Frank Cowper - The Captain of the Wight (Frank Cowper) - comprehensive, unabridged with the original illustrations - (Literary Thoughts Edition)

"My little son--nay, not so little after all, but to me always my little son--I have come to wish thee good-night, and to say farewell; for to-morrow we must all be busy, and I cannot then say what I would say now. Thy father hath told thee what appertains to knighthood, I would fain tell thee of what concerneth thy soul--albeit this also belongeth more to Sir Thomas Merlin's office; but a mother's words are always blessed, if God guideth her, as He surely doth. Remember always to say thy prayers, night and morning; and pray not only in thy words and memory, but with the real fervour of a thinking heart. Repeat not simply set sentences, but think of thy daily needs, and daily sins, and lay all before God. Be mindful to give thanks in thy prayers, for gratitude is the sign of a gentle heart. Remember, also, always to be generous to the poor; if thou gainest riches, give freely to those who need, for in so doing, thou layest up treasure in heaven. Help the weak, the widow, and the fatherless, and in all thy youthful strength and rejoicing, forget not the sick, the miserable, and those in grievous dolour. Avoid all bad words; be cleanly of speech, as well as of life; and think ever on thy Blessed Lord, the saints, and thy mother. And, lastly, be courteous, obedient, and humble. Be gay and light-hearted, as becometh youth, but never let wine overcome thee, or the temptations of the tavern and the dice-box. Avoid all boastfulness, but let thine arm and hand ever maintain thy word, as is fit for one who professeth arms, which is a calling honoured of Heaven, in the person of those puissant captains of Rome, the captain of the Italian company, and the captain that confessed our Blessed Lord. Now, good-night, fair son, and may God bless thee. I have brought thee a little purse; it containeth some small pieces that may procure thee favour with thy companions when thou meetest with them. Humphrey hath charge of thy wardrobe and body-linen, and will see to thy proper furnishing as one of gentle birth and fair lineage. God bless thee, my son, and bring thee back to us, as thy noble father said, 'a very gentle, perfect knight,' and, better still, bring thee, and all of us, to that rest above, where there is no more fighting--no more parting."

So saying, the sweet lady bent down and kissed her son with fervent love, and left him to his thoughts.

The next morning all were astir early--Ralph among the earliest. The worthy Abbot said Mass, assisted by the excellent Chaplain, Sir Thomas Merlin, and after breakfast the preparations for departure were completed.

The little cavalcade came round to the front of the old mansion, and a pretty scene it made. There were the sumpter horses of the Abbot and his two servants; Humphrey, and the baggage horse of Master Ralph; and Ralph's new present, the handsome charger, newly harnessed with new saddle and gay housings. Behind, mounted on Ralph's pony, was the young girl, while her father stood by her side ready to lead the pony, for Lady Lisle had bethought her of them, and had persuaded the Abbot to let them journey with him as far as Winchester, at least, although that worthy prelate was much averse to taking stray waifs in his train.

Ralph was already dressed in a new suit of clothes. Three suits had already been made, and more were to follow, if it was found that he was not dressed suitably to his rank and companions. And very handsome he looked in his gay attire. He wore a velvet bonnet on one side of his head, his wavy hair falling on each side of his free, merry face; a little linen collar was round his neck, and a close-fitting tunic of parti-coloured cloth, puffed at the shoulders and elbows, and pleated down the front and back below the chest and shoulder blades, was fastened round his waist by a leathern belt, from which hung a wallet and a poignard. Tight-fitting hose clad his well-formed legs, and were of different colours, according to the fashion of the time, on each leg. He held his falcon on fist, and carried a little riding-whip in his left hand. A riding-cloak was strapped over the pommel of his saddle, from which also hung some saddle bags containing a few needful articles for the journey and for immediate use.

All the household had come out to see the start.

The Abbot took leave of his kinsfolk, giving them his benediction, and promising to care well for their son. He then mounted his horse with the aid of his varlets, for he was a large and portly ecclesiastic, and, when mounted, presented a very majestic and dignified appearance in his white Cistercian cassock, with its black scapular hood and cloak, with a square, rather high black cap on his head.

"Come, cousin Ralph, haste thee, the day grows apace, and we should be at Winton before noon or little after."

Ralph had gone up to his father, and knelt down to receive his blessing, saying,--

"Farewell, my noble father, when I come again may I find thee and my lady mother well and in good state, and may I do naught that will bring dolour on thy life."

"Amen, fair son. Go and do valiantly--and the God of thy fathers go with thee."

Rising up, Ralph embraced his father and mother, took leave of his brothers and the servants, and mounted his horse. His heels were armed with spurs, and, touching the animal's flank he caused him to rear and paw the air.

"Marry, the lad sits the horse like a man of thirty. He will do well, and gain himself a name."

The cavalcade now turned off down the glade and disappeared round a bend of the ride, Ralph waving his cap as a last adieu.

"Well, fair wife, so our fledgling hath flown, let us get indoors and pray to God for His mercy."

When Ralph trotted after the little cavalcade, which he had allowed to get ahead of him as he waved his final adieu to his parents and his home, he felt all the pride of boyhood budding into independent manhood.

He had long chafed at his inactive life. The rough experience of the late civil wars had taught men to live fast, and many a hardy knight had begun the fierce struggle in the hand-strokes of war at the age of twelve or thirteen. The boyhood of King Edward the Fourth had often been told him, how early he had learned the accomplishments of the tilt-yard, and how early he had practised them on the stern field of war. A king by the right of his own good sword at the age of twenty, he had fought in many deadly fights as leader and simple man-at-arms for several years before.

Ralph had always been a good boy at his lessons, for he was fond of the chaplain who taught him, but the book he loved most of all was the recently printed book of Sir Thomas Malory, who had compiled and translated the Mort-d'Arthur. He gloated over the description of the single combats, the jousts, and the tourneys in that poetic story, and never tired of the numberless tales of "how the good knight Sir Bors or Sir Lamorak laid on either strokes, and how they foined and lashed, and gave each other blows till the blood ran down, and each stood astonied." His favourite knight was Sir Beaumains. He admired Sir Launcelot, but he was too far above him, while Sir Beaumains was only a beginner, and went through adventures which were not too far out of the common as possibly to occur to himself.

And now he was on the actual road to fortune. He was going to be trained in the household of a great knight, live in a castle, and have daily instruction with youths like himself, aspirants to fame and martial deeds.

The fresh air of the morning seemed never before so fresh, never had the birds sung so blithely. How springy the turf seemed under his horse's hoofs. He sang gaily as he trotted along, and flicked at the flies that tried to settle on his horse's neck.

"Softly, Master Ralph," cried Humphrey. "Thou art a light weight, I know, but we have far to go, and 'tis best to let the cattle go quiet."