The Armourer's Prentices
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Оглавление
Yonge Charlotte Mary. The Armourer's Prentices
CHAPTER I. THE VERDURER’S LODGE
CHAPTER II. THE GRANGE OF SILKSTEDE
CHAPTER III. KINSMEN AND STRANGERS
CHAPTER IV. A HERO’S FALL
CHAPTER V. THE DRAGON COURT
CHAPTER VI. A SUNDAY IN THE CITY
CHAPTER VII. YORK HOUSE
CHAPTER VIII. QUIPSOME HAL
CHAPTER IX. ARMS SPIRITUAL AND TEMPORAL
CHAPTER X. TWO VOCATIONS
CHAPTER XI. AY DI ME GRENADA
CHAPTER XII. A KING IN A QUAGMIRE
CHAPTER XIII. A LONDON HOLIDAY
CHAPTER XIV. THE KNIGHT OF THE BADGER
CHAPTER XV. HEAVE HALF A BRICK AT HIM
CHAPTER XVI. MAY EVE
CHAPTER XVII. ILL MAY DAY
CHAPTER XVIII. PARDON
CHAPTER XIX. AT THE ANTELOPE
CHAPTER XX. CLOTH OF GOLD ON THE SEAMY SIDE
CHAPTER XXI. SWORD OR SMITHY
CHAPTER XXII. AN INVASION
CHAPTER XXIII. UNWELCOME PREFERMENT
CHAPTER XXIV. THE SOLDIER
CHAPTER XXV. OLD HAUNTS
Отрывок из книги
Very early in the morning, even according to the habits of the time, were Stephen and Ambrose Birkenholt astir. They were full of ardour to enter on the new and unknown world beyond the Forest, and much as they loved it, any change that kept them still to their altered life would have been distasteful.
Nurse Joan, asking no questions, folded up their fardels on their backs, and packed the wallets for their day’s journey with ample provision. She charged them to be good lads, to say their Pater, Credo, and Ave daily, and never omit Mass on a Sunday. They kissed her like their mother and promised heartily—and Stephen took his crossbow. They had had some hope of setting forth so early as to avoid all other human farewells, except that Ambrose wished to begin by going to Beaulieu to take leave of the Father who had been his kind master, and get his blessing and counsel. But Beaulieu was three miles out of their way, and Stephen had not the same desire, being less attached to his schoolmaster and more afraid of hindrances being thrown in their way.
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“Looking after dead men’s shoes, I trow,” muttered father Segrim, with a sour look at the lads, as he led them through the outer court, where some fine horses were being groomed, and then across a second court surrounded with a beautiful cloister, with flower beds in front of it. Here, on a stone bench, in the sun, clad in a gown furred with rabbit skin, sat a decrepit old man, both his hands clasped over his staff. Into his deaf ears their guide shouted, “These boys say they are your kindred, Master Birkenholt.”
“Anan?” said the old man, trembling with palsy. The lads knew him to be older than their father, but they were taken by surprise at such feebleness, and the monk did not aid them, only saying roughly, “There he is. Tell your errand.”
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