CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
AT THE WHITE HART.
There was a good deal of bustle going on in the kitchen of the WhiteHart, the little hostelry at Staplehurst. It was "fair day," and fairswere much more important things in the olden time than now. A fairnow-a-days is an assemblage of some dozen booths, where the chiefcommodities are toys and sweetmeats, with an attempt at serious businessin the shape of a little crockery or a few tin goods. But fairs in 1557were busy places where many people laid in provisions for the season, orset themselves up with new clothes. The tiny inn had as many guests asit could hold, and the principal people in the town had come together inits kitchen--country inns had no parlours then--to debate all manner ofsubjects in which they were interested. The price of wool was anabsorbing topic with many; the dearness of meat and general badness oftrade were freely discussed by all. Amongst them bustled MistressFinal, the landlady of the inn, a widow, and a comely, rosy-faced, fat,kindly woman, assisted by her young son Ralph, her two daughters, Ursulaand Susan, and her maid Dorcas. Cakes and ale were served to most ofthe customers; more rarely meat, except in the form of pies, which werepopular, or of bacon, with or without accompanying eggs.
The company in the kitchen were all more or less acquainted with eachother, two persons excepted. Those who were not Staplehurst people hadcome in from the surrounding villages, or from Cranbrook at thefarthest. But these two men were total strangers, and they did not mixwith the villagers, but sat, in travelling garb, at one corner of thekitchen, listening, yet rarely joining in the talk which went on aroundthem. One of them, indeed, seemed wrapped in his own thoughts, andscarcely spoke, even to his companion. He was a tall spare man, with agrave and reserved expression of countenance. The other was shorter andmuch more lively in his motions, was evidently amused by theconversation in his vicinity, and looked as if he would not object totalk if the opportunity were given him.
Into this company came Emmet Wilson and Collet Pardue. Both had broughtfull baskets from the fair, which they set down in a corner, and turnedto amuse themselves with a little chat with their friends.
"Any news abroad?" asked Collet. She dearly loved a bit of news, whichshe would retail to her quiet husband as they sat by the fireside afterthe day's work was done.
"Well, not so much," said John Banks, the mason, to whom Collet hadaddressed herself. He was the brother of Mr Benden's servant Mary."Without you call it news to hear what happed at Briton's Mead lastnight."
"Why, whatso? Not the mistress come home, trow?"
"Alack, no such good hap! Nay, only Tabby came down to see the master,and brought her claws with her."
"Scrat him well, I hope?"
"Whipped him, and laid on pretty hard to boot."
"Why, you never mean it, real true, be sure!"
"Be sure I do. He's a-bed this morrow."
"I have my doubts if there'll be many tears shed in Staplehurst," saidMistress Final, laughing, as she went past with a plate ofbiscuit-bread, which, to judge from the receipt for making it, must havebeen very like our sponge cake.
"He's none so much loved of his neighbours," remarked Nicholas White,who kept a small ironmonger's shop, to which he added the sale of sucharticles as wood, wicker-work, crockery, and musical instruments.
The shorter and livelier of the travellers spoke for the first time.
"Pray you, who is this greatly beloved master?"
John Fishcock, the butcher, replied. "His name is Benden, and the folksbe but ill-affected to him for his hard ways and sorry conditions."
"Hard!--in what manner, trow?"
"Nay, you'd best ask my neighbour here, whose landlord he is."
"And who'd love a sight better to deal with his mistress than himself,"said Collet, answering the appeal. "I say not he's unjust, look you,but he's main hard, be sure. A farthing under the money, or a day overthe time, and he's no mercy."
"Ah, the mistress was good to poor folks, bless her!" said Banks.
"She's dead, is she?" asked the stranger.
"No, she's away," replied Banks shortly.
"Back soon?" suggested the stranger.
John Banks had moved away. There was a peculiar gleam in hisquestioner's eye which he did not admire. But Collet, alwaysunsuspicious, and not always discreet, replied without any idea ofreserve.
"You'd best ask Dick o' Dover that, for none else can tell you."
"Ah, forsooth!" replied the stranger, apparently more interested thanever. "I heard as we came there were divers new doctrine folks atStaplehurst. She is one of them, belike?--and the master holds with theold? 'Tis sore pity folks should not agree to differ, and hold theirseveral opinions in peace."
"Ah, it is so," said unsuspicious Collet.
"Pray you, who be the chief here of them of the new learning? We bestrangers in these parts, and should be well a-paid to know whither wemay seek our friends. Our hostess here, I am aware, is of them; but forothers I scarce know. The name of White was dropped in mine hearing,and likewise Fishcock; who be they, trow? And dwells there not acertain Mistress Brandridge, or some such?--and a Master Hall or Ball--some whither in this neighbourhood, that be friends unto such as lovenot the papistical ways?"
"Look you now, I'll do you to wit all thereanent," said Colletconfidentially. "For Fishcock, that was he that first spake unto you;he is a butcher, and dwelleth nigh the church. Nicholas White, yon bigman yonder, that toppeth most of his neighbours, hath an ironmongeryshop a-down in the further end of the village. Brandridge have we not:but Mistress Bradbridge--"
"Mistress, here's your master a-wanting you!" came suddenly in JohnBanks' clear tones; and Collette, hastily lifting her basket, andapologising for the sudden termination of her usefulness, departedquickly.
"She that hath hastened away is Mistress Wilson, methinks?" asked theinquisitive traveller of the person next him, who happened to be MaryBanks.
Mary looked quietly up into the animated face, and glanced at hiscompanion also before replying. Then she said quietly--
"No, my master; Mistress Wilson is not now here."
"Then what name hath she?"
"I cry you mercy, Master; I have no time to tarry."
The grave man in the corner gave a grim smile as Mary turned away.
"You took not much by that motion, Malledge," he said in a low tone.
"I took a good deal by the former," replied Malledge, with a laugh."Beside, I lacked it not; I wis well the name of my useful friend thatis now gone her way. I did but ask to draw on more talk. But onematter I have not yet."
These words were spoken in an undertone, audible only to the person towhom they were addressed; and the speaker turned back to join in thegeneral conversation. But before they had obtained any furtherinformation, the well-known sounds of the hunt came through the opendoor, and the whole company turned forth to see the hunters and houndsgo by. Most of them did not return, but dispersed in the direction oftheir various homes, and from the few who did nothing was to be drawn.
John Banks walked away with Nicholas White. "Saw you those twain?" heasked, when they had left the White Hart a little way behind them. "Thestrange men? Ay, I saw them."
"I misdoubt if they come for any good purpose."
"Ay so?" said Nicholas in apparent surprise. "What leads you to thatthought, trow?"
"I loved not neither of their faces; nor I liked not of their talk.That shorter man was for ever putting questions anent the folks in thisvicinage that loved the Gospel; and Collet Pardue told him more than sheshould, or I mistake."
Nicholas White smiled. "I reckoned you were in some haste to let herwit that her master wanted her," he said.
"I was that. I was in a hurry to stop her tongue."
"Well!" said the ironmonger after a short pause, "the Lord keep Hisown!"
"Amen!" returned the mason. "But methinks, friend, the Lord works notmany miracles to save even His own from traps whereinto they have runwith their eyes open."
They walked on for a few minutes in silence. "What think you," askedWhite, "is come of Mistress Benden?"
"Would I wist!" answered Banks. "Master Hall saith he'll never let betill he find her, without he be arrest himself."
"That will he, if he have not a care."
"I'm not so sure," said Banks, "that those two in the White Hart couldnot have told us an' they would."
"Good lack!--what count you then they be?"
"I reckon that they be of my Lord Cardinal's men."
"Have you any ground for that fantasy?"
"Methought I saw the nether end of a mitre, broidered on the sleeve ofthe shorter man, where his cloak was caught aside upon the settle knob.Look you, I am not sure; but I'm 'feared lest it so be."
"Jack, couldst thou stand the fire?"
"I wis not, Nichol. Could you?"
"I cast no doubt I could do all things through Christ, nor yet thatwithout Christ I could do nothing."
"It may come close, ere long," said Banks gravely.
The two travellers, meanwhile, had mounted their horses, and were ridingin the direction of Goudhurst. A third man followed them, leading abaggage-horse. As they went slowly along, the taller man said--
"Have you all you need, now, Malledge?"
"All but one matter, Master Sumner--we know not yet where Hall dwelleth.Trust me, but I coveted your grave face, when we heard tell of Tabbyhorsewhipping yon Benden!"
"He hath his demerits," said the sumner,--that is, the official whoserved the summonses to the ecclesiastical courts.
"Of that I cast no doubt; nor care I if Tabby thrash him every day, formy part. When come we in our proper persons, to do our work?"
"That cannot I tell. We must first make report to my Lord of Dover."
A young girl and a little child came tripping down the road. The shortman drew bridle and addressed them.
"Pray you, my pretty maids, can you tell me where dwelleth MistressBradbridge? I owe her a trifle of money, and would fain pay the same."
"Oh yes, sir!" said little Patience Bradbridge eagerly; "she's mymother. She dwells in yon white house over the field yonder."
"And Master Roger Hall, where dwelleth he?"
Penuel Pardue hastily stopped her little friend's reply.
"Master Hall is not now at home, my masters, so it should be to nopurpose you visit his house. I give you good-morrow."
"Wise maid!" said Malledge with a laugh, when the girls were out ofhearing. "If all were as close as thou, we should thrive little."
"They are all in a story!" said the sumner.
"Nay, not all," replied Malledge. "We have one to thank. But truly,they are a close-mouthed set, the most of them."
All's Well Page 16
