Part 15 (1/2)
Ednoth lowered his sword; the thanes uncovered their heads; many cowered, some stared resentfully; some slipped away in the tracks of the vanished cattle; the women fell on their knees. From the market-place came the Abbot of Leominster upon his fat white nag, with his chaplains and his retinue of men-at-arms riding behind him.
”Ednoth of Moor, what would ye?” he demanded, flouris.h.i.+ng the parchment roll that he carried in his bejewelled right hand.
”Wherefore is the market all-to-wrecked? Would ye work murder upon harmless Ricardus here?”
”Lord,” said Ednoth, ”here is a Frenchman who by craft sucketh the wealth from our land. Witanagemot is for putting an end to all such.”
”Indeed--and, Ednoth, art thou Witanagemot? Thou art too rash--ye are sadly unbridled, folk of Ludford. Hear the truth from me. There are surely many foreigners, Normans of the King's mother's people, who do craftily suck the wealth of England, and who bear not themselves truly towards blessed Edward our King; and G.o.dwin and his Great Gemot have decreed that such shall go forth whither they came and leave the sway of England to Englishmen. But are there not some Normans, worthy fellows, whom no man could wish ill? Richard who dwells at Overton--has he not lived fifteen years among you, in good repute? In all Herefords.h.i.+re is there no better dealer in corn and cattle: from Shrewsbury to Hereford is none more learned in the laws of English and of Welsh--none who can write a fairer hand--none of readier wit or smoother tongue: he hath been great help to me; how shall I spare him?
Shall they bereave me of Ricardus? said I. I knelt before the King; I reasoned with stern G.o.dwin; and ere I left London both had promised me my will. Yesterday the sheriff sent to me anent the outgoing of the French; and I have ridden since dawn, seeking Ricardus, that I might show him how Holy Church rewardeth goodwill for goodwill. Hugolin bideth about King Edward, they tell me, and Robert the Staller--they are faithful servants; as for the others, one Dumfrey--some outlandish name!... Hah! I have the sheriff's writing.... 'Banished be they all beyond seas, but Humfrey's c.o.c.ksfoot and Richard the Scrob.'”
Richard bent to kiss the Abbot's ring.
”Children, go your ways,” the prelate continued, ”with our blessing upon you. I rede you repent of your rashness. Ye are not robbers and rioters--no, but law-abiding English. Ricardus, come to me to-morrow morning: I have much to talk over with thee.” So saving, he signed to his attendants, and ambled away.
”My blessing, also, upon thee, worthy friend,” a low voice said in Richard's ear.
It was the blue-clad woman. Ulwin, with gashed forehead and scratched neck, was shepherding his kinsfolk in the direction of his abode.
”Ashford shall be mine, O mighty Norman,” said he with an exultant sneer. ”Thy star is set, though abbots smile on thee.”
”Oh, Ulwin, brother!” exclaimed Alftrude--”oh, where is my silver bodkin? It is gone, Ulwin! And it was my mother's own! Can one have s.n.a.t.c.hed it from me?”
”Have ye seen it lying?” asked Richard of a group of persons lately come from the green.
”What wouldst thou?” said Ulwin to Alftrude. ”I bade thee leave the thing at home! Come on, thou spitfire--I will not wait.”
Old Ingelric hobbled up, and laid his hand upon Richard's arm.
”Have no fear,” he said. ”Thou art not without friends. Though likely thou wilt not see thine oxen again, and who shall trace the coins----”
Richard shook himself free.
”The rogue who stole her pin!” he cried--”I will split his head also!”
The grey cob plodded and splashed through the stream of slushy mud and half-thawed snow which represented the descending track from Ulwin's dwelling of the Moor to the highway between Ludford and Leominster.
Upon him was Alftrude, closely m.u.f.fled in a grey felt mantle, and beside him, holding the bridle, splashed and floundered a bare-legged boy, the bondman's son, with alder-clogs upon his feet. Alftrude rode in some discomfort, perched astride upon a man's saddle: her right arm supported a big wicker basket. The December sun shone out self-a.s.sertively: nevertheless the child slapped his free hand continually against his thigh, and often blew ruefully upon the fingers that clasped the reins. The widow, however, paid no heed to the moist chill of the morning air. Every now and again she glanced behind her.
Once, in the shelter of the grove of hollies, she stopped for a moment to listen. There was no sound but the purring of a brook beneath its perforated covering of ice. She urged on her stolid steed.
As they reached the heath, they heard the scrunch of a horse's hooves upon the ground they had just traversed. Alftrude turned her head nonchalantly; then she smote the cob such a sudden blow with her whip that the boy stumbled, and stared up into his mistress's face, aghast.
About twenty paces more, and the Norman came up with her, riding alone.
He would have pa.s.sed her with ”Good day to you, lady!” but she called: ”Friend, stay awhile!” and he reined in his horse and proceeded beside her.
”Master Richard,” said she, ”I would thank you meetly, if I could, for your great and neighbourly kindness, and beg forgiveness of you for that I have not myself done so until now. My mother's pin is the dearest of all my few possessions. Tell me, how came it into your hands?”
”If ye be content, madame, I am honoured,” said Richard. ”It was no matter. The maltman's dunderhead son pa.s.sed it about the ale-house that night. They gave it up when I did call for it.”
(This was not true. When Richard had seized the trinket from the thief, the ale-house company had fallen on him to a man, and had rolled ten-deep upon him about the floor, until their sense of fair-play had obliged them to draw off.)