Part 12 (2/2)
Still in the midst of a great silence, d.i.c.k took up his quiver and emptied it on the ground, then gave it to the captain of the archers, saying:
”And you will, step sixty, nay, seventy paces, and set this mouth upward in the gra.s.s where a man may see it well.”
The captain did so, propping the quiver straight with stones and a bit of wood. Then, having studied all things with his eyes, d.i.c.k shot upward, but softly. Making a gentle curve, the arrow turned in the air as it drew near the quiver, and fell into its mouth, striking it flat.
”Ill done,” grumbled d.i.c.k; ”had I shot well, it should have been pinned to earth. Well, yon shadow baulked me, and it might have been worse.”
Then he unstrung his bow, and slipped it into its case.
Now, at length, the silence was broken, and in good earnest. Men, especially those of Dunwich, screamed and shouted, hurling up their caps. Jack Green, for all jealousy was forgotten at the sight of this wondrous skill, ran to d.i.c.k, clasped him in his arms, and, dragging the badge from off his breast, tried to pin it to his rough doublet. The young Prince came and clapped him on the shoulder, saying:
”Be my man! Be my man!”
But d.i.c.k only growled, ”Paws off! What have I done that I have not done a score of times before with no fine folk to watch me? I shot to please my master and for the honour of Suffolk, not for you, and because some dogs keep their tails too tightly curled.”
”A sulky fellow,” said the Prince, ”but, by heaven, I like him!”
Then the King pushed his horse through the throng, and all fell back before his Grace.
”Richard Archer,” he said, ”never has such marksmans.h.i.+p as yours been seen in England since we sat upon the throne, nor shall it go unrewarded. The twenty angels that you said you would stake last night shall be paid to you by the treasurer of our household. Moreover, here is a gift from Edward of England, the friend of archers, that you may be pleased to wear,” and taking his velvet cap from off his head, the King unpinned from it a golden arrow of which the barbed head was cut from a ruby, and gave it to him.
”I thank you, Sire,” said d.i.c.k, his pale skin flus.h.i.+ng with pride and pleasure. ”I'll wear it while I live, and may the sight of it mean death to many of your enemies.”
”Without doubt it will, and that ere long, Richard, for know you that soon we sail again for France, whence the tempest held us back, and it is my pleasure that you sail with us. Therefore I name you one of our fletchers, with place about our person in our bodyguard of archers. Jack Green will show you your quarters, and instruct you in your duties, and soon you shall match your skill against his again, but next time with Frenchmen for your targets.”
”Sire,” said d.i.c.k, very slowly, ”take back your arrow, for I cannot do as you will.”
”Why, man? Are you a Frenchman?” asked the King, angrily, for he was not wont to have his favours thus refused.
”My mother never told me so, Sire, although I don't know for certain who my father may have been. Still, I think not, since I hate the sight of that breed as a farmer's dog hates rats. But, Sire, I have a good master, and do not wish to change him for one who, saving your presence, may prove a worse, since King's favour on Monday has been known to mean King's halter on Tuesday. Did you not promise to whip me round your walls last night unless I shot as well as I thought I could, and now do you not change your face and give me golden arrows?”
At these bold words a roar of laughter went up from all who heard them, in which the King himself joined heartily enough.
”Silence!” he cried presently. ”This yeoman's tongue is as sharp as his shafts. I am pierced. Let us hear whom he will hit next.”
”You again, Sire, I think,” went on d.i.c.k, ”because, after the fas.h.i.+on of kings, you are unjust. You praise me for my shooting, whereas you should praise G.o.d, seeing that it is no merit of mine, but a gift He gave me at my birth in place of much which He withheld. Moreover, my master there,”
and he pointed to Hugh, ”who has just done you better service than hitting a clout in the red and a dow beneath the wing, you forget altogether, though I tell you he can shoot almost as well as I, for I taught him.”
”d.i.c.k, d.i.c.k!” broke in Hugh in an agony of shame. Taking no heed, d.i.c.k went on imperturbably: ”And is the best man with a sword in Suffolk, as the ghost of John Clavering knows to-day. Lastly, Sire, you send this master of mine upon a certain business where straight arrows may be wanted as well as sharp swords, and yet you'd keep me here whittling them out of ashwood, who, if I could have had my will, would have been on the road these two hours gone. Is that a king's wisdom?”
”By St. George!” exclaimed Edward, ”I think that I should make you councillor as well as fletcher, since without doubt, man, you have a bitter wit, and, what is more rare, do not fear to speak the truth as you see it. Moreover, in this matter, you see it well. Go with Hugh de Cressi on the business which I have given him to do, and, when it is finished, should both or either of you live, neglect not our command to rejoin us here, or--if we have crossed the sea--in France. Edward of England needs the service of such a sword and such a bow.”
”You shall have them both, Sire,” broke in Hugh, ”for what they are worth. Moreover, I pray your Grace be not angry with Grey d.i.c.k's words, for if G.o.d gave him a quick eye, He also gave him a rough tongue.”
”Not I, Hugh de Cressi, for know, we love what is rough if it be also honest. It is smooth, false words of treachery that we hate, such words as are ever on the lips of one whom we send you forth to bring to his account. Now to your duty. Farewell till we meet again, whether it be here or where all men, true or traitors, must foot their bill at last.”
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