There were deeps in the forest where a hundred men could hide and never be stumbled on for weeks together. Thieves and outlaws1 who knew the ways could travel north, south, east, and west, and never be seen by woodward or forester. Moreover, these trailbastons and broken men left the deer alone, for they themselves were part of the wild and the forest was their harbour, and if no deer were slain2 they themselves were less likely to be hunted.
Now there were forest lodges4 and foresters at Pippinford, Hindleape, Broadstone, and Comedean, as well as at the White Lodge3 of the Master Forester; but none of these men of the greenwood and the heather had any knowledge of the queer gentry5 who were lodged6 among the hollies7 of Blackbottom Gill. The holly8 wood was itself hidden in a great wood of oaks and beeches9, and the Polecat, who knew every ride and every path, and the spots, too, where there were no paths, had served as guide to these strangers. The Polecat had lived all his life in the forests, thieving, cheating, robbing when a safe chance offered. He could “burr” like a goat-sucker and scream like a jay, tell the age of a deer from its slot and its dung, and judge just how high the pheasants would be roosting on a certain night. The Polecat had hunted in all the forests in Hampshire, Sussex, and Surrey, and he would slip from one to the other if it happened that the nose of the Law had smelt10 spilt blood.
In Blackbottom Gill five figures were grouped before a fire in the thick of the gloom of the hollies. The fire had been built in a recess11 grubbed out of the side of a bank, and a screen of boughs12 built round it, so that its light should not be seen. And since it was night the smoke did not concern them. They smothered13 the fire before dawn.
Father Merlin sat on a wallet stuffed with grass, his grey cowl over his head, the girdle of his grey habit unbuttoned. He had taken off his sandals and was stretching out his brown feet to the fire. Over against him, on a pile of dead bracken, sat Guy the Stallion, a handsome, tawdry, swashing sworder with a red head and fiery14 eyes and a fierce little peaked beard. At the other end of the half circle a lean man with a swarthy, gloating face was cleaning his nails with a holly twig15, and men called him Jack16 Straw. In the centre sat John Ball, the mad priest of Kent, staring at the fire, bemused, lips moving silently, eyes seeing visions. Half lying on a sheep-skin and poking17 the fire with a charred18 stick, Big Blanche, the singing-woman, listened to Jack Straw and Guy the Stallion disputing over some point of policy.
“Let them begin with a little killing20. I know a trick or two to make men’s blood boil. Let them warm to it, and in a month there will be no gentles left in the land to trouble us. I am a man of the sword, and what I know of war is as much as Du Guesclin or Knowles could carry.”
Jack Straw, the East Anglian, thrust out a contemptuous lip.
“Keep your sword in its scabbard. One word from Brother John here is worth a thousand such swords.”
Father Merlin showed his big teeth, his harsh face gaunt and long in the shadows. The swashbuckler amused him and piqued22 the laughter of a subtle scorn.
“Let no man quarrel with the soul of St. Francis,” said he. “What say we but that the meek23 shall inherit the earth?”
They turned their eyes by some common instinct upon Father John, staring raptly at the fire, his lips moving silently, his face strangely radiant. His spirit was away in some fantastic earthly heaven while his body remained among the black hollies of the forest. Even red-headed Guy was sobered by a something that was above and beyond his lustful25 vigour26 and his bombast27.
“Father John treads the clouds.”
“Perhaps St. Thomas of Canterbury is up yonder. When we have pulled Simon of Sudbury out of his archbishop’s shoes we might do worse than clap them on Father John’s feet.”
The Franciscan smiled like a horse champing a bit, drawing back his lips and showing his teeth.
“What God wills—God wills.”
“And what the devil wills——”
“The swashbuckler knows best.”
Big Blanche sat and gazed at John Ball’s rapt and dreaming face. He seemed not to hear the voices of those about him, and his face was the face of a man drunk with visions.
“He has touched neither food nor drink since daybreak. Some day his soul will fly away like a piece of thistledown, and we shall have no one to preach to us.”
“Pluck his sleeve, Jack.”
John Ball started, and stared at those around him as though he had been wakened out of a deep sleep. Big Blanche wriggled31 across on her knees, and held out the mead32 bottle. He took it mechanically, and nodded to her with an air of vacant benignity33.
“Drink, brother.”
“Take my dagger35, Jack. We are getting ready to be great lords and gentles all by the cleaning of our nails!”
John Ball’s eyes fixed36 themselves on his neighbour’s hands. He began to speak in a slow and inward voice.
“Our brother cleanseth his nails. It is a symbol, surely. All the world shall have clean fingers.”
“And no pickings! My cock, father, I must pick up something on the point of my sword!”
The priest of Kent looked up and around at the black boughs and tops of the hollies. His face was the white face of a saint in an altar picture of the passions. His neighbours were so many allegorical figures—Cunning, Ambition, Lust24, Bombast—and yet mere37 men with strong teeth and muscular hands and eyes that looked hungry. This dreamer of Kent whose mouth could fill with fire had a soul whose simplicity38 made these shrewd and carnal men marvel39.
“Has Isoult of the Rose returned?”
“No, father.”
“The Polecat is out; we shall have news.”
John Ball spread his hands to the blaze.
“The voice of an angel, a bright angel on the white clouds at dawn. Shall it not sing the children into Paradise?”
Big Blanche’s face grew sullen40 and lowering. She glanced up suddenly and caught Guy the Stallion watching her mockingly, laughing at the jealousy41 that she could not hide. She flounced round and turned her back.
“What will you make of Isoult, father?”
John Ball was blind to such a thing as raillery.
“Isoult shall stand in the gateway42 of our new city and sing. I will put golden words into her mouth. And because of her beauty——”
“Golden words in the mouth of such a——”
Father Merlin’s figure straightened suddenly, and his hooked nose protruded44 like the beak45 of a bird from under the shadow of his hood46.
“’Ssst!”
“What is it?”
“Listen.”
They remained motionless, rigid47, so many stark48 black figures seen against the glow of the fire. The night was very still and windless, and the hollies seemed weighed down by the heavy, midnight silence. From somewhere came a rustling49 sound as of dead leaves blown along the forest’s floor. Father Merlin’s head moved slowly from side to side on its long and sinewy50 throat; the swashbuckler’s hand went to the hilt of his sword.
They heard a jay scream, and Blanche drew in a deep breath and laughed.
“The Polecat!”
“That was his cry.”
“Come down into the light, good friend, and welcome.”
A little man with a face like a wild cat’s appeared from nowhere, and threw himself down beside Big Blanche. His eyes were red and small and wonderfully restless, and his hair looked like a mass of little black snakes writhing51 all in a tangle52. For the moment he said nothing, but reaching out with both hands, grabbed a bottle of mead with one and half a loaf with the other. The animal was thirsty and hungry, and they suffered him to have his will.
Jack Straw was the first to question him.
“What news, Polecat, out of the wood?”
The man still masticated53, and answered as he ate.
“The duke’s foresters have taken Isoult.”
“I always said the wench was too venturesome.”
“What have they done?”
“Lugged her to the White Lodge. It was young Fulk, the riding forester, who took her. I might have stabbed him in the dark, but the young wolf was too wary55.”
Father Merlin grinned and bit his nails. John Ball stared at the fire and said nothing. It was Guy the Stallion who jumped up, swaggered, tightened56 his belt, and looked at his comrades’ faces.
“Nothing to say, good brothers? See here, the sword has its tongue. I’ll have Isoult out of the White Lodge, by cock, before they can say a Pater!”
Big Blanche twisted round of a sudden, and snapped at him like an angry dog.
The woman sprang up, furious, chattering59, beside herself, a knife in her fist.
“Let the jade rot, I say. You are my man and I’m your woman. By the blood of the——!”
Father Merlin rose up and put himself between them. He was a big man, and had a voice that could thunder.
“Peace, you fools. Swashbuckler, sit you down and cool that hot pot of a head of yours. As for you, Dame60 Blanche——”
“I have a tongue, mind you. I have a tongue!”
Merlin went close to her, and she alone saw his eyes.
“Peace, or you may have no tongue to boast of.”
“I meant nothing, good father; but that fool there is my man, and I’ll not see him filched65 from me.”
“Peace!”
John Ball had sat through the squabble with the look of a man whose soul was elsewhere. He turned his head slowly and stared at Father Merlin.
“My brother, what shall be done?”
“Leave it to me, Brother John. I will go out to-morrow—to hear confessions67.”
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1
outlaws
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| 歹徒，亡命之徒( outlaw的名词复数 )； 逃犯 | |
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slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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3
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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lodges
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| v.存放( lodge的第三人称单数 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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gentry
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| n.绅士阶级，上层阶级 | |
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lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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7
hollies
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| n.冬青（常绿灌木，叶尖而硬，有光泽，冬季结红色浆果）( holly的名词复数 )；（用作圣诞节饰物的）冬青树枝 | |
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holly
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| n.[植]冬青属灌木 | |
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beeches
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| n.山毛榉( beech的名词复数 )；山毛榉木材 | |
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10
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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11
recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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12
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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13
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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14
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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15
twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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17
poking
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| n. 刺，戳，袋 vt. 拨开，刺，戳 vi. 戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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18
charred
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| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
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19
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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20
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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21
hinds
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| n.（常指动物腿）后面的( hind的名词复数 )；在后的；（通常与can或could连用）唠叨不停；滔滔不绝 | |
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22
piqued
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| v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 )；激起（好奇心） | |
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23
meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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24
lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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25
lustful
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| a.贪婪的；渴望的 | |
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26
vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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bombast
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| n.高调，夸大之辞 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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29
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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30
belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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31
wriggled
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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32
mead
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| n.蜂蜜酒 | |
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33
benignity
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| n.仁慈 | |
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34
facetious
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| adj.轻浮的，好开玩笑的 | |
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35
dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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36
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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37
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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38
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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39
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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40
sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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41
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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42
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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43
twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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44
protruded
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
beak
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| n.鸟嘴，茶壶嘴，钩形鼻 | |
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46
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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47
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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48
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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49
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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50
sinewy
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| adj.多腱的，强壮有力的 | |
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51
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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52
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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53
masticated
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| v.咀嚼( masticate的过去式和过去分词 )；粉碎，磨烂 | |
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54
bullies
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| n.欺凌弱小者, 开球 vt.恐吓, 威胁, 欺负 | |
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55
wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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56
tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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57
jade
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| n.玉石；碧玉；翡翠 | |
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58
falcon
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| n.隼，猎鹰 | |
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59
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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60
dame
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| n.女士 | |
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61
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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62
insolently
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| adv.自豪地，自傲地 | |
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63
lewd
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| adj.淫荡的 | |
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64
insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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65
filched
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| v.偷（尤指小的或不贵重的物品）( filch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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66
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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67
confessions
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| n.承认( confession的名词复数 )；自首；声明；（向神父的）忏悔 | |
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