After London; Or, Wild England

by Richard Jefferies

  CHAPTER XVI

  THE CITY

  Slowly descending towards the city, Felix looked in vain for any meansof crossing the channel or creek, which extended upon the side of it,and in which he counted twenty-two merchant vessels at anchor, or mooredto the bank, besides a number of smaller craft and boats. The ship ofwar, which had arrived before him, was beached close up by a gate of thecity, which opened on the creek or port, and her crew were busilyengaged discharging her stores. As he walked beside the creek trying tocall the attention of some boatman to take him across, he was impressedby the silence, for though the city wall was not much more than astone's throw distant, there was none of the usual hum which arises fromthe movements of people. On looking closer he noticed, too, that therewere few persons on the merchant vessels, and not one gang at workloading or unloading. Except the warder stalking to and fro on the wall,and the crew of the war-ship, there was no one visible. As the warderpaced to and fro the blade of his partisan gleamed in the sunshine. Hemust have seen Felix, but with military indifference did not pay theslightest heed to the latter's efforts to attract his attention.

  He now passed the war-ship, and shouted to the men at work, who were, hecould see, carrying sheaves of arrows and bundles of javelins from thevessel and placing them on carts; but they did not trouble to reply. Hiscommon dress and ordinary appearance did not inspire them with any hopeof payment from him if they obliged him with a boat. The utterindifference with which his approach was seen showed him the contempt inwhich he was held.

  Looking round to see if there were no bridge or ferry, he caught sightof the grey church tower which he had observed from afar while sailing.It was quite a mile from the city, and isolated outside the walls. Itstood on the slope of the hill, over whose summit the tower was visible.He wandered up towards it, as there were usually people in or about thechurches, which were always open day and night. If no one else, theporter in the lodge at the church door would be there, for he or hisrepresentative never left it, being always on the watch lest some thiefshould attempt to enter the treasury, or steal the sacred vessels.

  But as he ascended the hill he met a shepherd, whose dogs prepared tofly at him, recognising a stranger. For a moment the man seemed inclinedto let them wreak their will, if they could, for he also felt inclinedto challenge a stranger, but, seeing Felix lower his spear, it probablyoccurred to him that some of his dogs would be killed. He thereforeordered them down, and stayed to listen. Felix learnt that there was nobridge across the creek, and only one over the river; but there was aferry for anybody who was known. No strangers were allowed to cross theferry; they must enter by the main road over the bridge.

  "But how am I to get into the place then?" said Felix. The shepherdshook his head, and said he could not tell him, and walked away abouthis business.

  Discouraged at these trifling vexations, which seemed to cross his pathat every step, Felix found his way to the ferry, but, as the shepherdhad said, the boatman refused to carry him, being a stranger. Nopersuasion could move him; nor the offer of a small silver coin, worthabout ten times his fare.

  "I must then swim across," said Felix, preparing to take off hisclothes.

  "Swim, if you like," said the boatman, with a grim smile; "but you willnever land."

  "Why not?"

  "Because the warder will let drive at you with an arrow."

  Felix looked, and saw that he was opposite the extreme angle of the citywall, a point usually guarded with care. There was a warder stalking toand fro; he carried a partisan, but, of course, might have his bowwithin reach, or could probably call to the soldiers of the guard.

  "This _is_ annoying," said Felix, ready to give up his enterprise. "However can I get into the city?"

  The old boatman grinned, but said nothing, and returned to a net whichhe was mending. He made no answer to the further questions Felix put tohim. Felix then shouted to the warder; the soldier looked once, but paidno more heed. Felix walked a little way and sat down on the grass. Hewas deeply discouraged. These repulses, trifles in themselves, assumedan importance, because his mind had long been strung up to a high pitchof tension. A stolid man would have thought nothing of them. After awhile he arose, again asking himself how should he become a leader, whohad not the perseverance to enter a city in peaceful guise?

  Not knowing what else to do, he followed the creek round the foot of thehill, and so onwards for a mile or more. This bank was steep, on accountof the down; the other cultivated, the corn being already high. Thecuckoo sang (she loves the near neighbourhood of man) and flew over thechannel towards a little copse. Almost suddenly the creek wound roundunder a low chalk cliff, and in a moment Felix found himself confrontedby another city. This had no wall; it was merely defended by a ditch andearthwork, without tower or bastion.

  The houses were placed thickly together; there were, he thought, six orseven times as many as he had previously seen, and they were thatched orshingled, like those in his own country. It stood in the midst of thefields, and the corn came up to the fosse; there were many people atwork, but, as he noticed, most of them were old men, bowed and feeble. Alittle way farther he saw a second boathouse; he hastened thither, andthe ferrywoman, for the boat was poled across by a stout dame, made notthe least difficulty about ferrying him over. So delighted was Felix atthis unexpected fortune, that he gave her the small silver coin, atsight of which he instantly rose high in her estimation.

  She explained to him, in answer to his inquiries, that this was alsocalled Aisi; this was the city of the common folk. Those who were richor powerful had houses in the walled city, the precinct of the Court.Many of the houses there, too, were the inns of great families who dweltin the country in their castles, but when they came to the Courtrequired a house. Their shields, or coats of arms, were painted over thedoors. The walled city was guarded with such care, because so manyattempts had been made to surprise it, and to assassinate the king,whose fiery disposition and constant wars had raised him up so manyenemies. As much care was taken to prevent a single stranger entering asif he were the vanguard of a hostile army, and if he now went back (ashe could do) to the bridge over the river, he would be stopped andquestioned, and possibly confined in prison till the king returned.

  "Where is the king?" asked Felix; "I came to try and take service withhim."

  "Then you will be welcome," said the woman. "He is in the field, and hasjust sat down before Iwis."

  "That was why the walled city seemed so empty, then." said Felix.

  "Yes; all the people are with him; there will be a great battle thistime."

  "How far is it to Iwis?" said Felix.

  "Twenty-seven miles," replied the dame; "and if you take my advice, youhad better walk twenty-seven miles there, than two miles back to thebridge over the river."

  Someone now called from the opposite bank, and she started with the boatto fetch another passenger.

  "Thank you, very much," said Felix, as he wished her good day; "but whydid not the man at the other ferry tell me I could cross here?"

  The woman laughed outright. "Do you suppose he was going to put a pennyin my way when he could not get it himself?"

  So mean and petty is the world! Felix entered the second city and walkedsome distance through it, when he recollected that he had not eaten forsome time. He looked in vain for an inn, but upon speaking to a man whowas leaning on his crutch at a doorway, he was at once asked to enter,and all that the house afforded was put before him. The man with thecrutch sat down opposite, and remarked that most of the folk were goneto the camp, but he could not because his foot had been injured. He thenwent on to tell how it had happened, with the usual garrulity of thewounded. He was assisting to place the beam of a battering-ram upon atruck (it took ten horses to draw it) when a lever snapped, and the beamfell. Had the beam itself touched him he would have been killed on thespot; as it was, only a part of the broken lever or pole hit him. Thrownwith such force, the weight of the ram driving it, the fragment of thepole grazed his leg,
and either broke one of the small bones that formthe arch of the instep, or so bruised it that it was worse than broken.All the bone-setters and surgeons had gone to the camp, and he was leftwithout attendance other than the women, who fomented the foot daily,but he had little hope of present recovery, knowing that such thingswere often months about.

  He thought it lucky that it was no worse, for very few, he had noticed,ever recovered from serious wounds of spear or arrow. The woundedgenerally died; only the fortunate escaped. Thus he ran on, talking asmuch for his own amusement as that of his guest. He fretted because hecould not join the camp and help work the artillery; he supposed the ramwould be in position by now and shaking the wall with its blow. Hewondered if Baron Ingulph would miss his face.

  "Who's he?" asked Felix.

  "He is captain of the artillery," replied his host.

  "Are you his retainer?"

  "No; I am a servant."

  Felix started slightly, and did but just check himself from rising fromthe table. A "servant" was a slave; it was the euphemism used instead ofthe hateful word, which not even the most degraded can endure to bear.The class of the nobles to which he belonged deemed it a disgrace to sitdown with a slave, to eat with him, even to accidently touch him. Withthe retainers, or free men, they were on familiar terms, though despoticto the last degree; the slave was less than the dog. Then, stealing aglance at the man's face, Felix saw that he had no moustache; he had notnoticed this before. No slaves were allowed to wear the moustache.

  This man having been at home ill some days had neglected to shave, andthere was some mark upon his upper lip. As he caught his guest's glance,the slave hung his head, and asked his guest in a low and humble voicenot to mention this fault. With his face slightly flushed, Felixfinished his meal; he was confused to the last degree. His long trainingand the tone of the society in which he had moved (though so despised amember of it) prejudiced him strongly against the man whose hospitalitywas so welcome. On the other hand, the ideas which had for so longworked in his mind in his solitary intercommunings in the forest wereentirely opposed to servitude. In abstract principle he had long sincecondemned it, and desired to abolish it. But here was the fact.

  He had eaten at a slave's table, and sat with him face to face. Theoryand practice are often strangely at variance. He felt it an importantmoment; he felt that he was himself, as it were, on the balance; shouldhe adhere to the ancient prejudice, the ancient exclusiveness of hisclass, or should he boldly follow the dictate of his mind? He chose thelatter, and extended his hand to the servant as he rose to say good-bye.The act was significant; it recognised man as distinct from caste. Theservant did not know the conflict that had taken place; but to be shakenhands with at all, even by a retainer as he supposed Felix to be, wasindeed a surprise. He could not understand it; it was the first time hishand had been taken by any one of superior position since he had beenborn. He was dumb with amazement, and could scarcely point out the roadwhen asked; nor did he take the small coin Felix offered, one of the fewhe possessed. Felix therefore left it on the table and again started.

  Passing through the town, Felix followed the track which led in thedirection indicated. In about half a mile it led him to a wider track,which he immediately recognised as the main way and road to the camp bythe ruts and dust, for the sward had been trampled down for fifty yardswide, and even the corn was cut up by wheels and horses' hoofs. The armyhad passed, and he had but to follow its unmistakable trail.