When Harry rode into Oxford with the
news that the Roundheads had made a raid as far as
Abingdon, no time was lost in sounding to boot and
saddle, and in half an hour the Cavalier horse were
trotting briskly in that direction. They entered
Abingdon unopposed, and found to their disgust that
the Roundheads had departed an hour after their arrival.
A party went up to Furness Hall, and found it also
deserted. The Roundheads, in fact, had made but
a flying raid, had carried off one or two of the leading
Royalists in the town, and had, on their retirement,
been accompanied by several of the party favorable
to the Commons, among others, Master Rippinghall and
the greater portion of his men, who had, it was suspected,
been already enrolled for the service of the Parliament.
Some of the Royalists would fain have sacked the house
of the wool-stapler; but Colonel Furness, who had
accompanied the force with his troop, opposed this
vehemently.
“As long as we can,” he
said, “let private houses be respected.
If the Puritans commence, it will be time for us to
retort. There are gentlemen’s mansions
all over the country, many of them in the heart of
Roundhead neighborhoods, and if they had once an excuse
in our proceedings not one of these would be safe
for a minute”
Leaving a strong force of horse in
Abingdon, Prince Rupert returned to Oxford, and Colonel
Furness again settled down in his residence, his troop
dispersing to their farms until required, a small body
only remaining at Furness Hall as a guard, and in
readiness to call the others to arms if necessary.
The colonel warmly approved of the steps that Harry
had taken to save the valuables, and determined that
until the war was at an end these should remain hidden,
as it was probable enough that the chances of the
strife might again lead the Roundheads thither.
“I hope, father,” Harry
Furness said the following day, “that you will
now permit me to join the troop. I am getting
on for sixteen, and could surely bear myself as a
man in the fray.”
“If the time should come, Harry,
when the fortune of war may compel the king to retire
from Oxford which I trust may never be I
would then grant your request, for after your encounter
with the officer who commanded the Roundheads here,
it would not be safe for you to remain behind.
But although you are too young to take part in the
war, I may find you employment. After a council
that was held yesterday at Oxford, I learned, from
one in the king’s secrets, that it was designed
to send a messenger to London with papers of importance,
and to keep up the communication with the king’s
friends in that city. There was some debate as
to who should be chosen. In London, at the present
time, all strangers are closely scrutinized.
Every man is suspicious of his neighbor, and it is
difficult to find one of sufficient trust whose person
is unknown. Then I have thought that maybe you
could well fulfill this important mission. A
boy would be unsuspected, where a man’s every
movement would be watched. There is, of course,
some danger attending the mission, and sharpness and
readiness will be needed. You have shown that
you possess these, by the manner in which you made
your escape from London, and methinks that, did you
offer, your services would be accepted. You would
have, of course, to go in disguise, and to accept
any situation which might appear conformable to your
character and add to your safety.”
Harry at once gladly assented to the
proposal. He was at the age when lads are most
eager for adventure, and he thought that it would be
great fun to be living in London, watching the doings
of the Commons, and, so far as was in his power, endeavoring
to thwart them. Accordingly in the afternoon
he rode over with Sir Henry to Oxford. They dismounted
in the courtyard of the building which served as the
king’s court, and entering, Sir Henry left Harry
in an antechamber, and, craving an audience with his
majesty, was at once ushered into the king’s
cabinet. A few minutes later he returned, and
motioned to Harry to follow him. The latter did
so, and the next moment found himself in the presence
of the king. The latter held out his hand for
the boy to kiss, and Harry, falling on one knee, and
greatly abashed at the presence in which he found
himself, pressed his lips to King Charles’ hand.
“I hear from your father, my
trusty Sir Henry Furness, that you are willing to
adventure your life in our cause, and to go as our
messenger to London, and act there as our intermediary
with our friends. You seem young for so delicate
a work; but your father has told me somewhat of the
manner in which you escaped from the hands of the traitors
at Westminster, and also how you bore yourself in
the affair with the rebels at his residence.
It seems to me, then, that we must not judge your
wisdom by your years, and that we can safely confide
our interests in your hands. Your looks are frank
and boyish, and will, therefore, excite far less suspicion
than that which would attend upon an older and graver-looking
personage. The letters will be prepared for you
to-morrow, and, believe me, should success finally
crown our efforts against these enemies of the crown,
your loyalty and devotion will not be forgotten by
your king.”
He again held out his hand to Harry,
and the boy left the cabinet with his heart burning
with loyalty toward his monarch, and resolved that
life itself should be held cheap if it could be spent
in the service of so gracious and majestic a king.
The next morning a royal messenger
brought out a packet of letters to Furness Hall, and
Harry, mounting with his father and the little body
of horse at the hall, rode toward London. His
attire was that of a country peasant boy. The
letters were concealed in the hollow of a stout ashen
stick which he carried, and which had been slightly
weighted with lead, so that, should it be taken up
by any but its owner, its lightness would not attract
attention. Sir Henry rode with him as far as it
was prudent to do toward the outposts of the Parliament
troops. Then, bidding him a tender farewell,
and impressing upon him the necessity for the utmost
caution, both for his own sake and for that of the
king, he left him.
It was not upon the highroad that
they parted, but near a village some little distance
therefrom. In his pocket Harry had two or three
pieces of silver, and between the soles of his boots
were sewn several gold coins. These he did not
anticipate having to use; but the necessity might
arise when such a deposit would prove of use.
Harry walked quietly through the village, where his
appearance was unnoticed, and then along the road
toward Reading. He soon met a troop of Parliament
horsemen; but as he was sauntering along quietly,
as if merely going from one village to another, no
attention whatever was paid to him, and he reached
Reading without the slightest difficulty. There
he took up his abode for the night at a small hostelry,
mentioning to the host that his master had wanted
him to join the king’s forces, but that he had
no stomach for fighting, and intended to get work
in the town. The following morning he again started,
and proceeded as far as Windsor, where he slept.
The next day, walking through Hounslow and Brentford,
he stopped for the night at the village of Kensington,
and the following morning entered the city. Harry
had never before been in the streets of London, for
in his flight from his prison he had at once issued
into the country, and the bustle and confusion which
prevailed excited great surprise in his mind.
Even Oxford, busy as it was at the time, and full
of the troops of the king and of the noblemen and
gentlemen who had rallied to his cause, was yet quiet
when compared with London. The booths along the
main streets were filled with goods, and at these
the apprentices shouted loudly to all passer-by, “What
d’ye lack? What d’ye lack?”
Here was a mercer exhibiting dark cloths to a grave-looking
citizen; there an armorer was showing the temper of
his wares to an officer. Citizens’ wives
were shopping and gossiping; groups of men, in high
steeple hats and dark cloak, were moving along the
streets. Pack horses carried goods from the ships
at the wharves below the bridge to the merchants, and
Harry was jostled hither and thither by the moving
crowd. Ascending the hill of Ludgate to the great
cathedral of St. Paul’s, he saw a crowd gathered
round a person on an elevated stand in the yard, and
approaching to see what was going on, found that a
preacher was pouring forth anathemas against the king
and the Royal party, and inciting the citizens to throw
themselves heart and soul into the cause. Especially
severe was he upon waverers, who, he said, were worse
than downright enemies, as, while the one withstood
the Parliament openly in fair fight, the others were
shifted to and fro with each breeze, and none could
say whether they were friends or enemies. Passing
through the cathedral, where regular services were
no longer held, but where, in different corners, preachers
were holding forth against the king, and where groups
of men strolled up and down, talking of the troubles
of the times, he issued at the eastern door, and entering
Cheapside, saw the sign of the merchant to whom he
had been directed.
This was Nicholas Fleming, a man of
Dutch descent, and well spoken of among his fellows.
He dealt in silks and velvets from Genoa. His
shop presented less outward appearance than did those
of his neighbors, the goods being too rich and rare
to be exposed to the weather, and he himself dealing
rather with smaller traders than with the general
public. The merchant a grave-looking
man was sitting at his desk when Harry
entered. A clerk was in the shop, engaged in writing,
and an apprentice was rolling up a piece of silk.
Harry removed his hat, and went up to the merchant’s
table, and laying a letter upon it, said:
“I have come, sir, from Dame
Marjory, my aunt, who was your honor’s nurse,
with a letter from her, praying you to take me as an
apprentice.”
The merchant glanced for a moment
at the boy. He was expecting a message from the
Royalist camp, and his keen wit at once led him to
suspect that the bearer stood before him, although
his appearance in nowise justified such a thought,
for Harry had assumed with his peasant clothes a look
of stolid stupidity which certainly gave no warrant
for the thought that a keen spirit lay behind it.
Without a word the merchant opened the letter, which,
in truth, contained nearly the same words which Harry
had spoken, but whose signature was sufficient to
the merchant to indicate that his suspicions were
correct.
“Sit down,” he said to
the lad. “I am busy now; but will talk with
you anon.”
Harry took his seat on a low stool,
while the merchant continued his writing as before,
as if the incident were too unimportant to arrest his
attention for a moment. Harry amused himself by
looking round the shop, and was specially attracted
by the movements of the apprentice, a sharp-looking
lad, rather younger than himself, and who, having heard
what had passed, seized every opportunity, when he
was so placed that neither the merchant nor his clerk
could observe his face to make grimaces at Harry,
indicative of contempt and derision. Harry was
sorely tempted to laugh; but, with an effort, he kept
his countenance, assuming only a grim of wonder which
greatly gratified Jacob, who thought that he had obtained
as companion a butt who would afford him infinite
amusement.
After the merchant had continued his
writing for an hour, he laid down his pen, and saying
to Harry “Follow me; I will speak to Dame Alice,
my wife, concerning thee,” left the shop and
entered the inner portion of the house, followed by
Harry. The merchant led him into a sitting-room
on the floor above, where his wife, a comely dame,
was occupied with her needle.
“Dame,” he said, “this
is a new apprentice whom my nurse, Marjory, has sent
me. A promising-looking youth, is he not?”
His wife looked at him in surprise.
“I have never heard thee speak
of thy nurse, Nicholas, and surely the lad looks not
apt to learning the mysteries of a trade like thine.”
The merchant smiled gravely.
“He must be more apt than he
looks, dame, or he would never have been chosen for
the service upon which he is engaged. Men do not
send fools to risk their lives; and I have been watching
him for the last hour, and have observed how he bore
himself under the tricks of that jackanapes, Jacob,
and verily the wonder which I at first felt when he
presented himself to me has passed away, and what
appeared to me at first sight a strange imprudence,
seems now to be a piece of wisdom. But enough
of riddles,” he said, seeing that his wife’s
astonishment increased as he went on. “This
lad is a messenger from Oxford, and bears, I doubt
not, important documents. What is thy true name,
boy?”
“I am Harry Furness, the son
of Sir Henry Furness, one of the king’s officers,”
Harry said; “and my papers are concealed within
this staff.”
Thereupon he lifted his stick and
showed that at the bottom a piece of wood had been
artfully fitted into a hollow, and then, by being rubbed
upon the ground, so worn as to appear part of a solid
whole. Taking his knife from his pocket, he cut
off an inch from the lower end of the stick, and then
shook out on to the table a number of slips of paper
tightly rolled together.
“I will examine these at my
leisure,” the merchant said; “and now as
to thyself. What instructions have you?”
“I am told, sir, to take up
my abode with you, if it so pleases you; to assume
the garb and habits of an apprentice; and, moreover,
to do such messages as you may give me, and which,
perhaps, I may perform with less risk of observation,
and with more fidelity than any ordinary messenger.”
“The proposal is a good one,”
the trader said. “I am often puzzled how
to send notes to those of my neighbors with whom I
am in correspondence, for the lad Jacob is sharp too
sharp, indeed, for my purpose, and might suspect the
purport of his goings and comings. I believe
him to be faithful, though overapt to mischief.
But in these days one cares not to risk one’s
neck unless on a surety. The first thing will
be, then, to procure for thee a suit of clothes, suitable
to thy new position. Under the plea that at present
work is but slack for indeed the troubles
of the times have well-nigh ruined the trade in such
goods as mine, throwing it all into the hands of the
smiths I shall be able to grant thee some
license, and to allow thee to go about and see the
city and acquaint thyself with its ways. Master
Jacob may feel, perhaps, a little jealous; but this
matters not. I somewhat misdoubt the boy, though
perhaps unjustly. But I know not how his opinions
may go toward matters politic. He believes me,
I think, as do other men, to be attached to the present
state of things; but even did his thoughts jump otherwise,
he would not have opened his lips before me. It
would be well, therefore, for you to be cautious in
the extreme with him, and to find out of a verity
what be his nature and disposition. Doubtless,
in time, he will unbosom to you and you may see whether
he has any suspicions, and how far he is to be trusted.
He was recommended to me by a friend at Poole, and
I know not the opinions of his people. I will
come forth with you now and order the clothes without
delay, and we will return in time for dinner, which
will be at twelve, of which time it now lacks half
an hour.”
Putting on his high hat, the merchant
sallied out with Harry into the Cheap, and going to
a clothier’s was able to purchase ready-made
garments suitable to his new position as a ’prentice
boy. Returning with these, he bade the lad mount
to the room which he was to share Jacob, to change
with all speed, and to come down to dinner, which was
now nearly ready.
The meal was to Harry a curious one.
The merchant sat at one end of the table, his wife
at the other. The scrivener occupied a place on
one side, and his fellow-apprentice and himself on
the other. The merchant spoke to his wife on
the troubles of the times in a grave, oracular voice,
which appeared to be intended chiefly for the edification
of his three assistants, who ate their dinner in silence,
only saying a word or two in answer to any question
addressed to them. Harry, who was accustomed
to dine with his father, was somewhat nice in his ways
of eating. But, observing a sudden look of interest
and suspicion upon the face of the sharp boy beside
him at his manner of eating, he, without making so
sudden a change as to be perceptible, gradually fell
into the way of eating of his companion, mentally
blaming himself severely for having for a moment forgotten
his assumed part.
“I shall not need you this afternoon,
Roger,” the merchant said; “and you can
go out and view the sights of the city. Avoid
getting into any quarrels or broils, and especially
observe the names writ up on the corner of the houses,
in order that you may learn the streets and so be
able to find your way about should I send you with
messages or goods.”
Harry spent the afternoon as directed,
and was mightily amused and entertained by the sights
which he witnessed. Especially was he interested
in London Bridge, which, covered closely with houses,
stretched across the river, and at the great fleet
of vessels which lay moored to the wharves below.
Here Harry spent the greater portion of the afternoon,
watching the numerous boats as they shot the bridge,
and the barges receiving merchandise from the vessels.
At five o’clock the shop was
shut, and at six supper was served in the same order
as dinner had been. At eight they retired to bed.
“Well, Master Roger,”
said Jacob, when they were done, “and what is
thy father?”
“He farms a piece of land of
his own,” Harry said. “Sometimes I
live with him; but more often with my uncle, who is
a trader in Bristol a man of some wealth,
and much respected by the citizens.”
“Ah! it is there that thou hast
learnt thy tricks of eating,” Jacob said.
“I wondered to see thee handle thy knife and
fork so daintily, and in a manner which assuredly
smacked of the city rather than of the farm.”
“My uncle,” Harry said,
“is a particular man as to his habits, and as
many leading citizens of the town often take their
meals at his house, he was ever worrying me to behave,
as he said, more like a Christian than a hog.
What a town is this London! What heaps of people,
and what wonderful sights!”
“Yes,” the apprentice
said carelessly. “But you have as yet seen
nothing. You should see the giant with eight heads,
at the Guildhall.”
“A giant with eight heads?”
Henry exclaimed wonderingly. “Why, he have
five more than the giant whom my mother told me of
when I was little, that was killed by Jack, the Giant
Killer. I must go and sea him of a surety.’”
“You must mind,” the apprentice
said; “for a boy is served up for him every
morning for breakfast.”
“Now you are trying to fool
me,” Harry said. “My mother warned
me that the boys of London were wickedly disposed,
and given to mock at strangers. But I tell thee,
Master Jacob, that I have a heavy fist, and was considered
a fighter in the village. Therefore, mind how
thou triest to fool me. Mother always said I
was not such a fool as I looked.”
“You may well be that,”
Jacob said, “and yet a very big fool. But
at present I do not know whether your folly is more
than skin deep, and methinks that the respectable
trader, your uncle, has taught you more than how to
eat like a Christian.”
Harry felt at once that in this sharp
boy he had a critic far more dangerous than any he
was likely to meet elsewhere. Others would pass
him unnoticed; but his fellow-apprentice would criticise
every act and word, and he felt somewhat disquieted
to find that he had fallen under such supervision.
It was now, he felt, all-important for him to discover
what were the real sentiments of the boy, and whether
he was trustworthy to his master, and to be relied
upon to keep the secret which had fallen into his
possession.
“I have been,” he said,
“in the big church at the end of this street.
What a pother the preachers do surely keep up there.
I should be sorely worried to hear them long, and
would rather thrash out a load of corn than listen
long to the clacking of their tongues.”
“Thou wilt be sicker still of
them before thou hast done with them. It is one
of the duties of us apprentices to listen to the teachers,
and if I had my way, we would have an apprentices’
riot, and demand to be kept to the terms of our indentures,
which say nothing about preachers. What is the
way of thinking of this uncle of yours?”
“He is a prudent man,”
Roger said, “and says but little. For myself,
I care nothing either way, and cannot understand what
they are making this pother about. So far as
I can see, folks only want to be quiet, and do their
work. But even in our village at home there is
no quiet now. Some are one way, some t’other.
There are the Church folk, and the meeting-house folk,
and it is as much as they can do to keep themselves
from going at each other’s throats. I hear
so much about it that my brain gets stupid with it
all, and I hate Parliament and king worse than the
schoolmaster who used to whack me for never knowing
the difference between one letter and another.”
“But you can read and write,
I suppose?” Jacob said; “or you would be
of little use as an apprentice.”
“Yes, I can read and write,”
Roger said; “but I cannot say that I love these
things. I doubt me that I am not fitter for the
plow than for a trade. But my Aunt Marjory was
forever going on about my coming to London, and entering
the shop of Master Nicholas Fleming, and as it seemed
an easy thing to sell yards of silks and velvets, I
did not stand against her wishes, especially as she
promised that if in a year’s time I did not
like the life, she would ask Master Nicholas to cancel
my indentures, and let me go back again to the farm.”
“Ah, well,” Jacob said,
“it is useful to have an aunt who has been nurse
to a city merchant. The life is not a bad one,
though our master is strict with all. But Dame
Alice is a good housewife, and has a light hand at
confections, and when there are good things on the
table she does not, as do most of the wives of the
traders, keep them for herself and her husband, but
lets us have a share also.”
“I am fond of confections,”,
Harry said; “and my Aunt Marjory is famous at
them; and now, as I am very sleepy, I will go off.
But methinks, Jacob, that you take up hugely more
than your share of the bed.”
After a little grumbling on both sides
the boys disposed themselves to sleep, each wondering
somewhat over the character of the other, and determining
to make a better acquaintance shortly.