nd an occasional job of inlaying gold in
other metal, sufficed to maintain the old man and his little daughter.
The armourers themselves were sometimes forced to have recourse to him,
though unwillingly, for he was looked on with distrust and dislike as an
interloper of foreign birth, belonging to no guild. A Biscayan or
Castillian of the oldest Christian blood incurred exactly the same
obloquy from the mass of London craftsmen and apprentices, and Lucas
himself had small measure of favour, though Dutchmen were less alien to
the English mind than Spaniards, and his trade did not lead to so much
rivalry and competition.

As much of this as Ambrose knew or understood he told to Stephen, who
listened in a good deal of bewilderment, understanding very little, but
with a strong instinct that his brother's love of learning was leading
him into dangerous company. And what were they doing on this fine May
holiday, when every one ought to be out enjoying themselves?

"Well, if thou wilt know," said Ambrose, pushed hard, "there is one
Master William Tindal, who hath been doing part of the blessed Evangel
into English, and for better certainty of its correctness, Master
Michael was comparing it with his Arabic version, while I overlooked the
Latin."

"O Ambrose, thou wilt surely run into trouble. Know you not how nurse
Joan used to tell us of the burning of the Lollard books?"

"Nay, nay, Stevie, this is no heresy. 'Tis such work as the great
scholar, Master Erasmus, is busied on--ay, and he is loved and honoured
by both the Archbishops and the King's grace. Ask Tibble Steelman what
he thinks thereof."

"Tibble Steelman would think nought of a beggarly stranger calling
himself a sword-cutler, and practising the craft without prenticeship or
license," said Stephen, swelling with indignation. "Come on, Ambrose,
and sweep the cobwebs from thy brain. If we cannot get into our own
tent again, we can mingle with the outskirts, and learn how the day is
going, and how our lances and breastplates have stood where the knaves
at the Eagle have gone like reeds and egg-shells--just as I threw George
Bates, the prentice at the Eagle yesterday, in a wrestling match at the
butts with the trick old Diggory taught me."

CHAPTER TWELVE.

A KING IN A QUAGMIRE.

"For my pastance
Hunt, sing, and dance,
My heart is set
All godly sport
To my comfort.
Who shall me let?"
The King's Balade,
_attributed to Henry the