Chapter XXI: At Oxford Fair Once More

SIR MILES PATON went to Greenwich, after his visit to "The Golden Fleece," for he had letters and messages from his wife for her mother, father, and sisters, and he wanted Sir Harry Guildford to let him take back one of his younger daughters to spend the summer with Cicely, for it was not deemed prudent that she should visit her home for a year or two. By-and-bye, when the whole affair of her having renounced a conventual life had been forgotten, she would be able to come as Lady Paton with little difficulty, but to come just now might bring her father into trouble with the Queen.

So after some discussion, it was arranged that Maud should ride back with Sir Miles, to see her sister as a happy wife and mistress, instead of a nun, as they had thought at one time that she would be.

Whether the story of Cicely's death was fully believed by the Queen, Sir Harry did not know. She had treated him with some coolness since that time, but had never mentioned Cicely's name; and, of course, it would have been a breach of all etiquette for him to bring it forward—even if she had been killed in the streets of Oxford—as the sisters of the Convent reported she was.

He did not pay a very long visit to his father-in-law; but after arranging to meet Maud on a certain day at the pier at Westminster, he went there by boat, for he wanted to see some of his friends in the household of the Cardinal; and he also desired to see the Cardinal himself, if it was possible, and apologise in person for having to quit his service so suddenly.

It was pleasant to be in the stir and bustle of life in London once more; and for a day or two Sir Miles was quite content to be back in his old quarters, and among his old friends, especially as the Cardinal received him so cordially.

But after a few days, he began to grow weary of the talk about the war with France, and the efforts the Cardinal was making to incline the King towards a policy of peace—not that he openly advocated this to the King or to any one else—but his secretaries knew what was intended, and why the increased supply of corn, needed from the Low Countries, always seemed a source of vexation to their master.

This question of the corn supply did interest him for a little while, and he resolved to spare no pains to get as much as he could off his land, for he heard on all aides that corn was fetching such a high price now, that he thought he might induce some of his neighbours to give up the sheep farming and return to the old system.

At last the day arrived when he was to meet Maud Guildford and her father. He took Maud to stay for the night with Dame Monmouth, at "The Golden Fleece," that they might start on their journey at daybreak. He also wanted to hear whether Master Tyndale had sailed for Hamburg.

It was a still greater pleasure when, after a rather wearisome journey of several days, Paton Hall was reached, and his darling wife came out with his sister to meet them.

It was the happiest homecoming he ever remembered, and the meeting of Maud and Cicely was very pleasant to witness, and quite repaid him for all the additional trouble caused by bringing a young girl such a long journey.

The summer of that year, 1524, was a busy one on the Paton estate; and the blacksmith, Diccon, and his men, were at the forge from morning till night, making new implements, or repairing old ones; for the energy of Sir Miles seemed to have entered into his tenants, and the village workpeople too, for all alike seemed eager to make the utmost of the land that had been brought into cultivation once more.

The fence round the "Haugh," that had kept off the village sheep and cows from grazing, had been taken down, and this alone had evoked such a burst of thankfulness from the peasants, that in their gratitude they promised to do anything and everything their master desired, and then drank themselves helpless at the village alehouse, as they felt bound to do, being Englishmen.

As much of the pasture-land as could be sown with wheat, rye, and barley, was brought into cultivation again, and the sheep still further reduced in number, by being transferred to the villagers, as they could buy them with their labour. Several farms had been let on the old rental to the old tenants or their sons—Miles stipulating that the old people should be provided for by the young farmer, if the hard life of the woods had made them incapable of work for themselves.

There had to be a good deal of self-denial on the part of the people as well as their master, for their life in the woods had brought on habits of laziness and shiftlessness that was not easy to break through, especially among the young men and women; and to these the daily recurring round of toil in the fields, or in building the cottages or barns, grew irksome, and they sometimes felt tempted to go off to the woods,—with its plenty one day, and starvation for a week afterwards,—rather than this steady, plodding work that, as yet, brought them no result beyond regular, frugal meals and a shelter.

But when the harvest time came, and one neighbour could tell another that his land had produced more than ever it did in the old days, there was universal rejoicing, and Sir Miles felt repaid for all his trouble in the altered appearance of everything and everybody around him.

It may be that some of them thought that with a plentiful harvest they might spend most of the winter in the old sports again, but, if they did, they were quickly undeceived; for, at the Harvest Home supper, when master and men sat down together, he told them frankly that they must work on the land, or on the finishing of their houses and barns during the winter, and in the bad weather come to the weaving-house, which was just being finished, close to his own kitchen door.

Then he explained that the wool he had in store had been sent to be cleaned, and would be returned to him almost immediately; and the women and girls must learn to spin this on their wheels, and a Flemish weaver was coming to stay during the winter to teach them the art and craft of weaving this thread into cloth, which they were in great need of, to make new doublets, and petticoats, and bed coverings.

A few of the younger men shook their heads vigorously at each other over this proposal, but Sir Miles had an unanswerable argument to meet all their objections. If they did not like the conditions upon which alone he would grant them the use of his land as tenants, they could leave it. But he had been so convinced that half the poverty and wretchedness of the poor had been brought about by their own thriftless habits that he was determined to alter this on his land. He, or she, who was able to work, and would not, should not eat, whether winter or summer. So the choice lay before them now, and they must decide within the next seven days whether they would stay and pledge themselves to work at least six hours every day during the winter, or give up their houses to those who would gladly accept such conditions to escape from the life of a thief or beggar.

They knew only too well that there were plenty waiting to take their place if they should fail to satisfy their master; but they were not disposed to rebel or think the conditions hard when they heard that six hours a day would only be required of them for work, and that the rest of the time they might do as they pleased; and so, before the seven days expired, everyone had pledged himself to work the required time each day, or ask leave to give additional labour one day for extra time for sport another.

Miles had also formed another project, but he did not venture to speak of this just now, for he saw more and more the need of caution, and so he did not say a word about wishing them to learn to read, though this was the next innovation he intended to introduce.

Margery and Cicely, too, had their plans about this, and they had already bought all the hornbooks a pedlar carried in his pack, and had asked him to bring some more the next time he came that way, for they had made up their minds to teach some of the girls of the village to read, as well as their own house-servants, in readiness for the time when the New Testament should be printed and sent over from the Continent.

Sir Miles had received one letter from Master William Tyndale, who was still working at his translation, with the help of his assistant, the monk who had left the priory at Greenwich. He was useful in many ways, he wrote, and a cheerful companion, who would be of still greater service when the sheets were being printed. He intended to go to Wittenberg to see Luther, and perhaps he would get the printing done there; but he had not settled upon this point just now. Sir Miles was greatly cheered by this letter, for Tyndale wrote altogether more hopefully of the final success of his project, about which he seemed to be in grave doubt when he went away. The letter had been some months reaching him, but was none the less welcome on that account.

This, and the success that had crowned his efforts for the benefit of his own people, made Miles almost a boy again in his light-hearted gladness, and, instead of sending his steward to buy the plenishings of salt and other household commodities at Oxford Fair, he proposed to go himself, of course taking servants with him, and sumpter mules to carry the baggage that he hoped to bring back.

Staid man that he had grown since the day when he joined in the fight of "Grecians" against "Trojans," he was still young enough to feel elated, and join the rushing students as they tore about the fair-ground from one point to another, and still using the same old battle-cry of "A Grecian! a Grecian!" But he noticed that there were fewer now to take up the answering shout, and the few "Trojans" had to bear the jokes and jibes now without retaliating with sticks and cudgels as before.

Sir Miles smiled and nodded, and gave liberally to every begging student that he met; for had he not begged in the streets of Oxford himself, to eke out the little he could earn by his translation.

There was a certain delight in elbowing his way through the crowd from point to point, before he began the serious business of making his purchases of the various pedlars and hucksters, when he was touched on the shoulder by a pedlar, whom he recognised at once as having been to Paton Hall twice during the previous summer with his pack.

"Ah! I have seen you before," he said, by way of greeting.

The man bowed. "You are Sir Miles Paton, of Paton Hall," he said.

"Yes, what then?" said Miles, somewhat impatiently.

"I have been entrusted with a package to deliver to you from one Master Humphrey Monmouth, a merchant of London."

"A package for me?" said Sir Miles. "I suppose my wife hath sent to him for naperies for the household?"

"Nay, it is not naperies, but books," whispered the man; and then he said, in a still lower tone, "it is a dangerous cargo, master, and I would that you took it off my hands without delay," and, as he spoke, the man lifted the corner of a bale of cloth on his mule's back, and disclosed a square package. "It comes from beyond sea," said the man, "and must in no wise be opened here in the fair. Will you call a servant to convey it to a place of safety? I have brought it straight from London with my cloth."

"Give it to me," said Sir Miles; "I am going to see a friend, and will take it with me." The parcel was both heavy and bulky, but it was securely fastened out of the sight of prying eyes, and it was the usual thing to see parcels carried from the fair.

So Miles hurried with his treasure to the rooms of Master Clark, and together they unfastened it. The sight made them almost speechless for joy at first, for there were three copies of the Gospels of St. Matthew and St. Mark, printed in clear English type.

Of course it had come from Master William Tyndale, and was the first-fruits of his labours in the translation of the whole Testament.

It had been printed at Hamburg, and sent across the sea to "The Sign of the Golden Fleece," and Master Monmouth had sent on these three copies and a letter he had received from Tyndale, telling him how he had fared, and asking for some money that had been left in the charge of the merchant when he left London.

But the letter was almost overlooked for the present in the delight of seeing and reading the actual words of the Lord Jesus Christ plainly printed in English. Although the two friends had talked of this again and again, yet now that it was really before them, it seemed almost too wonderful to be realised.

"The coming of the New Testament of Master Erasmus was as the dawn of a new day to England, though it was in Greek; but this—this English Gospel, that every matron and maiden can read for herself, is the sun in its noon-day splendour for our Merry England," said Master Clark, and he actually hugged the book to his breast as he spoke.

Sir Miles kissed it as reverently as he used to kiss the crucifix at his mother's knee; and then, having yielded to the first feelings of joy, the two men each sat down with a copy of the book, and began to read it critically and carefully—for both were able to do this, being excellent Greek and Latin scholars; and as they read they could only wonder the more at the purity of the diction, and the excellence of the grand, yet simple Saxon language that had been used by the translator to make the Word of God known to his readers.

Of course after this the fair had lost its charms for Sir Miles, and he was only eager to complete his purchases, and carry home his treasure for his wife and sister to see.

One of the three copies he gave to Master Clark, but bade him be careful to whom he showed it, for as yet it was by no means certain how the Cardinal would take this matter; and so, until the whole of the New Testament was received in England, it would be the duty of all to keep the matter to themselves, lest the translator should be hindered in his work.

As soon as the plenishings could be got together, Sir Miles set out on his return, and reached home several days before his wife and sister expected him.