Sir Ludar: A Story of the Days of the Great Queen BessReed, Talbot Baines
History
Sir Ludar: A Story of the Days of the Great Queen Bess
Reed, Talbot Baines
Great Britain -- History -- Elizabeth, 1558-1603 -- Juvenile fiction
Here an odd adventure befel me; for, going to the inn of the place where
I meant to lie that night, I found it in possession of a roystering crew
of gallants, who sat and quaffed their sack and sang lustily, roaring
and quarrelling enough to deafen a man. When, by dint of hard pushing,
I had made myself a seat at the table and called for my supper--for I
was hungry--they gave over their wrangling and began to look hard at me.
There was much whispering among them, and one said:
"I know the rogue in spite of his cloak. Call me an ass if there be not
a shaven crown under that hat of his."
"If you mean by that," said another cavalier, "that he's a Jesuit--"
Here the company took up the word. "A Jesuit!--a Jesuit!" they cried,
and at the sudden accusation I turned crimson and blushed like a girl.
"Smelt out?" cried the company. "To the gallows with him!" Then it
seemed to me to be time to go.
"Who called Jesuit?" said I, pulling out my sword.
They laughed at this, and one of them cried:
"If you be not, drink to the Queen, where you stand, and confound her
enemies!"
I took off my hat, that they might see I wore no monkish tonsure, and
drank.
"That shows nothing," cried another. "They might curse the Pope
himself, and yet be all the better Jesuits."
"A crew of cowards," said another, "who never dare be what they seem or
seem what they are--"
"Then," said I, "if that be so, I can easily prove I am a true and loyal
subject of the Queen. Let who will come on, two at a time, and take
back his lie at the point of my sword." And I put my back up to the
wall and cast my cloak back over my shoulder.
Whereat they laughed again, and he who had spoken first said:
"If I doubted it before, I am sure of it now, for no one but a Jesuit
could feign a swagger like that. Come, let's hang him and have done
with him."
"Come on," said I. "I tell you I'm no Jesuit, but a loyal London
'prentice, on a message for my master to Oxford. If you hold it English
that twenty men should set upon one, then--"
"What! a plague on you!" cried my opponent, before I could finish. "Why
did you not say what you were before? We have something better to do
than hang 'prentices. Get you gone--a stick to your back is what you
want, unmannerly dog."
"Fetch it then," said I, "for before I leave here I shall finish my
supper, and if you like not my company, you may go elsewhere."
I think they were abashed at that, for they tried to laugh it off, and
go on with their carouse. Indeed I think they meant only to frighten me
all the while, so perhaps I was a fool to take it all in earnest.
However that be, I finished my supper and bade them all good-night;
whereat they laughed again. Then, as an hour of daylight remained, I
called for my horse and resolved to ride to the next inn and lie there
for the night.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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