The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 8

  CHAPTER I

  AT THE SIGN OF THE "SUN" IN KETTLEY

  Sir Daniel and his men lay in and about Kettley that night, warmlyquartered and well patrolled. But the Knight of Tunstall was one whonever rested from money-getting; and even now, when he was on the brinkof an adventure which should make or mar him, he was up an hour aftermidnight to squeeze poor neighbours. He was one who trafficked greatlyin disputed inheritances; it was his way to buy out the most unlikelyclaimant, and then, by the favour he curried with great lords about theking, procure unjust decisions in his favour; or, if that was tooround-about, to seize the disputed manor by force of arms, and rely onhis influence and Sir Oliver's cunning in the law to hold what he hadsnatched. Kettley was one such place; it had come very lately into hisclutches; he still met with opposition from the tenants; and it was tooverawe discontent that he had led his troops that way.

  By two in the morning, Sir Daniel sat in the inn room, close by thefireside, for it was cold at that hour among the fens of Kettley. By hiselbow stood a pottle of spiced ale. He had taken off his visoredheadpiece, and sat with his bald head and thin dark visage resting onone hand, wrapped warmly in a sanguine-coloured cloak. At the lower endof the room about a dozen of his men stood sentry over the door or layasleep on benches; and, somewhat nearer hand, a young lad apparently oftwelve or thirteen was stretched in a mantle on the floor. The host ofthe "Sun" stood before the great man.

  "Now, mark me, mine host," Sir Daniel said, "follow but mine orders,and I shall be your good lord ever. I must have good men for headboroughs, and I will have Adam-a-More high constable; see to itnarrowly. If other men be chosen, it shall avail you nothing; rather itshall be found to your sore cost. For those that have paid rent toWalsingham I shall take good measure--you among the rest, mine host."

  "Good knight," said the host, "I will swear upon the cross of Holywood Idid but pay to Walsingham upon compulsion. Nay, bully knight, I love notthe rogue Walsinghams; they were as poor as thieves, bully knight. Giveme a great lord like you. Nay; ask me among the neighbours, I am stoutfor Brackley."

  "It may be," said Sir Daniel drily. "Ye shall then pay twice."

  The innkeeper made a horrid grimace; but this was a piece of bad luckthat might readily befall a tenant in these unruly times, and he wasperhaps glad to make his peace so easily.

  "Bring up yon fellow, Selden!" cried the knight.

  And one of his retainers led up a poor, cringing old man, as pale as acandle, and all shaking with the fen fever.

  "Sirrah," said Sir Daniel, "your name?"

  "An't please your worship," replied the man, "my name isCondall--Condall of Shoreby, at your good worship's pleasure."

  "I have heard you ill reported on," returned the knight. "Ye deal intreason, rogue; ye trudge the country leasing; y' are heavilysuspicioned of the death of severals. How, fellow, are ye so bold? But Iwill bring you down."

  "Right honourable and my reverend lord," the man cried, "here is somehodge-podge, saving your good presence. I am but a poor private man, andhave hurt none."

  "The under-sheriff did report of you most vilely," said the knight."'Seize me,' saith he, 'that Tyndal of Shoreby.'"

  "Condall, my good lord; Condall is my poor name," said the unfortunate.

  "Condall or Tyndal, it is all one," replied Sir Daniel coolly. "For, bymy sooth, y' are here, and I do mightily suspect your honesty. If youwould save your neck, write me swiftly an obligation for twenty pound."

  "For twenty pound, my good lord!" cried Condall. "Here is midsummermadness! My whole estate amounteth not to seventy shillings."

  "Condall or Tyndal," returned Sir Daniel, grinning, "I will run my perilof that loss. Write me down twenty, and when I have recovered all I may,I will be good lord to you, and pardon you the rest."

  "Alas! my good lord, it may not be; I have no skill to write," saidCondall.

  "Well-a-day!" returned the knight. "Here, then, is no remedy. Yet Iwould fain have spared you, Tyndal, had my conscience suffered.--Selden,take me this old shrew softly to the nearest elm, and hang me himtenderly by the neck, where I may see him at my riding. Fare ye well,good Master Condall, dear Master Tyndal; y' are post-haste for Paradise;fare ye then well!"

  "Nay, my right pleasant lord," replied Condall, forcing an obsequioussmile, "an ye be so masterful, as doth right well become you, I willeven, with all my poor skill, do your good bidding."

  "Friend," quoth Sir Daniel, "ye will now write two score. Go to! y' aretoo cunning for a livelihood of seventy shillings. Selden, see him writeme this in good form, and have it duly witnessed."

  And Sir Daniel, who was a very merry knight, none merrier in England,took a drink of his mulled ale, and lay back, smiling.

  Meanwhile the boy upon the floor began to stir, and presently sat up andlooked about him with a scare.

  "Hither," said Sir Daniel; and as the other rose at his command and cameslowly towards him, he leaned back and laughed outright. "By the rood!"he cried, "a sturdy boy!"

  The lad flashed crimson with anger, and darted a look of hate out of hisdark eyes. Now that he was on his legs, it was more difficult to makecertain of his age. His face looked somewhat older in expression, but itwas as smooth as a young child's; and in bone and body he was unusuallyslender, and somewhat awkward of gait.

  "Ye have called me, Sir Daniel," he said. "Was it to laugh at my poorplight?"

  "Nay, now, let laugh," said the knight. "Good shrew, let laugh, I prayyou. An ye could see yourself, I warrant ye would laugh the first."

  "Well," cried the lad, flushing, "ye shall answer this when ye answerfor the other. Laugh while yet ye may!"

  "Nay, now, good cousin," replied Sir Daniel, with some earnestness,"think not that I mock at you, except in mirth, as between kinsfolk andsingular friends. I will make you a marriage of a thousand pounds, goto! and cherish you exceedingly. I took you, indeed, roughly, as thetime demanded; but from henceforth I shall ungrudgingly maintain andcheerfully serve you. Ye shall be Mrs. Shelton--Lady Shelton, by mytroth! for the lad promiseth bravely. Tut! ye will not shy for honestlaughter; it purgeth melancholy. They are no rogues who laugh, goodcousin.--Good mine host, lay me a meal now for my cousin, MasterJohn.--Sit ye down, sweetheart, and eat."

  "Nay," said Master John, "I will break no bread. Since ye force me tothis sin, I will fast for my soul's interest.--But, good mine host, Ipray you of courtesy give me a cup of fair water; I shall be muchbeholden to your courtesy indeed."

  "Ye shall have a dispensation, go to!" cried the knight. "Shalt be wellshriven, by my faith! Content you, then, and eat."

  But the lad was obstinate, drank a cup of water, and, once more wrappinghimself closely in his mantle, sat in a far corner, brooding.

  In an hour or two there rose a stir in the village of sentrieschallenging and the clatter of arms and horses; and then a troop drew upby the inn-door, and Richard Shelton, splashed with mud, presentedhimself upon the threshold.

  "Save you, Sir Daniel," he said.

  "How! Dickie Shelton!" cried the knight; and at the mention of Dick'sname the other lad looked curiously across. "What maketh Bennet Hatch?"

  "Please you, sir knight, to take cognisance of this packet from SirOliver, wherein are all things fully stated," answered Richard,presenting the priest's letter. "And please you farther, ye were bestmake all speed to Risingham; for on the way hither we encountered oneriding furiously with letters, and by his report, my Lord of Risinghamwas sore bestead, and lacked exceedingly your presence."

  "How say you? Sore bestead?" returned the knight. "Nay, then, we willmake speed sitting down, good Richard. As the world goes in this poorrealm of England, he that rides softliest rides surest. Delay, they say,begetteth peril; but it is rather this itch of doing that undoes men;mark it, Dick. But let me see, first, what cattle ye havebrought.--Selden, a link here at the door!"

  And Sir Daniel strode forth into the village street, and, by the redglow of a torch, inspected his new troops. He was an unpopular neighbourand an un
popular master; but as a leader in war he was well beloved bythose who rode behind his pennant. His dash, his proved courage, hisforethought for the soldiers' comfort, even his rough gibes, were all tothe taste of the bold blades in jack and salet.

  "Nay, by the rood!" he cried, "what poor dogs are these? Here be some ascrooked as a bow, and some as lean as a spear. Friends, ye shall ride inthe front of the battle; I can spare you, friends. Mark me this oldvillain on the piebald! A two-year mutton riding on a hog would lookmore soldierly! Ha! Clipsby, are ye there, old rat? Y' are a man I couldlose with a good heart; ye shall go in front of all, with a bull's-eyepainted on your jack, to be the better butt for archery; sirrah, yeshall show me the way."

  "I will show you any way, Sir Daniel, but the way to change sides,"returned Clipsby sturdily.

  Sir Daniel laughed a guffaw.

  "Why, well said!" he cried. "Hast a shrewd tongue in thy mouth, go to! Iwill forgive you for that merry word.--Selden, see them fed, both manand brute."

  The knight re-entered the inn.

  "Now, friend Dick," he said, "fall to. Here is good ale and bacon. Eatwhile that I read."

  Sir Daniel opened the packet, and as he read his brow darkened. When hehad done he sat a little, musing. Then he looked sharply at his ward.

  "Dick," said he, "y' have seen this penny rhyme?"

  The lad replied in the affirmative.

  "It bears your father's name," continued the knight; "and our poor shrewof a parson is, by some mad soul, accused of slaying him."

  "He did most eagerly deny it," answered Dick.

  "He did?" cried the knight, very sharply. "Heed him not. He has a loosetongue; he babbles like a jack-sparrow. Some day, when I may find theleisure, Dick, I will myself more fully inform you of these matters.There was one Duckworth shrewdly blamed for it; but the times weretroubled, and there was no justice to be got."

  "It befell at the Moat House?" Dick ventured, with a beating at hisheart.

  "It befell between the Moat House and Holywood," replied Sir Danielcalmly; but he shot a covert glance, black with suspicion, at Dick'sface. "And now," added the knight, "speed you with your meal; ye shallreturn to Tunstall with a line from me."

  Dick's face fell sorely.

  "Prithee, Sir Daniel," he cried, "send one of the villains! I beseechyou let me to the battle. I can strike a stroke, I promise you."

  "I misdoubt it not," replied Sir Daniel, sitting down to write. "Buthere, Dick, is no honour to be won. I lie in Kettley till I have suretidings of the war, and then ride to join me with the conqueror. Cry noton cowardice; it is but wisdom, Dick; for this poor realm so tossethwith rebellion, and the king's name and custody so changeth hands, thatno man may be certain of the morrow. Toss-pot and Shuttle-wit run in,but my Lord Good-Counsel sits o' one side, waiting."

  With that, Sir Daniel, turning his back to Dick, and quite at thefarther end of the long table, began to write his letter, with his mouthon one side, for this business of the Black Arrow stuck sorely in histhroat.

  Meanwhile, young Shelton was going on heartily enough with hisbreakfast, when he felt a touch upon his arm, and a very soft voicewhispering in his ear.

  "Make not a sign, I do beseech you," said the voice, "but of yourcharity teach me the straight way to Holywood. Beseech you, now, goodboy, comfort a poor soul in peril and extreme distress, and set me sofar forth upon the way to my repose."

  "Take the path by the windmill," answered Dick, in the same tone; "itwill bring you to Till Ferry; there inquire again."

  And without turning his head, he fell again to eating. But with the tailof his eye he caught a glimpse of the young lad called Master Johnstealthily creeping from the room.

  "Why," thought Dick, "he is as young as I. 'Good boy' doth he call me?An I had known, I should have seen the varlet hanged ere I had told him.Well, if he goes through the fen, I may come up with him and pull hisears."

  Half an hour later, Sir Daniel gave Dick the letter and bade him speedto the Moat House. And again, some half an hour after Dick's departure,a messenger came, in hot haste, from my Lord of Risingham.

  "Sir Daniel," the messenger said, "ye lose great honour, by my sooth!The fight began again this morning ere the dawn, and we have beatentheir van and scattered their right wing. Only the main battle standethfast. An we had your fresh men, we should tilt you them all into theriver. What, sir knight! Will ye be the last? It stands not with yourgood credit."

  "Nay," cried the knight, "I was but now upon the march.--Selden, soundme the tucket.--Sir, I am with you on the instant. It is not two hourssince the more part of my command came in, sir messenger. What would yehave? Spurring is good meat, but yet it killed the charger.--Bustle,boys!"

  By this time the tucket was sounding cheerily in the morning, and fromall sides Sir Daniel's men poured into the main street and formed beforethe inn. They had slept upon their arms, with chargers saddled, and inten minutes five score men-at-arms and archers, cleanly equipped andbriskly disciplined, stood ranked and ready. The chief part were in SirDaniel's livery, murrey and blue, which gave the greater show to theirarray. The best armed rode first; and away out of sight, at the tail ofthe column, came the sorry reinforcement of the night before. Sir Daniellooked with pride along the line.

  "Here be the lads to serve you in a pinch," he said.

  "They are pretty men, indeed," replied the messenger. "It but augmentsmy sorrow that ye had not marched the earlier."

  "Well," said the knight, "what would ye? The beginning of a feast andthe end of a fray, sir messenger"; and he mounted into his saddle. "Why!how now!" he cried. "John! Joanna! Nay, by the sacred rood! where isshe?--Host, where is that girl?"

  "Girl, Sir Daniel?" cried the landlord. "Nay, sir, I saw no girl."

  "Boy, then, dotard!" cried the knight. "Could ye not see it was a wench?She in the murrey-coloured mantle--she that broke her fast with water,rogue--where is she?"

  "Nay, the saints bless us! Master John, ye called him," said the host."Well, I thought none evil. He is gone. I saw him--her--I saw her in thestable a good hour agone; 'a was saddling a grey horse."

  "Now, by the rood!" cried Sir Daniel, "the wench was worth five hundredpound to me and more."

  "Sir knight," observed the messenger, with bitterness, "while that yeare here, roaring for five hundred pounds, the realm of England iselsewhere being lost and won."

  "It is well said," replied Sir Daniel.--"Selden, fall me out with sixcrossbowmen; hunt me her down. I care not what it cost; but, at myreturning, let me find her at the Moat House. Be it upon your head.--Andnow, sir messenger, we march."

  And the troops broke into a good trot, and Selden and his six men wereleft behind upon the street of Kettley, with the staring villagers.