Great Britain -- History -- Henry II, 1154-1189 -- Juvenile fiction; Guilds -- Juvenile fiction; Middle Ages -- Juvenile fiction
XXII
_The Watchword_ 281
COCKATRICE EGGS 283
How Tomaso the physician and Basil the scribe held
the keys of Empire
ILLUSTRATIONS
"He held up the shoe with great disfavor"
(_in colors_) _Frontispiece_
FACING
PAGE
"Waiting for the wool-merchants" 4
"'Some of us will live to see Thomas of Canterbury a Saint of
the Church'" 21
"The medallion was a picture in colored glass" 36
"'Upon my word, the race of wood-carvers has not yet come
to an end'" 67
"'Have you been here all this time?'" 86
"Barbara knew exactly where to go" (_in colors_) 96
"'It is time to set him building for England'" 168
"'How beautiful it is!' he exclaimed" (_in colors_) 194
"Tomaso seemed not to have seen her action" 216
"The Marionettes" 224
"'It is better than the sketch,' he cried heartily" 246
"'And there goes what would seat the King of England on the
throne of the Cæsars,' quoth Tomaso" (_in colors_) 284
THE OLD ROAD
The horse-bells come a-tinkling by the shoulder of the Down,
The bell of Bow is ringing as we ride to London Town.
O the breath of the wet salt marshes by Romney port is sweet,
But sweeter the thyme of the uplands under the horses' feet!
It's far afield I'm faring, to the lands I do not know,
For the merchant doth not prosper save he wander to and fro,
Yet though the foreign cities be stately and fair to see,
It's an English home on an English down, and my own lass for me!
IN THE DAYS OF THE GUILD
I
THE BOY WITH THE WOOLPACK
HOW ROBERT EDRUPT JOURNEYED WITH THE WOOL-MERCHANTS TO LONDON
In the reign of King Henry II., when as yet there were no factories, no
railways or even coaches, no post-offices and no tea-tables in England,
a boy sat on a hillside not far from Salisbury Plain, with a great bale
of wool by his side. It was not wrapped in paper; it was packed close
and very skillfully bound together with cords, lengthwise and crosswise,
making a network of packthread all over it. The boy's name was Robert
Edrupt, but in the tiny village where he was born he had always been
called Hob. He had been reared by his grandfather, a shepherd, and now
the old shepherd was dead and he was going to seek his fortune.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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