CHAPTER XXIII
A NEW LIFE
And now a strange, new life began for Nicholas Attwood, in some thingsso grand and kind that he almost hated to dislike it.
It was different in every way from the simple, pinching round inStratford, and full of all the comforts of richness and plenty that makelife happy--excepting home and mother.
Master Gaston Carew would have nothing but the best, and what he wanted,whether he needed it or not; so with him money came like a summer rain,and went like water out of a sieve: for he was a wild blade.
They ate their breakfast when they pleased; dined at eleven, like thenobility; supped at five, as was the fashion of the court. They hadwheat-bread the whole week round, as only rich folk could afford, withfruit and berries in their season, and honey from the Surrey bee-farmsthat made one's mouth water with the sight of it dripping from the flakycomb; and on Fridays spitchcocked eels, pickled herrings, and plums,with simnel-cakes, poached eggs and milk, cream cheese and cordial,like very kings; so that Nick could not help thriving.
The master-player very seldom left him by himself to mope or to bemelancholy; but, while ever vaguely promising to let him go, dideverything in his power to make him rather wish to stay; so that Nickwas constantly surprised by the free-handed kindness of this man whom hehad every other reason in the world, he thought, for deeming hisworst enemy.
When there were any new curiosities in Fleet street,--wild men withrings in their noses, wondrous fishes, puppet-shows, or red-cappedbaboons whirling on a pole,--Carew would have Nick see them as well asCicely; and often took them both to Bartholomew's Fair, where there wasa giant eating raw beef and a man dancing upon a rope high over theheads of the people. He would have had Nick every Thursday to thebear-baiting in the Paris Garden circus beside; but one sight of thatbrutal sport made the boy so sick that they never went again, but to thestage-plays at the Rose instead, which Nick enjoyed immensely, for Carewhimself acted most excellently, and Master Tom Heywood always came andspoke kindly to the lonely boy.
For, in spite of all, Nick's heart ached so at times that he thought itwould surely break with longing for his mother. And at night, when allthe house was still and dark, and he alone in bed, all the little,unconsidered things of home--the beehives and the fragrant mint besidethe kitchen door, the smell of the baking bread or frying carrots, thesound of the red-cheeked harvest apples dropping in the orchard, and theplump of the old bucket in the well--came back to him so vividly thatmany a time he cried himself to sleep, and could not have forgottenif he would.
On Midsummer Day there was a Triumph on the river at Westminster, with asham-fight and a great shooting of guns and hurling of balls ofwild-fire. The Queen was there, and the ambassadors of France andVenice, with the Duke of Lennox and the Earls of Arundel andSouthampton. Master Carew took a wherry to Whitehall, and from the greenthere they watched the show.
The Thames was fairly hidden by the boats, and there was a grand statebark all trimmed with silk and velvet for the Queen to be in to see thepastime. But as for that, all Nick could make out was the high carvedstern of the bark, painted with England's golden lions, and the bark wasso far away that he could not even tell which was the Queen.
Coming home by Somerset House, a large barge passed them with manywatermen rowing, and fine carpets about the seats; and in it the oldLord Chamberlain and his son my Lord Hunsdon, who, it was said, was tobe the Lord Chamberlain when his father died; for the old lord wasfailing, and the Queen liked handsome young men about her.
In the barge, beside their followers, were a company of richly dressedgentlemen, who were having a very gay time together, and seemed toplease the old Lord Chamberlain exceedingly with the things they said.They were somebodies, as Nick could very well see from their carriageand address; and, so far as the barge allowed, they were all clusteredabout one fellow in the seat by my Lord Hunsdon. He seemed to be thechiefest spokesman of them all, and every one appeared very glad indeedto be friendly with him. My Lord Hunsdon himself made free with his ownnobility, and sat beside him arm in arm.
What he was saying they were too far away to hear in the shouting andsplash; but those with him in the barge were listening as eagerly aschildren to a merry tale. Sometimes they laughed until they held theirsides; and then again as suddenly they were very quiet, and playedsoftly with their tankards and did not look at one another as he wentgravely on telling his story. Then all at once he would wave his handgaily, and his smile would sparkle out; and the whole company, from theold Lord Chamberlain down, would brighten up again, as if a new dawn hadcome over the hills into their hearts from the light of his hazel eyes.
Nick made no doubt that this was some young earl rolling in wealth; forwho else could have such listeners? Yet there was, nevertheless,something so familiar in his look that he could not help staring at himas the barge came thumping through the jam.
They passed along an oar's-length or two away; and as they came abeam,Carew, rising, doffed his hat, and bowed politely to them all.
In spite of his wild life, he was a striking, handsome man.
The old Lord Chamberlain said something to his son, and pointed with hishand. All the company in the barge turned round to look; and he who hadbeen talking stood up quickly with his hand upon the young lord's arm,and, smiling, waved his cap.
Nick gave a sharp cry.
Then the barge pushed through, and shot away down stream like a wildswan.
"Why, Nick," exclaimed Cicely, "how dreadful thou dost look!" and,frightened, she caught him by the hand. "Why, oh!--what is it,Nick--thou art not ill?"
"It was Will Shakspere!" cried Nick, and sank into the bottom of thewherry with his head upon the master-player's knee. "Oh, Master Carew,"he cried, "will ye never leave me go?"
Carew laid his hand upon the boy's head, and patted it gently.
"Why, Nick," said he, and cleared his throat, "is not this better thanStratford?"
"Oh, Master Carew--mother's there!" was the reply.
There was no sound but the thud of oars in the rowlocks and the hollowbubble of the water at the stern, for they had fallen out of the hurryand were coming down alone.
"Is thy mother a good woman, Nick?" asked Cicely.
Carew was staring out into the fading sky. "Ay, sweetheart," he answeredin a queer, husky voice, suddenly putting one arm about her and theother around Nick's shoulders. "None but a good mother could have sogood a son."
"Then thou wilt send him home, daddy?" asked Cicely.
Carew took her hand in his, but answered nothing.
They had come to the landing.