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
But that was all very well. It was past ten o'clock, and when I got to
London Bridge I found it barred against me and the watch within the
gate-house snoring. I knocked twice or thrice pretty hard and at
length woke the watch; but so angered was he at thus losing of his
sleep, besides that he thought perhaps to recover upon his late
remissness, that he flew into an unnecessary zeal of watchfulness,
swearing I was some vagabond rogue, and, bidding me begone, shut the
wicket in my face. In vain did I endeavour to make myself known,
bawling my name through the gate, and Mr. Nelson's too; the porter had
returned to his interrupted repose, and nothing on earth would move him
again, for that night at least.
So after having launched one or two such observations as I thought
befitted the occasion, I made the best of it I could, and turned away
to seek for some cleanly house of receipt where I might pass the
remainder of the night. Some while I spent in ranging hither and
thither, without happening on such an hostelry as did please me (for I
confess to a niceness in these matters); but at length, coming into a
place where two streets met, I found there a very decent quiet house
that answered to my wishes so well that I immediately entered and
bespoke a chamber for the night. Here I slept exceeding soundly, and
in the morning awoke, though yet sore from my scratches, yet otherwise
refreshed and cheerful.
The better part of the travellers that had lain there were already up
and away ere I arose, so that I had the room to myself almost, wherein
I broke my fast, and, save for the lad that served me, held
conversation with none other. Had I known in what fashion we were to
meet later, I should no doubt have observed him with more closeness
than I did, but I saw in a trice he was one that a groat would buy the
soul of, and another groat the rest of him.
"'Twas late you came hither last night," he said as he set down my
tankard beside me upon the table.
I smiled without replying, and nodded once or twice, to give him a
supposition of my discretion; but he took it otherwise.
"Ay, you say truly," he ran on, "there is a liberty of inns that no
private house hath. Come when you list and go when you have a mind to;
there's no constraint nor question amongst us."
"Be pleased to fetch me the mustard," said I.
"You know what is convenient," he returned in a voice of keen approval,
as he brought it. "Now, I was once a serving man in Berkeley Inn,
called so of my lord Berkeley that lodgeth there. But whether he were
at home or absent, I was ever there. And where I was, you understand,
there must needs be necessaries bought, and such things as were, as I
say, convenient."
He leered upon me very sly as he spoke these mysteries; by which I
perceived I was already deep in his favour, as he was (like enough)
deep in villainies.
"I marvel how from a lord's mansion you came to serve in a common
tavern," said I, to check him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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