CHAPTER XV.
RAVENSHAW FALLS ASLEEP.
"Thou liest. I ha' nothing but my skin, And my clothes; my sword here, and myself." --_The Sea Voyage._
Captain Ravenshaw headed his horse for the Canterbury road, and, havingsoon left the town behind him, began to feel a pleasant content in thesunlight and soft air. The fresh green of spring, the flowers of May,the glad twitter of birds, met his senses on every side. Never sincehis boyhood had the sight and smell of hawthorn been more sweet. Heconceived he had, for once, earned the right to enjoy so fair a day. Hewas tired and bruised, but he looked forward to rest upon his arrival.Peace, comparative solitude, country ease, seemed so inviting that hehad not a regret for the town he left behind.
His road, at the first, was that which Chaucer's pilgrims had traversedblithely toward Canterbury. He had a few villages to ride through,clustered about gray churches, and drowsy in the spring sunshine; afew towered and turreted castles, a few gabled farmhouses, to pass insight of. But for the most part his way was by greenwood and fieldand common, up and down the gentle inclines, and across the pleasantlevels, of the wavy Kentish country. Often it was a narrow aislethrough forest, with great trunks for pillars, and leafy boughs forpointed arches, and here and there a yellow splash where the greenleaves left an opening for sunlight. And then it trailed over openheath dotted with solitary trees or little clumps, and along fieldsenclosed by green hedgerows. It was a good road for that time, wideenough for two riders to pass each other without giving cause forquarrel; ditchlike, uneven, rutted, here so stony that a horse wouldstumble, there so soft that a horse would sink deep at each step.
"SUDDENLY THE NARROW WAY BEFORE HIM BECAME BLOCKED WITHHUMAN CREATURES."]
Ravenshaw had already turned out of the Canterbury road to the left,and was passing from a heath into a thick copse, when suddenly thenarrow way before him became blocked with human creatures, or whatseemed rather the remnants of human creatures, that limped out fromamong the trees at the sides.
He drew in his horse quickly to avoid riding over any one, while thenewcomers thronged about him with outstretched palms and whining cries:
"Save your good worship, one little drop of money!" "A small piece ofsilver, for the love of God!" "Pity for a poor maimed soldier!" "A fewpence to buy bread, kind gentleman!" "Charity for the lame and blind!"
"Peace, peace, peace!" cried the captain. "What be these the greenwoodvomits up? Hath the forest made a dinner of men, and cast up the piecesit could not stomach?"
Pieces of men in truth they looked, and of two women also. All were inrags; the men had unkempt beards and hair; those that did not go uponcrutches showed white eyes, or an empty sleeve, or great livid soresupon face and naked breast, or discoloured bandages; one of the women,fat and hoarse-voiced, went upon a single leg and a crutch; the otherwoman, a gaunt hag, petitioned with one skinny hand, and pointed withthe other to her colourless eyeballs.
"Let go; I am in haste; I have no money," said Ravenshaw, for one ofthe men--a white-bearded old fellow poised on his only foot--had takenfirm hold of the bridle near the horse's mouth.
But, so far from the man's letting go, some of his companions seizedupon Ravenshaw's ankles, and the chorus of whines waxed louder and moreurgent. With his free hand he reached for his dagger; but the leanwoman, having already possessed herself of the handle, drew it from thesheath ere he knew what she was doing. He clapped his other hand to hissword-hilt; but his fingers closed around the two hands of a dwarf ona man's shoulders, who had grasped the hilt, and who now thrust hishead forward and caught the captain's knuckles between his jaws.
"Oho!" exclaimed Ravenshaw, changing to a jovial manner. "I see I havewalked into Beggars' Bush. Well, friends, I pray you believe me, I am aman wrung dry by war and ill fortune, and little less a beggar than anyof ye. I have chanced upon a slight service will keep my body and soultogether; if I lose time here I shall lose that. I have nothing but myweapons, which I need in my profession, and my clothes, which would notserve you in yours. The horse I require for my necessary haste, and--"
"He lies, he lies!" shrieked the lean hag, striking the pocket ofRavenshaw's breeches. "Hearken to the chinking lour! A handful!"
"A piece of gold for a poor maimed soldier!" cried the white-beardedman, whipping out a pistol from his wide breeches, whereupon other ofthe rogues brandished truncheons and staves. At sight of the clubs,Ravenshaw made a wry face, and his bruised body seemed to plead withhim. He had one hand free, with which he might have seized the dwarf'sneck, but he thought best to use it for holding the rein and guardinghis pocket.
"Ay, there's money in the pocket," he said; "but I spoke truth when Isaid I had none. This is not mine; 'tis another man's, to whom I mustpay it to-morrow."
"Let the other man give us charity, then!" cried the fat woman.
"Ay, we'd as lief have another man's money as yours," said thewhite-bearded rogue, aiming the pistol. The lean hag tried to force herhand into Ravenshaw's pocket, and men caught his clothing by the hooksat the ends of their staves.
"Nay, maunderers!" cried Ravenshaw; "shall not a gentry cove that cutsben whids, and hath respect for the salamon, pass upon the pad but yewould be foisting and angling?"--
"Marry, you can cant," said the white-bearded beggar, his mannerchanging to one of approval, which spread at once to his associates.
"As ben pedlar's French as any clapperdudgeon of ye all," replied thecaptain.
"Belike you are a prigger of prancers," said the beggar, looking at thehorse.
"No, my upright man, a poor gentry cuffin, as I have said, but one thathath passed many a night out-of-doors, and now fallen into a littlepoor service that I am like to forfeit by my delay. As for the lour inmy pocket, I am a forsworn man if I deliver it not to-morrow. So I beg,in the name of all the maunders I have stood friend to in my time--"
"A ben cove," said the upright man. "Mort, take off your fambles;brother rufflers, down with your filches and cudgels. By the salamon,the canting cuffin shall go free upon the pad."
Released on every side, no more threatened, and his dagger restored toits sheath, the captain looked gratefully down upon the grotesque crew.As he did so, his nose became sensible of a faint, delicious odour,borne from a distance. He sniffed keenly.
"Cackling-cheats," said the chief beggar. "Our doxies and dells areroasting 'em in a glade yonder. Plump young ones, and fresh. Wefilched 'em but last darkmans. We be toward a ben supper, and you arewelcome,--though we lack bouze."
The captain sighed. He had not dined; the fresh air of the country hadwhetted his stomach; roast chickens were good eating, hot or cold; andhe had gathered, from the vague replies Jerningham had made to hisinquiries about provisions, that his diet at the Grange would be arather spare one of salt meat, stockfish, milk, and barley-cakes.
"Alas, if I durst but tarry!" He looked to see how far behind him thesun was, and then shook his head and gathered up his reins. "I musthasten on--tis a sweet smell of cookery, forsooth!--how soon, thinkyou, will they be roasted?"
"Oh, half an hour, to be done properly."
"Then I must e'en thank ye, and ride on. I durst not--" He broke offto sniff the air again. "Marry, I have a thought. You lack bouze, sayyou? Now at the place whither I am bound, there is ale, or my gentlemanhas lied to me. I shall be in a sort the master there, with only acountry wench and an old doting man--Know you Marshleigh Grange?"
"Ay," spoke up a very old cripple; "the lone house 'twixt the hills andthe marshes; there hath been no ben filching there this many a year;the wild rogues pass it by as too far from the pads; neither back norbelly-cheats to be angled there."
Ravenshaw addressed himself again to the bearded chief of the beggars,received answer, passed a jovial compliment, and rode on alone incheerful mood. In due time he turned into the by-road which accordedwith Jerningham's description; and at length, emerging from a woody,bushy tract, he came upon a lonely plain wherein the one object for theeye was a gray-brown house, huddled again
st barn and outbuildings, atthe left of the vanishing road,--a house of timber and plaster, warpedand weather-beaten, its cracked gables offering a wan, long-sufferingaspect to the sun and breeze. This was the Grange.
A short canter brought Ravenshaw to the rude wooden gate, studded withnails, in the stone wall that separated the courtyard from the road,which here came to an end. Ere the captain had time to knock, or cry"Ho, within!" the gate swung inward on its crazy hinges, and a thin,bent old man, with sparse white hair and blinking eyes, shambledforward to take the horse. At the same time, as further proof thatRavenshaw had been looked for, a woman appeared in the porched doorwayof the house, and called out:
"Jeremy will see to your horse. Come within."
Ravenshaw looked at her with a little surprise; this robust, erect,full-coloured, well-shaped creature, upon whom common rustic clothestook a certain grace, and whose head stood back in the proud attitudenatural to beauty, was scarce the country wench he had expected tomeet. But he said nothing, and followed her into the hall. This wasa wide, high apartment of some pretension, its ceiling, rafters, andwalls being of oak. Bare enough, it yet had the appearance of servingas the chief living-room of the occupants of the house. Upon an oaktable, at which was an old chair, stood a flagon of wine and somecakes. Meg offered Ravenshaw this repast by a gesture, while shescrutinised him with interest.
"Wine?" quoth he, promptly setting to. "'Tis more than I had thought tofind."
"There is some left since the time when--when Master Jerningham usedto come to the Grange oftener," said Meg. "Ale serves for me and oldJeremy."
"Troth--your health, mistress!--I am glad you have ale in store. Wouldthere be enough to entertain a few guests withal--some dozen or scorepoor friends of mine, if they were travelling this way? To tell thetruth, I should not like to waste this wine upon such."
"Travellers never pass this way," said Meg, plainly not knowing what tomake of him.
"Oh, we are some way from the highroad here, indeed; but a foolishfriend or so might turn out a mile for the pleasure of my company."
"I know not what you'd set before 'em to eat, if there were a dozen."
"Marry, they would have to bring eatables with 'em,--my reason forhaving 'em as guests. Only so there be ale enough."
"Oh, there is ale," said Meg, without further comment.
Ravenshaw, munching the cakes, and oft wetting his throat, lookedaround the hall. The front doorway faced a wide fireplace at the rear,now empty. At the right was a door to a small apartment, a kind ofporter's room, lighted by a single high narrow window; farther back inthe hall was the entrance to a passage communicating with other partsof the house; and still farther back, a door leading to the kitchen.At the left hand were, first, a door to a large room, and, second, theopening to a passage like that on the right.
By way of this left-hand passage, and a narrow staircase which ledfrom it, the captain was presently shown by old Jeremy to his chamber.It was large and bare, hung with rotten arras, and contained a bed, ajoint-stool, and a table with ewer and basin; its window looked intothe courtyard.
He flung his bruised body on the bed, and soon sank deliciously tosleep.
Meanwhile old Jeremy, returning to the hall, found Meg sitting with herchin upon her hands, and gazing into the empty fireplace.
"A sturdy fellow," whispered the old man, pointing backward with histhumb, and taking on a jocular air. "Cast eyes on him; a goodly husbandmends all; cast eyes on him!"
"Thou'rt a fool; go thy ways!" quoth Meg; but she did not move.
Captain Ravenshaw; Or, The Maid of Cheapside. A Romance of Elizabethan London Page 18
