as well as I could, to acquire accomplishments which qualified youths of gentle blood for knighthood and the honours of chivalry.
My success was greater than might have been anticipated, under the circumstances. Excluded from the training bestowed in feudal castles on the sons of nobles and knights, my disadvantages were obvious. But patience and perseverance always will do much; and I set myself deliberately to acquire skill and dexterity in the use of the sword, and riding at the ring and the quintain; and, with instructions from my grandsire, I soon found my patience and perseverance rewarded. At the exercise of quintain, especially, I was so perfect a performer, in my own opinion, that I was all eagerness for an opportunity of proving my superiority. When, therefore, I learned that, on the day of St. John the Baptist, the Londoners of my own age, or thereabouts, were to compete for the peacock, in the presence of the Prince of Wales, I insisted on my grandsire conducting me to the capital, that I might display my proficiency in public, and that I might advance my fortune by exhibiting, under the eye of England's heir, the skill and dexterity which I had acquired by constant exercise among the trees that shadowed our quiet grange.
Naturally enough, the result was flattering to my juvenile vanity; and the events of the day on which I won the peacock made a strong impression on my mind. It opened up to me views of life with which I was previously quite unacquainted, and quickened my desire to begin my career in earnest. My life of obscurity became more and more distasteful. Even the lot of forest outlaws seemed infinitely preferable to mine; and while I essayed to look cheerful as I drove out the cows to the meadows, and talked to the hinds as they gathered the harvest into the barns, I was bitterly cursing the Lord De Ov for cutting short my interview with the prince, and, in melancholy mood, tasking my ingenuity to discover some way of again bringing myself under his notice.
At this season, Thomelin of Winchester happened to visit our homestead, and was welcomed with the hospitality due to a friend and kinsman.
"And what news bringest thou, Thomelin?" asked my grandsire.
"None likely to cheer thy heart," answered the host of the Falcon. "Thou knowest the Vipseys, in Yorkshire?"
"Ay do I," said my grandsire; "they are brooks that rise every other year out of springs, and rush rapidly to the sea near the promontory called Flamborough."
"And thou knowest," continued Thomelin, "that their drying up is deemed a good sign, and that their running is held to be a sure presage of famine or pestilence?"
"I have so heard in other days," said my grandsire contemptuously; "but then, again, I have known them run, and better run, and neither plague nor famine come in consequence."
"Anyhow," said Thomelin, not caring to dispute the point, "we are almost certain to have more war."
"More war?" exclaimed my grandsire.
"By my faith," said Thomelin, "little doubt can there be as to that. Think how matters now stand. King Edward makes a peace with Philip of Valois, and, not just in the best humour, comes home; and no sooner is his back turned than Philip causes twelve knights of Brittany – all our king's friends and allies – to be arrested, without rhyme or reason, and beheaded without trial."
"Ho, ho!" exclaimed my grandsire.
"Well," continued Thomelin, "all the kinsmen of the murdered men have taken up arms; and Godfrey Harcourt, one of the great lords of Normandy, has come to England, and got a promise from King Edward to avenge them. Everybody who knows aught of King Edward knows what that means."
"Doubtless," said my grandsire, "it means such a war as has not been seen in thy time."
"And," added Thomelin, "when we have more war, trust me, we will have more taxes, and already they are hard enough to bear. And yet, if King Edward would just make up his mind, instead of being longer fooled by foreigners, as he has been, to take an English army to the Continent, I see not why war should not turn out both to the honour and profit of the nation."
"I hold with you, kinsman," said I, sliding into the conversation; "and beshrew me if aught would be more to my mind than to cross the narrow seas, to fight the braggart Frenchmen."
"You would fain see something of war, then, Arthur?" observed Thomelin, startled at my enthusiasm.
"Yes," replied I, in a tone of decision. "Life, at the longest, is but short; and, to me, every day seems wasted that I pass in obscurity."
It was while my mind was wholly bent on this subject – while I was brooding over the past, and panting to penetrate the future – that Fortune, as if in compassion, threw in my way a great opportunity, and enabled me, under favourable auspices, to commence the arduous enterprise of climbing the ladder of life.
CHAPTER V
JACK FLETCHER
It was a warm day in the month of September – one of those autumnal days when the sun still shines in all its vigour – and my grandsire, with me as his companion, was leaning on his staff, strolling about in the neighbourhood of his homestead, and grumbling somewhat savagely at the rapacity of the royal purveyors, by whom we had recently, to our consternation and our cost, been visited; when we were suddenly roused by the tramp of a horse's hoofs, and, looking round, found ourselves face to face with a cavalier of thirty-five whose dress and demeanour at once proclaimed him a man of high rank.
I confess, indeed, that I was lost in admiration, and stood silent with surprise. The stranger was by far the most striking personage I had ever seen, and, in point of appearance, even rivalled the imaginary heroes of my boyish day-dreams. He was about six feet in height, and in the flower of manhood, with a figure admirably proportioned, long-drawn features, a thoughtful brow, a noble air, and an eye bright with valour and intelligence. His aspect indicated more than regal pride, modified, however, by frankness of spirit; and as he approached, with a hawk on his wrist, a bugle at his girdle, and two hounds running at his horse's feet, his bearing was easy as well as dignified, and he accosted my grandsire with the tone of one who had at once the right to command and the privilege to be familiar.
"Good-day, friend," said he, reining in his steed.
"Sir, good-day," replied my grandsire briefly, and with an indifference in accent and manner to which it was evident the other was unaccustomed.
"I have lost my way in the forest," remarked the cavalier, after a pause, during which he appeared to reflect; "and yet methinks I should not consider that a misfortune, since it has conducted me to so pleasant a spot."
"Yes," replied my grandsire, "I thank God that my lines have fallen in a pleasant place."
"And your lot is, therefore, to be envied by men who dwell in king's palaces."
"Mayhap it might," said my grandsire; "but that the exactions of the king's men are so unjust and oppressive."
"Ha!" exclaimed the stranger, as if in a tone of inquiry.
"Yes," continued my grandsire resolutely, "never in my time has there been anything to compare to it, albeit this is the fourth reign in which I have lived. Did King Edward but know of the tyranny and rapacity exercised in his name, and that his subjects live in dread of the purveyor's horn, he would take such order that the commons should no longer be so outrageously plundered."
"Doubtless," replied the cavalier, "the king would do what is right and lawful."
"I would that I had some talk with him," said my grandsire. "I could tell him many things that he is little likely to hear from knight or noble."
"Expound your grievances to me," said
