some day thepeople will rise against them as they did in France at the time of theJacquerie, and as they have done again and again in Flanders. Atpresent the condition of the common people, who are but villeins andserfs, is well-nigh unbearable. Altogether the future seems to me to bedark. I confess that, being a student, the storm when it bursts willaffect me but slightly, but as it is clear to me that this is not thelife that you will choose it may affect you greatly; for, howeverlittle you may wish it, if civil strife comes, you, like everyone else,may be involved in it. In such an event, Edgar, act as your consciencedictates. There is always much to be said for both sides of anyquestion, and it cannot but be so in this. I wish to lay no stress onyou in any way. You cannot make a good monk out of a man who longs tobe a man-at-arms, nor a warrior of a weakling who longs for the shelterof a cloister.

  "Let, however, each man strive to do his best in the line he has chosenfor himself. A good monk is as worthy of admiration as a goodman-at-arms. I would fain have seen you a great scholar, but as it isclear that this is out of the question, seeing that your nature doesnot incline to study, I would that you should become a brave knight. Itwas with that view when I sent you to be instructed at the convent Ialso gave you an instructor in arms, so that, whichever way yourinclinations might finally point, you should be properly fitted for it."

  At fifteen all lessons were given up, Edgar having by that time learntas much as was considered necessary in those days. He continued hisexercises with his weapons, but without any strong idea that beyonddefence against personal attacks they would be of any use to him. Thearmy was not in those days a career. When the king had need of a forceto fight in France or to carry fire and sword into Scotland, the levieswere called out, the nobles and barons supplied their contingent, andarchers and men-at-arms were enrolled and paid by the king. The levies,however, were only liable to service for a restricted time, and beyondtheir personal retainers the barons in time followed the royal exampleof hiring men-at-arms and archers for the campaign; these being partlypaid from the royal treasury, and partly from their own revenue.

  At the end of the campaign, however, the army speedily dispersed, eachman returning to his former avocation; save therefore for theretainers, who formed the garrisons of the castles of the nobles, therewas no military career such as that which came into existence with theformation of standing armies. Nevertheless, there was honour and rankto be won in the foreign wars, and it was to these the young men ofgentle blood looked to make their way. But since the death of the BlackPrince matters had been quiet abroad, and unless for those who wereattached to the households of powerful nobles there was, for thepresent, no avenue towards distinction.

  Edgar had been talking these matters over with the Prior of St. Alwyth,who had taken a great fancy to him, and with whom he had, since he hadgiven up his work at the convent, frequently had long conversations.They were engaged in one of these when this narrative begins:

  "I quite agree with your father," the Prior continued. "Were there ajust and strong government, the mass of the people might bear theirpresen
t position. It seems to us as natural that the serfs should betransferred with the land as if they were herds of cattle, for such isthe rule throughout Europe as well as here, and one sees that there aregreat difficulties in the way of making any alteration in this state ofthings. See you, were men free to wander as they chose over the landinstead of working at their vocations, the country would be full ofvagrants who, for want of other means for a living, would soon becomerobbers. Then, too, very many would flock to the towns, and so far frombettering their condition, would find themselves worse off than before,for there would be more people than work could be found for.

  EDGAR TALKS MATTERS OVER WITH THE PRIOR OF ST. ALWYTH.]

  "So long as each was called upon only to pay his fifteenth to theking's treasury they were contented enough, but now they are calledupon for a tenth as well as a fifteenth, and often this is greatlyexceeded by the rapacity of the tax-collectors. Other burdens are putupon them, and altogether men are becoming desperate. Then, too, thecessation of the wars with France has brought back to the countrynumbers of disbanded soldiers who, having got out of the way of honestwork and lost the habits of labour, are discontented and restless. Allthis adds to the danger. We who live in the country see these things,but the king and nobles either know nothing of them or treat them withcontempt, well knowing that a few hundred men-at-arms can scatter amultitude of unarmed serfs."

  "And would you give freedom to the serfs, good Father?"

  "I say not that I would give them absolute freedom, but I would grantthem a charter giving them far greater rights than at present. Afifteenth of their labour is as much as they should be called upon topay, and when the king's necessities render it needful that furthermoney should be raised, the burden should only be laid upon the backsof those who can afford to pay it. I hear that there is much wild talk,and that the doctrines of Wickliffe have done grievous harm. I say not,my son, that there are not abuses in the Church as well as elsewhere;but these pestilent doctrines lead men to disregard all authority, andto view their natural masters as oppressors. I hear that seditious talkis uttered openly in the villages throughout the country; that thereare men who would fain persuade the ignorant that all above them aredrones who live on the proceeds of their labour--as if indeed everyman, however high in rank, had not his share of labour and care--Ifear, then, that if there should be a rising of the peasantry we mayhave such scenes as those that took place during the Jacquerie inFrance, and that many who would, were things different, be in favour ofgiving more extended rights to the people, will be forced to take aside against them."

  "I can hardly think that they would take up arms, Father. They mustknow that they could not withstand a charge of armour-clad knights andmen-at-arms."

  "Unhappily, my son, the masses do not think. They believe what itpleases them to believe, and what the men who go about stirring upsedition tell them. I foresee that in the end they will sufferhorribly, but before the end comes they may commit every sort ofoutrage. They may sack monasteries and murder the monks, for we arealso looked upon as drones. They may attack and destroy the houses ofthe better class, and even the castles of the smaller nobles. They mayeven capture London and lay it in ashes, but the thought that afterthey had done these things a terrible vengeance would be taken, andtheir lot would be harder than before, would never occur to them. Takeyour own house for instance--what resistance could it offer to a fiercemob of peasants?"

  "None," Edgar admitted. "But why should they attack it?"

  The Prior was silent.

  "I know what you mean, good Father," Edgar said, after a pause. "Theysay that my father is a magician, because he stirs not abroad, butspends his time on his researches. I remember when I was a small boy,and the lads of the village wished to anger me, they would shout out,'Here is the magician's son,' and I had many a fight in consequence."

  "Just so, Edgar; the ignorant always hate that which they cannotunderstand; so Friar Bacon was persecuted, and accused of dabbling inmagic when he was making discoveries useful to mankind. I say not thatthey will do any great harm when they first rise, for it cannot be saidthat the serfs here are so hardly treated as they were in France, wheretheir lords had power of life and death over them, and could slay themlike cattle if they chose, none interfering. Hence the hatred was sodeep that in the very first outbreak the peasants fell upon the noblesand massacred them and their families.

  "Here there is no such feeling. It is against the government that taxesthem so heavily that their anger is directed, and I fear that this newpoll-tax that has been ordered will drive them to extremities. I havenews that across the river in Essex the people of some places have notonly refused to pay, but have forcibly driven away the tax-gatherers,and when these things once begin, there is no saying how they are goingto end. However, if there is trouble, I think not that at first weshall be in any danger here, but if they have success at first theirpretensions will grow. They will inflame themselves. The love ofplunder will take the place of their reasonable objections toover-taxation, and seeing that they have but to stretch out their handsto take what they desire, plunder and rapine will become general."

  As Edgar walked back home he felt that there was much truth in thePrior's remarks. He himself had heard many things said among thevillagers which showed that their patience was well-nigh at an end.Although, since he began his studies, he had no time to keep up hisformer close connection with the village, he had always been onfriendly terms with his old playmates, and they talked far more freelywith him than they would do to anyone else of gentle blood. Once ortwice he had, from a spirit of adventure, gone with them to meetingsthat were held after dark in a quiet spot near Dartford, and listenedto the talk of strangers from Gravesend and other places. He knewhimself how heavily the taxation pressed upon the people, and hissympathies were wholly with them. There had been nothing said even bythe most violent of the speakers to offend him. The protests wereagainst the exactions of the tax-gatherers, the extravagance of thecourt, and the hardship that men should be serfs on the land.

  Once they had been addressed by a secular priest from the other side ofthe river, who had asserted that all men were born equal and had equalrights. This sentiment had been loudly applauded, but he himself hadsense enough to see that it was contrary to fact, and that men were notborn equal. One was the son of a noble, the other of a serf. One childwas a cripple and a weakling from its birth, another strong and lusty.One was well-nigh a fool, and another clear-headed. It seemed to himthat there were and must be differences.

  Many of the secular clergy were among the foremost in stirring up thepeople. They themselves smarted under their disabilities. For the mostpart they were what were called hedge priests, men of but little or noeducation, looked down upon by the regular clergy, and almost whollydependant on the contributions of their hearers. They resented thedifference between themselves and the richly endowed clergy andreligious houses, and denounced the priests and monks as drones whosucked the life-blood of the country.

  This was the last gathering at which Edgar had been present. He hadbeen both shocked and offended at the preaching. What was the name ofthe priest he knew not, nor did the villagers, but he went by the nameof Jack Straw, and was, Edgar thought, a dangerous fellow. The lad hadno objection to his abuse of the tax-gatherers, or to his complaints ofthe extravagance of the court, but this man's denunciation of the monksand clergy at once shocked and angered him. Edgar's intercourse withthe villagers had removed some of the prejudices generally felt by hisclass, but in other respects he naturally felt as did others of hisstation, and he resolved to go to no more meetings.

  After taking his meal with his father, Edgar mounted the horse that thelatter had bought for him, and rode over to the house of one of hisfriends.

  The number of those who had, like himself, been taught by the monk ofSt. Alwyth had increased somewhat, and there were, when he left, sixother lads there. Three of these were intended for the Church. All weresons of neighbouring landowners, and it was to visit Alb
ert de Courcy,the son of Sir Ralph de Courcy, that Edgar was now riding. Albert andhe had been special friends. They were about the same age, but of verydifferent dispositions. The difference between their characters wasperhaps the chief attraction that had drawn them to each other. Albertwas gentle in disposition, his health was not good, and he had been aweakly child. His father, who was a stout knight, regarded him withslight favour, and had acceded willingly to his desire to enter theChurch, feeling that he would never make a good fighter.

  Edgar, on the contrary, was tall and strongly built, and had neverknown a day's illness. He was somewhat grave in manner, for thecompanionship of his father and the character of their conversationshad made him older and more thoughtful than most lads of his age. Hewas eager for adventure, and burned for an opportunity to distinguishhimself, while his enthusiasm for noble exploits and great commandersinterested his quiet friend, who had the power of admiring things thathe could not hope to imitate. In him, alone of his school-fellows, didEdgar find any sympathy with his own feelings as to the condition ofthe people. Henry Nevil laughed to scorn Edgar's advocacy of theircause. Richard Clairvaux more than once quarrelled with him seriously,and on one or two occasions they almost betook themselves to theirswords. The other three, who were of less spirit, took no part in thesearguments, saying that these things did not concern them, being mattersfor the king and his ministers, and of no interest whatever to them.

  In other respects Edgar was popular with them all. His strength and hisskill in arms gave him an authority that even Richard Clairvauxacknowledged in his cooler moments. Edgar visited at the houses of alltheir fathers, his father encouraging him to do so, as he thought thatassociation with his equals would be a great advantage to him. As faras manners were concerned, however, the others, with the exception ofAlbert de Courcy, who did not need it, gained more than he did, for Mr.Ormskirk had, during his long residence at foreign universities and hisclose connection with professors, acquired a certain foreigncourtliness of bearing that was in strong contrast to the roughbluffness of speech and manner that characterized the English of thatperiod, and had some share in rendering them so unpopular upon theContinent, where, although their strength and fighting power made themrespected, they were regarded as island bears, and their manners were astanding jest among the frivolous nobles of the Court of France.

  At the house of Sir Ralph de Courcy Edgar was a special favourite. Ladyde Courcy was fond of him because her son was never tired of singinghis praises, and because she saw that his friendship was really abenefit to the somewhat dreamy boy. Aline, a girl of fourteen, regardedhim with admiration; she was deeply attached to her brother, andbelieved implicitly his assertion that Edgar would some day become avaliant knight; while Sir Ralph himself liked him both for the courtesyof his bearing and the firmness and steadiness of his character, whichhad, he saw, a very beneficial influence over that of Albert. Sir Ralphwas now content that the latter should enter the Church, but he wasunwilling that his son should become what he called a mere shaveling,and desired that he should attain power and position in his profession.

  The lack of ambition and energy in his son were a grievance to himalmost as great as his lack of physical powers, and he saw thatalthough, so far there was still an absence of ambition, yet the boyhad gained firmness and decision from the influence of his friend, andthat he was far more likely to attain eminence in the Church than hehad been before. He was himself surprised that the son of a man whosepursuits he despised should have attained such proficiency with hisweapons--a matter which he had learned, when one day he had tried hisskill with Edgar in a bout with swords--and he recognized that with hisgifts of manner, strength and enthusiasm for deeds of arms, he waslikely one day to make a name for himself.

  Whenever, therefore, Edgar rode over to Sir Ralph's he was certain of ahearty welcome from all. As to the lad's opinions as to the conditionof the peasantry--opinions which he would have scouted as monstrous onthe part of a gentleman--Sir Ralph knew nothing, Albert having beenwise enough to remain silent on the subject, the custom of the timesbeing wholly opposed to anything like a free expression of opinion onany subject from a lad to his elders.

  "It is quite a time since you were here last, Master Ormskirk," Lady DeCourcy said when he entered. "Albert so often goes up for a talk withyou when he has finished his studies at the monastery that you areforgetting us here."

  "I crave your pardon, Mistress De Courcy," Edgar said; "but, indeed, Ihave been working hard, for my father has obtained for me a good masterfor the sword--a Frenchman skilled in many devices of which my Englishteachers were wholly ignorant. He has been teaching some of the youngnobles in London, and my father, hearing of his skill, has had him downhere, at a heavy cost, for the last month, as he was for the momentwithout engagements in London. It was but yesterday that he returned.Naturally, I have desired to make the utmost of the opportunity, andmost of my time has been spent in the fencing-room."

  "And have you gained much by his instruction?" Sir Ralph asked.

  "I hope so, Sir Ralph. I have tried my best, and he has been goodenough to commend me warmly, and even told my father that I was theaptest pupil that he had."

  "I will try a bout with you presently," the knight said. "It is nightwo years since we had one together, and my arm is growing stiff forwant of practice, though every day I endeavour to keep myself in orderfor any opportunity or chance that may occur, by practising against animaginary foe by hammering with a mace at a corn-sack swinging from abeam. Methinks I hit it as hard as of old, but in truth I know butlittle of the tricks of these Frenchmen. They availed nothing atPoictiers against our crushing downright blows. Still, I would gladlysee what their tricks are like."