“You will come and hear us sing our ‘merrie katches’ from the tower, sweet ladies.  They should sound sweetly this year, more sweetly than ever, for we have improved in our methods, and our boys have been better taught since Master Radley of Cardinal College has given us his help; and he will come and sing with us, and he hath a voice like a silver bell.”

The speaker was Arthur Cole, a student of Magdalen College, who was now a frequent visitor at the Bridge House.  He was a young man of good family and prospects, nearly related to one of the proctors of the university.  He had a good presence, an elegant figure, and was master of many favourite sports and pastimes.  He kept horses and dogs and falcons, and had several servants lodging in the town to look after these creatures, and to attend him when he sallied forth in search of sport.  Moreover, he had recently introduced into Oxford the Italian game of “calcio” (of which more anon), and was one of the most popular and important men of his college.  He was always dressed with great care and elegance, although he was no fop; and he was so handsome and so merry withal that all who knew him regarded him with favour, and his friendship was regarded as a sort of passport to the best circle of university life.

Freda and Magdalen answered his appeal with smiling glances.  They were holding one of their little mimic courts in the garden by the river.  Their father had been reading and discoursing with sundry students, who came to him for instruction more individual and particular than could be given in the schools in the earlier part of the day; and the young men before leaving always sought to gain speech with the two fair sisters, who were generally at this hour to be found in the garden.

Arthur Cole, Anthony Dalaber, and Hugh Fitzjames, their cousin, had lingered to the last, and now were talking of the joustings and merry makings of the approaching May Day, which was ushered in by the melodious concert from the summit of Magdalen College tower.

In olden days this was not a sacred selection of hymns, but madrigals, roundelays, and “merrie katches,” as the old chroniclers term them, sung by the boys maintained for the musical part of the daily service, and by such singing men or musically inclined students as were willing and able to help.  Anthony Dalaber, who possessed an excellent voice, which he often employed in the service of Cardinal College Chapel, had been invited to assist this year; and a new singing man from that college, Stephen Radley by name, was considered a great acquisition.

This man had not long been in Oxford, and had been sent by the cardinal himself on account of his remarkable voice.  He did not live in the college itself, but in a lodging near at hand, and equally near to Magdalen College.  Arthur Cole, foremost to discover talent and appreciate it, and attracted by the fine presence and muscular development of the singer, had struck up a friendship with him, and Dalaber had followed his example in this.

“Radley will lead off the madrigal to springtide and love,” he cried, “which erstwhile has been spoiled for lack of a voice that can be heard alone from such a height.  I trow it will ring through the soft air like a silver trumpet.  You will be there to hear?” and his eyes dwelt upon the face of Freda, whilst those of Arthur rested more particularly upon that of Magdalen.

“Ah, yes, we shall certainly be there,” they both answered; and Freda added gaily, “Albeit ye begin the day somewhat early.  But why should we not be up with the sun on Merrie May Day?”

“Why not, indeed?” questioned Arthur eagerly, “for the day will scarce be long enough for all there is to do.  You will come to the sports in the meadows later, fair maidens?  And I have a favour to ask of you twain.  May I be bold enough to proffer it now?”

They looked at him with smiling, questioning eyes.

“A favour, fair sir?”

“Yes, truly; for I would ask of you to be witness to our contest of calcio in yonder green meadow, and to present to the victors the garlands of laurel and flowers which are to be their reward who shall come off triumphant in the strife.  No contest is so keenly contested as that which is watched by the bright eyes of fair ladies, and I would ask that ye be the queens of the strife, and reward the victorious company with your own fair hands.”

The girls assented gladly and gaily.  They had heard much of this newly-introduced game, and were curious to witness it.  The more ancient sports of quintain, on land and water, morris dancing, quarterstaff, archery, and such like, were all familiar enough.  But calcio was something of a novelty; and to be chosen as the queens of the contest was no small pleasure, and their eyes beamed with gratification and delight.

Arthur Cole was equally pleased at having won their consent, and told them how that a fine pavilion would be erected in the meadow, where they and their friends could survey the scene at ease, protected alike from the heat of the sun, or from falling showers, should any betide.  It was plain that this spectacle was to be on a decidedly magnificent scale.  Arthur Cole was said to have expended much money upon the rich dresses of the players; now he spoke of a pavilion for the selected bystanders.  It promised to be quite a fresh excitement for the university.

Dalaber and Cole went away together slightly later, and Hugh Fitzjames remained to supper with his kinsfolks.

“Anthony has taken a mighty liking for yonder fine gentleman of late,” remarked the youth.  “They are ever together now.  Well, he might do worse for a friend.  Master Cole is one of the richest students in Oxford.”

“That is not what attracts Anthony, though,” spoke Freda.  “I think it has been this new game, into which Anthony has thrown himself with such zest.  Perhaps it is good for him to have other things than his books to think of.  A short while back he was ever poring over the written page and burning the midnight oil.  You said so yourself, Hugh.”

“Yes, verily; and I have no quarrel with him for it.  I think he is safer playing calcio with Cole than for ever studying the books he gets from Clarke and his friends, as he has been doing of late.”

“Safer?” questioned Freda quickly; “how safer, Hugh?”

“Oh, well, you must know what Anthony is like by this time.  He can never take aught quietly as other men.  There are scores here in Oxford ­I am one of them myself ­who believe in liberty to think and read what we will, and to judge for ourselves between man and man, even when Holy Church herself is in the question.  God can be ill served in the church as well as the monarch on his throne.  We are not counted rebels and traitors because we condemn a minister of state; why, then, are we to be counted heretics and the scum of the earth because we see the evils and corruption in the lives of cardinals and clergy?

“But to return to Dalaber.  He is never content with just quiet thinking and study; he is all in a flame, and must cry aloud from the housetops, if it were not that he is restrained by others.  He came from London in a perfect ferment.  I trembled to think what he would do next.  But as luck would have it, Cole got hold of him to take a vacant place in his own band for calcio, and since then he has been using his muscles rather than his brain, and an excellent good thing, too.  He is just the man to get into trouble with the authorities, albeit he may not hold half the ‘hérésies’ of others who escape.”

“It is his way to throw himself heart and soul into everything he undertakes,” spoke Freda, with a certain quiet satisfaction and approval.  “I think he never stops to count the cost, but tries to see the right path, and to pursue it to the end.”

“Yes, but he might sometimes show a little more discretion with his zeal,” answered Hugh, with a half laugh.  “I have a great liking for Anthony myself.  No man could share his chamber and lack that.  He is the best of comrades, and he has fine qualities and plenty of courage.  But there are times when I fear he will be his own undoing.  When he disputes in the schools he will often tread perilously near some ‘pestilent heresy,’ as the masters would deem it, or show by some of his arguments that he has a dangerous knowledge of forbidden books.  Just now things are quiet in Oxford, and not much notice is taken.  But who knows how long the calm may last?  London has been set in a commotion of late, and is it likely that Oxford will escape, with the cardinal’s eyes fixed upon his college here?”

“At least let us hope and pray that we may be spared persecution,” spoke Magdalen gravely.  “Yet truly I believe that were such misfortune to befall us, Anthony Dalaber would be one of those who would stand the test of his faith with constancy and courage.”

“He would, up to a certain point, I doubt not,” answered Hugh.  “He would go to the stake, I believe, without flinching, were he taken and sent there straight.  But if put in prison, and kept there long, separated from his friends and teachers, and subjected to argument and persuasion and specious promises, well, I know not how he would stand that trial.  Kindness and flattery might win him over, where threats and cruelty failed.”

Freda’s face was gravely intent.  She was conscious of a growing interest in and affection for Anthony Dalaber since his own fervent declaration of love towards herself.  She had given him no definite promise, but she felt that henceforth their lives must of necessity be more or less linked together.  She could not be indifferent to aught that concerned him; the stability of his faith and of his character must mean very much to her in the future.

But for the moment it was difficult to think of these things.  Joyous springtide was on the world; May Day, with all its gay doings, was close at hand; and graver thoughts or anxious fears alike seemed out of place.

The girls were up with the lark on May Day morning, donning their holiday robes of white taffeta and spotless lawn, cunningly embroidered by their own skilful fingers, Freda’s in silver and Magdalen’s in gold thread.  They each had girdles of silver and gold cord respectively, and snowy headgear embroidered in like fashion.  They looked as fresh and as lovely as the morning itself, and their father’s eyes shone with loving pride as they presented themselves before him.

“We grow young again in our children,” he said, as they sallied forth just as the east was growing rosy with the harbinger of dawn.

The dew lay thick upon the grass, whitening it with a glittering mantle; but the paths were dry and firm, and the girls held up their dainty draperies and tripped along so lightly that their white leather embroidered shoes gathered no soil by the way.  Then, just as the clock of Cardinal College boomed out the hour, a chorus of sweet, clear voices up high in the air broke into merry song, just as the first early sunbeam struck across the sky, and lighted up the group of singers half hidden behind the low battlements.

The meadows below were thronged with gownsmen from the various colleges, as well as by crowds of townsfolk, all in holiday attire, who had streamed out of the gates to hear the singing.  Later in the day there might probably be brawling and disputes betwixt the two parties ­“town and gown,” as they were later dubbed.  But the early morning hour seemed to impose peace upon all spirits, and there was no hooting or brawling or rioting of any kind; but a decorous silence was observed, all faces being lifted upwards, as the sweet strains came floating from above, seeming to welcome the dawning day and the joyous season of sunshine and love.

“That must surely be Stephen Radley,” spoke Freda in a whisper, as one voice, more rich and mellow than the others, seemed to detach itself and float upwards in a flood of melody.  All eyes were fixed aloft, all ears strained to catch the sounds.  The power and extraordinary sweetness of the voice held the multitude spellbound.

“The cardinal’s new singing man!” was the whisper passed from mouth to mouth; and when at length the singers emerged from the little door at the base of the tower, there were many who crowded round Radley to compliment him upon his wonderful performance.

It was quite a long time before the sisters caught sight of him, and then he was walking arm-in-arm with Master Clarke, who, catching sight of the little group, brought him straight up to them and presented him.

Radley was dressed in academic garb, like all the members of the university.  He looked about five-and-twenty years old, was a tall and finely proportioned man, deep chested and muscular, with a gravely deferential manner that was pleasing and modest.

Arthur Cole and Anthony Dalaber came hastening up to join the group, and presently it broke up somewhat, and thus Magdalen found herself walking towards home with Clarke, whilst the others followed as they chose, having been asked by Dr. Langton to partake of a cold collation at his house, which had been carefully spread overnight by the hands of the girls themselves.

“He has a wonderful voice,” said Magdalen, with a slight backward glance over her shoulder towards Radley; “who is he, and whence does he come?”

“He sang as a boy in one of those grammar schools which the cardinal is now interesting himself so much to promote.  But when he lost his boy’s voice he was not able to remain at the school, and has since been a servant in several great houses.  He obtained a position in the cardinal’s house last year, and it was there that the great man heard him singing over his work, and had him brought before him.  Finding that he had some learning, and was eager for more, he decided to appoint him as singing man at his own college here, and to let him continue his studies as well.  I trow that he would have willingly made him one of the petty canons, but Radley declined that honour.  He has no call to the priesthood, he says; and in truth he has heard much in London of the Association of Christian Brothers, and has read many of the forbidden books.

“Indeed, I think I may call him one of them.  I am not afraid to tell you this, Mistress Magdalen, for I know your heart is full of sympathy for us, who are seekers after purer truth than we can always find amongst those who are set to dispense it to us.”

The girl’s eyes were full of sympathy and earnest interest.

“Indeed, I would fain see all men longing after light and truth.  God is Light, and God is Truth; His Son came as the Light of the world.  He must desire all men to seek the Light.  And if His church does not shine with it as it should, men must needs try to add to her light, each in his own measure.”

Magdalen looked with the greater interest at Radley after having heard what John Clarke spoke of him.  He sat beside Dalaber at table, and the two seemed on intimate terms.

Arthur Cole was beside her, and took up much of her attention.  His admiration was almost openly expressed, and the girl sometimes blushed at his gallant compliments.  She liked the gay-hearted young man, but she was not so much attracted towards him as towards Clarke and those more thoughtful spirits.  Still, she was not proof against the fascination of his courtly address, and she listened with interest to his account of the game he had learned in Italy and had introduced to England, and which bears so close a resemblance to our modern game of football that it may well be regarded as its parent.

This was the first regular match that had been played at Oxford, and considerable excitement prevailed as to what it would be like, and how the players would distinguish themselves.

The forenoon hours, however, were mainly given up to the usual pastimes of May Day.  Children decked with garlands and flowers chose their queen, and crowned her amid the plaudits of the people.  Morris dancers footed it upon the green, and miracle plays were enacted by wandering troops of mummers.  There were booths set up, where a sort of fair was held, and sweetmeats and drink dispensed.  An ox was being roasted whole in one place, where dinners were served at midday, and trials of strength and skill went on uninterruptedly in the wide meadows round the city, some being the property of the town, and others of the university.

On the whole, however, the spirit of concord prevailed, and there was less fighting and brawling than usual between the two parties; and when, after the short pause for the midday repast, the students and masters and all interested in the spectacle hastened to the spot where the game of calcio was to be played, great numbers of the townsfolk flocked there also, and were neither hustled nor jeered by the gowned concourse in the inner circle.

There was something distinctly sumptuous in the pavilion which had been raised for a certain number of spectators of the better class, and there was quite a buzz and acclamation as the two beautiful sisters were seen to ascend the few steps and take their places on the centre seats, which had something of the aspect of a throne.  They were very well known in Oxford, not for their beauty alone, but for their gentleness and charity, being always ready to succour the sick and afflicted, and to visit with their own presence any stricken houses where trouble of any kind had entered.  So that not only the gownsmen but the townsmen were ready to welcome them with cheers, and to acclaim them eagerly as the queens of the day.

And now the players came streaming out from another pavilion on the opposite side of the ground, and exclamations of wonder and admiration arose at the picturesque magnificence of their dress.  Arthur Cole had had these garments fashioned in Italy and brought over, and very gorgeous did he and his companions look.

The lower limbs of the players were encased in woven silk tights, which were thick and strong and elastic.  On their feet they wore soft tanned shoes, made all in one piece and fitting closely to the foot.  They wore woven silk shirts of fine texture, and over these belted tunics of rich brocade or embroidered linen or any other costly and elastic material.  Arthur Cole’s own tunic (as captain of his side) was of cloth of gold; whilst that of Dalaber was of white and silver brocade, with silver lacings.  The colours of the two sides were displayed in the calzone or silk tights, these being blue and white for Arthur’s side, and red and white for Dalaber’s.  They wore knitted silk caps upon their heads, white and blue or red and blue according to their company, and long gauntlet gloves of soft tanned skin, almost white in colour, and laced with the colour appropriate to the player.

A murmur of admiration ran through the spectators as these tall, lithe, muscular youths stepped forth into the bright sunshine of the playing field; and soon all eyes were intently watching the evolutions of the game, which was very much like that of our modern football, though played with more grace and less of brute force and violence.

Not a great many of the spectators understood the details of the contest, but they cheered lustily when any side seemed to score an advantage.  The rainbow-hued living mass seemed to sway and melt and break up into coloured spray, and join again and roll from side to side like a living creature; and its evolutions were followed with keenest interest by all spectators, and by cheering and shouts of warning or encouragement from those who understood the game, and knew which way the tide was turning.

At last the contest ended.  Arthur Cole’s side had come out victorious in the struggle; but so gallant a stand had been made by the other, that Anthony Dalaber was called up to receive a laurel crown in token of his prowess and skill.

He looked very handsome as he stood before Freda, whilst she lightly set the chaplet on his head, whence after a few moments he removed it and laid it at her feet.

“That is the place where I would fain lay all my honours and all my gains,” he said in a low, passionate whisper, and she felt a wave of hot blood rising in her cheek at his words and at the ardent look in his eyes.

She could not doubt this man’s love for her, and she wondered whether it would compel her own love in return.  A short while back she had regarded him rather in the light of a comrade or brother; but now she felt that a change had come over their relations, and that he would not be satisfied with the sisterly affection of the past.  Had she more to give him?  She scarcely knew herself as yet; and still, as she revolved the matter in her mind, she felt more and more convinced that without Anthony Dalaber her life would be colourless and cold.

His eagerness brought an element into it which she could not well spare.  He was becoming a sort of necessity to her.  She thought of him almost constantly, yearned over him, desired above all things to see him rise to the level of greatness in any trial which might come upon him.  If that were love, then surely she loved him.

The thought was not without a mingling of sweetness and pain.  She put it from her for the time being; but when the day was over, and the sisters were alone together in their bed chamber, taking off their finery and brushing out their long tresses of hair, it was Magdalen’s own words that brought the matter back, as she softly kissed her sister, whispering: 

“How Anthony loves you, Freda!”

“I truly think he does, Magda,” answered she, taking her sister’s hands and leaning her brow against them.  “In sooth he has told me so; but at the first I thought perhaps it was but a passing fancy ­we have been so much together of late.  Now I truly think that he does care.  Magda, what shall I say to him?  He will not be long in pressing for his answer.”

“Does not your own heart tell you, Freda?  Can we love and not know it?  Tell me that, for I too would fain know.  There are so many sorts of love.  Can one always judge aright?”

“Dost thou feel that too, my Magda?  Verily, I have thought that Master Cole ­”

Magda put her hand upon her sister’s lips; her face was all one great blush.

“Nay, nay; that is but fantasy.  He has a kindly word for all who please his eye.  It may be one today and another tomorrow.  He is a pleasant comrade; but ­”

“But not the man of thy choice, sweet sister?”

“How can I tell yet?  We have not known him long time.  And I love better those who talk of higher things than games and songs and pastimes.  But the men of books and earnest thought are devoted so oft to the church.  And those who are left ­one cannot tell.  They are brave and winsome and gay; but more than that is wanted in a husband, Freda.  Ah, it is hard for us maidens to know.”

And sitting with arms entwined, the sisters spoke freely and fully to each other of all the things that were in their hearts, and prayed that they might be guided aright in matters which pertained to the life they must look forward to living in the world.