In the Days of the Guild

by Louise Lamprey

  I

  THE BOY WITH THE WOOLPACK

  HOW ROBERT EDRUPT JOURNEYED WITH THE WOOL-MERCHANTS TO LONDON

  In the reign of King Henry II., when as yet there were no factories, norailways or even coaches, no post-offices and no tea-tables in England,a boy sat on a hillside not far from Salisbury Plain, with a great baleof wool by his side. It was not wrapped in paper; it was packed closeand very skillfully bound together with cords, lengthwise and crosswise,making a network of packthread all over it. The boy's name was RobertEdrupt, but in the tiny village where he was born he had always beencalled Hob. He had been reared by his grandfather, a shepherd, and nowthe old shepherd was dead and he was going to seek his fortune.

  The old grandmother, Dame Lysbeth, was still alive, but there was notmuch left for her to live on. She had a few sheep and a little garden,chickens, a beehive, and one field; and she and her grandson had decidedthat he should take the wool, which was just ready for market when thesudden death of the shepherd took place, and ask the dealers when theycame by if they would not take him with them to London. Now he waswaiting, as near the road as he could get, listening hard for the tinkleof their horse-bells around the shoulder of the down.

  The road would not really be called a road to-day. It was a track,trodden out about half way up the slope of the valley in some parts ofit, and now and then running along the top of the long, low hills thathave been called downs as long as the memory of man holds a trace ofthem. Sometimes it would make a sharp twist to cross the shallows of astream, for there were scarcely any bridges in the country. In someplaces it was wide enough for a regiment, and but faintly marked; inothers it was bitten deep into the hillside and so narrow that three mencould hardly have gone abreast upon it. But it did not need to beanything more than a trail, or bridle-path, because no wagons went thatway,--only travelers afoot or a-horseback. At some seasons there wouldbe wayfarers all along the road from early in the morning until sunset,and they would even be found camping by the wayside; at other times ofthe year one might walk for hours upon it and meet nobody at all. Roberthad been sitting where he was for about three hours; and he had walkedbetween four and five miles, woolpack on shoulder, before he reached theroad; he had risen before the sun did that morning. Now he began towonder if the wool-merchants had already gone by. It was late in theseason, and if they had, there was hardly any hope of sending the woolto market that year.

  "WAITING FOR THE WOOL-MERCHANTS"]

  But worry never worked aught, as the saying is, and people who takecare of sheep seem to worry less than others; there are many thingsthat they cannot change, and they are kept busy attending to theirflocks. Robert, who did not intend to be called Hob any more, took fromhis pouch some coarse bread and cheese and began munching it, for bythe sun it was the dinner-hour--nine o'clock. Meanwhile he made surethat the silver penny in the corner of the pouch, which hung at hisgirdle and served him for a pocket, was safe. It was. It was about thesize of a modern halfpenny and had a cross on one side. A penny such asthis could be cut in quarters, and each piece passed as a coin.

  Just as the last bit of bread and cheese vanished there came, from faraway over the fern, the jingle-jink-jing of strings of bells on thenecks of pack-horses. A few minutes later the shaggy head and neck ofthe leader came in sight. They were strong, not very big horses; andwhile they were not built for racing, they were quick walkers. Theycould travel over rough country at a very good pace, even when, as theynow were, loaded heavily with packs of wool. Robert stood up, his heartbeating fast: he had never seen them so close before. The merchants werelaughing and talking and seemed to be in a good humor, and he hoped verymuch that they would speak to him.

  "Ho!" said the one who rode nearest to him, "here's another, as I live.Did you grow out of the ground, and have you roots like the rest ofthem, bumpkin?"

  Robert bowed; he was rather angry, but this was no time to answer back."I have wool to sell, so please you," he said, "and--and--if you be inneed of a horse-boy, I would work my passage to London."

  The man who had spoken frowned and pulled at his beard, but the leader,who had been talking to some one behind him, now turned his face towardRobert. He was a kindly-looking, ruddy-cheeked old fellow, with eyes assharp as the stars on a winter night that is clear.

  "Hum!" he said genially. "Who are you, and why are you so fond to go toLondon, young sheep-dog?"

  Robert told his story, as short and straight as he could, for he couldsee that some of the merchants were impatient. This was only one packof wool, and at the next market-town they would probably find enoughto load all the rest of their train of horses, when they could pushstraight on to London and get their money. "If you desire to knowfurther of what I say," the boy ended his speech, "the landlord of theWoolpack will tell you that our fleeces are as fine and as heavy as anyin the market, so please you, master."

  "Hum!" the wool-merchant said again. "Give him one of the spare nags,Gib, and take up the pack, lad, for we must be getting on. What if Ifind thee a liar and send thee back from the inn, hey?"

  "If I be a liar, I will go," said Robert joyfully, and he climbed onthe great horse, and the whole company went trotting briskly onward.

  Robert found in course of time, however, that when we have got what wewant, it is not always what we like most heartily. He had been on ahorse before, but had never ridden for any length of time, and ridingall day long on the hard-paced pack-horses over hill and valley was noplay. Then, when they reached the town, and the merchants began tojoke and trade with the shepherds who had brought in their wool formarket-day, and all the people of the inn were bustling about gettingsupper, he had to help Gib and Jack, the horse-boys, to rub down thehorses, take off their packs, and feed and water them. He nearly gotinto a terrible pickle for not knowing that you must not water a horsethat has been traveling for hours until it has had at least half an hourto rest and cool off. When he finally did get his supper, a bowl of hotstew and some bread and cheese,--and extremely good it tasted,--it wastime for bed. He and the other serving-lads had to sleep on the woolpacks piled in the open courtyard of the inn, which was built in ahollow square,--two-story buildings and stables around the square courtwhere the horses and baggage were left. This did not trouble Robert,however. He had slept on the open hillside more than once, and it was aclear night; he could see Arthur's Wain shining among the other stars,and hear the horses, not far away, contentedly champing their grain.

  The next morning he woke up lame and weary, but that wore off after atime. Nobody in the company paid attention to aching muscles; what wasoccupying the minds of the traffickers was the fear of getting the woolto London too late to secure their price for it. Italian and Flemishmerchants had their agents there, buying up the fleeces from the greatflocks of the abbeys, and Master Hardel had taken his company furtherwest than usual, this year. No stop would be made after this, except toeat and sleep, for the horses were now loaded with all that they couldcarry.

  On the second night, it rained, and every one was wet,--not as wet asmight be supposed, however, considering that no umbrellas and no rubbercoats existed. Each man wore instead of a hat a pointed hood, with acape, the front turned back from his eyes. By folding the cape aroundhim he could keep off the worst of the rain, for the cloth had a shaggynap, and was close-woven as well. On legs and feet were long woolen hosewhich dried when the sun came out; and some had leathern tunics undertheir cloaks.

  It was rather jolly on the road, even in the rain. The dark-beardedman, who was called Jeffrey, knew numberless tales and songs, and whenhe could turn a jest on any of the party he invariably did. No one tookany especial notice of Robert, except that the man called Gib shiftedas much of his own work on him as possible, and sometimes, when theywere riding in the rear, grumbled viciously about the hard riding andsmall pay. There is usually one person of that sort in any company oftravelers.

  Robert minded neither the hard work nor Gib's scolding. He was as strongas a young pony, and he was seeing the world, of wh
ich he had dreamedthrough many a long, thyme-scented day on the Downs, with soft littlenoises of sheep cropping turf all about him as he lay. What Londonwould be like he could not quite make out, for as yet he had seen notown of more than a thousand people.

  At last, near sunset, somebody riding ahead raised a shout and flung uphis arm, and all knew that they were within sight of London--London,the greatest city in England, with more than a hundred churches insideits towered city wall. They pushed the horses hard, hoping to reach theNew Gate before eight o'clock, but it was of no use. They were stillnearly a mile from the walls when the far sound of bells warned themthat they were too late. They turned back and stayed their steps at aninn called the Shepherd's Bush, out on the road to the west countryover which the drovers and the packmen came. A long pole over the doorhad on its end a bunch of green boughs and red berries--the "bush" toldthem that ale was to be had within. The landlord was a West Countryman, and Robert found to his joy that the landlord's old father hadknown Colin Edrupt the shepherd and Dame Lysbeth, and danced at theirwedding, nearly half a century before.

  Next morning, with the sun still in their eyes as they trotted brisklyLondonward, they came to the massive gray wall, with the Fleet, a deepswift river, flowing down beside it to the Thames. They were waitingoutside New Gate when the watchmen swung open the great doors, and thecrowd of travelers, traders and country folk began to push in. The menwith the woolpacks kept together, edging through the narrow streetsthat sloped downward to the river where the tall ships were anchored.The jingle of the bridle-bells, that rang so loud and merrily over thehills, was quite drowned out in the racket of the city streets wherearmorers were hammering, horsemen crowding, tradesmen shouting, andbusiness of every sort was going on. Robert had somehow supposed thatLondon would be on a great level encircled by hills, but he found withsurprise that it was itself on a hill, crowned by the mighty cathedralSt. Paul's, longer than Winchester, with a steeple that seemed climbingto pierce the clouds. At last the shaggy laden horses came to a halt ata warehouse by the river, where a little, dried-up-looking man in oddgarments looked the wool over and agreed with Master Hardel on theprice which he would pay. Robert could not understand a word of theconversation, for the wholesale merchant was a Hollander from Antwerp,and when he had loaded his ship with the wool it would go to Flandersto be made into fine cloth. Robert was so busy watching the transactionsthat when the master spoke to him it made him jump.

  "Here is the money for thy wool, my lad," the old man said kindly."Hark 'ee, if you choose to ride with us again, meet me at Shepherd'sBush on the sixth day hence, and you shall have that good-for-naughtGib's place. And keep thy money safe; this is a place of thieves."

  That was how Robert Edrupt rode from the West Country and settled inhis mind that some day he would himself be a wool-merchant.