Saint George for England | Page 6

service."
During the night the wayfarer's clothes had been dried. The cloak was
of rough quality, such as might have been used by a peasant woman;

but the rest, though of sombre colour, were of good material and
fashion. Seeing that her kind entertainers would be hurt by the offer of
money, the lady contented herself with thanking Madge warmly, and
saying that she hoped to come across the bridge one day with Dame
Fletcher; then, under the guidance of Geoffrey, who insisted on
carrying the boy, she set out from the smith's cottage. They passed
under the outer gate and across the bridge, which later on was covered
with a double line of houses and shops, but was now a narrow structure.
Over the gateway across the river, upon pikes, were a number of heads
and human limbs. The lady shuddered as she looked up.
"It is an ugly sight," the smith said, "and I can see no warrant for such
exposure of the dead. There are the heads of Wallace, of three of
Robert Bruce's brothers, and of many other valiant Scotsmen who
fought against the king's grandfather some twenty years back. But after
all they fought for their country, just as Harold and our ancestors
against the Normans under William, and I think it a foul shame that
men who have done no other harm should be beheaded, still less that
their heads and limbs should be stuck up there gibbering at all
passers-by. There are over a score of them, and every fresh trouble adds
to their number; but pardon me," he said suddenly as a sob from the
figure by his side called his attention from the heads on the top of the
gateway, "I am rough and heedless in speech, as my sister Madge does
often tell me, and it may well be that I have said something which
wounded you."
"You meant no ill," the lady replied; "it was my own thoughts and
troubles which drew tears from me; say not more about it, I pray you.
They passed under the gateway, with its ghastly burden, and were soon
in the crowded streets of London. High overhead the houses extended,
each story advancing beyond that below it until the occupiers of the
attics could well-nigh shake hands across. They soon left the more
crowded streets, and turning to the right, after ten minutes walking, the
smith stopped in front of a bowyer shop near Aldgate.
"This is the shop," he said, "and there is Giles Fletcher himself trying
the spring and pull of one of his bows. Here I will leave you, and will
one of these days return to inquire if your health has taken ought of
harm by the rough buffeting of the storm of yester-even."
So saying he handed the child to its mother, and with a wave of the

hand took his leave, not waiting to listen to the renewed thanks which
his late guest endeavoured to give him.
The shop was open in front, a projecting penthouse sheltered it from
the weather; two or three bows lay upon a wide shelf in front, and
several large sheaves of arrows tied together stood by the wall. A
powerful man of some forty years old was standing in the middle of the
shop with a bent bow in his arm, taking aim at a spot in the wall.
Through an open door three men could be seen in an inner workshop
cutting and shaping the wood for bows. The bowyer looked round as
his visitor entered the shop, and then, with a sudden exclamation,
lowered the bow.
"Hush, Giles!" the lady exclaimed; "it is I, but name no names; it were
best that none knew me here."
The craftsman closed the door of communication into the inner room.
"My Lady Alice," he exclaimed in a low tone, "you here, and in such a
guise?"
"Surely it is I," the lady sighed, "although sometimes I am well-nigh
inclined to ask myself whether it be truly I or not, or whether this be
not all a dreadful dream."
"I had heard but vaguely of your troubles," Giles Fletcher said, "but
hoped that the rumours were false. Ever since the Duke of Kent was
executed the air has been full of rumours. Then came news of the
killing of Mortimer and of the imprisonment of the king's mother, and
it was said that many who were thought to be of her party had been
attacked and slain, and I heard -" and there he stopped.
"You heard rightly, good Giles, it is all true. A week after the slaying of
Mortimer a band of knights and men-at-arms arrived at our castle and
demanded admittance in the king's name. Sir Roland refused, for he
had news