A Brother To Dragons and Other Old-time Tales Part 10

Then saith I, pulling her down into my arms, "La.s.s," saith I, "verily do I believe that not only is every hair o' thy sweet head numbered, but that each one is blessed with a separate blessing!" And what with my love for her, and my admiring of her goodness, and my pride in her, and what with her pity for the poor girl in th' other room, we did shed enough tears between us to ha' o'erflowed th' empty cup in her hands.

So she held me about th' neck with both arms, and like to ha' run me mad with kissing th' back o' my neck (for I was e'er one o' your ticklish sort). I stood it bravely, however, seeing how she loved me, and kissed her too whensoever I could get a chance for th' tightness o' her hugging. And so we settled it. But Mistress Lemon was yet to be consulted.

Ready enough was I to shift that job on my la.s.s's broad shoulders (seeing as how a reputation for courage with his wife is ne'er believed o' a man, at any rate, and as how th' wench had a way o' managing her mother which sure none could 'a' had that were not of her own flesh).

And that night, when her mother was returned from a round o' gossiping, th' la.s.s tells her all (having i' th' mean time put Ruth to bed atween her own sheets). Well, ne'er saw I my wife in such a rage.

"What!" saith she, "thou hast ta'en it on thyself to offer my bread and meat to a good-for-naught hussy as ne'er had a civil word for any o' us!

Thou hast given her bed-room under my roof without so much as 'by your leave!' Thou G.o.dless hussy, thou! Where be th' jade? I say, where be she? Where be she?"

"Where thou shalt not come at her in thy present humor, mother," saith the la.s.s, standing with one arm reached out across the door-way, like as though in verity she had been the mother and her dam a naughty child.

"How? Dost word me? dost word me?" saith my wife. "How? dost take any stray cat to kitten in my house an' then word me too?"--so saith she.

Then saith th' la.s.s, "Well can I understand," saith she, "how, if thou canst speak i' this fashion o' thy sister's child, thou canst also speak to thy own as sure no mother e'er spoke ere this." Then, changing all suddenly her tone, and dropping down her arm from the door, "Go an thou like," saith she, "to abuse the poor creature who hath come to ask thy help in time o' trouble; but just so surely as thou dost turn her out o'

door to lie i' th' straw like any common callet, just so sure do I follow her, to fare as she fares, and all the village shall know what thou hast done."

Then for some minutes did they twain stand and gaze upon one another, and at last down flumps my wife into a chair, as though she would break it in pieces for very rage; but being waxed sulky, and her own wrath cowed, as 'twere, by her daughter's more righteous wrath, she saith nothing more of 't, good or bad.

In three weeks' time th' child is born, and as sound and as pretty a babe as e'er I clapt eyes on, and Keren a-dangling of him as natural as though she herself had been a mother, time and again.

"What say'st thou now, la.s.s?" quoth she. "Wilt trust Keren after this?"

"Is he sound, verily?" saith the poor little dame, looking shyly upon him.

"Never a spot so big as the splash on a guinea-flower!" saith Keren.

"And ears like sea-sh.e.l.ls."

So, after a-kissing of them both, and th' top o' th' babe's head (as 'twas permitted me to do), I steals out and leaves them together.

Well, ne'er saw thou a child grow as did that child. Meseemed he sprouted like corn after a rain; and in five months a was waxed so strong a could stand on 's feet a-holding to his mother's kirtle. But, strange to say or not, as thou wilt have 't, he did seem to love Keren more than he did th' mother that bore him, a-crying for her did she but so much as turn her back, and not sleeping unless that she would croon his lullabies to him. Mayhap it was because her strong arms and round bosom made a more cosey nest for him than did th' breast and arms o' his little dam; but so was 't, and nearly all o' her time did th' la.s.s give to him. Neither did it seem to rouse aught o' jealousy in Ruth's heart: she was too busy a-looking for th' return o' 's father to bother her pretty pate o'ermuch concerning him. And she would sit and talk o'

Robin, and o' Robin's goodness, and o' Robin's sweet ways and words and doings, until I thought sometimes my poor la.s.s's heart would just break within her, if 't had not been broken already these two years. And one day, as she kneels beside th' cradle--Ruth having gone to see her folks for th' day--I come in unknown to her, and stand to watch th' pretty sight. There kneels she, and Ruth's red shawl o'er her head to please th' child (Keren ne'er had any bright colors o' her own those days)--there kneels she, I say, beside the cradle, and kittles him with her nimble fingers, and digs him i' th' ribs after a fashion that would sure 'a' run me crazy (though it hath ne'er yet been proven what a young babe cannot endure at the hands o' women), and punches and pokes and worries him, for all th' world like a kitten worrying a flower. And he, lying on his back, kicks with both feet at her face, and winds all his hands in her long hair, and laughs, and bubbles, and makes merry, after the fashion o' a spring stream among many stones. And by-and-by a change falls o'er her, and she waxes very solemn, and sits down on th' floor by th' edge o' th' cradle, with one arm upon 't and her head on her hand, and she looks at the babe. In vain doth he clutch at her hair and at her kerchief, and reach, with pretty broken murmurings, as of water through crowding roots, after his little bare toes: never so much as a motion makes she towards him. But at last up gets she to her knees, and takes him fiercely into her strong hands, and holds him off at arm's-length, looking at him; and she saith in a deep voice (such as I had not heard her use for two years), saith she, "For that thou art not mine," saith she, "I hate thee; but--" and here came a change o'er all her face and voice and manner, like as when April doth suddenly wake in the midst o'

a wintry day in springtide--"but," saith she, "for that thou art his, I love thee!" And she took him to her bosom, and bowed down her head over him so that he was hidden all in her long hair; but the bright shawl covered it, so that, what with her stooping and the hiding of her tresses, a body coming in suddenly at the door might 'a' easily mistaken her for Ruth.

It was thus with th' man who at that moment strode past me and caught up child and woman into his embrace. "I have come back to thee," he said--"I have come back to thee. Look up, wife! Ruth, look up!" But when she did look up, and he saw her face as white as morning, and her hair as black as night, and her tall figure like to a young elm-tree--ay, when she looked up, ne'er saw I a man not dead seem so like death. He drops down his arms from about them, as though smitten from behind by a sword, and he staggers and leans against th' table, and lets fall his head upon his breast, staring straight in front o' him. But she stands looking upon him. And I got me out with all speed; so ne'er knew I more o' what pa.s.sed between 'em, saving that he did take away Ruth with him th' next day, and she as happy as a bird whose mate hath come back to 't with the springtide. But a knew how that my la.s.s had taken his wife into her bed, and nursed her through her sickness night and day, after the hard words he had spoken unto her and the ill names he had called her.

And that was all I cared to know. He had set th' iron in my la.s.s's heart, and now 'twas in his own; and for th' rust, it did but hurt him more. Ay, ay, comrade, thou knowest what I do mean.

Well, the winter pa.s.sed, and spring came on again, and 'twas in the May o' that year that I did break my hammer-arm. G.o.d above us only knows what would 'a' befallen us had 't not been for my Keren. Wilt believe 't? (but then I think thou'lt believe a'most anything o' that la.s.s o'

mine now--eh, comrade?)--th' la.s.s did set to work, and in two weeks'

time a was as good a farrier as was e'er her daddy afore her. Bodykins, man! thou shouldst 'a' seen her at it: clad from throat to feet she was in a leathern ap.r.o.n, looking as like mine own as though th' mare's skin whereof mine was fashioned had, as 'twere, foaled a smaller one for th'

la.s.s--ha! ha!--and her sleeves rolled up from her brown arms, and th'

cords a-standing out on them like th' veins in a horse's shoulder. And so would she stand, and work th' bellows at th' forge, until, what with th' red light from the fire on her face, and on her hair, and on her bare arms, I was minded o' th' angel that walked i' the fiery furnace with th' men in holy writ. And when a pounded away at a shoe, and her young arm going like a flail--c.h.i.n.k, chank--c.h.i.n.k, chank--and th' white spatters o' hot iron flying this way and that from th' anvil, meseemed 'twas as though Dame Venus (for thou knowest how in th' masque twelve year gone this Yuletide 'twas shown as how a great dame called Venus did wed wi' a farrier called Vulcan--I wot thou rememberest?)--as though Dame Venus had taken away her hammer from her goodman Vulcan to do 's work for him. By my troth, 'twas a sight to make a picture of--that 'twas, comrade.

Well, ne'er saw I such trouble as that arm gave me (and 't has ne'er been strong since). First 'twould not knit, and then when 't did 'twas all wrong, and had to be broken and set o'er again. But th' la.s.s ne'er gave out once. Late and early, fair weather or foul, a was at th' forge; and a came to be known for as good a smith as there was in all Warwickshire. But, for that none had e'er heard tell o' a woman at such work, or for some other reason, they did come to call her, moreover, "The Farrier La.s.s o' Piping Pebworth."

One day, as we sat i' th' door o' th' shop, a-resting, and talking together--after a way we had with us even when she was a little la.s.s--there rides up a young gallant, all dressed out in velvet and galloon, and a feather in 's hat, and long curls hanging about his shoulders. Oh ay, a was bonny enough to look upon. So a draws rein at th' door. And saith he,

"Art thou th' Farrier La.s.s o' Piping Pebworth?" saith he.

Saith she, arising to her feet, and standing with crossed arms like any man--saith she,

"Folks call me so," saith she. "But my name is Keren Lemon."

"A sour name for so sweet a la.s.s," saith th' gallant.

"Would thou hadst sweetened that old jest with some new wit!" quoth she.

"Thou art sharp o' tongue," saith he.

"I shoe horses with my arms, not with my tongue," saith she.

"As I live, a witty jade!" quoth he. "Thou dost much amuse me, maiden."

"My wit was not fashioned any more for thy amus.e.m.e.nt than for the shoeing o' thy horse," quoth she. "So, if thou dost not purpose to have him shod, ride on!" saith she.

Then saith he, to himself, as 'twere, "Verily," saith he, "they should call thee the _harrier_ la.s.s, for thou hast run down and found my manners when that old hounds have failed." And to her he saith, "I do purpose to have my horse shod, maiden; and I cry thee pardon for having given thee offence."

"It is easier to give offence than pardon," saith she. "Howbeit, thou art pardoned. Say no more." Whereupon she sets to work and, taking th'

horse's foot atween her knees, falls to filing his hoof in such wise that I could not 'a' done better in her place, though the Queen should ask me to sup afterwards at St. James's. But the stranger could not hold his tongue; and when he saw her working th' bellows, and a-making of th'

shoe, and th' way she swung th' great hammer, "By my troth," saith he, "I would I could paint thee as Sally Mander to give to th' Queen," saith he.

Then saith my la.s.s, "I know not of any wench called Sally Mander," saith she, a-burning of th' horse's hoof with th' hot shoe; "but if she consorts familiarly with such as be above her," so saith she, "methinks 'tis as well for both o' us that I know her not," saith she--every word o't just as I tell thee.

Then saith the gallant, clapping hand to thigh, so that it made such a sound as when a young child is trounced, "By my troth," saith he, "an thy brows be not worthy o' a coronet, ne'er saw I any that merited to wear one. What wouldst thou if thou wert a lady, la.s.s?"

She saith, a-rolling up of her sleeves a little tighter, and looking up at him as he sate again upon his horse, "Meanest thou if I were the wife o' a lord?" saith she.

"Even so," saith he, laughing. "Verily thou hast come at my meaning with a commendable quickness. Well, and if thou wert the wife o' a lord, what wouldst thou do?"

Then saith she, speaking very slowly, and crossing of her arms again upon her breast--saith she,

"I would bring up such sons as were born to me to behave worthily o'

their station in life, and not to forget their manhood by speaking with insolence unto such honest maids as had never offered them affront."

Whereupon she did up with her kit o' tools, and pa.s.s by me into th'

forge; and th' man rode on with a reddened visage.

But it befell only two days later that a came again to th' forge, his horse having cast another shoe.

And again th' la.s.s sets all to right for him, he keeping a civil tongue in 's head this time; and o' that we thought naught one way or th'

other. But when a comes a third time, and yet a fourth and a fifth and a sixth, "Father," saith th' la.s.s--"father," saith she, "this must be stopt," saith she.

"Ay, verily," saith I. "But how wilt do 't?" saith I.

"I'll do 't, never fear," saith she.

And a did, comrade. Ha! ha! I'd trust that wench to make Satan keep to heel like any well-broke puppy. 'Twas in this way. The next time th'

gallant comes riding up (that being th' seventh time in all, ye mind)--well, the next time up comes riding he, and he saith to her, saith he, "I have come to ask thy service yet again, damsel," saith he; "but Merrylegs hath cast another shoe."

Then saith th' la.s.s--ha! ha!--every word as I tell thee, comrade--saith she, "Methinks, my lord, if my work hold no better than that--methinks,"