Forest Days: A Romance of Old Times
self-possessed, but there was a quick and furtive glance of the eye
from object to object, as he entered the room, which gave the
impression that there was a cunning and inquisitive spirit within. His
face was certainly handsome, though pale and dark; his beard was short
and black, and his hair, which was remarkably fine and glossy, had been
left to grow long, and was platted like that of a woman. His hand was
white and fine, and it was evident that he paid no slight attention to
his dress, by the tremendous length of the points of his boots, which
were embroidered to represent a serpent, and buttoned to his knees with
a small loop of gold. His hood, too, was strangely ornamented with
various figures embroidered round the edge; and yet so great was the
extravagance of the period, that his apparel would then have been
considered much less costly than that of most men of his rank, for his
revenues were by far too limited, and his other expenses too many and
too frequent, to permit of his indulging to the full his taste for
splendid garments.
As this personage entered the room, the sharp glance of the serving-man
detected the figure of Kate, the host's daughter, gliding away from the
opening door, but, turning his head discreetly, he fixed his eyes upon
the new-comer with a low reverence, advancing at the same time towards
him.
The Earl's kinsman, however, either did not, or affected not to know
the person who approached him, and the lord's man was obliged to enter
into explanations as to who he was, and what was his errand.
"Ha!" said Richard de Ashby, "danger at York, is there? My good lord,
your master, has brought us down here for nothing, then, it seems. I
know not how my kinsman, the Earl of Ashby, will take this, for he
loves not journeying to be disappointed."
"My lord does not intend to disappoint the Earl," replied the
serving-man; "he will give him the meeting in the course of
to-morrow--somewhere."
"Know you not where?" demanded the gentleman; and, as the servant
turned his eyes, with a doubtful glance, to the spot where the peasant
was seated, the other added, "Come hither with me upon the green, where
there are no idle ears to overhear."
If his words were meant as a hint for Hardy to quit the room, it was
not taken; for the hunchback remained fixed to the table, having
recourse from time to time to his jug of ale, and looking towards the
door more than once, after Sir Richard and the lord's man had quitted
the chamber.
Their conference was apparently long, and at length, first one of the
gentleman's servants, and then another, entered the little low-roofed
room, and approached the table at which the peasant sat.
"Hallo! what hast thou got here, bumpkin?" cried one of them--"wine for
such a carle as thou art!" and, as he spoke, he took up the tankard
from which the serving-man had been drinking.
"That is neither thine nor mine," replied Hardy, "so you had better let
it alone."
"Heyday!" cried the servant of the great man's kinsman; "rated by a
humpbacked ploughman! If it be not thine, fellow, hold thy tongue, for
it can be nothing to thee! I shall take leave to make free with it,
however," and, pouring out a cup, he tossed it off.
"You must be a poor rogue," said the peasant, "to be so fond of
drinking at another man's cost, as not to pay for your liquor even by a
civil word."
"What is that he says?" cried the man, turning to his companion--for,
to say sooth, although he had heard every word, he was not quite
prepared to act upon them, being one of those who are much more
ready to bully and brawl, than to take part in a fray they have
provoked--"what is that he says?"
"He called thee a poor rogue, Timothy," said his companion. "Turn him
out by the heels, the misbegotten lump!"
"Out with him!" cried the other, seeing that his comrade was inclined
to stand by him, "Out with him!" and he advanced, menacingly, upon the
peasant.
"Hold your hands!--hold your hands!" said Hardy, shaking his head--"I
am an old man, and not so well made as you two varlets, but I don't
'bide a blow from any poor kinsman's half-starved curs!--Take care, my
men!" and as one of them approached rather too near, he struck him a
blow, without rising from his stool, which made him measure his length
upon the rushes that strewed the floor, crying out at the same time, in
a whining tone, "To think of two huge fellows falling upon a poor,
deformed old body."
It so happened that the personage whom the peasant had knocked down was
the braver man of the two; and, starting up, he rushed fiercely upon
his adversary; which his companion espying, darted upon Hardy at the
same moment, and by a dexterous kick of his foot knocked the stool from
under him, thus bringing the hunchback and his own comrade to the
ground together. He then caught their enemy by the collar, and held his
head firmly down upon the floor with both hands, as one has sometimes
seen a child do with a refractory kitten.
"Baste him, Dickon--baste him!" he cried.
"I'll give him a dip in the horse-pond," said the other; "his nose will
make the water fizz like a red-hot horseshoe."
At that moment, however, the noise occasioned by such boisterous
proceedings called in pretty Kate Greenly, the landlord's daughter,
who, although she had a great reverence and regard for all the serving
men of Richard de Ashby, was not fond of seeing poor Hardy ill-treated.
Glancing eagerly round, while the peasant strove with his two
opponents, she seized a pail of water which stood behind the parlour
door, and following the plan which she had seen her father pursue with
the bulldog and mastiff which tenanted the back yard, she dashed the
whole of the contents over the combatants as they lay struggling on the
ground.
All three started up, panting; but the gain was certainly on the part
of Hardy, who, freed from the grasp of his adversaries, caught up the
three-legged stool on which he had been sitting, and whirling it
lightly above his head, prepared to defend himself therewith against
his assailants; who, on their part, with their rage heightened rather
than assuaged by the cool libation which Kate had poured upon them,
drew the short swords that they carried, and were rushing upon the old
peasant with no very merciful intent.
Kate Greenly now screamed aloud, exerting her pretty little throat to
the utmost, and her cries soon brought in the lord's man, followed,
somewhat slowly, by Richard de Ashby. The good landlord himself--having
established as a rule, both out of regard for his own person and for
the custom of his house, never to interfere in any quarrels if he could
possibly avoid it, which rule had produced, on certain occasions, great
obtuseness in sight and in hearing--kept out of the way, and indeed
removed himself to the stable upon the pretence of looking after his
guests' horses.
The lord's man, however, with the true spirit of an English yeoman,
dashed at once into the fray, taking instant part with the weakest.
"Come, come!" he cried, placing himself by Hardy's side, "two men
against one--and he an old one! Out upon it! Stand off, or I'll break
your jaws for you!"
This accession to the forces of their adversary staggered the two
servants, and a momentary pause took place, in which their master's
voice was at last heard.
"What! brawling, fools!" he exclaimed. "We have something else to think
of now. Stand back, and let the old man go! Get you gone, ploughman;
and don't let me find you snarling with a gentleman's servants again,
or I will put you in the stocks for your pains."
"I will break his head before he's out of the house," said one of the
men, who seemed to pay but little deference to his master's commands.
"I will break thine, if thou triest it," answered the lord's man,
sturdily. "Come along, old man, come along; I will see thee safe out of
the place, and let any one of them lay a finger on thee if he dare!"
Thus saying, he grasped Hardy's arm and led him forth from the inn,
muttering as he did so, "By the shoulder-bone of St. Luke, the old
fellow has got limbs enough to defend himself!--It's as thick as a roll
of brawn, and as hard as a branch of oak! How goes it with thee,
fellow?"
"Stiff--woundy stiff, sir," replied the hunchback; "but I thank you,
with all my heart, for taking part with me; and I would fain give you a
cup of good ale in return, such as you have never tasted out of London.
If you could but contrive to come to my poor place to-morrow morning,"
he added, dropping his voice to a low tone, "I could shew some country
sports, which, as you are a judge of such things, might please you."
"It must be early hours, then," replied the serving-man. "Those that
don't come to-night will not be here till noon to-morrow, it is true:
but still I think I had better wait for them."
"Nay, nay--come," said Hardy; "come and take a cup of ale with me,"
and, after a pause, he added, significantly, "besides, there's
something I want to tell you which may profit your lord."
"But how shall I find my way?" demanded the serving-man, gazing
inquiringly in his face, but with no expression of surprise at the
intimation he received.
"Oh, I will shew you," answered the peasant. "Meet me at the church
stile there, and I will guide you. It is not far. Be there a little
before six, and you shall find me waiting. Give me your hand on't."
The serving-man held out his hand, and Hardy shook it in a grasp such
as might be given by a set of iron pincers, at the same time advancing
his head, and adding, in a low tone,
"Take care what you do--you have a traitor there! One of those men is a
nidget, and the other is a false hound, come down to spy upon good men
and true."
Thus saying, he relaxed his hold, and, turning away, was soon lost in
the obscure twilight of the evening.
CHAPTER III.
The animal called the sluggard has greatly increased in modern days. In
former times the specimens were few and far between. The rising of the
sun was generally the signal for knight and yeoman to quit their beds,
and if some of the old or the soft cumbered their pillows for an hour
or so later, the sleeping time rarely if ever extended beyond seven in
the morning.
The sky was still grey when the stout yeoman, whom we have mentioned
under the title of the lord's man, but whose real name was Thomas
Blawket, sprang lightly out of his bed, and made that sort of rapid,
but not unwholesome toilet, which a hardy Englishman, in his rank of
life, was then accustomed to use. It consisted merely in one or two
large buckets of clean cold water poured over his round curly head and
naked shoulders, and then, with but some small ceremony of drying, his
clothes were cast on, and bound round him with his belt. The whole
operation occupied, perhaps, ten minutes, and a considerable portion
of that space of time was taken up in rubbing dry his thick, close,
short-cut beard, which curled up under the process into little knots,
like the coat of a French water dog.
"Give thee good day, host, give thee good day," he said, as he issued
forth. "I will be back anon;" and, sauntering forward leisurely on the
green, he stood for a moment or two looking round him, to prevent the
appearance of taking any preconcerted direction, and then walked slowly
towards the church, which stood behind the row of trees we have
mentioned. After gazing up at the building, which was then in its first
newness, he made a circuit round it, and passing the priest's house, he
reached what was called the Church Stile, where two broad stones, put
edgeways, with one flat one between them for a step, excluded all
animals without wings--except man, and his domestic companion, the
dog--from what was then called the Priest's Meadow.