The Armourer's Prentices

by Charlotte M. Yonge

She was standing at her door looking out anxiously, and as she saw him she threw up her hands in thanksgiving to our Lady that here he was at last, and then turned to scold him. “O lad, lad, what a night thou hast given me! I trusted at least that thou hadst wit to keep out of a fray and to let the poor aliens alone, thou that art always running after yonder old Spaniard. Hey! what now? Did they fall on him! Fie! Shame on them!—a harmless old man like that.”

“Yea, good aunt, and what is more, they have slain him, I fear me, outright.”

Amidst many a “good lack” and exclamation of pity and indignation from Perronel, Ambrose told his tale of that strange night, and entreated her to come with him to do what was possible for Abenali and his daughter. She hesitated a little; her kind heart was touched, but she hardly liked to leave her house, in case her husband should come in, as he generally contrived to do in the early morning, now that the Cardinal’s household was lodged so near her. Sheltered as she was by the buildings of the Temple, she had heard little or nothing of the noise of the riot, though she had been alarmed at her nephew’s absence, and an officious neighbour had run in to tell her first that the prentice lads were up and sacking the houses of the strangers, and next that the Tower was firing on them, and the Lord Mayor’s guard and the gentlemen of the Inns of Court were up in arms to put them down. She said several times, “Poor soul!” and “Yea, it were a shame to leave her to the old Dutchkin,” but with true Flemish deliberation she continued her household arrangements, and insisted that the bowl of broth, which she set on the table, should be partaken of by herself and Ambrose before she would stir a step. “Not eat! Now out on thee, lad! what good dost thou think thou or I can do if we come in faint and famished, where there’s neither bite nor sup to be had? As for me, not a foot will I budge, till I have seen thee empty that bowl. So to it, my lad! Thou hast been afoot all night, and lookst so grimed and ill-favoured a varlet that no man would think thou camest from an honest wife’s house. Wash thee at the pail! Get thee into thy chamber and put on clean garments, or I’ll not walk the street with thee! ’Tis not safe—thou wilt be put in ward for one of the rioters.”

Everybody who entered that little house obeyed Mistress Randall, and Ambrose submitted, knowing it vain to resist, and remembering the pursuit he had recently escaped; yet the very refreshment of food and cleanliness revealed to him how stiff and weary were his limbs, though he was in no mood for rest. His uncle appeared at the door just as he had hoped Perronel was ready.

“Ah! there’s one of you whole and safe!” he exclaimed. “Where is the other?”

“Stephen?” exclaimed Ambrose. “I saw him last in Warwick Inner Yard.” And in a few words he explained. Hal Randall shook his head. “May all be well,” he exclaimed, and then he told how Sir Thomas Parr had come at midnight and roused the Cardinal’s household with tidings that all the rabble of London were up, plundering and murdering all who came in their way, and that he had then ridden on to Richmond to the King with the news. The Cardinal had put his house into a state of defence, not knowing against whom the riot might be directed—and the jester had not been awakened till too late to get out to send after his wife, besides which, by that time, intelligence had come in that the attack was directed entirely on the French and Spanish merchants and artificers in distant parts of the city and suburbs, and was only conducted by lads with no better weapons than sticks, so that the Temple and its precincts were in no danger at all.

The mob had dispersed of its own accord by about three or four o’clock, but by that hour the Mayor had got together a force, the Gentlemen of the Inns of Court and the Yeomen of the Tower were up in arms, and the Earl of Shrewsbury had come in with a troop of horse. They had met the rioters, and had driven them in herds like sheep to the different prisons, after which Lord Shrewsbury had come to report to the Cardinal that all was quiet, and the jester having gathered as much intelligence as he could, had contrived to slip into the garments that concealed his motley, and to reach home. He gave ready consent to Perronel’s going to the aid of the sufferers in Warwick Inner Yard, especially at the summons of the Dean of St. Paul’s, and even to her bringing home the little wench. Indeed, he would escort her thither himself for he was very anxious about Stephen, and Ambrose was so dismayed by the account he gave as to reproach himself extremely for having parted company with his brother, and never having so much as thought of him as in peril, while absorbed in care for Abenali. So the three set out together, when no doubt the sober, solid appearance which Randall’s double suit of apparel and black gown gave him, together with his wife’s matronly and respectable look, were no small protection to Ambrose, for men-at-arms were prowling about the streets, looking hungry to pick up straggling victims, and one actually stopped Randall to interrogate him as to who the youth was, and what was his errand.

Before St. Paul’s they parted, the husband and wife going towards Warwick Inner Yard, whither Ambrose, fleeter of foot, would follow, so soon as he had ascertained at the Dragon court whether Stephen was at home.

Alas! at the gate he was hailed with the inquiry whether he had seen his brother or Giles. The whole yard was disorganised, no work going on. The lads had not been seen all night, and the master himself had in the midst of his displeasure and anxiety been summoned to the Guildhall. The last that was known was Giles’s rescue, and the assault on Alderman Mundy. Smallbones and Steelman had both gone in different directions to search for the two apprentices, and Dennet, who had flown down unheeded and unchecked at the first hope of news, pulled Ambrose by the sleeve, and exclaimed, “Oh! Ambrose, Ambrose! they can never hurt them! They can never do any harm to our lads, can they?”

Ambrose hoped for the same security, but in his dismay, could only hurry after his uncle and aunt.