so thinking, a voice cried upon his name from the causeway side, and, looking over his shoulder, he saw the lad’s face peering from a clump of reeds. “Are ye there?” he said, reining in. “Ye lay so close among the reeds that I had passed you by. I saw your horse bemired, and put him from his agony; which, by my sooth! an ye had been a more merciful rider, ye had done yourself. But come forth out of your hiding. Here be none to trouble you.” “Nay, good boy, I have no arms, nor skill to use them if I had,” replied the other, stepping forth upon the pathway. “Why call me ‘boy’?” cried Dick. “Y’ are not, I trow, the elder of us twain.” “Good Master Shelton,” said the other, “prithee forgive me. I have none the least intention to offend. Rather I would in every way beseech your gentleness and favour, for I am now worse bested than ever, having lost my way, my cloak, and my poor horse. To have a riding-rod and spurs, and never a horse to sit upon! And before all,” he added, looking ruefully upon his clothes—“before all, to be so sorrily besmirched!” “Tut!” cried Dick. “Would ye mind a ducking? Blood of wound or dust of travel—that’s a man’s adornment.” “Nay, then, I like him better plain,” observed the lad. “But, prithee, how shall I do? Prithee, good Master Richard, help me with your good counsel. If I come not safe to Holywood, I am undone.” “Nay,” said Dick, dismounting, “I will give more than counsel. Take my horse, and I will run awhile, and when I am weary we shall change again, that so, riding and running, both may go the speedier.” So the change was made, and they went forward as briskly as they durst on the uneven causeway, Dick with his hand upon the other’s knee. “How call ye your name?” asked Dick. “Call me John Matcham,” replied the lad. “And what make ye to Holywood?” Dick continued. “I seek sanctuary from a man that would oppress me,” was the answer. “The good Abbot of Holywood is a strong pillar to the weak.” “And how came ye with Sir Daniel, Master Matcham?” pursued Dick.
Prev.
Back
Top