Sir Ludar | Page 7

and let them depart without me.
For I was haunted yet by the memory of that fair face and the sweet music of her voice, and I wished to be alone.
Moreover, it vexed me grievously that any servant of so gracious a Queen as ours could be base enough to offer a helpless maiden a discourtesy, and that in chastising him I must needs put an affront on the dignity of her Majesty's Court. But that weighed less when I remembered what I had seen, and I would fain have had the doing of it all again, despite her gentle protest.
So I waited till the crowd was gone, and then paced, moodily enough, citywards.
But, at the entrance to the Fields, there overtook me a handful of horsemen, bravely equipped; amongst whom, as I looked round, I saw the author of all this mischief himself. His gay cloak hid the stains of the duck-weed, and as for his sword, he had borrowed another from one of his men. Mounted as he was, it was not likely he should notice a common 'prentice lad like me, yet I resolved notice me he should, even if I went to the pillory for it.
So I stood across the way, and said:
"Farewell, brave captain. The pond will be deeper next time, and Humphrey Dexter will be there to put you in it."
He turned about, crimson in face, and cursed savagely as he saw me--for he knew (or guessed, shrewdly enough), who I was. Then calling loudly to his servants:
"An angel to the man who catches the knave!" cried he. "Seize him, and bring him to me."
Whereat, being only one footman to a dozen horse, I gave a clean pair of heels.
I soon shook off my pursuers, who liked not the narrow alleys and winding lanes of our city, where their horses stumbled and they themselves missed their way. One only, whether from stubbornness or the hope of the angel, kept up the hue and cry, and, being mounted on a nimble pony, followed me close. At length it seemed shame to be running from a single man; so at the next corner I turned and waited for him. He ran at me with his weapon, and called loudly on the watch to help him, but I pulled him from his horse and had him up against the wall before he could cry again--yet not before he had pricked me in the arm with his blade.
He was a stout little man, and a brave one; but, by no fault of his, he was powerless in my grip. I wrenched the sword from his hand, and held him by the throat till he signalled a surrender.
"Tell me first your master's name. On your knees, and with an oath, lest I find you lie," said I, in none too sweet a mood.
He had naught else he could do; so, falling on his knees, took Heaven to witness that his master's name was David Merriman, a captain in her Majesty's service; lodging now at the Court, but presently about to join the Queen's forces in Ireland.
That was enough for me.
"Tell Master David Merriman I shall remember his name, and bid him remember mine against we meet next--and so farewell."
I left him puffing for breath against the wall, and departed. But hearing the watch raise a new hue and cry at my heels, I quickened my steps, and so after many a tedious circuit, ran into my master's shop just as he was about to bolt the door for the night.
He received me sourly, as indeed I expected.
"So," said he, "this is your faithful service which you swore to render me; and you a parson's son, that should know what an oath is."
He was for ever taunting me with my dear father's holy calling, and it vexed me to hear it.
"I am also under oath to serve my Queen," said I, "and I put that before all."
"And you serve her by drunkenness, and rioting, and breaking the heads of her loyal subjects! I have heard of you this day. How comes it that your fellow 'prentice Peter Stoupe--"
"A plague on Peter Stoupe!" said I, for I disliked him. "And as for drunkenness, I was never drunk in my life; nor, by my own leave, a rioter."
"By whose leave, then?" asked Master Walgrave.
"By the leave of them who behave themselves as knaves," said I, getting hot as I thought of Captain Merriman; "and had they twenty skulls, and a crown on each, I'd crack 'em."
"Had they no crowns, they would not be worth the cracking," said a cheerful voice behind us; and there stood Mistress Walgrave herself. "Come, husband," said she, soothingly, "be not too hard on Humphrey, he is but a lad. He serves us well most days, when the Queen