CHAPTER XII
A STRANGE RIDE
Rat-a-tat-tat at the first dim hint of dawn went the chamberlain'sknuckles upon the door. To Nick it seemed scarce midnight yet, so soundhad been his sleep.
Master Carew having gotten into his high-topped riding-boots with agreat puffing and tugging, they washed their faces at the inn-yard pumpby the smoky light of the hostler's lantern, and then in a subdued,half-wakened way made a hearty breakfast off the fragments of the lastnights feast. Part of the remaining cold meat, cheese, and cakes Carewstowed in his leather pouch. The rest he left in the lap of a beggarsleeping beside the door.
The street was dim with a chilly fog, through which a few pale starsstill struggled overhead. The houses were all shut and barred; nobodywas abroad, and the night-watch slept in comfortable doorways here andthere, with lolling heads and lanterns long gone out. As they came alongthe crooked street, a stray cat scurried away with scared green eyes,and a kenneled hound set up a lonesome howl.
But the Blue Boar Inn was stirring like an ant-hill, with fireflylanterns flitting up and down, and a cheery glow about the open door.The horses of the company, scrubbed unreasonably clean, snorted andstamped in little bridled clumps about the courtyard, and thestable-boys, not scrubbed at all, clanked at the pump or shook outwrinkled saddle-cloths with most prodigious yawns. The grooms werebuckling up the packs; the chamberlain and sleepy-lidded maids stood atthe door, waiting their fare-well farthings.
Some of the company yawned in the tap-room; some yawned out of doorswith steaming stirrup-cup in hand; and some came yawning down thestairways pulling on their riding-cloaks, booted, spurred, and ready fora long day's ride.
"Good-morrow, sirs," said Carew, heartily. "Good-morrow, sir, to you,"said they, and all came over to speak to Nicholas in a very kindly way;and one or two patted him on the cheek and walked away speaking inunder-tones among themselves, keeping one eye on Carew all the while.And Master Tom Heywood, the play-writer, came out with a great slice offresh wheat-bread, thick with butter and dripping with yellow honey, andgave it to Nick; and stood there silently with a very queer expressionwatching him eat it, until Carew's groom led up a stout hackney and asmall roan palfrey to the block, and the master-player, cryingimpatiently, "Up with thee, Nick; we must be ambling!" sprang into thesaddle of the gray.
The sleepy inn-folk roused a bit to send a cheery volley of, "Fare yewell, sirs; come again," after the departing players, and the longcavalcade cantered briskly out of the inn-yard, in double rank, with agreat clinking of bridle-chains and a drifting odor of wet leather andheavy perfume.
Nick sat very erect and rode his best, feeling like some errant knightof the great Round Table, ready to right the whole world's wrongs. "Butwhat about the horse?" said he. "We can na keep him in Stratford, sir."
"Oh, that's all seen to," said the master-player. "'Tis to be sent backby the weekly carrier."
"And where do I turn into the Stratford road, sir?" asked Nick, as theplayers clattered down the cobbled street in a cloud of mist thatsteamed up so thickly from the stones that the horses seemed to have nolegs, but to float like boats.
"Some distance further on," replied Carew, carelessly. "'Tis not theway we came that thou shalt ride to-day; that is t' other end of town,and the gate not open yet. But the longest way round is the shortest wayhome, so let's be spurring on."
At the corner of the street a cross and sleepy cobbler was strapping adirty urchin, who bellowed lustily. Nick winced.
"Hollo!" cried Carew. "What's to do?"
"Why, sir," said Nick, ruefully, "father will thresh me well thisnight."
"Nay," said Carew, in a quite decided tone; "that he'll not, I promisethee!"--and as he spoke he chuckled softly to himself.
The man before them turned suddenly around and grinned queerly; but,catching the master-player's eye, whipped his head about like aweather-vane in a gale, and cantered on.
As they came down the narrow street the watchmen were just swinging widethe city gates, and gave a cheer to speed the parting guests, who gave arouse in turn, and were soon lost to sight in the mist which hid thevalley in a great gray sea.
"How shall I know where to turn off, sir?" asked Nick, a littleanxiously. "'Tis all alike."
"I'll tell thee," said the master-player; "rest thee easy on that score.I know the road thou art to ride much better than thou dost thyself."
He smiled quite frankly as he spoke, and Nick could not help wonderingwhy the man before them again turned around and eyed him with thatsneaking grin.
He did not like the fellow's looks. He had scowling black brows, haircut as close as if the rats had gnawed it off, a pair of ill-shapedbandy-legs, a wide, unwholesome slit of a mouth, and a nose like araspberry tart. His whole appearance was servile and mean, and there wasa sly malice in his furtive eyes. Besides that, and a thing whichstrangely fascinated Nick's gaze, there was a hole through the gristleof his right ear, scarred about as if it had been burned, and throughthis hole the fellow had tied a bow of crimson ribbon, like a butterflyalighted upon his ear.
"A pretty fellow!" said Carew, with a shrug. "He'll be hard put to dodgethe hangman yet; but he's a right good fellow in his way, and he hasserved me--he has served me."
The first loud burst of talk had ceased, and all rode silently along.The air was chill, and Nick was grateful for the cloak that Carew threwaround him. There was no sound but the beat of many hoofs in thedust-padded road, and now and then the crowing of a cock somewherewithin the cloaking fog. The stars were gone, and the sky was lightingup; and all at once, as they rode, the clouds ahead, low down and to theright, broke raggedly away and let a red sun-gleam shoot through acrossthe mist, bathing the riders in dazzling rosy light.
"Why, Master Carew," cried Nick, no little startled, "there comes thesun, almost ahead! We're riding east-ward, sir. We've missed the road!"
"Oh, no, we've not," said Carew; "nothing of the sort." His tone was soperemptory and sharp that Nick said nothing more, but rode along,vaguely wishing that he was already clattering down StratfordHigh street.
The clouds scattered as the sun came up, and the morning haze driftedaway into cool dales, and floated off upon the breeze. And as the worldwoke up the players wakened too, and rode gaily along, laughing,singing, and chattering together, until Nick thought he had never in allhis life before seen such a jolly fellowship. His heart was blithe as hereined his curveting palfrey by the master-player's side, and watchedthe sunlight dance and sparkle along the dashing line from dagger-hiltsand jeweled clasps, and the mist-lank plumes curl crisp again in thewarmth of the rising sun.
The master-player, too, had a graceful, taking way of being halffamiliar with the lad; he was besides a marvelous teller of wonderfultales, and whiled away the time with jests and quips, mile after mile,till Nick forgot both road and time, and laughed until his sideswere sore.
Yet slowly, as they rode along, it came home to him with the passing ofthe land that this was country new and strange. So he began to takenotice of this and that beside the way; and as he noticed he began togrow uneasy. Thrice had he come to Coventry, but surely never by a roadlike this.
Yet still the master-player joked and laughed and pleased the boy withlittle things--until Nick laughed too, and let the matter go. At last,however, when they had ridden fully an hour, they passed a moss-grownabbey on the left-hand side of the road, a strange old place that Nickcould not recall.
"Are ye sure, Master Carew," he ventured timidly--
At that the master-player took on so offended an air that Nick was sorryhe had spoken.
"Why, now," said Carew, haughtily, "if thou dost know the roads ofEngland better than I, who have trudged and ridden them all these years,I'll sit me down and learn of thee how to follow mine own nose. I tellthee I know the road thou art to ride this day better than thou dostthyself; and I'll see to it that thou dost come without fail to the veryplace that thou art going. I will, upon my word, and on the remnant ofmine honour!"
But in spite of this assurance, and in spite of the master-player'sceaseless stream of gaiety and marvels, Nick became more and moreuneasy. The road was certainly growing stranger and stranger as theypassed. The company, too, instead of ambling leisurely along, as theyhad done at first, were now spurring ahead at a good round gallop, inanswer to a shrill whistle from the master-player; and the horses werewet with sweat.
They passed a country village, too, that was quite unknown to Nick, anda great highway running to the north that he had never seen before; andwhen they had ridden for about two hours, the road swerved southward toa shining ford, and on a little tableland beyond he saw the gables of atown he did not know.
"Why, Master Carew!" he cried out, half indignant, half perplexed, andthoroughly frightened, "this is na the Stratford road at all. I'm goingback. I will na ride another mile!"
As he spoke he wheeled the roan sharply out of the clattering file witha slash of the rein across the withers, and started back along the hillpast the rest of the company, who came thumping down behind.
"Stop him! Stop him there!" he heard the master-player shout, and therewas something in the fierce, high voice that turned his whole heartsick. What right had they to stop him? This was not the Stratford road;he was certain of that now. But "Stop him--stop him there!" he heard themaster-player call, and a wild, unreasoning fright came over him. He dughis heels into the palfrey's heaving sides and urged him up the hillthrough the cloud of dust that came rolling down behind the horsemen.The hindmost riders had plunged into those before, and the whole arraywas struggling, shouting, and wrangling in wild disorder; but out of theflurry Carew and the bandy-legged man with the ribbon in his ear spurredfuriously and came galloping after him at the top of their speed.
Nick cried out, and beat the palfrey with the rein; but the chase wasshort. They overtook him as he topped the hill, one on each side, and,leaning over, Carew snatched the bridle from his hand. "Thou littleimp!" he panted, as he turned the roan around and started down the hill."Don't try this on again!"
"Oh, Master Carew," gasped Nick, "what are ye going to do wi' me?"
"Do with thee?" cried the master-player, savagely clapping his hand uponhis poniard,--"why, I am going to do with thee just whatever I please.Dost hear? And, hark 'e, this sort of caper doth not please me at all;and by the whistle of the Lord High Admiral, if thou triest it on again,thy life is not worth a rotten peascod!"
Unbuckling the rein, he tossed one end to the bandy-legged man, andholding the other in his own hand, with Nick riding helplessly betweenthem, they trotted down the hill again, took their old places in theranks, and spattered through the shallow ford.
The bandy-legged man had pulled a dagger from beneath his coat, and heldit under his bridle-rein, shining through the horse's mane as theydashed through the still half-sleeping town. Nick was speechlesswith terror.
Beyond the town's end they turned sharply to the northeast, gallopingsteadily onward for what was perhaps half an hour, though to Nick itseemed a forever, until they came out into a great highway runningsouthward. "Watling street!" he heard the man behind him say, and knewthat they were in the old Roman road that stretched from London to thenorth. Still they were galloping, though long strings dribbled from thehorses' mouths, and the saddle-leathers dripped with foam. One or twolooked back at him and bit their lips; but Carew's eyes were hot andfierce, and his hand was on his poniard. The rest, after a curiousglance or two, shrugged their shoulders carelessly and galloped on: thisaffair was Master Gaston Carew's business, not theirs.
Until high noon they hurried on with neither stop nor stay. Then theycame to a place where a little brook sang through the grass by theroadside in a shady nook beneath some mighty oaks, and there themaster-player whistled for a halt, to give the horses breath and rest,and to water them at the brook-pools. Some of the players sauntered upand down to stretch their tired legs, munching meat and bread; and somelay down upon the grass and slept a little. Two of them came, offeringNick some cakes and cheese; but he was crying hard and would neithereat nor drink, though Carew urged him earnestly. Then Master TomHeywood, with an ugly look at Carew, and without so much as anif-ye-please or a by-your-leave, led Nick up the brook to a spot whereit had not been muddied by the horses, and made him wash his dusty faceand hands in the cool water and dampen his hair, though he complied asif in a daze. And indeed Nick rode on through the long afternoon,clinging helplessly to the pommel of his saddle, sobbing bitterly untilfor very weariness he could no longer sob.
It was after nine o'clock that night when they rode into Towcester, andall that was to be seen was a butcher's boy carting garbage out of thetown and whistling to keep his courage up. The watch had long since goneto sleep about the silent streets, but a dim light burned in thetap-room of the Old Brown Cow; and there the players rested forthe night.