Great Britain -- History -- Mary I, 1553-1558 -- Fiction; Historical fiction
I put up my sword with my face turned from him, lest he should see the
curl of my lip and the light in my eyes. In truth, I was uncommonly
well pleased with myself, and was thinking that if I came through all
my adventures as well, I should do merrily. Outwardly, however, I
tried to ignore my victory, and to make things as easy as I could for
my friend--if one may call a man who will not fight him a friend, a
thing I doubt. "Which way are you going?" I asked amicably; "to
Stratford?"
He nodded, for he was too sulky to speak.
"All right!" I said cheerfully, feeling that my dignity could take
care of itself now. "Then so far we may go together. Only do you
remember the terms. After dinner each goes his own way."
He nodded again, and we turned, and went on in silence, eying one
another askance, like two ill-matched dogs coupled together. But,
luckily, our forced companionship did not last long, a quarter of a
mile and a bend in the road bringing us to the first low, gray houses
of Stratford; a long, straggling village it seemed, made up of inns
strewn along the road, like beads threaded on a rosary. And to be
sure, to complete the likeness, we came presently upon an ancient
stone cross standing on the green. I pulled up in front of this with a
sigh of pleasure, for on either side of it, one facing the other, was
an inn of the better class.
"Well," I said, "which shall it be? The Rose and Crown, or the Crown
without the Rose?"
"Choose for yourself," he answered churlishly. "I go to the other."
I shrugged my shoulders. After all, you cannot make a silk purse out
of a sow's ear, and if a man has not courage he is not likely to have
good-fellowship. But the words angered me, nevertheless, for a shabby,
hulking fellow lounging at my elbow overheard them and grinned; a
hiccoughing, blear-eyed man he was as I had ever met, with a red nose
and the rags of a tattered cassock about him. I turned away in
annoyance, and chose the "Crown" at hazard; and pushing my way through
a knot of horses that stood tethered at the door, went in, leaving the
two to their devices.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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