The Black Arrow | Page 4

Hatch,
visibly ruffled by these threats. "Get ye to your arms before Sir Oliver
come, and leave prating for one good while. An ye had talked so much
with Harry the Fift, his ears would ha' been richer than his pocket."
An arrow sang in the air, like a huge hornet; it struck old Appleyard
between the shoulder-blades, and pierced him clean through, and he fell
forward on his face among the cabbages. Hatch, with a broken cry,
leapt into the air; then, stooping double, he ran for the cover of the
house. And in the meanwhile Dick Shelton had dropped behind a lilac,
and had his crossbow bent and shouldered, covering the point of the

forest.
Not a leaf stirred. The sheep were patiently browsing; the birds had
settled. But there lay the old man, with a cloth-yard arrow standing in
his back; and there were Hatch holding to the gable, and Dick
crouching and ready behind the lilac bush.
"D'ye see aught?" cried Hatch.
"Not a twig stirs," said Dick.
"I think shame to leave him lying," said Bennet, coming forward once
more with hesitating steps and a very pale countenance. "Keep a good
eye on the wood, Master Shelton--keep a clear eye on the wood. The
saints assoil us! here was a good shoot!"
Bennet raised the old archer on his knee. He was not yet dead; his face
worked, and his eyes shut and opened like machinery, and he had a
most horrible, ugly look of one in pain.
"Can ye hear, old Nick?" asked Hatch. "Have ye a last wish before ye
wend, old brother?"
"Pluck out the shaft, and let me pass, a' Mary's name!" gasped
Appleyard. "I be done with Old England. Pluck it out!"
"Master Dick," said Bennet, "come hither, and pull me a good pull
upon the arrow. He would fain pass, the poor sinner."
Dick laid down his cross-bow, and pulling hard upon the arrow, drew it
forth. A gush of blood followed; the old archer scrambled half upon his
feet, called once upon the name of God, and then fell dead. Hatch, upon
his knees among the cabbages, prayed fervently for the welfare of the
passing spirit. But even as he prayed, it was plain that his mind was still
divided, and he kept ever an eye upon the corner of the wood from
which the shot had come. When he had done, he got to his feet again,
drew off one of his mailed gauntlets, and wiped his pale face, which
was all wet with terror.
"Ay," he said, "it'll be my turn next."
"Who hath done this, Bennet?" Richard asked, still holding the arrow in
his hand.
"Nay, the saints know," said Hatch. "Here are a good two score
Christian souls that we have hunted out of house and holding, he and I.
He has paid his shot, poor shrew, nor will it be long, mayhap, ere I pay
mine. Sir Daniel driveth over-hard."
"This is a strange shaft," said the lad, looking at the arrow in his hand.

"Ay, by my faith!" cried Bennet. "Black, and black-feathered. Here is
an ill-favoured shaft, by my sooth! for black, they say, bodes burial.
And here be words written. Wipe the blood away. What read ye?"
"'Appulyaird fro Jon Amend-All,'" read Shelton. "What should this
betoken?"
"Nay, I like it not," returned the retainer, shaking his head. "John
Amend-All! Here is a rogue's name for those that be up in the world!
But why stand we here to make a mark? Take him by the knees, good
Master Shelton, while I lift him by the shoulders, and let us lay him in
his house. This will be a rare shog to poor Sir Oliver; he will turn paper
colour; he will pray like a windmill."
They took up the old archer, and carried him between them into his
house, where he had dwelt alone. And there they laid him on the floor,
out of regard for the mattress, and sought, as best they might, to
straighten and compose his limbs.
Appleyard's house was clean and bare. There was a bed, with a blue
cover, a cupboard, a great chest, a pair of joint-stools, a hinged table in
the chimney corner, and hung upon the wall the old soldier's armoury
of bows and defensive armour. Hatch began to look about him
curiously.
"Nick had money," he said. "He may have had three score pounds put
by. I would I could light upon't! When ye lose an old friend, Master
Richard, the best consolation is to heir him. See, now, this chest. I
would go a mighty wager there is a bushel of gold therein. He had a
strong hand to get, and a hard hand to keep withal, had Appleyard the
archer.