In the afternoon, Ambrose came to the Dragon court. Even as Stephen figured now as a handsome prosperous young freeman of the City, Ambrose looked well in the sober black apparel and neat ruff of a lawyer’s clerk—clerk indeed to the first lawyer in the kingdom, for the news had spread before him that Sir Thomas More had become Lord Chancellor. “Thou art come to bear us word of thy promotion—for thy master’s is thine own,” said the alderman heartily as he entered, shaking hands with him. “Never was the Great Seal in better hands.” “’Tis true indeed, your worship,” said Ambrose, “though it will lay a heavy charge on him, and divert him from much that he loveth better still. I came to ask of my sister Dennet a supper and a bed for the night, as I have been on business for him, and can scarce get back to Chelsea.” “And welcome,” said Dennet. “Little Giles and Bess have been wearying for their uncle.” “I must not toy with them yet,” said Ambrose, “I have a message for my aunt. Brother, wilt thou walk down to the Temple with me before supper?” “Yea, and how is it with Master Randall?” asked Dennet. “Be he gone with my Lord Cardinal?” “He is made over to the King,” said Ambrose briefly. “’Tis that which I must tell his wife.” “Have with thee, then,” said Stephen, linking his arm into that of his brother, for to be together was still as great an enjoyment to them as in Forest days. And on the way, Ambrose told what he had not been willing to utter in full assembly in the hall. He had been sent by his master with a letter of condolence to the fallen Cardinal, and likewise of inquiry into some necessary business connected with the chancellorship. Wolsey had not time to answer before embarking, but as Sir Thomas had vouched for the messenger’s ability and trustiness, he had bidden Ambrose come into his barge, and receive his instructions. Thus Ambrose had landed with him, just as a messenger came riding in haste from the King, with a kind greeting, assuring his old friend that his seeming disgrace was only for a time, and for political reasons, and sending him a ring in token thereof. The Cardinal had fallen on his knees to receive the message, had snatched a gold chain and precious relic from his own neck to reward the messenger, and then, casting about for some gift for the King, “by ill luck,” said Ambrose, “his eye lit upon our uncle, and he instantly declared that he would bestow Patch, as the Court chooses to call him, on the King. Well, as thou canst guess, Hal is hotly wroth at the treatment of his lord, whom he truly loveth; and he flung himself before the Cardinal, and besought that he might not be sent from his good lord. But the Cardinal was only chafed at aught that gainsaid him; and all he did was to say he would have no more ado, he had made his gift. ‘Get thee gone,’ he said, as if he had been ordering off a horse or dog. Well-a-day! it was hard to brook the sight, and Hal’s blood was up. He flatly refused to go,