Part 14 (1/2)

”Indeed, it is not of buying that I have to speak with thee, Richard.

Thou art learned in the law: because thou art so learned, the Lord Abbot deems thee worthy of his trust; but all thy cleverness could not teach thee.... How can I say, all-wise one, that thou didst not know?

Well, the Lord Abbot knew not--aye, even I myself knew not--that Ashford, which thou callest thine, was not holden by us and by our father of the Abbot of Leominster, and that therefore neither the Abbot nor I might make over this land of Ashford to thee in exchange for ...

such and so much cattle and silver ... two years ago.”

”Ashford is mine. I have set up a mill there, with the Abbot's licence.”

”Not thine, Richard the Scrob. I am Turstin of Wigmore's man for Ashford, and I may not go with it to any other lord;[15] and Turstin is wishful to uphold his right. As for thy mill ... well, thou hast made it, and there will be the tolls for me.”

[15] He could not sell or convey it.

”If there be any flaw in our dealings, then is it matter for the moot.”

”Now, understand me, thou!” shouted Ulwin, with a pompous gesture of the arms and an outward thrust of his swollen underlip. ”That which thou hast tricked of me I will have again, yea, this day and this hour!

Ulwin of the Moor is unwonted to waiting!”

”Then, Ulwin, understand thou that Richard of Overton is unwonted to brook such words from any. At the bidding of none do I yield up mine own.”

Scarcely had Richard proclaimed his defiance than a thrill such as some much-desired presence imparts forced him to glance past the wrathful bully's left shoulder. The widow Alftrude was now close behind her brother-in-law, and studied the Scrob from head to foot with wide, wondering blue eyes.

”I have nowise tricked you, Ednoth's son,” said he, his countenance once more unperturbed. ”Ye did chaffer with me for silver. This is matter for the hundredmen. They shall hear and try it.”

”Hearken, good neighbours, to the high and mighty words!” Ulwin jeered.

”How will he speed when Englishmen are met together? Does he dream that their dooms are for the French?”

”Come from here, now, master!” cried the high-pitched voice of Richard's servant Howel, in which agitation was patent. Ednoth, Ulwin's brother, pushed past Howel and jostled him roughly, in order to draw nearer to the two disputants. Howel flung up his head, his eyes kindling, and hissed an imprecation under his breath.

”Hey? what hast thou there?” said Ulwin.

”Nought, nought,” Ednoth answered. ”It is but a Welshman who bars my way.”

”No Welshman am I!” cried Howel the servant of Richard. ”I am a man of Irchenfield--as good an Englishman as any of you here--and a better Englishman, too, than ye clumsy boors that think yourselves n.o.blemen!

When the King of the English marches with his army into Wales, we men of Irchenfield do go the foremost, that we may be the first to deal death, and----”

”Do they dance in Irchenfield?” piped the maltman's son, as he shambled out of the crowd and swiftly inserted a furry object between the collar of Howel's jerkin and the back of his neck.

”We shall soon see. Oh, merrily, right merrily--merrier and higher than in all Herefords.h.i.+re else! On, on, brave Welshman! None here can hope to beat thee!”

Loud was the spectators' laughter as the victim bounced up and down, shaking and tossing his limbs, and twisting his head and his body. When Richard had succeeded in dragging the weasel from out of his serving-man's garments, Howel rushed forward, bent on reprisal. Ednoth, the primary cause of the trouble, happened to be the person nearest: in a second Howel had him by the throat, and his short knife gleamed bare.

Half a dozen bystanders instantly joined in the fray, most of them for the purpose of overwhelming the impudent Welshman of Irchenfield: in the midst of the turbulent knot were Ulwin, tugging at Ednoth's shoulders, and Richard, who held on to Howel by the arms and so compelled him to desist from stabbing at the Englishman.

”Peace, thou fool!” cried Richard. ”Leave be, now, Howel my man! I will not be embroiled for idle pride of thine. G.o.d's death! put up thy dagger!”

Sullenly but promptly, Howel allowed his master to lead him out of the clutches of his a.s.sailants.

”Peace, I beg of you, good men,” the Norman continued. ”We do but hinder the many that care not for our meaning. See, yon lady would come by!”

The crowd had borne Alftrude away from her brother-in-law's side during the scuffle: she stood by the booth of a seller of gilded gingerbread, the nearest stall to the thanes' elmtree, a coin in one hand and two s.h.i.+ning half-moons of cake in the other. Distaste and hesitancy were in the look she cast upon the brawlers.