started, and Havelok was thoughtful beyond his wontafter we had bidden farewell to the home folk, so that I thought that hegrieved for leaving them at the last.
"Downhearted, are you, brother?" I said, when we had gone a couple ofmiles in silence across the level. "I have been to Lincoln two or threetimes in a month sometimes in the summer, and it is no great distanceafter all. I think nothing of the journey, or of going so short a wayfrom home."
"Nor do I," he answered. "First, I was thinking of the many times myfather, Grim, went this way, and now he can walk no more; and then I wasthinking of that empty cottage we passed just now, where there was apleasant little family enough three months ago, who are all gone. Andthen--ay, I will tell you--I had a dream last night that stays in mymind, so that I think that out of this journey of ours will come somewhat."
"Food and shelter, to wit," said I, "which is all we want for a month ortwo. Let us hear it."
"If we get all that I had in that dream, we shall want no more all ourlives," he said, with a smile; "but it seems a foolish dream, now that Icome to tell it."
"That is mostly the way with dreams. It is strange how wonderful theyseem until daylight comes. I have heard Witlaf's gleeman say that thebest lays he ever made were in his sleep; but if he remembered aught ofthem, they were naught."
"It is not like that altogether with my dream," Havelok said, "for itwent thus. I thought that I was in Denmark--though how I knew it wasDenmark I cannot say--and on a hill I sat, and at my feet wasstretched out all the land, so that I could see all over it at once.Then I longed for it, and I stretched out my arms to gather it in, andso long were they that they could well fathom it, and so I drew it tomyself. With towns and castles it was gathered in, and the keys of thestrongholds fell rattling at my feet, while the weight of the great landseemed to lie on my knees. Then said one, and the voice was the voice ofGrim, 'This is not all the dream that I have made for you, but it isenough for now.' That is the dream, therefore, and what make you of it?"
"A most amazing hunger, brother, certainly, and promise of enough tosatisfy it withal. I think that the sisters have talked about ouradvancement at court until you have dreamed thereof."
"Why," he said, "that is surely at the bottom of the dream, and I amfoolish to think more of it."
Then we went on, and grew light hearted as the miles passed. But thoughI had seemed to think little of the dream, it went strangely with mythoughts of what might lie before Havelok in days to come.
As we went inland from the sea, the track of the pestilence was moredread, for we passed house after house that had none living in them, andsome held the deserted dead. I might say many things of what we saw, butI do not like to think of them much. Many a battlefield have I seensince that day, but I do not think them so terrible as the field overwhich has gone the foe that is unseen ere he smites. One knows the worstof the battle when it is over and the roll is called, but who knowswhere famine and pestilence stay? And those have given life for king orland willingly, but these were helpless.
It was good to climb the welds and look back, for in the high landsthere was none of this. Below us the levels, with their bright waters,were wrapped in a strange blue haze, that had come with the famine atits worst, and, as men said, had brought or made the sickness. I hadheard of it; but it was not so plain when one was in it, or else ourshore was free, which is likely, seeing how little we suffered.
After that we kept to the high land, not so much fearing the blue robeof the pestilence as what things of its working we might see; and so itwas late in the afternoon that we came in sight of Lincoln town, on itshill, with the wide meres and river at its feet. I have seen no citythat stands more wonderfully than this of ours, with the grey walls ofthe Roman town to crown the gathering of red and brown roofs that nestleon the slope and within them. And ever as we drew nearer Havelok becamemore silent, as I thought because he had never seen so great a townbefore, until we passed the gates of the stockade that keeps the townthat lies without the old walls, and then he said, looking round himstrangely, "Brother, you will laugh at me, no doubt, for an arrantdreamer, but this is the place whereto in dreams I have been many atime. Now we shall come to yon turn of the road among the houses, andbeyond that we shall surely see a stone-arched gate in a great wall, andspearmen on guard thereat."
It was so, and the gate and guard were before us in a few more steps. Itwas the gate of the old Roman town, inside which was the palace of theking and one or two more great houses only. Our English kin hate awalled town or a stone house, and they would not live within the strongwalls, whose wide span was, save for the king's palace, which was builtpartly of the house of the Roman governor, and these other halls, whichwent for naught in so wide a meadow, empty and green, and crossed by twopaved roads, with grass growing between the stones. There were brownmarks, as of the buried stones of other foundations, on the grass wherethe old streets had been.
All the straggling English town was outside the walls, and only in timeof war would the people use them as a stronghold, as they used the stillmore ancient camps on the hills.
"Many times have you heard us tell of this place, Havelok," I said. "Itis no wonder that you seem to know it."
"Nay," he answered, "but this is the city of my dreams, and somewhat isto happen here."
CHAPTER VIII. BERTHUN THE COOK.
For that night we went to the house of the old dame with whom my fatherand I were wont to lodge when we came to the market, and she took us inwillingly, though she could make little cheer for us. Truly, as had beensaid, the scarcity was not so great in Lincoln, but everything wasterribly dear, and that to some is almost as bad.
"No money have I now, dame," I said ruefully, "but I think that for oldsake's sake you will not turn us away."
"Not I, faith," she answered. "I mind the first day your father camehere, and never a penny had he, and since then there has been no want inthis house. Luck comes with Grim and his folk, as I think. But this is ason whom I have not seen before, if he is indeed your brother."
"I am Grim's son Curan," said Havelok, "and I have not been to Lincolnere this. But I have heard of you many times."
That pleased our old hostess, and then she asked after Grim. Hard it wasto have to tell her that he was gone, and hard it was for her to hear,for the little house had been open to us for ten years.
"What will you do now, masters?" she asked, when she had told us of manya kindness done to her and her husband, who was long dead now, by my father.
I told her that we were too many at home since the fishing had failed,and had therefore come to find some work here, at the court if possible.
"Doubtless two strong men will not have to go far to find somewhat," shesaid; "but the court is full of idle folk, and maybe no place is empty.Now I will have you bide with me while you are at a loose end, for thereare yet a few silver pennies in store, and I ween that they came out ofGrim's pouch to me. Lonely am I, and it is no good hoarding them whenhis sons are hungry."
We thanked her for that kind saying, but she made light of it, sayingthat almost did she hope that we should find no work, that we might bideand lighten her loneliness for a time.
"But if an old woman's advice is good for aught, you shall not go to thecourt first of all. Sour is King Alsi, and he is likely to turn you awayoffhand rather than grant the smallest boon. But there is Berthun thecook, as we call him--steward is his court name though--and heorders the household, and is good-natured, so that all like him. Everymorning he comes into the market, and there you can ask him if there isa place for you, and he loves to look on a man such as Curan. But if itis weapons you want--and I suppose that is in the minds of tall menalways, though it brings sorrow in the end--there is the captain ofthe guard who lives over the gate, and he might be glad to see you enough."
We said that we would see the steward, for we wanted no long employment.We would go back to Grimsby when the famine ended, if it were only bythe coming of the fish again.
Then she gave us of the
best she had--black bread and milk to wit; andafter that we slept soundly before the fire, as I had done many timesbefore in that humble house. Black bread and milk it was again in themorning; but there was plenty, and goodwill to season it. Then the olddame sent us forth cheerfully and early, that we might not miss Berthunthe steward, from whom she hoped great things for us.
So we sat in the marketplace for an hour or more watching the gates ofthe wall for his coming; and men stared at Havelok, so that we went tothe bridge and waited there. One could see all the market from thence.There were a good many of the market folk coming in presently, and mostof them knew me, and more than one stopped and spoke.
Now Havelok grew restless, and wandered here and there looking atthings, though not going far from me;