He came back and found Hugh enthusiastic over his new friends.
“The dog, father, a noble beast! I would you had seen him! I warrant me Peter the smith’s son has had enough of fighting to last him a while. He ran like a deer!”
“And how fell it out?”
Thus questioned a long story had to be told of the ill deeds of Peter, who had been the chief offender; and the damage to Hugh’s garments, which Mistress Judith had but hastily caught together, was ruefully exhibited. Stephen shook his head.
“Another time keep thy fighting till a woman is near to back up thy prowess with her needle. Yet—I’ll not blame thee. ’Twould have been a cowardly deed to have suffered that poor beast to be stoned. And at least I can mother thee for these bruises and scratches.”
He fetched some water as he spoke, took out a few dried herbs from a bag, set them in the water on the fire, and as soon as the decoction was ready bathed the boy’s many hurts with a hand as gentle indeed as his mother’s could have been. While this was going on he talked to the child with a freedom which showed them to be more than usually companions in the fullest sense of the word.
“What thinkest thou the good friar hit upon? He thought I might find work at one of the great churches which are rising to perfection in the land. And, Hugh, thou hast heard thy mother speak of Exeter? At Exeter there is much of this going on, and if we could get there, I might obtain the freedom of one of the craft guilds, and apprentice thee.”
“Ay”—doubtfully.
“Well, why that doleful tone?”
“I would be a soldier, father.”