The Black Arrow | Page 2

young fellow not yet eighteen, sun-browned and grey-eyed,
in a jacket of deer's leather, with a black velvet collar, a green hood
upon his head, and a steel cross-bow at his back. The express, it
appeared, had brought great news. A battle was impending. Sir Daniel
had sent for every man that could draw a bow or carry a bill to go
post-haste to Kettley, under pain of his severe displeasure; but for
whom they were to fight, or of where the battle was expected, Dick

knew nothing. Sir Oliver would come shortly himself, and Bennet
Hatch was arming at that moment, for he it was who should lead the
party.
"It is the ruin of this kind land," a woman said. "If the barons live at
war, ploughfolk must eat roots."
"Nay," said Dick, "every man that follows shall have sixpence a day,
and archers twelve."
"If they live," returned the woman, "that may very well be; but how if
they die, my master?"
"They cannot better die than for their natural lord," said Dick.
"No natural lord of mine," said the man in the smock. "I followed the
Walsinghams; so we all did down Brierly way, till two years ago, come
Candlemas. And now I must side with Brackley! It was the law that did
it; call ye that natural? But now, what with Sir Daniel and what with Sir
Oliver--that knows more of law than honesty--I have no natural lord but
poor King Harry the Sixt, God bless him!--the poor innocent that
cannot tell his right hand from his left."
"Ye speak with an ill tongue, friend," answered Dick, "to miscall your
good master and my lord the king in the same libel. But King
Harry--praised be the saints!--has come again into his right mind, and
will have all things peaceably ordained. And as for Sir Daniel, y' are
very brave behind his back. But I will be no tale- bearer; and let that
suffice."
"I say no harm of you, Master Richard," returned the peasant. "Y' are a
lad; but when ye come to a man's inches, ye will find ye have an empty
pocket. I say no more: the saints help Sir Daniel's neighbours, and the
Blessed Maid protect his wards!"
"Clipsby," said Richard, "you speak what I cannot hear with honour.
Sir Daniel is my good master, and my guardian."
"Come, now, will ye read me a riddle?" returned Clipsby. "On whose
side is Sir Daniel?"
"I know not," said Dick, colouring a little; for his guardian had changed
sides continually in the troubles of that period, and every change had
brought him some increase of fortune.
"Ay," returned Clipsby, "you, nor no man. For, indeed, he is one that
goes to bed Lancaster and gets up York."
Just then the bridge rang under horse-shoe iron, and the party turned

and saw Bennet Hatch come galloping--a brown-faced, grizzled fellow,
heavy of hand and grim of mien, armed with sword and spear, a steel
salet on his head, a leather jack upon his body. He was a great man in
these parts; Sir Daniel's right hand in peace and war, and at that time,
by his master's interest, bailiff of the hundred.
"Clipsby," he shouted, "off to the Moat House, and send all other
laggards the same gate. Bowyer will give you jack and salet. We must
ride before curfew. Look to it: he that is last at the lych- gate Sir Daniel
shall reward. Look to it right well! I know you for a man of naught.
Nance," he added, to one of the women, "is old Appleyard up town?"
"I'll warrant you," replied the woman. "In his field, for sure."
So the group dispersed, and while Clipsby walked leisurely over the
bridge, Bennet and young Shelton rode up the road together, through
the village and past the church.
"Ye will see the old shrew," said Bennet. "He will waste more time
grumbling and prating of Harry the Fift than would serve a man to shoe
a horse. And all because he has been to the French wars!"
The house to which they were bound was the last in the village,
standing alone among lilacs; and beyond it, on three sides, there was
open meadow rising towards the borders of the wood.
Hatch dismounted, threw his rein over the fence, and walked down the
field, Dick keeping close at his elbow, to where the old soldier was
digging, knee-deep in his cabbages, and now and again, in a cracked
voice, singing a snatch of song. He was all dressed in leather, only his
hood and tippet were of black frieze, and tied with scarlet; his face was
like a walnut-shell, both for colour and wrinkles; but his old grey eye
was still clear enough, and his