The Herd Boy and His HermitYonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
General
The Herd Boy and His Hermit
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
Clifford, Henry de Clifford, 14th lord, 1455?-1523 -- Fiction; Henry VI, King of England, 1421-1471 -- Fiction
Thou tree of covert and of rest
For this young bird that was distrest.
--WORDSWORTH.
A baron--bound to be a good knight, and to avenge my father’s death!
What does it all mean?’ murmured Hal to himself as he lay on his back in
the morning sunshine, on the hill-side, the wood behind him, and before
him a distance of undulating ground, ending in the straight mysterious
blue-grey line that Hob Hogward had told him was the sea.
‘Baron! Lord Clifford, like my father! He was a man in steel armour; I
remember how it rang, and how his gorget--yes, that was the thing round
his throat--how it hurt me when he lifted me up to kiss me, and how they
blamed me for crying out. Ay, and he lived in a castle with dark, dull,
narrow chambers, all save the hall, where there was ever a tramping and
a clamouring, and smells of hot burning meat, and horses, and all sorts
of things, and they sat and sat over their meat and wine, and drank
health to King Harry and the Red Rose. I mind now how they shouted and
roared, and how I wanted to go and hide on the stairs, and my father
would have me shout with them, and drink confusion to York out of his
cup, and shook me and cuffed me when I cried. Oh! must one be like that
to be a knight? I had rather live on these free green hills with the
clear blue sky above me, and my good old ewe for my comrade’--and he
fell to caressing the face of an old sheep which had come up to him,
a white, mountain-bleached sheep with fine and delicate limbs. ‘Yes,
I love thee, good, gentle, little ewe, and thee, faithful Watch,’ as
a young collie pressed up to him, thrusting a long nose into his hand,
‘far better than those great baying hounds, or the fierce-eyed hawks
that only want to kill. If I be a baron, must it be in that sort?
Avenge! avenge! what does that mean? Is it, as in Goodwife Dolly’s
ballads, going forth to kill? Why should I? I had rather let them be!
Hark! Yea, Watch,’ as the dog pricked his ears and raised his graceful
head, then sprang up and uttered a deep-mouthed bark. The sheep darted
away to her companions, and Hal rose to his feet, as the dog began to
wave his tail, and Hob came forward accompanied by a tall, grave-looking
gentleman. ‘Here he be, sir. Hal, come thou and ask the blessing of thy
knightly stepfather.’
Hal obeyed the summons, and coming forward put a knee to the ground,
while Sir Lancelot Threlkeld uttered the conventional blessing,
adding, ‘Fair son, I am glad to see thee. Would that we might be better
acquainted, but I fear it is not safe for thee to come and be trained
for knighthood in my poor house. Thou art a well grown lad, I rejoice to
see, and strong and hearty I have no doubt.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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