The House of Walderne | Page 9

may pray for a change, but
meanwhile we must be patient and thankful that we have a roof over
our heads, my lord."
"And it gives me full time to hear particulars about the boy whom I left
in your care--a wilful, petted urchin, ten years of age he was then."
"The lad is docile; he has scant inclination towards the Church, but he
shows the signs of his high lineage in a hundred different ways."
"High lineage?" said the earl, with a smile and a look of inquiry.
"We had supposed him of thy kindred; he bears every sign of noblesse
and does not disgrace it," said the prior, himself of the kindred of the
"lords of the eagle."
"He is the son of a brother crusader."
"The father is not living?"
"No, he fell in Palestine, within sight of the earthly Jerusalem, and I
trust has found admittance into the Jerusalem which is above; he

committed the boy to my care--
"But let them bring young Hubert hither."
The prior tinkled a silver bell, which lay upon the table, and a lay
brother appeared, to whom he gave the necessary order. A knock at the
door was soon heard, and a lad of some fourteen years entered in
obedience to the prior's summons, and stood at first abashed before the
great earl.
Yet he was not a lad wanting in self confidence; he was tall and slender,
his features were regular, his hair and eyes light, his face a shapely oval;
there was a winning expression on the features, and altogether it was a
persuasive face.
"Dost thou remember me, my son?" asked the earl, as the boy knelt on
one knee, and kissed his hand gracefully.
"It seems many years since thou didst leave me here, my lord."
"Ah! thy memory is good--hast thou been happy here? hast thou done
thy duty?"
"It is dull for an eaglet to be brought up in a cave."
"Art thou the eaglet then, and this the cave? fie! Hubert."
"My father was a soldier of the cross."
"And wouldst thou be a soldier too, my boy? the paths of glory often
lead to the grave; thou art safer far as an acolyte here; thou wilt perhaps
be prior some day."
"I covet not safety, my lord. If my father loved thee, and thou didst love
him, take me to thy castle and let me be thy page. There are no
chivalrous exercises here, no tilt yard, only the bell which booms all
day long; matins and lauds; prime, terce and sext; vespers and compline;
and masses between whiles."

"My son, be not irreverent."
The boy lowered his eyes at the reproof.
"Thou shalt go with me. But, my boy, blame me not if some day thou
grieve over the loss of this sweet peace."
"I love not peace--it is dull."
"How wonderful it is that the son should inherit the father's tastes with
his form," said the earl to the prior. "When this lad's sire and I were
young together he had just the same ideas, the same restless craving for
excitement, and it led him at last to a soldier's grave. Well, what is bred
in the bone will out in the flesh.
"Hubert, thou shalt go with me to Kenilworth, but it will be a hard and
stern school for thee; there are no idlers there."
"I am not an idler, my good lord."
"Only over his books," said the prior.
"That is because I prefer the lance and the bow to pot hooks and
hangers on parchment."
The boy spoke out fearlessly, almost pertly, like a spoiled child. Yet he
had a winning manner, which reconciled his elders to his freedom.
"Now, go back to thy pot hooks and hangers, my boy, for the present,"
said the earl; "and tomorrow, perchance, I may take thee with me, if the
storm abate.
"And now," said the earl, when Hubert was gone, "send for the other
lad; the waif and stray from the forest."
So Hubert retired and Martin appeared. It was by no means an
uninteresting face, that which the earl now scanned, but quite unlike the
features of Hubert--a round face, contrasting with the oval outlines of
the other--with twinkling eyes and curling hair; a face which ought to

be lit up with smiles, but which was sad for the moment. Poor boy! he
had just parted from his mother.
"Art thou willing to go away with me, my child?"
"Yes," said he sadly, "since she told me to go; but I love her."
"Thy name is Martin?"
"Yes; they call me so now."
"What is thy other name?"
"I know not. I have no other."
"Wouldst thou fear to return to the green wood?"
"Yes, for they might call