Long Will Part 29

When the peddler set out to Chester next morning, he had the horn in his pack. Symme, Nicholas, and Haukyn came to the edge of the wood with him and watched him out of sight. Before he went into the city, he stopped in the jousting-field outside the eastern wall; here were the showmen and minstrels, the dancers and jongleurs, and cheap-jacks of all kind. Among these the peddler wandered musing, till he came to pause before a man that sold black stuff in a bottle, "to make gray hair black." The peddler had a coin or two in his hand, and he bought a bottle of this stuff and stowed it in his pack; but he took out the horn and hid it under his tabard. At the gate he showed his pack empty, with only the bottle in it, and was let pa.s.s without toll,--for all who brought in wares to sell must pay toll to the Fair. Within the city he bought a new hood, for he had had none since he came out of Devon, and Calote told him once the sun burned his hair, it grew rusty. He lingered above an hour among the Rows; but he bought no trinkets to fill his pack, neither did he enter any goldsmith's shop to chaffer for the horn. About noon he came out and walked by the Dee till he happed on a quiet, lonely place, screened by the bushes. Here, sitting down, he first rubbed his head well with the black dye, and let it dry in the sun the while he took out from some safe place within his tabard a pouch or bag, very full and heavy. When he undid the mouth of the bag and tipped it up, there plumped out gold and silver coin in a heap,--and he put his hand over it and looked about warily before he set to counting. But there was no one nigh, so presently he had made of one pile florins, and of another muttons, and three rose n.o.bles of another; and the silver he separated likewise, into groats and pence. In the end he found that he had what he knew was there when he set a price upon the chain and the horn,--fifteen pound, odd pence. That the chain was of more value he guessed, but this was all he had,--a goodly sum for a peddler; 't were marvel if he had come by so much in trade. He was loth to part with all, yet he had not dared to offer less, for that the soldier was a shrewd rogue.

He swept all into the pouch and tucked the pouch within his breast; he dropped the horn into the point of his hood and slipped the hood over his head, the point wagging behind; he set his empty pack afloat on the river Dee, for now he had no money to buy trinkets. Except three groat, he was penniless. He laughed, as his thoughts had been new thoughts and amazing.

Meanwhile, in the brown dry woodland there was strife and a discovery.

Quoth the sister of the young lad that had slain the bailiff:--

"Let 's see the horn, Calote; I 've not laid eyes on 't this day."

"Let be!" said Symme rudely. "How do ye pester the maid! ye 'll wear away the silver with fingering."

"Nay, but I 'll show it gladly," Calote protested. "'T is small courtesy I may show for kindness," and she drew forth the old cow's horn.

"Saint Jame!" cried a villein, not Symme, but another.

"Saint Mary!" gasped Calote, pale as a pellet.

"'T is stolen, mistress!" said Nicholas Bendebowe.

"Stolen!" cried out those others all at once, with loud bl.u.s.ter; "Who stole 't?"--"Not I!"--"Nor I!"--"Nor I!"--"Will any dare say I stole it?"

"Where 's peddler?" asked the beggar.

They looked on one another. The soldier winked.

"Nay"--Calote cried; "he 's kind!"

"Poor wench!" said Haukyn. "Hearken! I saw him go to thee where thou wert asleep, at dawn; he knelt beside thee. When I came nigh he turned, and thrust a bright something in 's tabard."

"Ah, woe, harrow!" said she.

"Now 't is plain why he 's gone so early to the Fair," quoth Nicholas, a-shaking his head.

"He 's never gone to the Fair," said the beggar craftily. "Trust him, he 'll show his face here no more. He 'll take horn to Lancashire or York. He 'll be afeared to sell it in Chester with the maid so nigh."

Calote was looking from one to another, distressful. When she spoke, her voice was very low.

"I 'll go after him," she said. "I 'll follow, and find him, or the horn. Oh, cruel, cruel! Good-day, sweet friends; my heart is heavy within me."

Some of them, the women and the other villeins, and the murderer, went with her to put her on the high road, making loud lament; but Symme and Haukyn and the soldier looked on one another with a wink and a nod, and turned their faces to Chester.

"Best let her go," said Nicholas. "'T will save the peddler a lie and me the wooing o' two maids side by side."

"A pretty maid," murmured Symme. "'T made mine eyes water to see her sorrow."

The beggar said nothing till he saw the peddler coming up the road; then he laughed and grumbled out:--

"So, he 's honest,--more fool!"

The peddler came on smiling, and they caught him about the neck and looked covetous in his eyes, and thrust their fingers in his breast and his girdle, with:--

"Hast sold it?"

"Ha, ha, good cheap?"

"Fifteen pound?"

He pushed them away, and "Let 's sit," he said, "wh-where 's shade.

Th-the sun 's hot as s-summer to-day."

So they sat down under a half-naked tree, and when he had taken the pouch out of his tabard, he undid the mouth and let flow out the gold and silver stream.

They sat and stared.

After a little the beggar thrust a dirty hand into the pile and let the moneys slip between his fingers. Symme began to cry for joy, and the soldier to laugh.

"Fifteen pound!" blubbered Symme.

"We 'll give each his share, and then to Chester," cried Nicholas, shoving the beggar's greedy hand aside. "Come, count!"

"W-what for a t-tale have ye to t-tell the maid of her horn?" asked the peddler, scanning them each in turn.

"Ho, ho!" laughed Nicholas, "'t is already told. Hearken, brother! 'T is a merry gest; thou art saved a sad hour;--and I 'll keep mine old love. I 'm a constant man."

Symme dried his eyes and snickered.

"The white-faced sister o' the lad must needs see the horn," Nicholas continued. "Symme here would have hindered; but no, Calote put her hand in the bag and plucked out--ha, ha!"

They laughed, all three, and the peddler knit his brows.

"What next?" quoth he.

"'T was plain the horn was stolen, but who cared lay claim to be a thief?" went on Nicholas. "Thou wert away,--we fixed the theft o'

thee."

"I thank ye of your courtesy," said the peddler.

"Nay, naught 's to fear," Symme a.s.sured him; "she 's gone."

"Gone!" cried the peddler, leaping to his feet.

"Yea, to find thee and punish."

"Which way,--not by Chester?"

"Nay, trust to us; we set her o' the wrong track. She went eastward and north on the highway."

But ere Symme had said the last word, the peddler was off; and those others sat agape. Then Symme's eye caught the glitter of the gold.