The afternoons were spent either in attendance on their lord, or in private amusements and exercises of their own. No one of the pages was allowed out of the precincts of the castle without Sir John Trenchard's leave, but this was usually very easily obtained.
So passed the days in healthy exercise and wholesome occupation. There had been many little bickerings, and even personal struggles between the pages, but, boy-like, they had been brief, and, on the whole, the life was very pleasant. Ralph had ridden over with Maurice Woodville to pay his relatives a visit at Briddlesford. They had met his fair cousin, who was riding out to fly her hawk; and as they accompanied her to a high hill, whence a lovely view was obtained all over the Solent and far inland from the New Forest and Beaulieu on the left to Chichester and even the hills above Arundel on the right, they were surprised to meet one of the Breton, or French Knights, as they called them, riding out there, quite unattended.
There had been much talk about the business of these Bretons with the Captain of the Island. Merchant ships, bringing salt and other commodities to Newport from Nantes and St Malo, had reported how unsettled was the state of Brittany, how the Duke of Orleans and the Prince of Orange, both nephews of the old Duke of Brittany, had fled to him, to his castle of Malestroit, and how the armies of the King of France, who was himself but a boy, but whose affairs were wonderfully managed by that very wise and puissant lady the Dame de Beaujeu, his sister, had entered the country, and how all would go to utter ruin, unless King Henry sent force of knights and men-at-arms to assist the Duke of Brittany and his fair young daughter the Duchess Anne. Such news was bruited abroad, and there was no young knight in England who did not burn with ardour to lay lance in rest for so great a princess, and against the hereditary foe of England. All men knew, therefore, that the Sire de Kervignac and the Vicomte de la Roche Guemené were come to solicit men-at-arms and archers, and there was not one of the garrison of Carisbroke Castle who did not heartily wish they might succeed, and perhaps no one wished it more than Master Eustace Bowerman.
After the customary courtesies had been exchanged, Mistress Yolande urged the two pages to fly their hawks at a heron, which was busily feeding on the rich weeds far out on the mud at the mouth of a creek called King's Quay. The boys, nothing loth, cast off their birds, and rode eagerly after them. But whether it were that the wood was too thick, or the country too rough, the lady did not follow them, while the knight stayed, as in duty bound, to escort her, and so the boys lost sight of them for the rest of the afternoon. And not only did they suffer this disappointment, but, what was almost worse, Ralph's falcon killed the bird, but fell with it so far out on the mud that it was impossible to get at it, although the boys did everything they could to urge their dogs to go on to the treacherous slime, and bring the quarry to land. The tide was quite low, and they had to give up all hopes of obtaining more sport. It was with much difficulty, and after long waiting, that they were able to get the falcon to fly back to fist, for it was taught not to leave its prey until some one came to take it. When at last they did recover the bird, the afternoon was too far advanced for them to return by Briddlesford to inquire after Mistress Yolande, and bid good-bye to Sir William de Lisle, which Ralph would dearly have liked to do; and he was, besides, in such a state of mud from having tried to recover the bird, that they thought it best to return to Carisbroke without being seen by any one. Riding home as fast as they could, they made a détour, to avoid passing through Newport, and reached the castle just before the gates were shut for the evening. When they got back, and related the events of the afternoon, they found Eustace Bowerman, who was already sulky enough at not having been asked by Ralph to accompany him instead of Maurice Woodville, in a towering temper.
"You blind moles," he growled, "why did ye not cleave to Mistress Lisle and that jackanapes of a Frenchman? What geese ye must have been, to have been shaken off like that. But I'll talk to that jackanapes anon, that I will. What does he mean by coming over here and sporting in our covers?" and Eustace Bowerman flung himself out of his chair, and went to the oriel window, which looked out into the courtyard of the castle.
"I' faith, Eustace, my Trojan, don't you call me a goose again," said Ralph good-humouredly, but with a determination in his tone.
"And prythee why not?" said Eustace, who was glad of anything to vent his ill-humour upon. "None but a goose would show the white feather as you did, riding away from that dandified Frenchman."
"I never showed the white feather yet," said Maurice hotly, "and if you say that I did, you lie in your throat."
Eustace was not in a humour to take things quietly. In a passion at these words of Maurice, he rushed across the room, and would have flung himself upon him, had not Ralph put out his foot, and tripped him up. He fell heavily to the ground, greeted by a roar of laughter from Dicky Cheke, who scented the battle from afar, and chuckled at the approaching crisis.
"Oh, cocks and pies, my swaggering imp, look you there! You've split your new trunk hose all down the leg. Fie, man, you're not fit to be seen; run away and get old Gammer Tibet to sew it up for you."