Presently they came to a little village, and here Denys purchased a loaf
and a huge bottle of Rhenish wine. “For,” he said, “we must sleep in
some hole or corner. If we lie at an inn, we shall be taken in our
beds.” This was no more than common prudence on the old soldier's part.
The official network for catching law-breakers, especially plebeian
ones, was very close in that age; though the co-operation of the public
was almost null, at all events upon the Continent. The innkeepers were
everywhere under close surveillance as to their travellers, for whose
acts they were even in some degree responsible, more so it would seem
than for their sufferings.
The friends were both glad when the sun set; and delighted, when, after
a long trudge under the stars (for the moon, if I remember right, did
not rise till about three in the morning) they came to a large barn
belonging to a house at some distance. A quantity of barley had been
lately thrashed; for the heap of straw on one side the thrashing-floor
was almost as high as the unthrashed corn on the other.
“Here be two royal beds,” said Denys; “which shall we lie on, the mow,
or the straw?”
“The straw for me,” said Gerard.
They sat on the heap, and ate their brown bread, and drank their wine,
and then Denys covered his friend up in straw, and heaped it high above
him, leaving him only a breathing hole: “Water, they say, is death to
fevered men; I'll make warm water on't, anyhow.”
Gerard bade him make his mind easy. “These few drops from Rhine cannot
chill me. I feel heat enough in my body now to parch a kennel, or boil a
cloud if I was in one.” And with this epigram his consciousness went so
rapidly, he might really be said to “fall asleep.”
Denys, who lay awake awhile, heard that which made him nestle closer.
Horses' hoofs came ringing up from Dusseldorf, and the wooden barn
vibrated as they rattled past howling in a manner too well known and
understood in the 15th century, but as unfamiliar in Europe now as a red
Indian's war-whoop.
Denys shook where he lay.
Gerard slept like a top.
It all swept by, and troop and howls died away.
The stout soldier drew a long breath, whistled in a whisper, closed his
eyes, and slept like a top, too.
In the morning he sat up and put out his hand to wake Gerard. It lighted
on the young man's forehead, and found it quite wet. Denys then in his
quality of nurse forbore to wake him. “It is ill to check sleep or sweat
in a sick man,” said he. “I know that far, though I ne'er minced ape nor
gallows-bird.”
After waiting a good hour he felt desperately hungry; so he turned, and
in self-defence went to sleep again.
Poor fellow, in his hard life he had been often driven to this
manoeuvre. At high noon he was waked by Gerard moving, and found him
sitting up with the straw smoking round him like a dung-hill. Animal
heat versus moisture. Gerard called him “a lazy loon.” He quietly
grinned.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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