CHAPTER II. HOW THE FLEDGLING LEFT THE NEST.

When the boys drew near home, talking volubly all the time, as boys do, and wondering whether the poor man and his daughter had reached the manor before them, they met Humphrey, who was returning from Salisbury with the tailor and the new horse.

Ralph descried them some way off, and darted away like a hare, before Jasper and the groom had guessed the cause of his flight. Breathless the boy ran up to Humphrey, and could scarcely pour out the torrent of questions, mingled with ejaculations of pleasure and admiration, with which he overwhelmed the varlet, so scant of breath was he.

The horse was certainly a beauty, and did great credit to the taste and judgment of the worthy Abbot of Quarr.

"Ay, certes 'tis a fine beast; but the main fault, to my mind, is that he's too much for thee, Master Ralph. 'Tis a mettlesome hackney, and I don't marvel that fat Prior of Christchurch wanted to part with him. He'll find a difference between thy light weight and that old round shaveling yonder."

"Tush! Humphrey, let me get on him, that's all--an I bring him not to reason, beshrew me for a dullard and walk-a-foot."

By this time Jasper and the other groom had come up, and they were loud in their praises of the new horse.

"My faith! Ralph, thou'rt in luck to-day," said Jasper, somewhat discontentedly. "Thy falcon hath beat mine, and now thou ownest a horse the best, well-nigh, to look at in our stables. Thou'rt a lucky wight, that thou art."

They were approaching the manor house, and as they came within sight of the old buildings, they saw the Abbot of Quarr coming out of the hall door with Lady Lisle.

"Humphrey, let me mount him," said Ralph eagerly, "before they see us. I'd wager a mark my lady mother would be astonished, and so would my right reverend Lord Abbot."

"Nay, Master Ralph, better let one of the stable knaves try him first; he's a bit fresh and mettlesome. Maybe thou wouldst not master him."

"Marry, Humphrey, thou'rt parlous cautelous. Nay, but I will mount him; he's mine. An thou dost not hold him, I will e'en vault on him as he is, and take my chance."

Humphrey, seeing how wilful his young master was, and fearing lest the horse should kick him if he tried to mount as he threatened, drew up and held the horse. The boy, with a little run, vaulted on to the back of his steed, which stood quite still, only turning his head round, and looking at his new master with wise, mild eye. When the boy was firmly seated, and had taken the reins in his hand, for the horse was bitted and bridled, although there was only a cloth over its back, he clapped his heels to the animal's side, and urged him to a trot.

The others all watched him, and wondered to see the boy, who had hitherto only ridden his pony, sit so well and masterfully on the fine animal's back. His seat was firm, and the grip of his knees strong.

The horse, unaccustomed to so light a weight, sprang forward with a plunge, for it was fresh, and had been worked but little lately. With eager excitement the boy urged it on to a canter, and clapped both heels to its sides. Nothing loth, the splendid animal threw up its head, gave a snort of answering joy, and broke into a long easy stride.

In another minute they had reached the approaching figures, and Ralph waved his cap with joyous triumph.
"RALPH WAVED HIS CAP IN TRIUMPH."
"RALPH WAVED HIS CAP IN TRIUMPH."

"Why, 'tis Ralph!" cried his mother, in amazement. "My son, have a care; 'tis a parlous great horse for so young a boy."

"Nay, fair lady," said the Abbot; "see how well he manageth him: there is naught to fear. He is a likely lad enough, and will make a fine brave present for me to give to my Lord Woodville. There is promise of a noble knight in that stripling. In sooth, he cometh of fair lineage."

Meanwhile the boy was galloping round the greensward in front of the house, talking to the horse all the while, patting his neck and mane, perfectly at home on the back of the animal, and radiant with joy.

As he came round again he drew up in front of his mother and the Abbot, and, reining in the horse, made a low reverence to them with his cap.

"Grammercy, my Lord Abbot, for thy right noble present; 'tis the most brave horse in all England, and I am right thankful to thee for thy gracious kindness," said the boy.

"Well, young master, thou managest him well enough, and I am glad to see that thou hast profited by the lessons of thy lady mother, and hast learned courtesy and easy manners. An thou goest on thus, thou wilt bring credit on thy family, and my Lord Woodville will value thee and us right worthily. Take the horse with my benediction, and may the Lord be with thee, even as He was with David. May He make thine arm strong, and thy spear sharp against all that is vile, mean, and base in this world. Mayest thou win knighthood, and not filthy lucre, by thy prowess; though indeed, as Paul saith, 'The workman is worthy of his hire,' and they do err grievously who think that the ministrations of Holy Church should be rewarded only by thanks, and naught else."

During this speech, the tailor and Humphrey, with Master Jasper and his varlet, had come up, and the inferiors all doffed their caps as they listened respectfully to the Abbot.

"'Tis a learned man and a holy," said the tailor as they went round to the servants' offices, "and he draws a right subtle distinction in that same matter of the acquisition of goods; for as a rolling stone gathereth no moss, so a knight that acteth full knightly hath no means to acquire wealth for himself, whereas an Abbot, or churchman, who liveth well in one place, layeth up much goods for himself and Mother Church. Piety without wealth is as an addled egg that showeth a fair outside but is all fruitless and deceitful within. And as 'tis the duty of the Church to spend and be spent in the service of the saints, how can they spend if they have naught to give away."

While the tailor moralised thus to Humphrey, they entered the kitchen. Ralph and Jasper were walking by the side of their mother and the Abbot; they had dismounted from their horses, and had given them to the groom to take round to the stables.

After taking a few turns up and down in front of the house, Lady Lisle said she must go in and see the tailor, for no time was to be lost in cutting out and making the necessary clothes for Ralph to take with him.

It had been settled that all must be ready by to-morrow early, as the Abbot had to travel to Winchester to meet Sir Edward Woodville, who was going to stay there one night, on his way to Southampton to cross over to the Isle of Wight. There was, therefore, a great deal to be done, and Ralph was taken in by his mother to be measured and fitted, while she set her maids to work to sew the various pieces together as the tailor cut them out.

There was one part of the preparation Ralph liked very much; that was the selecting the weapons he would need as a page, and which might serve him if he should reach the rank of esquire before he returned home again. He was a tall boy and strong, therefore his father bade the old major-domo, who had acted as his esquire, select sound and strong arms, such as a good sword, a well-tempered dagger, and a stout bow with fitting arrows; while a target, a back and breast piece, and a light steel cap, with a strong under jerkin of leather, completed his defensive attire.

It was decided that Humphrey should go with him, and a sumpter horse was to take the baggage of master and man. The evening was passed in great excitement on the part of Ralph, who could not keep still for a minute, and caused Jasper to break out in wrath several times, while his father and mother watched him silently, the latter with eyes full of affectionate sadness. It was the first time the family circle had been broken up.

Suddenly Jasper remembered the poor man and his daughter, and, glad of an opportunity of directing attention to some other matter, he said,--

"Marry, Ralph, we never asked what became of that old beggar and thy nag; didst hear whether they had left him in the stables?"

"Was it a poor man and a young girl?" said Lady Lisle.

"Ay, mother; didst thou see them?"

"Certes I did, and a quandary it put me into too. For I saw it was thy pony, Ralph, and I marvelled what had come to thee. But the vagrant put me at ease. Poor old man, and poor little wench, they were sorely bested; and when I heard their tale, I felt proud of my son Ralph. 'Twas well done to succour the weary and footsore."

"Humph!" said the Abbot. "I know not, fair lady, whether 'twere altogether a wise action. The beggar was a stranger, and 'tis a mad prank to lend thy goods to people thou dost not know."

"Maybe, Lord Abbot; but I bethink me of One who not only lent but gave to those whom He did not know."

"Ay, marry, so do I, fair lady, but we who live in the world must be careful not to be visionaries or unlike other folk; and if Ralph goeth with me, he must be mindful of the saying, 'Honour to whom honour is due.' Now a beggar and his slut of a daughter are not fit people to give one's pony too--unless, indeed, he is mindful of being a saint; if so, he'd best not go to my Lord Woodville."

The evening was soon gone, and all things were in fair way for an early start to-morrow. The hospitable Lady Lisle had given a night's lodging to the two weary wayfarers, who had told her their journey lay to the Isle of Wight, where the aunt of the young girl lived; and Lady Lisle had said she would see what could be done to further them on their way--perhaps even the Abbot of Quarr would allow them to go in his train.

Before retiring to rest, Sir John Lisle called his son to him, and gave him solemn words of advice, and as Ralph listened, boy as he was, he felt proud of his father for speaking such noble words.

"My son," the old knight said, sitting in his large arm-chair, laying his hand on the boy's head, who sat at his feet on a low stool, looking up into his father's face, "my son, thou art going forth like a fledgling from the nest. Thou hast been gently nurtured, and hast proved that the good lessons of thy lady mother and Sir Thomas Merlin[*] have sunk into thy heart. But the world into which thou goest will offer many trials and sore temptations. I cannot guard thee beforehand against all; but there are some few things I can tell thee, and thy mother will tell thee some others. Fear God before all things! Fight the King's enemies, and those of thy country; and never turn thy back on the foe as long as thy chief bids thee fight. In all things be obedient, and pay reverence to those in authority over thee. Be liberal, courteous, and gentle. Let thy charges be as thy purse can pay. Thy kinsman, the Abbot of Quarr, will aid thee in all that is right for thy place in life; for I have assigned him certain lands and rents in trust for thee, and thou must maintain the rank of thy family and name. Brave I know thou art, and truthful, I well believe; but of the matters that appertain to thy gentle life, these thy lady mother will tell thee. I have been too much a man of war in these troublous times, and, I fear me, God loveth not those who have used the sword too freely. But 'tis in the blood, and we are not able to fight against it. And now, my son, may God be with thee. Fare thee well. Win thy spurs, and come home a very gentle, perfect knight."

[*] Priests were in that age called "Sir."

So saying, the old knight laid his hands on the boy's wavy hair, and let them rest there a little space, while his lips moved, as if in prayer. When he removed his hands, he raised the boy and kissed him on his forehead, and bid him "Good-night."

Ralph was touched, and went up to his room, for the first time that day sorry he was going; but soon the glorious life before him caused him to forget tender thoughts, and he got into bed longing for the night to be over and his adventures to begin. While he was lying wide awake, unable to sleep through excitement, he heard his mother's step outside the door, and in another minute she came in.

"My little son--nay, not so little after all, but to me always my little son--I have come to wish thee good-night, and to say farewell; for to-morrow we must all be busy, and I cannot then say what I would say now. Thy father hath told thee what appertains to knighthood, I would fain tell thee of what concerneth thy soul--albeit this also belongeth more to Sir Thomas Merlin's office; but a mother's words are always blessed, if God guideth her, as He surely doth. Remember always to say thy prayers, night and morning; and pray not only in thy words and memory, but with the real fervour of a thinking heart. Repeat not simply set sentences, but think of thy daily needs, and daily sins, and lay all before God. Be mindful to give thanks in thy prayers, for gratitude is the sign of a gentle heart. Remember, also, always to be generous to the poor; if thou gainest riches, give freely to those who need, for in so doing, thou layest up treasure in heaven. Help the weak, the widow, and the fatherless, and in all thy youthful strength and rejoicing, forget not the sick, the miserable, and those in grievous dolour. Avoid all bad words; be cleanly of speech, as well as of life; and think ever on thy Blessed Lord, the saints, and thy mother. And, lastly, be courteous, obedient, and humble. Be gay and light-hearted, as becometh youth, but never let wine overcome thee, or the temptations of the tavern and the dice-box. Avoid all boastfulness, but let thine arm and hand ever maintain thy word, as is fit for one who professeth arms, which is a calling honoured of Heaven, in the person of those puissant captains of Rome, the captain of the Italian company, and the captain that confessed our Blessed Lord. Now, good-night, fair son, and may God bless thee. I have brought thee a little purse; it containeth some small pieces that may procure thee favour with thy companions when thou meetest with them. Humphrey hath charge of thy wardrobe and body-linen, and will see to thy proper furnishing as one of gentle birth and fair lineage. God bless thee, my son, and bring thee back to us, as thy noble father said, 'a very gentle, perfect knight,' and, better still, bring thee, and all of us, to that rest above, where there is no more fighting--no more parting."

So saying, the sweet lady bent down and kissed her son with fervent love, and left him to his thoughts.

The next morning all were astir early--Ralph among the earliest. The worthy Abbot said Mass, assisted by the excellent Chaplain, Sir Thomas Merlin, and after breakfast the preparations for departure were completed.

The little cavalcade came round to the front of the old mansion, and a pretty scene it made. There were the sumpter horses of the Abbot and his two servants; Humphrey, and the baggage horse of Master Ralph; and Ralph's new present, the handsome charger, newly harnessed with new saddle and gay housings. Behind, mounted on Ralph's pony, was the young girl, while her father stood by her side ready to lead the pony, for Lady Lisle had bethought her of them, and had persuaded the Abbot to let them journey with him as far as Winchester, at least, although that worthy prelate was much averse to taking stray waifs in his train.

Ralph was already dressed in a new suit of clothes. Three suits had already been made, and more were to follow, if it was found that he was not dressed suitably to his rank and companions. And very handsome he looked in his gay attire. He wore a velvet bonnet on one side of his head, his wavy hair falling on each side of his free, merry face; a little linen collar was round his neck, and a close-fitting tunic of parti-coloured cloth, puffed at the shoulders and elbows, and pleated down the front and back below the chest and shoulder blades, was fastened round his waist by a leathern belt, from which hung a wallet and a poignard. Tight-fitting hose clad his well-formed legs, and were of different colours, according to the fashion of the time, on each leg. He held his falcon on fist, and carried a little riding-whip in his left hand. A riding-cloak was strapped over the pommel of his saddle, from which also hung some saddle bags containing a few needful articles for the journey and for immediate use.

All the household had come out to see the start.

The Abbot took leave of his kinsfolk, giving them his benediction, and promising to care well for their son. He then mounted his horse with the aid of his varlets, for he was a large and portly ecclesiastic, and, when mounted, presented a very majestic and dignified appearance in his white Cistercian cassock, with its black scapular hood and cloak, with a square, rather high black cap on his head.

"Come, cousin Ralph, haste thee, the day grows apace, and we should be at Winton before noon or little after."

Ralph had gone up to his father, and knelt down to receive his blessing, saying,--

"Farewell, my noble father, when I come again may I find thee and my lady mother well and in good state, and may I do naught that will bring dolour on thy life."

"Amen, fair son. Go and do valiantly--and the God of thy fathers go with thee."

Rising up, Ralph embraced his father and mother, took leave of his brothers and the servants, and mounted his horse. His heels were armed with spurs, and, touching the animal's flank he caused him to rear and paw the air.

"Marry, the lad sits the horse like a man of thirty. He will do well, and gain himself a name."

The cavalcade now turned off down the glade and disappeared round a bend of the ride, Ralph waving his cap as a last adieu.

"Well, fair wife, so our fledgling hath flown, let us get indoors and pray to God for His mercy."