第2章 A WAYFARER(1)

It was a bitterly cold night in the month of November, 1330.The rain was pouring heavily, when a woman, with child in her arms, entered the little village of Southwark.She had evidently come from a distance, for her dress was travel-stained and muddy.She tottered rather than walked, and when, upon her arrival at the gateway on the southern side of London Bridge, she found that the hour was past and the gates closed for the night, she leant against the wall with a faint groan of exhaustion and disappointment.

After remaining, as if in doubt, for some time, she feebly made her way into the village.Here were many houses of entertainment, for travelers like herself often arrived too late to enter the gates, and had to abide outside for the night.Moreover, house rent was dear within the walls of the crowded city, and many, whose business brought them to town, found it cheaper to take up their abode in the quiet hostels of Southwark rather than to stay in the more expensive inns within the walls.The lights came out brightly from many of the casements, with sounds of boisterous songs and laughter.The woman passed these without a pause.Presently she stopped before a cottage, from which a feeble light alone showed that it was tenanted.

She knocked at the door.It was opened by a pleasant-faced man of some thirty years old.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I am a wayfarer," the woman answered feebly."Canst take me and my child in for the night?""You have made a mistake," the man said; "this is no inn.Further up the road there are plenty of places where you can find such accommodation as you lack.""I have passed them," the woman said, "but all seemed full of roisterers.Iam wet and weary, and my strength is nigh spent.I can pay thee, good fellow, and I pray you as a Christian to let me come in and sleep before your fire for the night.When the gates are open in the morning I will go;for I have a friend within the city who will, methinks, receive me.

The tone of voice, and the addressing of himself as good fellow, at once convinced the man that the woman before him was no common wayfarer.

"Come in," he said; "Geoffrey Ward is not a man to shut his doors in a woman's face on a night like this, nor does he need payment for such small hospitality.Come hither, Madge!" he shouted; and at his voice a woman came down from the upper chamber."Sister," he said; "this is a wayfarer who needs shelter for the night; she is wet and weary.Do you take her up to your room and lend her some dry clothing; then make her a cup of warm posset, which she needs sorely.I will fetch an armful of fresh rushes from the shed and strew them here: I will sleep in the smithy.Quick, girl," he said sharply; "she is fainting with cold and fatigue." And as he spoke he caught the woman as she was about to fall, and laid her gently on the ground."She is of better station than she seems," he said to his sister;"like enough some poor lady whose husband has taken part in the troubles;but that is no business of ours.Quick, Madge, and get these wet things off her; she is soaked to the skin.I will go round to the Green Dragon and will fetch a cup of warm cordial, which I warrant me will put fresh life into her."So saying, he took down his flat cap from its peg on the wall and went out, while his sister at once proceeded to remove the drenched garments and to rub the cold hands of the guest until she recovered consciousness.When Geoffrey Ward returned, the woman was sitting in a settle by the fireside, dressed in a warm woolen garment belonging to his sister.

Madge had thrown fresh wood on the fire, which was blazing brightly now.

The woman drank the steaming beverage which her host brought with him.The colour came faintly again into her cheeks.

"I thank you, indeed," she said, "for your kindness.Had you not taken me in I think I would have died at your door, for indeed I could go no further; and though I hold not to life, yet would I fain live until I have delivered my boy into the hands of those who will be kind to him, and this will, I trust, be tomorrow.""Say nought about it," Geoffrey answered; "Madge and I are right glad to have been of service to you.It would be a poor world indeed if one could not give a corner of one's fireside to a fellow-creature on such a night as this, especially when that fellow creature is a woman with a child.Poor little chap! He looks right well and sturdy, and seems to have taken no ill from his journey.""Truly, he is well and sturdy," the mother said, looking at him proudly;"indeed I have been almost wishing today that he were lighter by a few pounds, for in truth I am not used to carry him far, and his weight has sorely tried me.His name is Walter, and I trust," she added, looking at the powerful figure of her host, "that he will grow up as straight and as stalwart as yourself." The child, who was about three years old, was indeed an exceedingly fine little fellow, as he sat, in one scanty garment, in his mother's lap, gazing with round eyes at the blazing fire; and the smith thought how pretty a picture the child and mother made.She was a fair, gentle-looking girl some two-and-twenty years old, and it was easy enough to see now from her delicate features and soft shapely hands that she had never been accustomed to toil.

"And now," the smith said, "I will e'en say good night.The hour is late, and I shall be having the watch coming along to know why I keep a fire so long after the curfew.Should you be a stranger in the city, I will gladly act as your guide in the morning to the friends whom you seek, that is, should they be known to me; but if not, we shall doubtless find them without difficulty."So saying, the smith retired to his bed of rushes in the smithy, and soon afterwards the tired visitor, with her baby, lay down on the rushes in front of the fire, for in those days none of the working or artisan class used beds, which were not indeed, for centuries afterwards, in usage by the common people.

In the morning Geoffrey Ward found that his guest desired to find one Giles Fletcher, a maker of bows.