Marches-sieges-there shall I quell this wild beating! I may die there.

At least they will allay this present frenzy of my blood."

And he listened when Fulford and Will Marden, a young English man-at-arms with whom he had made friends, concerted how he should meet them at an inn-the sign of the Seven Stars-in Gravelines, and there exchange his prentice's garb for the buff coat and corslet of a Badger, with the Austrian black and yellow scarf. He listened, but he had not promised.

The sense of duty to his master, the honour to his word, always recurred like "first thoughts," though the longing to escape, the restlessness of hopeless love, the youthful eagerness for adventure and freedom, swept it aside again and again.

He had not seen his uncle since the evening of the comedy, for Hal had travelled in the Cardinal's suite, and the amus.e.m.e.nts being all within doors, jesters were much in request, as indeed Charles V. was curious in fools, and generally had at least three in attendance. Stephen, moreover, always shrank from his uncle when acting professionally. He had learnt to love and esteem the man during his troubles, but this only rendered the sight of his buffoonery more distressing, and as Randall had not provided himself with his home suit, they were the more cut off from one another. Thus there was all the less to counteract or show the fallacy of Fulford's recruiting blandishments.

The day had come on the evening of which Stephen was to meet Fulford and Marden at the Seven Stars and give them his final answer, in time to allow of their smuggling him out of the city, and sending him away into the country, since Smallbones would certainly suspect him to be in the camp, and as he was still an apprentice, it was possible, though not probable, that the town magistrates might be incited to make search on inquiry, as they were very jealous of the luring away of their apprentices by the Free Companies, and moreover his uncle might move the Cardinal and the King to cause measures to be taken for his recovery.

Ill at ease, Stephen wandered away from the hostel where Smallbones was entertaining his friend, the Ancient. He had not gone far down the street when a familiar figure met his eye, no other than that of Lucas Hansen, his brother's old master, walking along with a pack on his back.

Grown as Stephen was, the old man's recognition was as rapid as his own, and there was a clasp of the hand, an exchange of greeting, while Lucas eagerly asked after his dear pupil, Ambrose.

"Come in hither, and we can speak more at ease," said Lucas, leading the way up the common staircase of a tall house, whose upper stories overhung the street. Up and up, Lucas led the way to a room in the high peaked roof, looking out at the back. Here Stephen recognised a press, but it was not at work, only a young friar was sitting there engaged in sewing up sheets so as to form a pamphlet. Lucas spoke to him in Flemish to explain his own return with the English prentice.

"Dost thou dwell here, sir?" asked Stephen. "I thought Rotterdam was thine home."

"Yea," said Lucas, "so it be, but I am sojourning here to aid in bearing about the seed of the Gospel, for which I walk through these lands of ours. But tell me of thy brother, and of the little Moorish maiden?"

Stephen replied with an account of both Ambrose and Aldonza, and likewise of Tibble Steelman, explaining how ill the last had been in the winter, and that therefore he could not be with the party.

"I would I had a token to send him," said Lucas; "but I have nought here that is not either in the Dutch or the French, and neither of those tongues doth he understand. But thy brother, the good Ambrose, can read the Dutch. Wilt thou carry him from me this fresh tractate, showing how many there be that make light of the Apostle Paul's words not to do evil that good may come?"

Stephen had been hearing rather listlessly, thinking how little the good man suspected how doubtful it was that he should bear messages to Ambrose. Now, on that sore spot in his conscience, that sentence darted like an arrow, the shaft finding "mark the archer little meant," and with a start, not lost on Lucas, he exclaimed "Saith the holy Saint Paul that?"

"a.s.suredly, my son. Brother Cornelis, who is one whose eyes have been opened, can show you the very words, if thou hast any Latin."

Perhaps to gain time, Stephen a.s.sented, and the young friar, with a somewhat inquisitive look, presently brought him the sentence "_Et non faciamus mala ut veniant bona_."

Stephen's Latin was not very fresh, and he hardly comprehended the words, but he stood gazing with a frown of distress on his brow, which made Lucas say, "My son, thou art sorely bestead. Is there aught in which a plain old man can help thee, for thy brother's sake? Speak freely.

Brother Cornelis knows not a word of English. Dost thou owe aught to any man?"

"Nay, nay-not that," said Stephen, drawn in his trouble and perplexity to open his heart to this incongruous confidant, "but, sir, sir, which be the worst, to break my pledge to my master, or to run into a trial which-which will last from day to day, and may be too much for me-yea, and for another-at last?"

The colour, the trembling of limb, the pa.s.sion of voice, revealed enough to Lucas to make him say, in the voice of one who, dried up as he was, had once proved the trial, "'Tis love, thou wouldst say?"

"Ay, sir," said Stephen, turning away, but in another moment bursting forth, "I love my master's daughter, and she is to wed her cousin, who takes her as her father's chattel! I wist not why the world had grown dark to me till I saw a comedy at Ardres, where, as in a mirror, 'twas all set forth-yea, and how love was too strong for him and for her, and how shame and death came thereof."

"Those players are good for nought but to wake the pa.s.sions!" muttered Lucas.

"Nay, methought they warned me," said Stephen. "For, sir,"-he hid his burning face in his hands as he leant on the back of a chair-"I wot that she has ever liked me better, far better than him. And scarce a night have I closed an eye without dreaming it all, and finding myself bringing evil on her, till I deemed 'twere better I never saw her more, and left her to think of me as a forsworn runagate rather than see her wedded only to be flouted-and maybe-do worse."

"Poor lad!" said Lucas; "and what wouldst thou do?"

"I have not pledged myself-but I said I would consider of-service among Fulford's troop," faltered Stephen.

"Among those ruffians-G.o.dless, lawless men!" exclaimed Lucas.

"Yea, I know what you would say," returned Stephen, "but they are brave men, better than you deem, sir."

"Were they angels or saints," said Lucas, rallying his forces, "thou hast no right to join them. Thine oath fetters thee. Thou hast no right to break it and do a sure and certain evil to avoid one that may never befall! How knowst thou how it may be? Nay, if the trial seem to thee over great, thine apprenticeship will soon be at an end."

"Not for two years"

"Or thy master, if thou spakest the whole truth, would transfer thine indentures. He is a good man, and if it be as thou sayest, would not see his child tried too sorely. G.o.d will make a way for the tempted to escape. They need not take the devil's way."

"Sir," said Stephen, lifting up his head, "I thank you. Thus was what I needed. I will tell Sir John Fulford that I ought never to have heeded him."

"Must thou see him again?"

"I must. I am to give him his answer at the Seven Stars. But fear not me, Master Lucas, he shall not lead me away." And Stephen took a grateful leave of the little Dutchman, and charged himself with more messages for Ambrose and Tibble than his overburdened spirit was likely to retain.

Lucas went down the stairs with him, and as a sudden thought, said at the foot of them, "'Tis at the Seven Stars thou meetest this knight. Take an old man's counsel. Taste no liquor there."

"I am no ale bibber," said Stephen.

"Nay, I deemed thee none-but heed my words-captains of landsknechts in _kermesses_ are scarce to be trusted. Taste not."

Stephen gave a sort of laugh at the precaution, and shook himself loose.

It was still an hour to the time of meeting, and the Ave-bell was ringing. A church door stood open, and for the first time since he had been at Gravelines he felt that there would be the calm he needed to adjust the conflict of his spirits, and comprehend the new situation, or rather the recurrence to the old one. He seemed to have recovered his former self, and to be able to perceive that things might go on as before, and his heart really leapt at finding he might return to the sight of Dennet and Ambrose and all he loved.

His wishes were really that way; and Fulford's allurements had become very shadowy when he made his way to the Seven Stars, whose vine-covered window allowed many loud voices and fumes of beer and wine to escape into the summer evening air.

The room was perhaps cleaner than an English one would have been, but it was reeking with heat and odours, and the forest-bred youth was unwilling to enter, but Fulford and two or three Badgers greeted him noisily and called on him to partake of the supper they had ready prepared.

"No, sir knight, I thank you," said Stephen. "I am bound for my quarters, I came but to thank you for your goodness to me, and to bid you farewell."

"And how as to thy pledge to join us, young man?" demanded Fulford sternly.

"I gave no pledge," said Stephen. "I said I would consider of it."

"Faint-hearted! ha! ha!" and the English Badgers translated the word to the Germans, and set them shouting with derision.

"I am not faint-hearted," said Stephen; "but I will not break mine oath to my master."

"And thine oath to me? Ha!" said Fulford.

"I sware you no oath, I gave you no word," said Stephen.

"Ha! Thou darest give me the lie, base prentice. Take that!"

And therewith he struck Stephen a crushing blow on the head, which felled him to the ground. The host and all the company, used to pot-house quarrels, and perhaps playing into his hands, took little heed; Stephen was dragged insensible into another room, and there the Badgers began hastily to divest him of his prentice's gown, and draw his arms into a buff coat.

Fulford had really been struck with his bravery, and knew besides that his skill in the armourer's craft would be valuable, so that it had been determined beforehand that he should-by fair means or foul-leave the Seven Stars a Badger.

"By all the powers of h.e.l.l, you have struck too hard, sir. He is sped,"

said Marden anxiously.

"a.s.s! tut!" said Fulford. "Only enough to daze him till he be safe in our quarters-and for that the sooner the better. Here, call Anton to take his heels. We'll get him forth now as a fellow of our own."