All these, with other wonders, Francis encountered as they wended their
way through alleys and byways until presently they came to London Stone.

"Now here will I dismount," cried Francis pleased and excited by all that
she had seen and heard.

"But why, child? We have not yet reached the wharf where we take the
wherry for Greenwich. Why should you pause here?"

"Because," cried the girl with a laugh, "if I cannot take possession of
the city, I can at least emulate that arch traitor, Jack Cade, and strike
my staff upon this stone." So saying she struck the ancient stone a sharp
blow with her whip.

"Beshrew me, girl!" cried the nobleman laughing, "thou shouldst in very
truth have been a boy! Marry! who but a lad would have thought on such a
thing! But hasten! The last rays of yon setting sun must see us at the
palace."

Francis remounted her palfrey, and without further incident they came to
the wharf. Leaving their horses in the charge of some of the servitors of
Lord Shrope they descended the stairs that led through one of the
numerous water gates to the river, and entered one of the wherries that
lay clustered about waiting for fares.

"See the barges," cried the girl as they shot London Bridge and passed
down the river. "How many there are!"

The bosom of the river was covered over with barges, wherries and
vessels of every description. Busy as it was fleets of swans were sailing
upon its smooth surface, the noise of their gabble mingling agreeably
with the song of the watermen.

"Yes, many;" assented Lord Shrope in answer to the girl's remark, as
retinues of barges passed them, filled with many a freight of brave men
and beautiful women. "Hearken, how the oarsmen keep time to their oars."

Francis listened with delight as the song of the wherrymen swelled in a
mighty chorus, for every boatman sang the same thing:

"Heave ho! rumbelow!"

"And the swans," she cried excitedly.

"Yes; 'tis a pleasant sight, and many have wondered that they should stay
upon the river when it is so busy, but they are kindly treated and no
harm suffered to come to them. Behold the dwellings of the nobles."

Nothing could have been more picturesque at this time than the north bank
of the Thames with its broad gardens, lofty trees and embattled turrets
and pinnacles of the palaces, each of which had its landing-place and
private retinue of barges and wherries.

"This is the Tower," said the nobleman as they drew near that