The Black Arrow | Page 3

sight unabated. Perhaps he was deaf;
perhaps he thought it unworthy of an old archer of Agincourt to pay
any heed to such disturbances; but neither the surly notes of the alarm
bell, nor the near approach of Bennet and the lad, appeared at all to
move him; and he continued obstinately digging, and piped up, very
thin and shaky:
"Now, dear lady, if thy will be, I pray you that you will rue on me."
"Nick Appleyard," said Hatch, "Sir Oliver commends him to you, and
bids that ye shall come within this hour to the Moat House, there to
take command."
The old fellow looked up.

"Save you, my masters!" he said, grinning. "And where goeth Master
Hatch?"
"Master Hatch is off to Kettley, with every man that we can horse,"
returned Bennet. "There is a fight toward, it seems, and my lord stays a
reinforcement."
"Ay, verily," returned Appleyard. "And what will ye leave me to
garrison withal?"
"I leave you six good men, and Sir Oliver to boot," answered Hatch.
"It'll not hold the place," said Appleyard; "the number sufficeth not. It
would take two score to make it good."
"Why, it's for that we came to you, old shrew!" replied the other. "Who
else is there but you that could do aught in such a house with such a
garrison?"
"Ay! when the pinch comes, ye remember the old shoe," returned Nick.
"There is not a man of you can back a horse or hold a bill; and as for
archery--St. Michael! if old Harry the Fift were back again, he would
stand and let ye shoot at him for a farthen a shoot!"
"Nay, Nick, there's some can draw a good bow yet," said Bennet.
"Draw a good bow!" cried Appleyard. "Yes! But who'll shoot me a
good shoot? It's there the eye comes in, and the head between your
shoulders. Now, what might you call a long shoot, Bennet Hatch?"
"Well," said Bennet, looking about him, "it would be a long shoot from
here into the forest."
"Ay, it would be a longish shoot," said the old fellow, turning to look
over his shoulder; and then he put up his hand over his eyes, and stood
staring.
"Why, what are you looking at?" asked Bennet, with a chuckle. "Do,
you see Harry the Fift?"
The veteran continued looking up the hill in silence. The sun shone
broadly over the shelving meadows; a few white sheep wandered
browsing; all was still but the distant jangle of the bell.
"What is it, Appleyard?" asked Dick.
"Why, the birds," said Appleyard.
And, sure enough, over the top of the forest, where it ran down in a
tongue among the meadows, and ended in a pair of goodly green elms,
about a bowshot from the field where they were standing, a flight of
birds was skimming to and fro, in evident disorder.

"What of the birds?" said Bennet.
"Ay!" returned Appleyard, "y' are a wise man to go to war, Master
Bennet. Birds are a good sentry; in forest places they be the first line of
battle. Look you, now, if we lay here in camp, there might be archers
skulking down to get the wind of us; and here would you be, none the
wiser!"
"Why, old shrew," said Hatch, "there be no men nearer us than Sir
Daniel's, at Kettley; y' are as safe as in London Tower; and ye raise
scares upon a man for a few chaffinches and sparrows!"
"Hear him!" grinned Appleyard. "How many a rogue would give his
two crop ears to have a shoot at either of us? Saint Michael, man! they
hate us like two polecats!"
"Well, sooth it is, they hate Sir Daniel," answered Hatch, a little
sobered.
"Ay, they hate Sir Daniel, and they hate every man that serves with
him," said Appleyard; "and in the first order of hating, they hate Bennet
Hatch and old Nicholas the bowman. See ye here: if there was a stout
fellow yonder in the wood-edge, and you and I stood fair for him--as,
by Saint George, we stand!--which, think ye, would he choose?"
"You, for a good wager," answered Hatch.
"My surcoat to a leather belt, it would be you!" cried the old archer.
"Ye burned Grimstone, Bennet--they'll ne'er forgive you that, my
master. And as for me, I'll soon be in a good place, God grant, and out
of bow-shoot--ay, and cannon-shoot--of all their malices. I am an old
man, and draw fast to homeward, where the bed is ready. But for you,
Bennet, y' are to remain behind here at your own peril, and if ye come
to my years unhanged, the old true- blue English spirit will be dead."
"Y' are the shrewishest old dolt in Tunstall Forest," returned