The cellar--for cellar it was--was bright with the light of a lamp, by which I could plainly discern my master (or, as I believed for a moment, my master"s ghost), with coat off, and sweating with the heat of the place, working like any journeyman at a printing-press, on which lay a forme of type, which he inked with his b.a.l.l.s and struck off in print with the noises which had perplexed me above.
Then I pulled up the trap and called out:
"Master Walgrave, spare yourself so much toil, I pray you, and let me help you."
He turned round, with a face the colour of dough, like a man who had just received an arrow in his vitals; then he rushed as if to put out the lamp. But his presence of mind returned before he got that length, and he demanded of me angrily enough how I dared to play the spy on him and come where I was not bidden.
I replied I was no spy, and, as for coming where I was not bidden, had I known who it was down there I would have stayed where I was. But, being there, might I help him, I asked, at the work? He answered angrily, "No," and bade me begone. Whereupon I returned to my case, and waited till he should come up to the earth"s surface.
Meanwhile I recalled not a few rumours I had heard about Master Walgrave. One was, that, though he was only licenced to have one press, and seemed to have no more, yet (it was whispered of some), he had another in hiding, which now I found to be true. Moreover, as I was in Stationers" Hall one day, a month or more ago, to pay the fee for a register, I overheard Timothy Ryder the beadle and another talking about my master.
"He prints more than he registers," said one.
"And he should have his ears cropped for his pains," said Timothy, "did I but know where to have him."
Then seeing that I waited (for they had forgot to give me my acquittance), they dropped talking suddenly.
By all this I guessed that my master was no favourite with them of Stationers" Hall, and, moreover, that he was addicted to disorderly practices contrary to the Acts binding printers. But so well did he keep his own secret, and so busy was I with my own affairs, that it all pa.s.sed from my mind, and now only returned when I saw that what had been said of him was true.
He came up from below presently, and I was ready for him. "Master,"
said I, "I have displeased you against my will, and I have seen what you would fain have kept a secret. You shall find it remains safe with me, for I am your "prentice and bound to you. Therefore cheer up."
He brightened at this.
"You are a good lad," said he. "It concerns no one what I do below.
"Tis an amus.e.m.e.nt of my own, no more."
As he stood there, pale and anxious, with weary eyes, it seemed to me an amus.e.m.e.nt which yielded him but little sport. However, I did not dispute the matter, and we said no more about it.
But after that day I observed that my master, although he seemed to like me less, was more sparing of his bitter words than heretofore. Whereby I guessed plainly enough that the amus.e.m.e.nt he spoke of, were it to come to the ears of the Master and Wardens of the Company, would get him into no little trouble.
Mistress Walgrave, his wife, as I said, was ever my good friend. She was no common woman, and how those two made a match of it always puzzled me. Before she came to England (so she had told me often), she lived at Roch.e.l.le, in France, where her first husband was a merchant in lace.
Then, when he died of the plague ten years ago, she came with her two young children (the elder being but five years), to her mother"s home in Kent, where Robert Walgrave, being on a visit to Canterbury, met her, and offered her marriage. And in truth she had been the brightness of his house ever since, and her two French children, Jeannette and Prosper, now tall girl and boy, lived with her, as did some three other urchins who called Master Walgrave father. Sweet Jeannette was my favourite; for she was lame, and had her mother"s cheery smile, and thought ill of no one, least of all of me whom she called her big crutch, and tormented by talking French.
Many a summer afternoon, when work was slack, I carried her to the water-side, where she might sit and watch the river flowing past. And to reward me she made me read her about King Arthur and his knights, and stories from Mr Chaucer"s book; much of which I understood not, though (being a printer"s "prentice), I knew the words.
One still evening as we sat thus, not a week after my adventure in Finsbury Fields, she broke in on my reading with--
"_Voila_, see there, Master Humphrey; _mais, comme elle est jolie_!"
"I don"t know what you say, when you talk like that, mistress," said I; for I liked not the French jargon, although by dint of long suffering it I had a better guess at the meaning of it often than I cared to own.
"Look, I say," said she, "would not she be a queen of beauty for the knights of old to fight for?"
I looked where she pointed; and there, gliding within a few yards of us, pa.s.sed a boat, and in it, drinking in the beauty of the evening, sat a maiden, at sight of whom I felt the blood desert my cheeks, and the hand that held the book tremble. Her old companion was beside her dozing, and the waterman lugged lazily at his oars, humming an air to himself.
Jeannette, happily, was looking not at me but at her, and so my troubled looks escaped her.
"I never saw a face more fair," said she. ""Tis like a picture out of Mr Chaucer"s book. And now that she is past, the day seems darker. Go on reading, please, kind Master Humphrey."
I tried to go on, but I blundered and lost my place, while my eyes tried to follow the boat.
Would she but have looked round! Could she but have known who it was that watched her! Could I myself have dared even to shout or call!
Alas! the boat glided by, and her form, stately, erect, fearless, lost itself in the distance. What dreamed she--a queen--of an uncouth London "prentice?
"Master Dexter," said Jeannette"s soft voice presently, "for five whole minutes you have been trying to read one little sentence, and it still lacks an ending. What ails you?"
"Nothing, mistress; but I am a bad scholar and the words are hard; I pray you forgive me. Besides it grows late. "Tis time we went in."
So I carried her in to her mother, and then ran wildly back to the river"s edge, if by good hap I might see that lady return, or at least catch sight of her boat in the far distance. But I did neither. The tide still ran out, and amongst the many boats that dotted the water citywards who was to say which was hers?
As I returned by way of the Temple to my master"s house, I met Peter Stoupe, my fellow "prentice.
"I am glad I met thee," he said. "A man came to me just now in the shop and said, "Be you Humphrey Dexter?" I told him no, and asked him what he wanted. He told me that was his business. I bade him wait where he was and I would fetch you, for I had seen you go out; but he went away grumbling, saying he would choose his own time, not mine. Alas!
Humphrey, you have brought us all into sad trouble by your naughty ways."
"What trouble are you in, sirrah?" said I, wrathfully. "It matters little to you what comrade is laid by the heels, so that you get your platter full, morning and evening."
"But our good master and mistress--" he began.
But I waited not for him and went quickly home.
That night my master called me as I was going to my bed, and said, "Humphrey, there is like to be sad trouble here on your account. A warrant, I am told, is out to seize you, you know best for what; but, if it be true, you struck a gentleman of the Queen"s household--"
"I struck a dog who affronted a defenceless maiden," said I, "and I put him in the pond, to boot, and I care not if I go to the cage for it."
"But I care. If I harbour you here I am like to receive the punishment which belongs to you. And if I give you up I lose a good "prentice. I can say thus much for you."
"Then," said I, not heeding his flattery, "I had better go away myself."
I never guessed he would take to this; but, to my surprise, he did.
"I and your mistress think so, too, Humphrey. Whilst the hue and cry lasts you are better anywhere than here. When it has ceased, you may safely return. Meanwhile, as fortune will have it, I can employ you still in my service."
Then he told me how he desired to send a letter to a friend of his at Oxford, which, being of the gravest importance, he wished delivered by a trusty messenger--as he took me to be. Therefore, if I was ready to forward him in the matter, I might avoid my pursuers, and do him a service to boot.
I hailed the offer with joy and thankfulness. I longed for a change somewhere, I cared not where, and, if skulk I must, an errand like this would please me vastly more than hiding for a week in my master"s cellar.
"Be secret," said he (meaning, I suppose, Stoupe). "To-morrow early be ready to start to Kingston, where you may get a horse. Meanwhile your mistress is herself making you a cloak which shall be proof against all weathers. So good-night, Humphrey, and see you rouse yourself betimes in the morning."
CHAPTER THREE.
HOW I RODE POST-HASTE TO OXFORD.
The summer sun had not been up long before I too was out of bed. Early as the hour was, my master and mistress were both astir, and bade me make a hearty meal in view of my journey.