CHAPTER XXXV
A SUDDEN RESOLVE
Nick and Cicely were sitting on a bench in the sun beside the tap-roomdoor, munching a savory mutton-pie which Tommy Webster had bought forthem. Beside them over the window-sill the tapster twirled his spigotcheerfully, and in the door the carrier was bidding theserving-maids good-by.
Around the inn-yard stood a row of heavy, canvas-covered wains andlumbering two-wheeled carts, each surmounted by a well-armed guard, anddrawn by six strong horses with harness stout as cannon-leathers. Thehostlers stood at the horses' heads, chewing at wisps of barley-straw asthough their other fare was scant, which, from their sleek rotundity,was difficult to believe. The stable-boy, with a pot of slush, and ahead of hair like a last year's haycock, was hastily greasing aforgotten wheel; while, out of the room where the servants ate, thedrivers came stumbling down the steps with a mighty smell of onions andbrawn. The weekly train from London into the north was ready to be off.
A portly, well-clad countryman, with a shrewd but good-humoredcountenance, and a wife beside him round and rosy of face as he, camebustling out of the private door. "How far yet, Master John?" he askedas he buckled on his cloak. "Forty-two miles to Oxford, sir," repliedthe carrier. "We must be off if we're to lie at Uxbridge overnight; forthere hath been rain beyond, sir, and the roads be werry deep."
Nick stared at the man for Oxford. Forty-two miles to Oxford! And Oxfordlay to the south of Stratford fifty miles and two. Ninety-four milesfrom Stratford town! Ninety-four miles from home!
"When will my father come for us, Nick?" asked Cicely, turning her handin the sun to see the red along the edges of her fingers.
"Indeed, I can na tell," said Nick; "Master Will Shakspere is cominganon, and I shall go with him."
"And leave me by myself?"
"Nay; thou shalt go, too. Thou'lt love to see his garden and therose-trees--it is like a very country place. He is a merry gentleman,and, oh, so kind! He is going to take me home."
"But my father will take us home when he comes."
"To Stratford town, I mean."
"Away from daddy and me? Why, Nick!"
"But my mother is in Stratford town."
Cicely was silent. "Then I think I would go, too," she said quitesoftly, looking down as if there were a picture on the ground. "Whenone's mother is gone there is a hurting-place that nought doth evercome into any more--excepting daddy, and--and thee. We shall miss thee,Nick, at supper-times. Thou'lt come back soon?"
"I am na coming back."
"Not coming back?" She laid the mutton-pie down on the bench.
"No--I am na coming back"
"Never?"
"Never."
She looked at him as if she had not altogether understood.
Nick turned away. A strange uneasiness had come upon him, as if some onewere staring at him fixedly. But no one was. There was a Dutchman in thegate who had not been there just before. "He must have sprung up out ofthe ground," thought Nick, "or else he is a very sudden Dutchman!" Hehad on breeches like two great meal-sacks, and a Flemish sea-clothjacket full of wrinkles, as if it had been lying in a chest. His backwas turned, and Nick could not help smiling, for the fellow's shankscame out of his breeches' bottoms like the legs of a letter A. He lookedlike a pudding on two skewers.
Cicely slowly took up the mutton-pie once more, but did not eat. "Is nathe pasty good?" asked Nick.
"Not now," said she.
Nick turned away again.
The Dutchman was not in the gate. He had crossed the inn-yard suddenly,and was sitting close within the shadow of the wall, though the sunnyside was pleasanter by far. His wig was hanging down about his face,and he was talking with the tapster's knave, a hungry-looking fellowclad in rusty black as if some one were dead, although it was a holidayand he had neither kith nor kin. The knave was biting his under lip andstaring straight at Nick.
"And will I never see thee more?" asked Cicely.
"Oh, yes," said Nick; "oh, yes."
But he did not know whether she ever would or no.
"Gee-wup, Dobbin! Yoicks, Ned! Tschk--tschk!" The leading cart rolledslowly through the gate. A second followed it. The drivers made acracking with their whips, and all the guests came out to see them off.But the Dutchman, as the rest came out, arose, and with the tapster'sknave went in at a narrow entrance beyond the tap-room steps.
"And when will Master Shakspere come for thee?" asked Cicely once more,the cold pie lying in her lap.
"I do na know. How can I tell? Do na bother me so!" cried Nick, and dughis heels into the cracks between the paving-stones; for after all thathad come to pass the starting of the baggage-train had made him sickfor home.
Cicely looked up at him; she thought she had not heard aright. He wasstaring after the last cart as it rolled through the inn-yard gate; histhroat was working, and his eyes were full of tears.
"Why, Nick!" said she, "art crying?"
"Nay," said he, "but very near," and dashed his hand across his face."Everything doth happen so all-at-once--and I am na big enough, Cicely.Oh, Cicely, I would I were a mighty king--I'd make it all updifferent somehow!"
"Perhaps thou wilt be some day, Nick," she answered quietly. "Thou'ldstmake a very lovely king. I could be queen; and daddy should be LordAdmiral, and own the finest play-house in the town."
But Nick was staring at the tap-room door. A voice somewhere hadstartled him. The guests were gone, and none was left but the tapster'sknave leaning against the inner wall.
"Thy mother should come to live with us, and thy father, and all thykin," said Cicely, dreamily smiling; "and the people would love us,there would be no more war, and we should be happy forevermore."
But Nick was listening,--not to her,--and his face was a little pale. Hefelt a strange, uneasy sense of some one staring at his back. He whirledabout--looked in at the tap-room window. For an instant a peering facewas there; then it was gone--there was only the Dutchman's frowzy wigand striped woolen cap. But the voice he had heard and the face he hadseen were the voice and the face of Gregory Goole.
"I should love to see thy mother, Nick," said Cicely.
He got up steadily, though his heart was jolting his very ribs. "Thoushalt right speedily!" said he.
The carts were standing in a line. The carrier came down the steps withhis stirrup-cup in hand. Nick's heart gave a sudden, wild, resoluteleap, and he touched the carrier on the arm. "What will ye charge tocarry two as far as Stratford town?" he asked. His mouth was dry as adusty road, for the Dutchman had risen from his seat and was comingtoward the door.
"I do na haul past Oxford," said the man.
"To Oxford, then--how much? Be quick!" Nick thrust his hand into hisbreast where he carried the burgesses' chain.
"Eightpence the day, for three days out--two shilling 'tis, and findyourself; it is an honest fare."
The tapster's knave came down the steps; the Dutchman stood within theshadow of the door.
"Wilt carry us for this?" Nick cried, and thrust the chain into thefellow's hands.
He gasped and almost let it fall. "Beshrew my heart! Gadzooks!" said he,"art thou a prince in hiding, boy? 'T would buy me, horses, wains, andall. Why, man alive, 'tis but a nip o' this!"
"Good, then," said Nick, "'tis done--we'll go. Come, Cicely, we'regoing home!"
Staring, the carrier followed him, weighing the chain in his hairy hand."Who art thou, boy?" he cried again. "This matter hath a queer look."
"'Twas honestly come by, sir," cried Nick, no longer able to conceal aquiver in his voice, "and my name is Nicholas Attwood; I come fromStratford town."
"Stratford-on-Avon? Why, art kin to Tanner Simon Attwood there, Attwoodof Old Town?"
"He is my father, sir. Oh, leave us go with thee--take the wholechain!"
Slap went the carrier's cap in the dirt! "Leave thee go wi' me?Gadzooks!" he cried, "my name be John Saddler--why, what? my daddyliveth in Chapel lane, behind Will Underhill's. I stole thy father'sapples fifteen years. What! go w
i' me? Get on the wain, thou littlefool--get on all the wains I own, and a plague upon thine eightpence,lad! Why, here; Hal telled me thou wert dead, or lost, or some suchfairy tale! Up on the sheepskin, both o' ye!"
The Dutchman came from the tap-room door and spoke to the tapster'sknave; but the words which he spoke to that tapster's knave wereanything but Dutch.