Some were wounded; one and all were furious at their ill-success and long exposure; and though they were now too cold and hungry to do more, they grumbled4 and cast sullen5 looks upon their leaders. Dick emptied his purse among them, leaving himself nothing; thanked them for the courage they had displayed, though he could have found it more readily in his heart to rate them for poltroonery6; and having thus somewhat softened7 the effect of his prolonged misfortune, despatched them to find their way, either severally or in pairs, to Shoreby and the Goat and Bagpipes8.
For his own part, influenced by what he had seen on board of the Good Hope, he chose Lawless to be his companion on the walk. The snow was falling, without pause or variation, in one even, blinding cloud; the wind had been strangled, and now blew no longer; and the whole world was blotted9 out and sheeted down below that silent inundation10. There was great danger of wandering by the way and perishing in drifts; and Lawless, keeping half a step in front of his companion, and holding his head forward like a hunting dog upon the scent11, inquired his way of every tree, and studied out their path as though he were conning12 a ship among dangers.
About a mile into the forest they came to a place where several ways met, under a grove13 of lofty and contorted oaks. Even in the narrow horizon of the falling snow, it was a spot that could not fail to be recognised; and Lawless evidently recognised it with particular delight.
“Now, Master Richard,” said he, “an y’ are not too proud to be the guest of a man who is neither a gentleman by birth nor so much as a good Christian15, I can offer you a cup of wine and a good fire to melt the marrow16 in your frozen bones.”
“Lead on, Will,” answered Dick. “A cup of wine and a good fire! Nay17, I would go a far way round to see them.”
Lawless turned aside under the bare branches of the grove, and, walking resolutely18 forward for some time, came to a steepish hollow or den14, that had now drifted a quarter full of snow. On the verge19, a great beech20-tree hung, precariously21 rooted; and here the old outlaw2, pulling aside some bushy underwood, bodily disappeared into the earth.
The beech had, in some violent gale22, been half-uprooted, and had torn up a considerable stretch of turf and it was under this that old Lawless had dug out his forest hiding-place. The roots served him for rafters, the turf was his thatch23; for walls and floor he had his mother the earth. Rude as it was, the hearth24 in one corner, blackened by fire, and the presence in another of a large oaken chest well fortified25 with iron, showed it at one glance to be the den of a man, and not the burrow26 of a digging beast.
Though the snow had drifted at the mouth and sifted27 in upon the floor of this earth cavern28, yet was the air much warmer than without; and when Lawless had struck a spark, and the dry furze bushes had begun to blaze and crackle on the hearth, the place assumed, even to the eye, an air of comfort and of home.
With a sigh of great contentment, Lawless spread his broad hands before the fire, and seemed to breathe the smoke.
“Here, then,” he said, “is this old Lawless’s rabbit-hole; pray Heaven there come no terrier! Far I have rolled hither and thither29, and here and about, since that I was fourteen years of mine age and first ran away from mine abbey, with the sacrist’s gold chain and a mass-book that I sold for four marks. I have been in England and France and Burgundy, and in Spain, too, on a pilgrimage for my poor soul; and upon the sea, which is no man’s country. But here is my place, Master Shelton. This is my native land, this burrow in the earth! Come rain or wind—and whether it’s April, and the birds all sing, and the blossoms fall about my bed—or whether it’s winter, and I sit alone with my good gossip the fire, and robin30 red breast twitters in the woods—here, is my church and market, and my wife and child. It’s here I come back to, and it’s here, so please the saints, that I would like to die.”
“’Tis a warm corner, to be sure,” replied Dick, “and a pleasant, and a well hid.”
“It had need to be,” returned Lawless, “for an they found it, Master Shelton, it would break my heart. But here,” he added, burrowing31 with his stout32 fingers in the sandy floor, “here is my wine cellar; and ye shall have a flask33 of excellent strong stingo.”
Sure enough, after but a little digging, he produced a big leathern bottle of about a gallon, nearly three-parts full of a very heady and sweet wine; and when they had drunk to each other comradely, and the fire had been replenished34 and blazed up again, the pair lay at full length, thawing35 and steaming, and divinely warm.
“Master Shelton,” observed the outlaw, “y’ ’ave had two mischances this last while, and y’ are like to lose the maid—do I take it aright?”
“Aright!” returned Dick, nodding his head.
“Well, now,” continued Lawless, “hear an old fool that hath been nigh-hand everything, and seen nigh-hand all! Ye go too much on other people’s errands, Master Dick. Ye go on Ellis’s; but he desireth rather the death of Sir Daniel. Ye go on Lord Foxham’s; well—the saints preserve him!—doubtless he meaneth well. But go ye upon your own, good Dick. Come right to the maid’s side. Court her, lest that she forget you. Be ready; and when the chance shall come, off with her at the saddle-bow.”
“Thither, then, go we,” replied the outlaw.
Dick stared at him.
“Nay, I mean it,” nodded Lawless. “And if y’ are of so little faith, and stumble at a word, see here!”
And the outlaw, taking a key from about his neck, opened the oak chest, and dipping and groping deep among its contents, produced first a friar’s robe, and next a girdle of rope; and then a huge rosary of wood, heavy enough to be counted as a weapon.
“Here,” he said, “is for you. On with them!”
And then, when Dick had clothed himself in this clerical disguise, Lawless produced some colours and a pencil, and proceeded, with the greatest cunning, to disguise his face. The eyebrows37 he thickened and produced; to the moustache, which was yet hardly visible, he rendered a like service; while, by a few lines around the eye, he changed the expression and increased the apparent age of this young monk38.
“Now,” he resumed, “when I have done the like, we shall make as bonny a pair of friars as the eye could wish. Boldly to Sir Daniel’s we shall go, and there be hospitably39 welcome for the love of Mother Church.”
“And how, dear Lawless,” cried the lad, “shall I repay you?”
“Tut, brother,” replied the outlaw, “I do naught40 but for my pleasure. Mind not for me. I am one, by the mass, that mindeth for himself. When that I lack, I have a long tongue and a voice like the monastery41 bell—I do ask, my son; and where asking faileth, I do most usually take.”
The old rogue42 made a humorous grimace43; and although Dick was displeased44 to lie under so great favours to so equivocal a personage, he was yet unable to restrain his mirth.
With that, Lawless returned to the big chest, and was soon similarly disguised; but, below his gown, Dick wondered to observe him conceal45 a sheaf of black arrows.
“Wherefore do ye that?” asked the lad. “Wherefore arrows, when ye take no bow?”
“Nay,” replied Lawless, lightly, “’tis like there will be heads broke—not to say backs—ere you and I win sound from where we’re going to; and if any fall, I would our fellowship should come by the credit on’t. A black arrow, Master Dick, is the seal of our abbey; it showeth you who writ46 the bill.”
“An ye prepare so carefully,” said Dick, “I have here some papers that, for mine own sake, and the interest of those that trusted me, were better left behind than found upon my body. Where shall I conceal them, Will?”
“Nay,” replied Lawless, “I will go forth47 into the wood and whistle me three verses of a song; meanwhile, do you bury them where ye please, and smooth the sand upon the place.”
“Never!” cried Richard. “I trust you, man. I were base indeed if I not trusted you.”
“Brother, y’ are but a child,” replied the old outlaw, pausing and turning his face upon Dick from the threshold of the den. “I am a kind old Christian, and no traitor48 to men’s blood, and no sparer of mine own in a friend’s jeopardy49. But, fool, child, I am a thief by trade and birth and habit. If my bottle were empty and my mouth dry, I would rob you, dear child, as sure as I love, honour, and admire your parts and person! Can it be clearer spoken? No.”
Dick, thus left alone, after a wondering thought upon the inconsistencies of his companion’s character, hastily produced, reviewed, and buried his papers. One only he reserved to carry along with him, since it in nowise compromised his friends, and yet might serve him, in a pinch, against Sir Daniel. That was the knight’s own letter to Lord Wensleydale, sent by Throgmorton, on the morrow of the defeat at Risingham, and found next day by Dick upon the body of the messenger.
Then, treading down the embers of the fire, Dick left the den, and rejoined the old outlaw, who stood awaiting him under the leafless oaks, and was already beginning to be powdered by the falling snow. Each looked upon the other, and each laughed, so thorough and so droll51 was the disguise.
“Yet I would it were but summer and a clear day,” grumbled the outlaw, “that I might see myself in the mirror of a pool. There be many of Sir Daniel’s men that know me; and if we fell to be recognised, there might be two words for you, brother, but as for me, in a paternoster while, I should be kicking in a rope’s-end.”
Thus they set forth together along the road to Shoreby, which, in this part of its course, kept near along the margin52 or the forest, coming forth, from time to time, in the open country, and passing beside poor folks’ houses and small farms.
Presently at sight of one of these, Lawless pulled up.
“Brother Martin,” he said, in a voice capitally disguised, and suited to his monkish53 robe, “let us enter and seek alms from these poor sinners. Pax vobiscum! Ay,” he added, in his own voice, “’tis as I feared; I have somewhat lost the whine54 of it; and by your leave, good Master Shelton, ye must suffer me to practise in these country places, before that I risk my fat neck by entering Sir Daniel’s. But look ye a little, what an excellent thing it is to be a Jack-of-all-trades! An I had not been a shipman, ye had infallibly gone down in the Good Hope; an I had not been a thief, I could not have painted me your face; and but that I had been a Grey Friar, and sung loud in the choir55, and ate hearty56 at the board, I could not have carried this disguise, but the very dogs would have spied us out and barked at us for shams57.”
He was by this time close to the window of the farm, and he rose on his tip-toes and peeped in.
“Nay,” he cried, “better and better. We shall here try our false faces with a vengeance58, and have a merry jest on Brother Capper to boot.”
And so saying, he opened the door and led the way into the house.
Three of their own company sat at the table, greedily eating. Their daggers59, stuck beside them in the board, and the black and menacing looks which they continued to shower upon the people of the house, proved that they owed their entertainment rather to force than favour. On the two monks60, who now, with a sort of humble61 dignity, entered the kitchen of the farm, they seemed to turn with a particular resentment62; and one—it was John Capper in person—who seemed to play the leading part, instantly and rudely ordered them away.
“We want no beggars here!” he cried.
But another—although he was as far from recognising Dick and Lawless—inclined to more moderate counsels.
“Not so,” he cried. “We be strong men, and take; these be weak, and crave63; but in the latter end these shall be uppermost and we below. Mind him not, my father; but come, drink of my cup, and give me a benediction64.”
“Y’ are men of a light mind, carnal, and accursed,” said the monk. “Now, may the saints forbid that ever I should drink with such companions! But here, for the pity I bear to sinners, here I do leave you a blessed relic65, the which, for your soul’s interest, I bid you kiss and cherish.”
So far Lawless thundered upon them like a preaching friar; but with these words he drew from under his robe a black arrow, tossed it on the board in front of the three startled outlaws, turned in the same instant, and, taking Dick along with him, was out of the room and out of sight among the falling snow before they had time to utter a word or move a finger.
“So,” he said, “we have proved our false faces, Master Shelton. I will now adventure my poor carcase where ye please.”
“Good!” returned Richard. “It irks me to be doing. Set we on for Shoreby!”
点击收听单词发音
1 followers | |
追随者( follower的名词复数 ); 用户; 契据的附面; 从动件 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 outlaw | |
n.歹徒,亡命之徒;vt.宣布…为不合法 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 outlaws | |
歹徒,亡命之徒( outlaw的名词复数 ); 逃犯 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 grumbled | |
抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 ); 发牢骚; 咕哝; 发哼声 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 sullen | |
adj.愠怒的,闷闷不乐的,(天气等)阴沉的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 poltroonery | |
n.怯懦,胆小 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 softened | |
(使)变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 ); 缓解打击; 缓和; 安慰 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 bagpipes | |
n.风笛;风笛( bagpipe的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 blotted | |
涂污( blot的过去式和过去分词 ); (用吸墨纸)吸干 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 inundation | |
n.the act or fact of overflowing | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 scent | |
n.气味,香味,香水,线索,嗅觉;v.嗅,发觉 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 conning | |
v.诈骗,哄骗( con的现在分词 );指挥操舵( conn的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 grove | |
n.林子,小树林,园林 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 den | |
n.兽穴;秘密地方;安静的小房间,私室 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 marrow | |
n.骨髓;精华;活力 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 nay | |
adv.不;n.反对票,投反对票者 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 resolutely | |
adj.坚决地,果断地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 verge | |
n.边,边缘;v.接近,濒临 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 beech | |
n.山毛榉;adj.山毛榉的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 precariously | |
adv.不安全地;危险地;碰机会地;不稳定地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 gale | |
n.大风,强风,一阵闹声(尤指笑声等) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 thatch | |
vt.用茅草覆盖…的顶部;n.茅草(屋) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 hearth | |
n.壁炉炉床,壁炉地面 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 fortified | |
adj. 加强的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 burrow | |
vt.挖掘(洞穴);钻进;vi.挖洞;翻寻;n.地洞 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 sifted | |
v.筛( sift的过去式和过去分词 );筛滤;细查;详审 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 cavern | |
n.洞穴,大山洞 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 thither | |
adv.向那里;adj.在那边的,对岸的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 robin | |
n.知更鸟,红襟鸟 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 burrowing | |
v.挖掘(洞穴),挖洞( burrow的现在分词 );翻寻 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 flask | |
n.瓶,火药筒,砂箱 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 replenished | |
补充( replenish的过去式和过去分词 ); 重新装满 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 thawing | |
n.熔化,融化v.(气候)解冻( thaw的现在分词 );(态度、感情等)缓和;(冰、雪及冷冻食物)溶化;软化 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 mansion | |
n.大厦,大楼;宅第 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
37 eyebrows | |
眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
38 monk | |
n.和尚,僧侣,修道士 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
39 hospitably | |
亲切地,招待周到地,善于款待地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
40 naught | |
n.无,零 [=nought] | |
参考例句: |
|
|
41 monastery | |
n.修道院,僧院,寺院 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
42 rogue | |
n.流氓;v.游手好闲 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
43 grimace | |
v.做鬼脸,面部歪扭 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
44 displeased | |
a.不快的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
45 conceal | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,隐蔽 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
46 writ | |
n.命令状,书面命令 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
47 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
48 traitor | |
n.叛徒,卖国贼 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
49 jeopardy | |
n.危险;危难 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
50 stumped | |
僵直地行走,跺步行走( stump的过去式和过去分词 ); 把(某人)难住; 使为难; (选举前)在某一地区作政治性巡回演说 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
51 droll | |
adj.古怪的,好笑的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
52 margin | |
n.页边空白;差额;余地,余裕;边,边缘 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
53 monkish | |
adj.僧侣的,修道士的,禁欲的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
54 whine | |
v.哀号,号哭;n.哀鸣 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
55 choir | |
n.唱诗班,唱诗班的席位,合唱团,舞蹈团;v.合唱 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
56 hearty | |
adj.热情友好的;衷心的;尽情的,纵情的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
57 shams | |
假象( sham的名词复数 ); 假货; 虚假的行为(或感情、言语等); 假装…的人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
58 vengeance | |
n.报复,报仇,复仇 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
59 daggers | |
匕首,短剑( dagger的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
60 monks | |
n.修道士,僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
61 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
62 resentment | |
n.怨愤,忿恨 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
63 crave | |
vt.渴望得到,迫切需要,恳求,请求 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
64 benediction | |
n.祝福;恩赐 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
65 relic | |
n.神圣的遗物,遗迹,纪念物 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |