Dickon Craven

“ Wist you not that?"
"Tut, tut," the lad in ragged velvet made reply, smiling at first, and then more gravely. "Your Warwick is dust and bones, as every man shall be, the king not less than the meanest knave. But God does not die, and He ruleth all things."
"Sir Watty swore ever by Him," said Dickon. "But He hath not once set foot in Shropshire, in my time."
Andreas lifted himself at this, with eyes marvelling at such ignorance.
"Oh, Dickon lad, thou hast the very mother's milk of learning to find thy way to," he cried, and crossed his knees by the ruddy blaze, tailor-fashion, to begin. ”

“ The door opened half-way, and a chalk-faced young friar in white gown and hood stood before him.
"Enter," this spectral figure said, and trembled with the cold.
"Nay, fire is what I seek," stammered Dickon, almost in fright at the ghost-like form before him, and at the strange sound of a tinkling bell echoing from the rocks overhead.
"Canst not wait till thou art dead for that?" the white-robed phantom said, in tones of earthly vexation. He would have shut the door at this, but that Dickon sprang forward, thrust his bow against the inner frame, and clutched the friar by the arm. ”

“ He knelt beside the lad, who with a bodkin from his doublet ripped one by one the hated lines that had shown Dickon to be evil Sir Watty's man.
Then Dickon stood upright, and filled himself with a great, deep breath. The new sense of liberty seemed to raise his stature and swell his girth. He took off his iron sallet, and shook his free head proudly, nearer to the sky than it had ever before been lifted.
"We will live in the greenwood," he said in bold, boyish confidence. ”

“ Of course it was quite easy, and there were ropes of Virginia creeper to help, but Dickon lost his presence of mind, and instead of doing anything sensible only stood and shrieked, while his master got ladders and steps and clambered about in the dark and in the cold, till he put Dickon on the ground again. Then Dickon's master went to bed, but woke up so ill that he was obliged to do without the old towns, and go when he was better to a horrid place called Cannes, all dust and tea-parties. ”

“ Dickon now thought of flight. Turning in haste, he saw before him the boy with the casket, standing at the entrance to a rocky glade just beyond, and looking out upon him with a white face. He moved swiftly to him, and laid hold upon the box.
"Speed for your life!" he hissed; and then the pair, with no further word, set forth in a breathless stumbling race through the forest.
Before long the echoes of savage shouts at the rear rang over the thicket, but the hunted lads only shivered in silence and pressed on. ”

“ Dickon's nerve sank into his shoes.
"A boar that I have slain, good father," he answered in a mumbling whimper, "and lack fire wherewith to roast it; and the raw flesh is ill food, and he can eat naught of it, and gets no warmth, and must die if I win not a fire."
At this the monk softened. He led Dickon into the outer porch, and gleaned the purport of his story. Only Dickon said nothing of the book or of the two men he had killed.
"Fire thou shalt have," the young monk said, more kindly, when Dickon's tale was finished. ”

“ It seemed to him that he had never moved with half the swiftness before which now lightened his heels.
At the very edge of the forest, the old man staggered and tripped upon his long gown, and fell face to earth, so that the foremost of his pursuers tumbled over him. Dickon had a momentary glimpse of a reverend white head and long, snowy beard kicked on the ground among iron boots, and of a half-dozen furious men fighting over what seemed already to be a lifeless body.
Then he heard a hoarse voice cry out, "The lad has the jewels! After him! After him!" ”

“ The monk stood stock-still, and curled the thin corners of his lips in scorn at this rude boy, and held him with his bright, sneering gaze. Dickon looked into these sharp, cold eyes, and felt himself a noisy fool.
"Nay, father," he stumbled on, pleadingly, "if I get not a fire, he dies!"
"Hast thy head full of dead men, seemingly," the young Cistercian replied. ”

“ Dickon was but a child in villany to him; Dickon was wilful and violent, but he was not base and false; Dickon might be a rebel, but he was never a traitor. Cast him out, Brown, cast him out; for the blood of my husband is upon him; and I will not dwell in the same tents with him. He cannot deny it; his face speaks it; his tale is not even like truth. Oh, my heart misgave me when he used so many vows and protestations last night that he would not have Pharold put in danger for the world. Truth is more simple ”

“ These were the crossbow, the book in its casket, and the mangled carcass of a boar which he had killed, but had eaten of more to his harm than good, since there was no fire with which to cook the meat.
Dickon looked down to his friend, and saw that the boy was awake, and sick unto death. Cold and hunger and the toil of wild wandering had dealt harshly with even Dickon's own tough English flesh and blood. They were killing the fragile lad from foreign parts.
"Do you get warmth?" ”

“ Dickon bent one intent, long glance upon this childish, waxen face before him. Then he plucked a burning bough from the fire, and without a word pushed the bushes aside and plunged into the outer darkness of the forest.
After some time he returned, bearing an armful of rushes. He warmed himself for a moment, and then, seated so that Andreas might not observe his work, began with his knife to cut these down into lengths of a span, and to strip off all but a winding rim of their outer cover. ”

“ The lad in velvet laughed. "What harm could be in me?" he said, and laughed again. "Bolts and bows, forsooth! Why, thou couldst spoil me with thy thumb." And still he laughed on.
"Yon leathern gear—is it goodly?" Dickon pointed to the casket.
"What—my Troilus?" Looking into Dickon's honest face, he understood his fears, and answered gently: "Nay, ease thy mind. It is a book—a book not written, but made with types. It tells to the skilled eye a brave story—but not braver, good fellow, than to-day's tale of thee. Art a stout carle, by the rood! Who is thy master?" ”

“ So, as he turned upon his heel, the torch-bearers spread themselves forth to light his way; and after him, with much rattling of iron, arms and armor, the knights and the men with the litter pushed their way.
Dickon stood by the declining fire, awed and struck dumb with what had come to pass. The brother of the King! They were bearing Andreas away, and he was left under the black winter sky with his crossbow and frozen boar and empty bottle, desolate and alone. ”

“ Sir Watty and every mother's son with him would be slain—the footmen as well as the rest. Of this there could be no tittle of doubt, the archer cheeringly insisted. He was a native of these parts, and knew the evil repute of the stronghold they were about to attack. Not a man-jack of them would ever find himself back upon this blessed highroad again! Of that he made certain.
Dickon listened to these astounding tidings without any very near sense of fear. To look Death in the eye seemed not an unnatural thing, now that he was a soldier and wore an iron jacket. ”

“ At the back of the mansion, to judge by the sounds, there was fighting in the open air not less fierce than that within.
At sight of the booty issuing from the postern, Rawly uttered a roar of greedy exultation, and Dickon, in the twinkling of an eye, found himself bereft of all his late companions, who followed Rawly in a headlong race for the scene of plunder. ”

“ Or doubtless it would be better to go farther back, and build more securely there.
He put the question to Andreas by way of talk, restoring the fire meanwhile. The German boy smiled in wonder.
"Why, on the morrow, if strength comes back to me, hie we to the good white friars. They bade you come, and me, too!"
Dickon's face clouded over.
"Nay, I'm for the greenwood," he said stubbornly. "I will wear no man's collar more, nor sleep under roof. To be free, here in the open, it maketh a new man of me. ”

“ He has his instinct of mischief so keen that his forecast never sleepeth. The devil hath made him a perfect scholar. There, Dickon, give me thy hand," he added, when he came to the steep ascent which his machine of locomotion was utterly inadequate to surmount. ”

“ The other, espying the leathern bottle, grew friendlier, and lifted it to his lips by an undivided motion from the ground. Then he said, drawing nearer to the blaze and heaving a long, comforted breath:—
"Whose man art thou?"
"This is my master," replied Dickon, with his thumb toward Andreas, "who was most foully beset by robbers, and is like now to die if he win not help and shelter." ”

“ When she comes within sight of the end house, she leaves the path and strikes out into the gorse-clad waste beyond the pasture, keeping to it until she is opposite the cottage of Dickon the waggoner. A child has been born, three days back, to Dickon and Meg his wife. It is not yet baptised, for the priest lives four miles away, beyond the downs, and Dickon has been too pressed with work to go for him. To-morrow will be time enough, for it is the healthiest child, not to say the most beautiful, the gossips have ever set eyes upon. ”

“ Dickon marvelled vaguely that so many men had been brought for such paltry fighting—in ignorance that his lord's true danger lay on the highroad, returning with his spoils.
Why the lad had not gone forward with his fellows he could not have told. There was no reason why the thought of plunder should be repugnant to him.
His whole life had been spent among men who lived by plunder, and only in the dimmest fashion did he comprehend that there were people able to command horses and armor who lived by other means. ”

“ Dickon dragged him to the fire, piling leaves behind for support, and holding the lad's hands almost into the flames, so desperate did the strait seem to be. Then he stripped off his own leathern jacket, and wrapped it about Andreas.
He heaped fresh fuel on the fire, he rubbed the slender limbs for warmth with his rough hands, he forced more of the wine-drink down the boy's throat—all at once, as it were, in a frenzy of resolve that death should at all hazards be fought off. ”

“ Dickon stood in trembling amaze for a little, staring down upon these twain, whom he had in a frenzied second put beyond further combat. He shook like any winter leaf as he looked, and his legs bent beneath him—for this foremost dead man was Morgan, the very bone and sinew of Egswith's dread band.
To be burned alive were the lightest vengeance for such a trick as this. ”

“ Dickon mumbled between mouthfuls, tearing at the food meanwhile with his teeth. "He was in two minds about having me flogged, but for that. The monks have a fear of the king, they say, and on the days he marks for them durst not break bread for themselves. Thus this friar must needs fast to-day—so he said. How could the king know, if he slipped in some food while-times? He hath not been in these parts this many years."
"It is not the king, Dickon," answered Andreas. "A greater than any king ordereth these matters." ”

“ But he makes a magnificent model.”
“Oh, he’s a model!” said Craven, also looking at the box opposite.
“He isn’t a professional model. Dick Garstin doesn’t pay him to sit. I only mean that he is a marvellous subject for a portrait and sits well. Dick happened to see him and asked him to sit. Dick paints the people he wants to paint, not those who want to be painted by him. But he’s a really big man. You ought to know him.”
She said the last words to Lady Sellingworth, who replied:
“I very seldom make new acquaintances now.”
“You made Mr. Craven’s!” said Miss Van Tuyn, smiling. ”

“ But her companion made no reply, and she went on: "It's a hard thing for poor Dickon to be sent out to starve or be hanged, just because he was a spirity lad, and had different notions from that Pharold." Still the other was silent. "I often do wonder," she continued, "how a number of strong hearty men, every one a better man than Pharold, should submit to be led, and bullied, and ill-treated, by an ill-looking thief like that, only because he comes from our old dukes that are dead and gone. [5] It's all your own faults. ”

“ Such a tale the Tambows of Shropshire can tell. Once, it is dimly understood, the narrative was written out, and even printed from types in Caxton's own press. If this be true, the book has long been lost. But the story is worth keeping.
Dickon looked at this time to be well on in his teens. He was so tall and stout a lad that grown men spoke to him, now and again, as to one of themselves. Just what his age might be, however, it lay beyond mortal power to discover. His mother was long since dead. ”

“ Then she concluded she would only ask the boys; boys would not get frightened and run away; they would not let anybody pick her up and put her in a bag; Dickon was a boy; she knew all about boys; she was afraid the girls would get put in bags. She told the girls they should not go. She stamped her foot at them; they should not go. Indeed I do not believe they wanted to go, but the boys did; they liked it. They all concluded to start at once.
[15]
There were seven of them beside Dickon. ”

“ Dick came; and the cattle was better; folk said they could still see the old Squire, sometimes, walking, as before, in openings of the wood, with his stick in his hand; but he was shy of coming nigh the cattle, whatever his reason might be, since Dickon Pyke came; and he used to stand a long bit off, looking at them, with no more stir in him than a trunk o' one of the old trees, for an hour at a time, till the shape melted away, little by little, like the smoke of a fire that burns out. ”