The Armourers Prentices | Page 6

counsel with our uncle Birkenholt. Then
to London, where uncle Randall will help us to our fortunes."
"Gipsy Hal! He is more like to help you to a halter," sneered John, sotto
voce, and Joan herself observed, "Their uncle at Winchester will show
them better than to run after that there go-by-chance."
However, as no one wished to keep the youths, and they were equally
determined to go, an accommodation was come to at last. John was
induced to give them three crowns apiece and to yield them up the five
small trinkets specified, though not without some murmurs from his
wife. It was no doubt safer to leave the rest of the money in his hands
than to carry it with them, and he undertook that it should be
forthcoming, if needed for any fit purpose, such as the purchase of an
office, an apprentice's fee, or an outfit as a squire. It was a vague
promise that cost him nothing just then, and thus could be readily made,
and John's great desire was to get them away so that he could aver that
they had gone by their own free will, without any hardship, for he had
seen enough at his father's obsequies to show him that the love and
sympathy of all the scanty dwellers in the Forest was with them.
Nurse Joan had fought their battles, but with the sore heart of one who

was parting with her darlings never to see them again. She bade them
doff their suits of mourning that she might make up their fardels, as
they would travel in their Lincoln-green suits. To take these she
repaired to the little rough shed-like chamber where the two brothers
lay for the last time on their pallet bed, awake, and watching for her,
with Spring at their feet. The poor old woman stood over them, as over
the motherless nurslings whom she had tended, and she should
probably never see more, but she was a woman of shrewd sense, and
perceived that "with the new madam in the hall" it was better that they
should be gone before worse ensued.
She advised leaving their valuables sealed up in the hands of my Lord
Abbot, but they were averse to this--for they said their uncle Randall,
who had not seen them since they were little children, would not know
them without some pledge.
She shook her head. "The less you deal with Hal Randall the better,"
she said. "Come now, lads, be advised and go no farther than
Winchester, where Master Ambrose may get all the book-learning he is
ever craving for, and you, Master Steevie, may prentice yourself to
some good trade."
"Prentice!" cried Stephen, scornfully.
"Ay, ay. As good blood as thine has been prenticed," returned Joan.
"Better so than be a cut-throat sword-and-buckler fellow, ever slaying
some one else or getting thyself slain--a terror to all peaceful folk. But
thine uncle will see to that--a steady-minded lad always was he--was
Master Dick."
Consoling herself with this hope, the old woman rolled up their new
suits with some linen into two neat knapsacks; sighing over the thought
that unaccustomed fingers would deal with the shirts she had spun,
bleached, and sewn. But she had confidence in "Master Dick," and
concluded that to send his nephews to him at Winchester gave a far
better chance of their being cared for, than letting them be flouted into
ill-doing by their grudging brother and his wife.

CHAPTER II.
THE GRANGE OF SILKSTEDE

"All Itchen's valley lay, St. Catherine's breezy side and the woodlands
far away, The huge Cathedral sleeping in venerable gloom, The modest
College tower, and the bedesmen's Norman home."
LORD SELBORNE.
Very early in the morning, even according to the habits of the time,
were Stephen and Ambrose Birkenholt astir. They were full of ardour
to enter on the new and unknown world beyond the Forest, and much
as they loved it, any change that kept them still to their altered life
would have been distasteful.
Nurse Joan, asking no questions, folded up their fardels on their backs,
and packed the wallets for their day's journey with ample provision.
She charged them to be good lads, to say their Pater, Credo, and Ave
daily, and never omit Mass on a Sunday. They kissed her like their
mother and promised heartily--and Stephen took his crossbow. They
had had some hope of setting forth so early as to avoid all other human
farewells, except that Ambrose wished to begin by going to Beaulieu to
take leave of the Father who had been his kind master, and get his
blessing and counsel. But Beaulieu was three miles out of their way,
and Stephen had not the same desire, being less attached to his
schoolmaster and more afraid