Rewards and Fairies

R >> Rudyard Kipling >> Rewards and Fairies

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

'"Never in them clothes," she says. "Do on the doublet I
bought you to be made burgess in, and don't you shame this
day."

'So I mucked it on, and my chain, and my stiffed Dutch
breeches and all.

'"I be comin', too," she says from her chamber, and forth she
come pavisandin' like a peacock - stuff, ruff, stomacher and all.
She was a notable woman.'

'But how did you go? You haven't told us,' said Una.

'In my own ship - but half-share was my Aunt's. In the ANTONY
OF RYE, to be sure; and not empty-handed. I'd been loadin' her for
three days with the pick of our yard. We was ballasted on cannon-
shot of all three sizes; and iron rods and straps for his carpenters;
and a nice passel of clean three-inch oak planking and hide breech-
ropes for his cannon, and gubs of good oakum, and bolts o'
canvas, and all the sound rope in the yard. What else could I ha'
done? I knowed what he'd need most after a week's such work.
I'm a shipbuilder, little maid.

'We'd a fair slant o' wind off Dungeness, and we crept on till it
fell light airs and puffed out. The Spanishers was all in a huddle
over by Calais, and our ships was strawed about mending
'emselves like dogs lickin' bites. Now and then a Spanisher would
fire from a low port, and the ball 'ud troll across the flat swells,
but both sides was finished fightin' for that tide.

'The first ship we foreslowed on, her breastworks was crushed
in, an' men was shorin' 'em up. She said nothing. The next was a
black pinnace, his pumps clackin' middling quick, and he said
nothing. But the third, mending shot-holes, he spoke out plenty .
I asked him where Mus' Drake might be, and a shiny-suited man
on the poop looked down into us, and saw what we carried.

'"Lay alongside you!" he says. "We'll take that all."

'"'Tis for Mus' Drake," I says, keeping away lest his size
should lee the wind out of my sails.

'"Hi! Ho! Hither! We're Lord High Admiral of England!
Come alongside, or we'll hang ye," he says.

''Twas none of my affairs who he was if he wasn't Frankie, and
while he talked so hot I slipped behind a green-painted ship with
her top-sides splintered. We was all in the middest of 'em then.

'"Hi! Hoi!" the green ship says. "Come alongside, honest
man, and I'll buy your load. I'm Fenner that fought the seven
Portugals - clean out of shot or bullets. Frankie knows me."

'"Ay, but I don't," I says, and I slacked nothing.

'He was a masterpiece. Seein' I was for goin' on, he hails a
Bridport hoy beyond us and shouts, "George! Oh, George! Wing
that duck. He's fat!" An' true as we're all here, that squatty
Bridport boat rounds to acrost our bows, intendin' to stop us by
means o' shooting.

'my Aunt looks over our rail. "George," she says, "you finish
with your enemies afore you begin on your friends."

'Him that was laying the liddle swivel-gun at us sweeps off his
hat an' calls her Queen Bess, and asks if she was selling liquor to
pore dry sailors. My Aunt answered him quite a piece. She was a
notable woman.

'Then he come up - his long pennant trailing overside - his
waistcloths and netting tore all to pieces where the Spanishers had
grappled, and his sides black-smeared with their gun-blasts like
candle-smoke in a bottle. We hooked on to a lower port and hung.

'"Oh, Mus' Drake! Mus' Drake!" I calls up.

'He stood on the great anchor cathead, his shirt open to the
middle, and his face shining like the sun.

'"Why, Sim!" he says. just like that - after twenty year!
"Sim," he says, "what brings you?"

'"Pudden," I says, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

'"You told me to bring cannon-shot next time, an' I've
brought 'em. "

'He saw we had. He ripped out a fathom and a half o' brimstone
Spanish, and he swung down on our rail, and he kissed me before
all his fine young captains. His men was swarming out of the
lower ports ready to unload us. When he saw how I'd considered
all his likely wants, he kissed me again.

'"Here's a friend that sticketh closer than a brother!" he says.
"Mistress," he says to my Aunt, "all you foretold on me was true.
I've opened that road from the East to the West, and I've buried
my heart beside it. "

'"I know," she says. "That's why I be come."

'"But ye never foretold this"; he points to both they
great fleets.

'"This don't seem to me to make much odds compared to
what happens to a man," she says. "Do it?"

'"Certain sure a man forgets to remember when he's proper
mucked up with work. Sim," he says to me, "we must shift every
living Spanisher round Dunkirk corner on to our Dutch sands
before morning. The wind'll come out of the North after this
calm - same as it used - and then they're our meat."

'"Amen," says I. "I've brought you what I could scutchel up
of odds and ends. Be you hit anywhere to signify?"

'"Oh, our folk'll attend to all that when we've time," he says.
He turns to talk to my Aunt, while his men flew the stuff out of
our hold. I think I saw old Moon amongst 'em, but he was too
busy to more than nod like. Yet the Spanishers was going to
prayers with their bells and candles before we'd cleaned out the
ANTONY. Twenty-two ton o' useful stuff I'd fetched him.
'"Now, Sim," says my Aunt, "no more devouring of Mus'
Drake's time. He's sending us home in the Bridport hoy. I want
to speak to them young springalds again."

'"But here's our ship all ready and swept," I says.

'"Swep' an' garnished," says Frankie. "I'm going to fill her
with devils in the likeness o' pitch and sulphur. We must shift the
Dons round Dunkirk comer, and if shot can't do it, we'll send
down fireships."

'"I've given him my share of the ANTONY," says my Aunt.
"What do you reckon to do about yours?"

'"She offered it," said Frankie, laughing.

'"She wouldn't have if I'd overheard her," I says; "because I'd
have offered my share first." Then I told him how the ANTONY's
sails was best trimmed to drive before the wind, and seeing he was

full of occupations we went acrost to that Bridport hoy, and
left him.

'But Frankie was gentle-born, d'ye see, and that sort they never
overlook any folks' dues.

'When the hoy passed under his stern, he stood bare-headed on
the poop same as if my Aunt had been his Queen, and his
musicianers played "Mary Ambree" on their silver trumpets
quite a long while. Heart alive, little maid! I never meaned to
make you look sorrowful!"

Bunny Lewknor in his sackcloth petticoats burst through the
birch scrub wiping his forehead.

'We've got the stick to rights now! She've been a whole hatful
o' trouble. You come an' ride her home, Mus' Dan and Miss Una!'

They found the proud wood-gang at the foot of the slope, with
the log double-chained on the tug.

'Cattiwow, what are you going to do with it?'said Dan, as they
straddled the thin part.

'She's going down to Rye to make a keel for a Lowestoft
fishin'-boat, I've heard. Hold tight!'

Cattiwow cracked his whip, and the great log dipped and
tilted, and leaned and dipped again, exactly like a stately ship
upon the high seas.

Frankie's Trade

Old Horn to All Atlantic said:
(A-hay O! To me O!)
'Now where did Frankie learn his trade?
For he ran me down with a three-reef mains'le.'
(All round the Horn!)

Atlantic answered: 'Not from me!
You'd better ask the cold North Sea,
For he ran me down under all plain canvas.'
(All round the Horn!)

The North Sea answered: 'He's my man,
For he came to me when he began -
Frankie Drake in an open coaster.
(All round the Sands!)

'I caught him young and I used him sore,
So you never shall startle Frankie more,
Without capsizing Earth and her waters.
(All round the Sands!)

'I did not favour him at all,
I made him pull and I made him haul -
And stand his trick with the common sailors.
(All round the Sands!)

'I froze him stiff and I fogged him blind,
And kicked him home with his road to find
By what he could see of a three-day snow-storm.
(All round the Sands!)

'I learned him his trade o' winter nights,
'Twixt Mardyk Fort and Dunkirk lights
On a five-knot tide with the forts a-firing.
(All round the Sands!)

'Before his beard began to shoot,
I showed him the length of the Spaniard's foot -
And I reckon he clapped the boot on it later.
(All round the Sands!)
'If there's a risk which you can make
That's worse than he was used to take
Nigh every week in the way of his business;
(All round the Sands!)

'If there's a trick that you can try
Which he hasn't met in time gone by,
Not once or twice, but ten times over;
(All round the Sands!)

'If you can teach him aught that's new,
(A-hay O! To me O!)
I'll give you Bruges and Niewport too,
And the ten tall churches that stand between 'em.'
Storm along, my gallant Captains!
(All round the Horn!)

THE TREE OF JUSTICE

The Ballad of Minepit Shaw

About the time that taverns shut
And men can buy no beer,
Two lads went up by the keepers' hut
To steal Lord Pelham's deer.

Night and the liquor was in their heads -
They laughed and talked no bounds,
Till they waked the keepers on their beds,
And the keepers loosed the hounds.

They had killed a hart, they had killed a hind,
Ready to carry away,
When they heard a whimper down the wind
And they heard a bloodhound bay.

They took and ran across the fern,
Their crossbows in their hand,
Till they met a man with a green lantern
That called and bade 'em stand.

'What are you doing, O Flesh and Blood,
And what's your foolish will,
That you must break into Minepit Wood
And wake the Folk of the Hill?'

'Oh, we've broke into Lord Pelham's park,
And killed Lord Pelham's deer,
And if ever you heard a little dog bark
You'll know why we come here!'

'We ask you let us go our way,
As fast as we can flee,
For if ever you heard a bloodhound bay,
You'll know how pressed we be.'

'Oh, lay your crossbows on the bank
And drop the knife from your hand,
And though the hounds are at your flank
I'll save you where you stand!'
They laid their crossbows on the bank,
They threw their knives in the wood,
And the ground before them opened and sank
And saved 'em where they stood.
'Oh, what's the roaring in our ears
That strikes us well-nigh dumb?'
'Oh, that is just how things appears
According as they come.'

'What are the stars before our eyes
That strike us well-nigh blind?'
'Oh, that is just how things arise
According as you find.'

'And why's our bed so hard to the bones
Excepting where it's cold?'
'Oh, that's because it is precious stones
Excepting where 'tis gold.

'Think it over as you stand
For I tell you without fail,
If you haven't got into Fairyland
You're not in Lewes Gaol.'

All night long they thought of it,
And, come the dawn, they saw
They'd tumbled into a great old pit,
At the bottom of Minepit Shaw.

And the keepers' hound had followed 'em close
And broke her neck in the fall;
So they picked up their knives and their cross-bows
And buried the dog. That's all.

But whether the man was a poacher too
Or a Pharisee so bold -
I reckon there's more things told than are true,
And more things true than are told.

The Tree of Justice

It was a warm, dark winter day with the Sou'-West wind singing
through Dallington Forest, and the woods below the Beacon.
The children set out after dinner to find old Hobden, who had a
three months' job in the Rough at the back of Pound's Wood. He
had promised to get them a dormouse in its nest. The bright leaf
Still clung to the beech coppice; the long chestnut leaves lay
orange on the ground, and the rides were speckled with scarlet-
lipped sprouting acorns. They worked their way by their own
short cuts to the edge of Pound's Wood, and heard a horse's feet
just as they came to the beech where Ridley the keeper hangs up
the vermin. The poor little fluffy bodies dangled from the
branches - some perfectly good, but most of them dried to
twisted strips.

'Three more owls,' said Dan, counting. 'Two stoats, four jays,
and a kestrel. That's ten since last week. Ridley's a beast.'

'In my time this sort of tree bore heavier fruit.' Sir Richard
Dalyngridge reined up his grey horse, Swallow, in the ride
behind them. [This is the Norman knight they met the year before
in PUCK OF POOK'S HILL. See 'Young Men at the Manor,' 'The Knights
of the Joyous Venture,' and 'Old Men at Pevensey,' in that book.]
'What play do you make?'he asked.

'Nothing, Sir. We're looking for old Hobden,'Dan replied.'He
promised to get us a sleeper.'

'Sleeper? A DORMEUSE, do you say?'

'Yes, a dormouse, Sir.'
'I understand. I passed a woodman on the low grounds. Come!'
He wheeled up the ride again, and pointed through an opening
to the patch of beech-stubs, chestnut, hazel, and birch that old
Hobden would turn into firewood, hop-poles, pea-boughs, and
house-faggots before spring. The old man was as busy as a beaver.

Something laughed beneath a thorn, and Puck stole out, his
finger on his lip.

'Look!' he whispered. 'Along between the spindle-trees.
Ridley has been there this half-hour.'

The children followed his point, and saw Ridley the keeper in
an old dry ditch, watching Hobden as a cat watches a mouse.

'Huhh!' cried Una. 'Hobden always 'tends to his wires before
breakfast. He puts his rabbits into the faggots he's allowed to take
home. He'll tell us about 'em tomorrow.'

'We had the same breed in my day,' Sir Richard replied, and
moved off quietly, Puck at his bridle, the children on either side
between the close-trimmed beech stuff.

'What did you do to them?' said Dan, as they repassed Ridley's
terrible tree.

'That!' Sir Richard jerked his head toward the dangling owls.

'Not he!' said Puck. 'There was never enough brute Norman in
you to hang a man for taking a buck.'

'I - I cannot abide to hear their widows screech. But why am I
on horseback while you are afoot?' He dismounted lightly,
tapped Swallow on the chest, so that the wise thing backed
instead of turning in the narrow ride, and put himself at the head
of the little procession. He walked as though all the woods
belonged to him. 'I have often told my friends,' he went on, 'that
Red William the King was not the only Norman found dead in a
forest while he hunted.'

'D'you mean William Rufus?'said Dan.

'Yes,' said Puck, kicking a clump of red toad-stools off a
dead log.

'For example, there was a knight new from Normandy,' Sir
Richard went on, 'to whom Henry our King granted a manor in
Kent near by. He chose to hang his forester's son the day before a
deer-hunt that he gave to pleasure the King.'

'Now when would that be?' said Puck, and scratched an ear
thoughtfully.

'The summer of the year King Henry broke his brother Robert
of Normandy at Tenchebrai fight. Our ships were even then at
Pevensey loading for the war.'

'What happened to the knight?'Dan asked.

'They found him pinned to an ash, three arrows through his
leather coat. I should have worn mail that day.'

'And did you see him all bloody?'Dan continued.

'Nay, I was with De Aquila at Pevensey, counting horseshoes,
and arrow-sheaves, and ale-barrels into the holds of the ships.
The army only waited for our King to lead them against Robert in
Normandy, but he sent word to De Aquila that he would hunt
with him here before he set out for France.'

'Why did the King want to hunt so particularly?' Una demanded.

'If he had gone straight to France after the Kentish knight
was killed, men would have said he feared being slain like the
knight. It was his duty to show himself debonair to his English
people as it was De Aquila's duty to see that he took no harm
while he did it, But it was a great burden! De Aquila, Hugh, and I
ceased work on the ships, and scoured all the Honour of the Eagle -
all De
Aquila's lands - to make a fit, and, above all, a safe sport for
our King. Look!'

The ride twisted, and came out on the top of Pound's Hill
Wood. Sir Richard pointed to the swells of beautiful, dappled
Dallington, that showed like a woodcock's breast up the valley.
'Ye know the forest?' said he.

'You ought to see the bluebells there in Spring!' said Una.
'I have seen,' said Sir Richard, gazing, and stretched out his
hand. 'Hugh's work and mine was first to move the deer gently
from all parts into Dallington yonder, and there to hold them till
the King came. Next, we must choose some three hundred
beaters to drive the deer to the stands within bowshot of the King.
Here was our trouble! In the mellay of a deer-drive a Saxon
peasant and a Norman King may come over-close to each other.
The conquered do not love their conquerors all at once. So we
needed sure men, for whom their village or kindred would
answer in life, cattle, and land if any harm come to the King. Ye
see?'

'If one of the beaters shot the King,' said Puck, 'Sir Richard
wanted to be able to punish that man's village. Then the village
would take care to send a good man.'

'So! So it was. But, lest our work should be too easy, the King
had done such a dread justice over at Salehurst, for the killing of
the Kentish knight (twenty-six men he hanged, as I heard), that
our folk were half mad with fear before we began. It is easier to
dig out a badger gone to earth than a Saxon gone dumb-sullen.
And atop of their misery the old rumour waked that Harold the
Saxon was alive and would bring them deliverance from us
Normans. This has happened every autumn since Santlache fight.'

'But King Harold was killed at Hastings,'said Una.

'So it was said, and so it was believed by us Normans, but our
Saxons always believed he would come again. That rumour did
not make our work any more easy.'

Sir Richard strode on down the far slope of the wood, where
the trees thin out. It was fascinating to watch how he managed his
long spurs among the lumps of blackened ling.

'But we did it!' he said. 'After all, a woman is as good as a man
to beat the woods, and the mere word that deer are afoot makes
cripples and crones young again. De Aquila laughed when Hugh
told him over the list of beaters. Half were women; and many of
the rest were clerks - Saxon and Norman priests.

'Hugh and I had not time to laugh for eight days, till De Aquila,
as Lord of Pevensey, met our King and led him to the first
shooting-stand - by the Mill on the edge of the forest. Hugh and I
- it was no work for hot heads or heavy hands - lay with our
beaters on the skirts of Dallington to watch both them and the
deer. When De Aquila's great horn blew we went forward, a line
half a league long. Oh, to see the fat clerks, their gowns tucked
up, puffing and roaring, and the sober millers dusting the under-
growth with their staves; and, like as not, between them a Saxon
wench, hand in hand with her man, shrilling like a kite as she ran,
and leaping high through the fern, all for joy of the sport.'
'Ah! How! Ah! How! How-ah! Sa-how-ah!' Puck bellowed
without warning, and Swallow bounded forward, ears cocked,
and nostrils cracking.

'Hal-lal-lal-lal-la-hai-ie!' Sir Richard answered in a high clear
shout.

The two voices joined in swooping circles of sound, and a
heron rose out of a red osier-bed below them, circling as though
he kept time to the outcry. Swallow quivered and swished his
glorious tail. They stopped together on the same note.

A hoarse shout answered them across the bare woods.

'That's old Hobden,'said Una.

'Small blame to him. It is in his blood,' said Puck. 'Did your
beaters cry so, Sir Richard?'

'My faith, they forgot all else. (Steady, Swallow, steady!) They
forgot where the King and his people waited to shoot. They
followed the deer to the very edge of the open till the first flight of
wild arrows from the stands flew fair over them.

'I cried, "'Ware shot! 'Ware shot!" and a knot of young knights
new from Normandy, that had strayed away from the Grand
Stand, turned about, and in mere sport loosed off at our line
shouting: "'Ware Santlache arrows! 'Ware Santlache arrows!" A
jest, I grant you, but too sharp. One of our beaters answered in
Saxon: "'Ware New Forest arrows! 'Ware Red William's
arrow!" so I judged it time to end the jests, and when the boys saw
my old mail gown (for, to shoot with strangers I count the same
as war), they ceased shooting. So that was smoothed over, and we
gave our beaters ale to wash down their anger. They were
excusable! We - they had sweated to show our guests good sport,
and our reward was a flight of hunting-arrows which no man
loves, and worse, a churl's jibe over hard-fought, fair-lost
Hastings fight. So, before the next beat, Hugh and I assembled and
called the beaters over by name, to steady them. The greater part
we knew, but among the Netherfield men I saw an old, old man,
in the dress of a pilgrim.

'The Clerk of Netherfield said he was well known by repute for
twenty years as a witless man that journeyed without rest to all
the shrines of England. The old man sits, Saxon fashion, head
between fists. We Normans rest the chin on the left palm.
'"Who answers for him?" said I. "If he fails in his duty, who
will pay his fine?"

'"Who will pay my fine?" the pilgrim said. "I have asked that
of all the Saints in England these forty years, less three months
and nine days! They have not answered!" When he lifted his thin
face I saw he was one-eyed, and frail as a rush.
'"Nay, but, Father," I said, "to whom hast thou commended
thyself-?" He shook his head, so I spoke in Saxon: "Whose man
art thou?"

'"I think I have a writing from Rahere, the King's jester," said
he after a while. "I am, as I suppose, Rahere's man."

'He pulled a writing from his scrip, and Hugh, coming up,
read it.

'It set out that the pilgrim was Rahere's man, and that Rahere
was the King's jester. There was Latin writ at the back.

'"What a plague conjuration's here?" said Hugh, turning it
over. "Pum-quum-sum oc-occ. Magic?"

'"Black Magic," said the Clerk of Netherfield (he had been a
monk at Battle). "They say Rahere is more of a priest than a fool
and more of a wizard than either. Here's Rahere's name writ, and
there's Rahere's red cockscomb mark drawn below for such as
cannot read." He looked slyly at me.

'"Then read it," said I, "and show thy learning." He was a
vain little man, and he gave it us after much mouthing.

'"The charm, which I think is from Virgilius the Sorcerer,
says: 'When thou art once dead, and Minos' (which is a heathen
judge) 'has doomed thee, neither cunning, nor speechcraft, nor
good works will restore thee!' A terrible thing! It denies any
mercy to a man's soul!"

'"Does it serve?" said the pilgrim, plucking at Hugh's cloak.
"Oh, man of the King's blood, does it cover me?"

'Hugh was of Earl Godwin's blood, and all Sussex knew it,
though no Saxon dared call him kingly in a Norman's hearing.
There can be but one King.

'"It serves," said Hugh. "But the day will be long and hot.
Better rest here. We go forward now."

'"No, I will keep with thee, my kinsman," he answered like a
child. He was indeed childish through great age.

'The line had not moved a bowshot when De Aquila's great
horn blew for a halt, and soon young Fulke - our false Fulke's son
- yes, the imp that lit the straw in Pevensey Castle [See 'Old Men
at Pevensey' in PUCK OF POOK'S HILL.] - came thundering up
a woodway.

'"Uncle," said he (though he was a man grown, he called me
Uncle), "those young Norman fools who shot at you this morn
are saying that your beaters cried treason against the King. It has
come to Harry's long ears, and he bids you give account of it.
There are heavy fines in his eye, but I am with you to the hilt,
Uncle!"
'When the boy had fled back, Hugh said to me: "It was Rahere's
witless man that cried, ''Ware Red William's arrow!' I heard him,
and so did the Clerk of Netherfield."

'"Then Rahere must answer to the King for his man," said I.
"Keep him by you till I send," and I hastened down.

'The King was with De Aquila in the Grand Stand above
Welansford down in the valley yonder. His Court - knights and
dames - lay glittering on the edge of the glade. I made my
homage, and Henry took it coldly.
'"How came your beaters to shout threats against me?"
said he.

'"The tale has grown," I answered. "One old witless man
cried out, ''Ware Red William's arrow,' when the young knights
shot at our line. We had two beaters hit."

'"I will do justice on that man," he answered. "Who is his
master?"

'"He's Rahere's man," said I.

'"Rahere's?" said Henry. "Has my fool a fool?"

'I heard the bells jingle at the back of the stand, and a red leg
waved over it; then a black one. So, very slowly, Rahere the
King's jester straddled the edge of the planks, and looked down
on us, rubbing his chin. Loose-knit, with cropped hair, and a sad
priest's face, under his cockscomb cap, that he could twist like a
strip of wet leather. His eyes were hollow-set.

'"Nay, nay, Brother," said he. "If I suffer you to keep your
fool, you must e'en suffer me to keep mine."

'This he delivered slowly into the King's angry face! My faith, a
King's jester must be bolder than lions!

'"Now we will judge the matter," said Rahere. "Let these two
brave knights go hang my fool because he warned King Henry
against running after Saxon deer through woods full of Saxons.
'Faith, Brother, if thy Brother, Red William, now among the
Saints as we hope, had been timely warned against a certain arrow
in New Forest, one fool of us four would not be crowned fool of
England this morning. Therefore, hang the fool's fool, knights!"
'Mark the fool's cunning! Rahere had himself given us order to
hang the man. No King dare confirm a fool's command to such a
great baron as De Aquila; and the helpless King knew it.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16