CHAPTER XXVI
TO SING BEFORE THE QUEEN
"Sir Fly hangs dead on the window-pane; The frost doth wind his shroud; Through the halls of his little summer house The north wind cries aloud. We will bury his bones in the mouldy wall, And mourn for the noble slain: A southerly wind and a sunny sky-- Buzz! up he comes again! Oh, Master Fly!"
Nick looked up from the music-rack and shivered. He had forgotten thefire in studying his song, and the blackened ends of the burnt-out logslay smouldering on the hearth. The draught, too, whistled shrilly underthe door, in spite of the rushes that he had piled along the crack.
The fog had been gone for a week. It was snapping cold; and through thepeep-holes he had thawed upon the window-pane with his breath, he couldsee the hoar-frost lying in the shadow of the wall in the court below.
How forlorn the green old dial looked out there alone in the cold, withthe winter dust whirling around it in little eddies upon the wind! Thedial was fringed with icicles, like an old man's beard; and even thecreeping shadow on its face, which told mid-afternoon, seemed frozenwhere it fell.
Mid-afternoon already, and he so much to do! Nick pulled his cloak abouthim, and turned to his song again:
"Sir Fly hangs dead on the window-pane; The frost doth wind his shroud--"
But there he stopped; for the boys were singing in the great hall below,and the whole house rang with the sound of the roaring chorus:
"Down-a-down, hey, down-a-down, Hey derry derry down-a-down!"
Nick put his fingers in his ears, and began all over again:
"Sir Fly hangs dead on the window-pane; The frost doth wind his shroud; Through the halls of his little summer house The north wind cries aloud."
But it was no use; all he could hear was:
"Down-a-down, hey, down-a-down, Hey derry derry down-a-down!"
How could a fellow study in a noise like that? He gave it up in despair,and kicking the chunks together, stood upon the hearth, warming hishands by the gathering blaze while he listened to the song:
"Cold's the wind, and wet's the rain; Saint Hugh, be our good speed! Ill is the weather that bringeth no gain, Nor helps good hearts in need.
"Down-a-down, hey, down-a-down, Hey derry derry down-a-down!"
He could hear Colley Warren above them all. What a voice the boy had!Like a golden horn blowing in the fresh of a morning breeze. It madeNick tingle, he could not tell why. He and Colley often sang together,and their voices made a quivering in the air like the ringing of a bell.And often, while they sang, the viols standing in the corner of the roomwould sound aloud a deep, soft note in harmony with them, althoughnobody had touched the strings; so that the others cried out that theinstruments were bewitched, and would not let the boys sing any more.Colley Warren was Nick's best friend--a dark-eyed, quiet lad, as gentleas a girl, and with a mouth like a girl's mouth, for which the otherssometimes mocked him, though they loved him none the less.
It was not because his voice was loud that it could be so distinctlyheard; but it was nothing like the rest, and came through all the otherslike sunshine through a mist. Nick pulled the stool up closer, and satdown in the chimney-corner, humming a second to the tune, and blowinglittle glory-holes in the embers with the bellows. He liked the smellof a wood fire, and liked to toast his toes. He was a trifle drowsy,too, now that he was warm again to the marrow of his bones; perhaps hedozed a little.
But suddenly he came to himself again with a sense of a great stillnessfallen over everything--no singing in the room below, and silenceeverywhere but in the court, where there was a trampling as of horsesstanding at the gate. And while he was still lazily wondering, a greatcheer broke out in the room below, and there was a stamping of feet likecattle galloping over a bridge; and then, all at once, the door openedinto the hallway at the foot of the stair, and the sound burst out asfire bursts from the cock-loft window of a burning barn, and through thenoise and over it Colley Warren's voice calling him by name: "Skylark!Nick Skylark! Ho there, Nick! where art thou?"
He sprang to the door and kicked the rushes away. All the hall was fullof voices, laughing, shouting, singing, and cheering. There werefootsteps coming up the stair. "What there, Skylark! Ho, boy! Nick,where art thou?" he could hear Colley calling above them all. Out hepopped his nose: "Here I am, Colley--what's to do? _Whatever in theworld!_" and he ducked his head like a mandarin; for whizz--flap! twobooks came whirling up the stair and thumped against the panel byhis ears.
"The news--the news, Nick! Have ye heard the news?" the lads wereshouting as if possessed. "We're going to court! Hurrah, hurrah!" Andsome, with their arms about one another, went whirling out at the doorand around the windy close like very madcaps, cutting such capers thatthe horses standing at the gate kicked up their heels, and jerked thehorse-boys right and left like bundles of hay.
Nick leaned over the railing and stared.
"Come down and help us sing!" they cried. "Come down and shout with usin the street!"
"I can na come down--there's work to do!"
"Thy 'can na' be hanged, and thy work likewise! Come down and sing, orwe'll fetch thee down. The Queen hath sent for us!"
"The Queen--hath sent--for us?"
"Ay, sent for us to come to court and play on Christmas day! Hurrah forQueen Bess!"
At that shrill cheer the startled horses fairly plunged into the street,and the carts that were passing along the way were jammed against theopposite wall. The carriers bellowed, the horse-boys bawled, the peoplecame running to see the row, and the apprentices flew out of the shopsbareheaded, waving their dirty aprons and cheering lustily, just for thefun of the chance to cheer.
"It's true!" called Colley, his dark eyes dancing like stars on the sea."Come down, Nick, and sing in the street with us all! We are going toGreenwich Palace on Christmas day to play before the Queen and thecourt--for the first time, Nick, in a good six years; and we're not towork till the new masque comes from the Master of the Revels! Come down,Nick, and sing with us out in the street; for we're going to court,we're going to court to sing before the Queen! Hurrah, hurrah!"
"Hurrah for good Queen Bess!" cried Nick; and up went his cap and downwent he on the baluster-rail like a runaway sled, head first into thecrowd, who caught him laughing as he came. Then all together theycantered out like a parcel of colts in a fresh, green field, and sang inthe street before the school till the people cheered themselves hoarseto hear such music on such a wintry day; sang until there was no otherbusiness on all the thoroughfare but just to listen to their songs; sanguntil the under-masters came out with their staves and drove them intothe school again, to keep them from straining their throats by singingso loudly and so long in the frosty open air.
But a fig for staves and for under-masters! The boys clapped fast thegates behind them, and barred the under-masters out in the street,singing twice as loudly as before, and mocking at them with wry facesthrough the bars; and then trooped off up the old precentor's privatestair and sang at his door until the old man could not hear his ownears, and came out storming and grim as grief.
But when he saw the boys all there, and heard them cheering him threetimes three, he could not storm to save his life, but only stood there,black and thin, against the yellow square of light, smiling a quaintsmile that half was wrinkles and half was pride, shaking his leanforefinger at them as if he were beating time, and nodding until hishead seemed almost nodding off.
"Hurrah for Master Nathaniel Gyles!" they shouted.
"_Primus Magister Scholarum, Custos Morum, Quartus Custos Rotulorum_,"said the old man softly to himself, the firelight from behind himfalling in a glory on his thin white hair. "Be off, ye rogues! Ye arenot fit to waste good language on; or, faith, I'd Latin ye all as dumbas fishes in the depths of the briny sea!"
"Hurrah for the fishes in the sea!"
"Soft, ye knaves! Save thy th
roats for good Queen Bess!"
"Hurrah for good Queen Bess!"
"Be still, I say, ye good-for-nothing varlets; or ye sha'n't have pieand ale to-night. But marry, now, ye _shall_ have pie--ay, pie and alewithout a stint; for ye are good lads, and ye have pleased the Queen atlast; and I am as proud of ye as a peacock is of his own tail!"
"Hurrah for the Queen--and the pie--and the ale! Hurrah for the peacockand his tail!" shouted the boys; and straightway, seeing that they hadmade a rhyme, they gave a cheer shriller and longer than all the othersput together, and went clattering down the stairway, singing at the topof their lungs:
Hurrah for the Queen, and the pie and the ale! Hurrah for the peacock, hurrah for his tail! Hurrah for hurrah, and hurrah again-- We're going to court on Christmas day To sing before the Queen!"
"Good lads, good lads!" said the old precentor to himself, as he turnedback into his little room. His eyes were shining proudly in thecandle-light, yet the tears were running down his cheeks. A queer oldman, Nat Gyles, and dead this many a long, long year; yet that night noman was happier than he.
But Master Gaston Carew, who had come for Nick, stood in the gatheringdusk by the gate below, and stared up at the yellow square of light witha troubled look upon his reckless face.