CHAPTER III
TELLS HOW I STOLE MY BREAKFAST
The mist lay very thick all about me, but when I had climbed to higherground it thinned away somewhat, so that as the pallid light grew Ibegan to see something of the havoc wrought by the storm; here andthere lay trees uprooted, while everywhere was a tangle of brokenboughs and trailing branches, insomuch that I found my going no smalllabour. But presently as I forced a way through these leafy tangles,the birds, awaking, began to fill the dim world with blithe chirpingsthat grew and grew to a sweet clamour, ever swelling until the darkwoods thrilled with gladsome music and I, beholding the first beam ofsun, felt heartened thereby 'spite my lack of sleep and the gnawing ofhunger's sharp fangs, and hastened with blither steps. Thus in a whileI brake forth of the desolate trees and came out upon a fair, rollingmeadow with blooming hedgerows before me and, beyond, the high road.And now as I stayed to get my bearings, up rose the sun in majesty, allglorious in purple and pink and gold, whose level beams turned theworld around me into a fair garden all sweet and fresh and green,while, in the scowling woods behind, the sullen mists crept furtiveaway till they were vanished quite and those leafy solitudes became avery glory.
But my hunger was very sore, a need I purposed to satisfy soon and atall hazards; therefore, having marked my direction, I went at speedand, crossing the meadow, came into the highway and struck south. Onmy going through the woods I had chosen me a cudgel in place of the onelost, shortish and knotted and very apt for quick wrist-play, and Iplucked forth my sailor's knife meaning to trim my staff therewith; butwith it poised in my hand, I stopped all at once, for I saw that thepoint of the stout blade (the which I had sharpened and whetted to anextreme keenness), I perceived, I say, that the blade was bent somewhatand the point turned, hook-like. Now as I strode on again, the earlysun flashing back from the steel, I fell to wondering how this hadchanced, and bethinking me of those two deadly blows I had struck inthe dark I scrutinised my knife, blade and haft, yet found nowhere onit any trace of blood, so that 'twas manifest the fellow had worn someprotection--chain-shirts were common enough and many a rogue went witha steel skull to line his hat. So it seemed the fellow lived yet and(black rogue though he was) I was vaguely glad 'twas not my hand hadsent him to his account.
I was yet revolving the matter in my mind when I heard a loud and merrywhistling, and glancing up, beheld a country fellow approaching down aside lane. He wore a wide-eaved hat and his smock was new-washed andspeckless; but that which drew and held my eyes, that which brought meto a sudden stand, was the bundle he bore wrapped in a fair, whiteclout. So, with my gaze on this I stood leaning on my knotted,untrimmed staff, waiting him. Suddenly, chancing to turn his head, heespied me, halted in his stride, then eyeing me askance, advancedagain. A small man he was, with rosy face, little, merry eyes, and awide, up-curving mouth.
"Goo' marnin' to 'ee--it do have been a tur'ble bad starm las' night,master!"
"Aye!" says I, and my heart warmed to him by reason of his good Kentishtongue--the like of which I had not heard these many weary years; butat sight of that white-clouted bundle my mouth watered and hungergnawed with sharper tooth. "What have ye here?" I questioned, touchingthis with my staff.
"Nou't but my dinner, master, 's ever was!"
"Nay," says I scowling, "I think not!"
"Aye, but it be, master!" he nodded. "Bread and beef wi' a mossel ofcheese like, 's ever was!"
"Bread!" says I. "Beef! Cheese! Liar--here is no dinner o' yours!"
"Aye, master, but it do be so, sure!" quoth he, staring. "My very owndinner cut by my very own darter, beef an' bread an' a mossel o'cheese--I take my bible oath t' it, I do--bread an' beef an' a mossel--"
"Show me!" With notable haste he undid the wrapping, discovering agood half-loaf, a thick slice of roast beef and a slab of yellow cheese.
"Ha, man!" quoth I 'twixt shut teeth. "So you lied to me then."
"Lied to 'ee, master?" says he faintly.
"You told me 'twas your dinner!"
"Aye, and so it be, so it be, I lay my oath--beef, d'ye see, an' amossel--"
"Nay," says I gathering up the viands, "here's my breakfast."
"Is it?" says he, gaping.
"It is! Would ye deny it?"
"Not for a moment!" says he, eyeing my staff and the gleaming knife inmy belt. "Lordy, no! Only how was I to know 'twere yourn,master--when my darter cut it for her very own feyther--"
"We live and we learn!" says I, turning away. "What might your namebe?"
"Full-o'-j'y Tucker, master."
"Why then, Full-of-joy, though my gain be your loss take comfort inthat 'tis more blessed to give than receive. Moreover, though you lacka dinner you have a daughter and a roof to shelter you and I neitherone nor other--a poor, hungry rogue. Methinks of the two of us youhave the better of life."
"Why, look'ee now, master," says he, scratching his shaven chin, "sinceyou've got your breakfus' surely, if you're minded t' step along t' mycottage down t' lane, I can give ye a jug of good ale to wash it down."Now as he spoke thus, seeing the sturdy manliness of him I dropped mystaff and reached out my hand.
"Full-of-joy," says I, "a starving man must eat by hook or crook, butif you'll give your honest hand to a thief--there's mine!"
The man stared from my hand to my face, his wide mouth curved, thenrubbing hand on snowy smock he grasped my fingers and wrung themheartily--a clean and honest grip, such as I had not known for many along day.
"Will 'ee come, master?" he questioned. I shook my head. Quoth I:
"You have a daughter and I'm no fit company for a good, sweet maid--norever shall be for that matter!" So saying, I dropped his hand andturning, strode away down the road, his dinner beneath my arm; and whenat last I glanced back I saw him standing where I had left him, staringafter me chin in hand. Presently, turning in at a gate beside the way,I sat down beneath a hedge in the warm, level beams of the sun and fellto eating with huge appetite and (stolen though it was) never tastedfood more sweet. I was thus rapturously employed when I heard adolorous whine and, starting about, beheld a ragged creature on theopposite side of the hedge who glared at the food with haggard eyes andreached out claw-like hands in supplication.
"O for the love o' Christ, spare a crust!" she wailed. "Spare a biteto a grannam as dieth o' hunger. O sweet Jesu--a mouthful to a poorsoul as do be pined for lack o' food--"
"Off!" cries I fiercely, "What know you of hunger? Away, hag!" and Ireached for my staff, whereupon she wailed and wept, and clawing herdismal rags about her, crept away moaning.
But now while my jaws champed ravenously, the food had lost its savour;wherefore I cursed and choked and, springing to my feet, made afterher, but, seeing me follow at speed, she cried out in fear and,striving to flee from me, sank on feeble knees.
"Old hag!" quoth I, "Be damned for spoiling a hungry man's appetite androbbing him of what he was at pains to rob for himself!" Then I thrustthe well-filled napkin into her clutching fingers and hasted away, buther raptured cry followed me as I went.
I trudged on slow and heavy through the mud, being very weary for lackof sleep and mightily down cast, heedless of gladsome morn and thefair, fresh world about me, conscious but of my own most miserableestate; insomuch that I presently sank down on the grass by the roadand, with heavy head bowed between my hands, gave myself up to blackdespond.
But now as I sat thus, very sick and sorrowful, I heard a sound ofwheels and plodding hoofs drawing slowly near, and lifting my head atlast, espied a great wain piled high with fragrant hay whereon thedriver sprawled asleep, a great fat fellow whose snores rose above thejingle of harness and creak of wheels. Now hearkening to his snoring,beholding him so gross and full-fed (and I starving!!) my sadness gaveplace to sudden, hot anger and, as the waggon lumbered by, I swungmyself up behind, and clambering over the hay, raised my staff, mindedto drub the fellow into wakefulness; but even then I stayed the blow,for I spied a wallet that hung to the driving-seat, a lar
ge wallet ofplump and inviting aspect. Reaching it down I opened it forthwith andfound therein a new-baked loaf, a roast capon delicately browned and ajar of small beer. And now, couched luxuriously among the hay, I fellto work (tooth and nail) and though I ate in voracious haste, neverbefore or since have I tasted aught so delicate and savoury as thatstolen fowl. I was yet busied with what remained of the carcass whenthe fat fellow choked in his snoring, sighed, grunted, propped himselfon lazy elbow and, catching sight of me, fell a-gaping. So whiles hewatched open-mouthed, I finished what remained of the capon and tossedthe bones over the hedge.
"Ecod!" quoth he faintly. "O, ecod--my dinner!" As for me, having mymouth full, I spake not. "Ad's bobs!" says he, "A rascally, robbingthief of the roads!"
"Even so!" I nodded and took a long draught of his beer.
"A-eating and a-drinking of a honest man's dinner, by the Lord!" sayshe, clenching fat fists. "O ecod--a hell-fire rogue--a very lousy,scurvy dog as shall be carted and whipped and set in Sir Richard's newpillory!" At this, being engaged with the bread, I reached out my footand kicked him (very featly) in the belly; whereat he gasped andgrowing thoughtful, dolefully watched me make an end.
"If there is aught left to eat," says I, "show it me!"
"As fine a capon as was ever plucked, by the Lord!" he groaned.
"Most true!" says I, stretching myself in the hay.
"O!" quoth he, as to himself, "O the pity on't--so foul an end to sofair a bird!"
"Never whine!" says I, "but tell me how far hence lieth Lamberhurst."
"Better nor six mile!" he sighed, heaving himself into the driving-seat.
"Why then, do you carry me thither."
"Ad's love!" he mourned. "'Tis manifest shame a rogue should thievethe food of an honest man--a man like I be as do slave morning, noonand--"
"Slave!" says I, frowning. "What know you of slavery? Be curst for agreat, fat fool that speaketh lies!" Now watching him as I lay, I sawhis hand close stealthily on his heavy whip, but or ever he could turnto strike, I rose and fetched him a buffet 'neath the ear that pitchedhim sprawling upon the broad backs of his horses, whence (with muchgroaning and puffing) he presently got him safely into the road; seeingthe which, I took the reins, whipping the team to faster gait, so thatto keep pace he must needs trot it in the mud.
"Hold!" cries he. "What would ye wi' my waggon?"
"Ride in 't!"
"Hold! Then suffer me to ride likewise, for I'm scant o' breath--"
"Good! I've been scant o' breath ere now!"
"Show a little pity, master!" he groaned.
"None ever showed pity on me!"
"Nay, but--what harm have I--ever--done thee?"
"Begrudged food to a starving wretch!"
"'Twas my dinner and I do need a deal of feeding, I! Lord, how Isweat! Prithee, master, let me up. How have I deserved this?"
"Called me rogue and thief!"
"Aye, that I did--to my woe. Aye, rogue I named thee andlikewise--lousy knave--and grieve for't now, I do!"
"And so needs must you sweat awhile!" says I.
And thus I (aloft and at mine ease) and the fat fellow trottingbreathless at the wheel we went awhile (and never another word) until,what with fear of losing his goods, what with the mud and heat andsweat, the poor gross fool looked wellnigh spent and all foredone (as Ihad seen many a better man than he), whereupon I brought the waggon toa stand and reached down to stir him where he lent half-swooning acrossthe wheel.
"Hark'ee, fool, dost know of one called Brandon of Shene hereabouts?"
"Aye, truly--truly!" he gasped. "I do know--Sir Richard--passing well.Ad's bobs, my innards be all shook t'pieces and I do be parched wi'thirst."
"Why then, up with you!" says I, and giving him my hand, aided him backto the driving-seat. Being there, he sighed, groaned and cast ayearning eye towards his wallet.
"Parched wi' thirst I be!" he groaned.
"I've been the like ere now!" says I, and having gulped down whatremained of the fellow's beer I tossed the jar into the road, whereathe beat his breast.
"My beer!" he wailed, "And I a-famishing wi' thirst! O my beer!"
"There's sweet water i' the brook yonder!" says I.
"You be a chap wi' no bowels, for sure!" he cried. "Aye, a hard manyou be!"
"'Tis a hard world," says I, "but 'tis no matter for that, tell me ofSir Richard Brandon."
"Why then, you must know I am Myles Trueman--"
"And truly, man, there be miles of you, but 'tis no matter for thateither--what of Sir Richard?"
"I do be coming to he," says Trueman in surly tone. "I do farm SirRichard's land--a hard man, see you, though just."
"So--here's another hard man."
"Though a just--aye, and a godly! He hath restored our churchweathercock an' all an' set up a fine, large and fair pillory on thegreen. Lunnon couldn't show a finer, wi' stocks an' cucking-stoolcomplete and rare to fancy--"
"And findeth he the wherewithal to fill 'em?"
"That doth he! Aha, there be never a vagrant, gipsy nor beggar darecome anigh in Sir Richard's time. And witches be few hereabouts sinceold Mother Mottridge was ducked, and scolds and shrews be fewer byreason o' the brank, d'ye see?"
"Hum!" says I, "a right proper gentleman this!"
"Aye," quoth Trueman, nodding until his fat cheeks quivered, "and onethat doth abhor vagrants and such-like vermin--"
"As myself?" says I. To this Trueman answered nothing, but fella-fanning himself with his hat again, eyeing me warily the while.
"Art strange in these parts?" he questioned.
"Aye and no!"
"Hast met Sir Richard?"
"I have!"
"Aha!" quoth the fellow, nodding. "He had ye whipped, belike?"
"He did so."
"For stealing of a fine, fat capon, belike?"
"Nay, 'twas for another matter. But what of him, is he hale o' body,rich and well esteemed, is he strong in friends and a power at courtyet?"
"No," says Trueman, flicking his plodding horses. "Neither one nort'other!"
"How--not?" quoth I. "And wherefore?"
"Because he's dead--"
"Dead!" says I, starting up. "Dead?"
"Why look'ee, if he ain't dead--leastways--" But here I seized him bythe throat and, twisting him round, shook him to and fro till he choked:
"Rogue--damned rogue!" I cried 'twixt gnashing teeth. "Will ye mock methen!"
"No--no!" he gasped.
"Then tell me ye lied--confess!"
"Aye, aye--I'll confess--anything--anything ye will, master!"
"Then Sir Richard lieth snug in his manor of Shene--doth he not? Aye orno?"
"Aye--aye, at Shene--at Shene!" Hereupon I loosed him and, fallingback on the hay, found myself all breathless and shaking as with anague-fit. And these tremors were within me as without, since (byreason of this fellow's lying words) I had, for one black moment,doubting God's justice, seen (as it were) my countless anguishedsupplications for vengeance on mine enemy so much vain breath, and thismy toilsome journey a labour to no purpose. But now, bowing my head, I(who knew no forgiveness) humbly prayed forgiveness of God for mydoubting of God, and passionately besought Him that He would cherishmine enemy and save him in health. And this to no other end but that Imyself might destroy him.
"His life, O God--give this man's life into mine hand!" So prayed I(in my vain pride and selfish blindness) as I jogged along that sunnymidsummer morn; and thereafter, my trembling having passed from me, Istretched myself out amid the hay and fell to blissful slumber.
Now to all such as reading this my narrative shall contemn and abhor mefor the purblind fool and poor, desperate wretch I was, and who, livingbut for murder, could cry thus on God for the blood of hisfellow-man--to all such I would say that none can despise me moreutterly than I who write these words. For life since then hath learnedme many truths and in some few things I am, mayhap, a little wiser.
But, because I
was proud and stubborn beyond belief, because hatebegetteth hate and evil--evil, so came I to consort and make fellowshipwith pirates and the like rogues and to endure much of harms anddangers as battle, shipwreck, prison and solitude; until God (of Hisinfinite mercy) brought me forth a better man therefor and, in somesense, a more worthy. All of the which I have fully and faithfullyrecorded for such as shall trouble to read this narrative to the end.
And so will I again to my story.