Idonia: A Romance of Old LondonWallis, Arthur Frederick
History
Idonia: A Romance of Old London
Wallis, Arthur Frederick
Great Britain -- History -- Elizabeth, 1558-1603 -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction
"Why, 'tis the very knave that dealt Mr. Cleeve here that great wound I
told you of," cried Mr. Jordan, when the clamour of voices had somewhat
lessened; the which speech of his I could have wished not spoken, for
now all turned about, demanding this and that of me, and swearing I was
a brave lad; with such a deal of no-matter as put me into an extremity
of rage and shame, so that I was glad to escape away to the hall, where
I fell to at the ordinary, and drank to their confusion.
But for all my spleen it was indeed a merry tale, beside that it was a
marvellous judgment upon two rogues. Day, it seemed, had breath enough
left in him properly to incriminate Warren, who was, as I say, already
dead, and then rolled over and died too. There was an inquest held of
necessity, as well upon the thieves as upon poor Jenning that Day
killed before; which process somewhat detained us; but in the afternoon
of the day following, having satisfied the Coroner, we were permitted
to depart on our way.
Nevertheless there was a deal of time lost upon our reckoning, it being
now Saturday morning, and although we were now no further to be
hindered with the slowness of Juke's waggon, yet there was still a good
four score miles to go, and the Sunday falling on the morrow when we
were bound to rest, we could by no means reach London before Monday at
night, or even the Tuesday forenoon. My baggage I had sent on by the
common carrier, who engaged to transmit it at Reading, whither he
plied, to another carrier going to London.
We rode out of the base court of the Inn gaily enough, and soon came
upon the high Wiltshire downs, which, there having been a deal of snow
fallen in the night, lay about us in that infinite solemnity of
whiteness that stills a man's heart suddenly, as few things else have
the power to do.
Nought could we discern before and around us but ridge after ridge of
snow, above which hung a sky of unchanging grey; all features of the
country were quite obliterated, and but that some cart had gone that
way a while since, of which we picked out and followed the wheel marks
scrupulously, it had wanted little but we should have ridden bewildered
into some deep drift and perhaps perished. Indeed, we were fortunate
in that; and keeping close upon the track, although but slow going, in
time descended into the market town of Marlborough, which we reached
early in the afternoon. Here we refreshed ourselves and our beasts,
and then away into the Savernake forest, traversing it without mishap,
and so out upon the high road again by Hungerford, and into Newbury a
little after nightfall; having covered above thirty miles in all, the
ways bad too, and the day, because of the late season, very short.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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