The Black Arrow | Page 8

"But, what
cheer, man! we shall meet again, where ye shall have more need of ale
than masses."
"The saints so grant it, Master Dick!" returned the other. "But here
comes Sir Oliver. An he were as quick with the long-bow as with the
pen, he would be a brave man-at-arms."
Sir Oliver gave Dick a sealed packet, with this superscription: "To my
ryght worchypful master, Sir Daniel Brackley, knyght, be thys
delyvered in haste."
And Dick, putting it in the bosom of his jacket, gave the word and set
forth westward up the village.

BOOK I--THE TWO LADS


CHAPTER I
--AT THE SIGN OF THE SUN IN KETTLEY

Sir Daniel and his men lay in and about Kettley that night, warmly
quartered and well patrolled. But the Knight of Tunstall was one who
never rested from money-getting; and even now, when he was on the
brink of an adventure which should make or mar him, he was up an
hour after midnight to squeeze poor neighbours. He was one who
trafficked greatly in disputed inheritances; it was his way to buy out the

most unlikely claimant, and then, by the favour he curried with great
lords about the king, procure unjust decisions in his favour; or, if that
was too roundabout, to seize the disputed manor by force of arms, and
rely on his influence and Sir Oliver's cunning in the law to hold what he
had snatched. Kettley was one such place; it had come very lately into
his clutches; he still met with opposition from the tenants; and it was to
overawe discontent that he had led his troops that way.
By two in the morning, Sir Daniel sat in the inn room, close by the
fireside, for it was cold at that hour among the fens of Kettley. By his
elbow stood a pottle of spiced ale. He had taken off his visored
headpiece, and sat with his bald head and thin, dark visage resting on
one hand, wrapped warmly in a sanguine-coloured cloak. At the lower
end of the room about a dozen of his men stood sentry over the door or
lay asleep on benches; and somewhat nearer hand, a young lad,
apparently of twelve or thirteen, was stretched in a mantle on the floor.
The host of the Sun stood before the great man.
"Now, mark me, mine host," Sir Daniel said, "follow but mine orders,
and I shall be your good lord ever. I must have good men for head
boroughs, and I will have Adam-a-More high constable; see to it
narrowly. If other men be chosen, it shall avail you nothing; rather it
shall be found to your sore cost. For those that have paid rent to
Walsingham I shall take good measure--you among the rest, mine
host."
"Good knight," said the host, "I will swear upon the cross of Holywood
I did but pay to Walsingham upon compulsion. Nay, bully knight, I
love not the rogue Walsinghams; they were as poor as thieves, bully
knight. Give me a great lord like you. Nay; ask me among the
neighbours, I am stout for Brackley."
"It may be," said Sir Daniel, dryly. "Ye shall then pay twice."
The innkeeper made a horrid grimace; but this was a piece of bad luck
that might readily befall a tenant in these unruly times, and he was
perhaps glad to make his peace so easily.
"Bring up yon fellow, Selden!" cried the knight.
And one of his retainers led up a poor, cringing old man, as pale as a
candle, and all shaking with the fen fever.
"Sirrah," said Sir Daniel, "your name?"
"An't please your worship," replied the man, "my name is Condall--

Condall of Shoreby, at your good worship's pleasure."
"I have heard you ill reported on," returned the knight. "Ye deal in
treason, rogue; ye trudge the country leasing; y' are heavily suspicioned
of the death of severals. How, fellow, are ye so bold? But I will bring
you down."
"Right honourable and my reverend lord," the man cried, "here is some
hodge-podge, saving your good presence. I am but a poor private man,
and have hurt none."
"The under-sheriff did report of you most vilely," said the knight.
"'Seize me,' saith he, 'that Tyndal of Shoreby.'"
"Condall, my good lord; Condall is my poor name," said the
unfortunate.
"Condall or Tyndal, it is all one," replied Sir Daniel, coolly. "For, by
my sooth, y' are here and I do mightily suspect your honesty. If ye
would save your neck, write me swiftly an obligation for twenty
pound."
"For twenty pound, my good lord!" cried Condall. "Here is midsummer
madness! My whole estate amounteth not to seventy shillings."
"Condall or Tyndal," returned Sir Daniel, grinning, "I will run my peril