"Ay, Bennet," said the priest, somewhat recovering, "and what may

this be? What enemy hath done this?"

"Here, Sir Oliver, is the arrow. See, it is written upon with

words," said Dick.

"Nay," cried the priest, "this is a foul hearing! John Amend-All!

A right Lollardy word. And black of hue, as for an omen! Sirs,

this knave arrow likes me not. But it importeth rather to take

counsel. Who should this be? Bethink you, Bennet. Of so many

black ill-willers, which should he be that doth so hardily outface

us? Simnel? I do much question it. The Walsinghams? Nay, they

are not yet so broken; they still think to have the law over us,

when times change. There was Simon Malmesbury, too. How think ye,

Bennet?"

"What think ye, sir," returned Hatch, "of Ellis Duckworth?"

"Nay, Bennet, never. Nay, not he," said the priest. "There cometh

never any rising, Bennet, from below--so all judicious chroniclers

concord in their opinion; but rebellion travelleth ever downward

from above; and when Dick, Tom, and Harry take them to their bills,

look ever narrowly to see what lord is profited thereby. Now, Sir

Daniel, having once more joined him to the Queen's party, is in ill

odour with the Yorkist lords. Thence, Bennet, comes the blow--by

what procuring, I yet seek; but therein lies the nerve of this

discomfiture."

"An't please you, Sir Oliver," said Bennet, "the axles are so hot

in this country that I have long been smelling fire. So did this

poor sinner, Appleyard. And, by your leave, men's spirits are so

foully inclined to all of us, that it needs neither York nor

<<BackPagesTo menuNext>>