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قراءة كتاب Prentice Hugh
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
bright eyes.
The man, who was Stephen Bassett, Hugh’s father, rose and greeted them respectfully, though with some amazement at seeing his boy in unknown company.
“Welcome, holy friar,” he said. “If you seek John the sacristan, Hugh shall run and fetch him from the church.”
“Nay,” said the friar, with his easy smile, “I fear me we are on a lighter quest. These little maidens had a longing to behold the monkey, and thy boy offered to bring them here for that purpose.” Mistress Judith looked unutterable disgust at the poor room and her surroundings, though she condescended to sit down on a rough stool, from which she first blew the dust. The friar entered into conversation with Stephen Bassett, and the little golden-haired girls pressed up to Hugh.
“Make him come down,” said Eleanor pointing.
“He is frightened—I know not,” said Hugh, shaking his head. He was, however, almost as anxious as the other children could be to show off his new possession, and, thanks either to an offered nut, or to the trust which the monkey instinctively felt towards his deliverer, the little creature came swiftly down, hanging by hand and tail from the rafters, to intensest delight of both Anne and Eleanor, and finally leaping upon Hugh’s shoulder, where it cracked its nut with all the confidence possible. It was small and rather pretty, and it wore much such a little coat as monkeys wear now. Eleanor could not contain her delight. She wanted to have it in her own arms, but her first attempt to remove it from its perch brought such a storm of angry chattering that Anne in terror plucked her sister’s little gown and implored her to come away. Eleanor drew back unwillingly.
“Why doesn’t he like me?” she demanded. “I love him. What is his name?”
“Agrippa.”
“Agrippa! And can he do tricks? Yesterday he did tricks.”
“He knows me not yet, mistress,” explained Hugh. “His master died suddenly, and he had no other friend.”
“But thou wilt be his friend,” said Eleanor, looking earnestly at the boy, “and so will I. I will leave him all these nuts. Anne, I would my father would give us a monkey!”
“I like him not,” said Anne, fearfully withdrawing yet closer to Mistress Judith. Eleanor knew no fear. She would have taken the little creature in her arms, regardless of its sharp teeth, or of the waiting woman’s remonstrances, but that Hugh would not suffer her to make the attempt. He looked at the two little girls with an eager pride and admiration, felt as if he were responsible for all that happened, and had he been twice his age could not have treated them with more careful respect.
Chapter Two.
Stolen Away.
Meanwhile the friar and Stephen Bassett conversed together, seated on a rude bench at the other side of the dimly-lit room. The friar was a man of kindly curiosity, who let his interests run freely after his neighbours’ affairs, and, attracted by the boy, whose education had far overpast that of the knight’s son, Edgar, he made searching inquiries, which Stephen answered frankly, relating more fully than Hugh how in Flanders, where he had travelled in order to perfect himself in an art not yet brought to a high pitch of excellence in England, his wife had died, and he having been left with the boy on his hands, the child had excited the interest of the monks, who, finding him teachable, had instructed him in the then rare accomplishments of reading and writing.
“He is like to forget them, though,” he added with a sigh, “unless in our wanderings we fall upon other brothers as good as those, which is scarce likely.”
“Have you thought of his taking the habit?”
“Nay, his bent lies not that way,” said Bassett, smiling. The other smiled also.
“Truly, it seemed not so by the lusty manner in which he laid about him but now. And I mind me he spoke of his wish to be a soldier.”
“That I will not consent to,” Bassett replied hastily; “he shall follow my trade. It would break my heart if I thought that all my labours died with me.” He was interrupted by a fit of coughing.
“And where,” inquired the Franciscan, “where dost thou purpose going when the fair is ended?”
“In good sooth, holy friar, that is what troubles me. I had thought of London, but I wot not—”
The other leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee, and his chin in the palm of his hand.
“I wot not either,” he said at last, “but in these days there is much noble work akin to thine going on in the great churches and minsters of the kingdom. There is St. Peter’s at Exeter, now. One of our order was telling me but lately how gloriously the bishop of that see is bringing it to perfection. The air in those western shires is soft and healing, better for thy cough than London, which has many fens giving out their vapours, to say nothing of the smoke arising from that vile coal the citizens are now trying to burn, and which pours out its choking fumes upon the poor air. Were I thee I would not bestow myself in London.”
“Exeter,” said Bassett reflectively; “I thank thee for the suggestion. My wife came from those shires, and a bishop with a zeal for decoration might well give me employment.”
“The journey is long,” put in the friar, with a desire that prudence should have her share in this advice of his which the wood-carver seemed so ready to adopt.
“We are used to journeys and I dread them not.”
“Nor fear robbers?”
“I am too poor to tempt them. Besides, our great king has done much for the security of the country, by what I hear. Is it not so, holy friar?”
“Truly it is. But Scotland has taken more of his thought lately, and when the lion is in combat, the smaller beasts slink out to fall on their prey. But if you make your way to Exeter and would go first through London, our house in Newgate Street will give you hospitable lodging.—How now, Mistress Eleanor?”
“It is the monkey, Friar Nicholas—might he not bring it for madam, our mother, to see? He says that Wolf would eat him.”
“And in good sooth that were not unlikely. Better be content to come here again and see the little pagan beast, if Mistress Judith does not mislike it. Fare thee well, Master Bassett. I will meet thee again, and hear whether Exeter still has attraction.”
Mistress Judith rose and shook her skirts before folding them round her, an operation which the monkey, happening to be close to her on Hugh’s shoulder, resented greatly, chattering at and scolding her with all his might. Eleanor screamed with delight, while Anne hid her face; and Hugh, somewhat abashed at Mistress Judith’s displeasure, retired with Agrippa to the back of the room, while his father escorted his guests a few paces beyond the door.
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