'I have tried every way,' he said, 'to see if we could work this
secretly; but 'tis not to be done without the privity of the man who
keeps the well, and even with his help it is not easy. He is a man I do
not trust, but have been forced to tell him there is treasure hidden in
the well, yet without saying where it lies or how to get it. He promises
to let us search the well, taking one-third the value of all we find, for
his share; for I said not that thou and I were one at heart, but only
that there was a boy who had the key, and claimed an equal third with
both of us. Tomorrow we must be up betimes, and at the Castle gates by
six o'clock for him to let us in. And thou shalt not be carter any more,
but mason's boy, and I a mason, for I have got coats in the house,
brushes and trowels and lime-bucket, and we are going to Carisbrooke to
plaster up a weak patch in this same well-side.'
Elzevir had thought carefully over this plan, and when we left the Bugle
next morning we were better masons in our splashed clothes than ever we
had been farm servants. I carried a bucket and a brush, and Elzevir a
plasterer's hammer and a coil of stout twine over his arm. It was a wet
morning, and had been raining all night. The sky was stagnant, and
one-coloured without wind, and the heavy drops fell straight down out of
a grey veil that covered everything. The air struck cold when we first
came out, but trudging over the heavy road soon made us remember that it
was July, and we were very hot and soaking wet when we stood at the
gateway of Carisbrooke Castle. Here are two flanking towers and a stout
gate-house reached by a stone bridge crossing the moat; and when I saw it
I remembered that 'twas here Colonel Mohune had earned the wages of his
unrighteousness, and thought how many times he must have passed these
gates. Elzevir knocked as one that had a right, and we were evidently
expected, for a wicket in the heavy door was opened at once. The man who
let us in was tall and stout, but had a puffy face, and too much flesh on
him to be very strong, though he was not, I think, more than thirty years
of age. He gave Elzevir a smile, and passed the time of day civilly
enough, nodding also to me; but I did not like his oily black hair, and a
shifty eye that turned away uneasily when one met it.
'Good-morning, Master Well-wright,' he said to Elzevir. 'You have brought
ugly weather with you, and are drowning wet; will you take a sup of ale
before you get to work?'
Elzevir thanked him kindly but would not drink, so the man led on and we
followed him. We crossed a bailey or outer court where the rain had made
the gravel very miry, and came on the other side to a door which led by
steps into a large hall. This building had once been a banquet-room, I
think, for there was an inscription over it very plain in lead: _He led
me into his banquet hall, and his banner over me was love_.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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