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  CHAPTER X.

  There entering in, they found the goodman selfe Full busylie unto his work ybent, Who was to weet a wretched wearish elf, With hollow eyes and rawbone cheeks forspent, As if he had been long in prison pent.--THE FAERY QUEENE.

  "Are we far from the dwelling of this smith, my pretty lad?" saidTressilian to his young guide.

  "How is it you call me?" said the boy, looking askew at him with hissharp, grey eyes.

  "I call you my pretty lad--is there any offence in that, my boy?"

  "No; but were you with my grandam and Dominie Holiday, you might singchorus to the old song of

  'We three Tom-fools be.'"

  "And why so, my little man?" said Tressilian.

  "Because," answered the ugly urchin, "you are the only three ever calledme pretty lad. Now my grandam does it because she is parcel blind byage, and whole blind by kindred; and my master, the poor Dominie, doesit to curry favour, and have the fullest platter of furmity and thewarmest seat by the fire. But what you call me pretty lad for, you knowbest yourself."

  "Thou art a sharp wag at least, if not a pretty one. But what do thyplayfellows call thee?"

  "Hobgoblin," answered the boy readily; "but for all that, I would ratherhave my own ugly viznomy than any of their jolter-heads, that have nomore brains in them than a brick-bat."

  "Then you fear not this smith whom you are going to see?"

  "Me fear him!" answered the boy. "If he were the devil folk think him, Iwould not fear him; but though there is something queer about him, he'sno more a devil than you are, and that's what I would not tell to everyone."

  "And why do you tell it to me, then, my boy?" said Tressilian.

  "Because you are another guess gentleman than those we see here everyday," replied Dickie; "and though I am as ugly as sin, I would not haveyou think me an ass, especially as I may have a boon to ask of you oneday."

  "And what is that, my lad, whom I must not call pretty?" repliedTressilian.

  "Oh, if I were to ask it just now," said the boy, "you would deny it me;but I will wait till we meet at court."

  "At court, Richard! are you bound for court?" said Tressilian.

  "Ay, ay, that's just like the rest of them," replied the boy. "I warrantme, you think, what should such an ill-favoured, scrambling urchin do atcourt? But let Richard Sludge alone; I have not been cock of the roosthere for nothing. I will make sharp wit mend foul feature."

  "But what will your grandam say, and your tutor, Dominie Holiday?"

  "E'en what they like," replied Dickie; "the one has her chickens toreckon, and the other has his boys to whip. I would have given them thecandle to hold long since, and shown this trumpery hamlet a fair pair ofheels, but that Dominie promises I should go with him to bear share inthe next pageant he is to set forth, and they say there are to be greatrevels shortly."

  "And whereabouts are they to be held, my little friend?" saidTressilian.

  "Oh, at some castle far in the north," answered his guide--"a world'sbreadth from Berkshire. But our old Dominie holds that they cannot goforward without him; and it may be he is right, for he has put in ordermany a fair pageant. He is not half the fool you would take him for,when he gets to work he understands; and so he can spout verses likea play-actor, when, God wot, if you set him to steal a goose's egg, hewould be drubbed by the gander."

  "And you are to play a part in his next show?" said Tressilian, somewhatinterested by the boy's boldness of conversation and shrewd estimate ofcharacter.

  "In faith," said Richard Sludge, in answer, "he hath so promised me; andif he break his word, it will be the worse for him, for let me take thebit between my teeth, and turn my head downhill, and I will shake himoff with a fall that may harm his bones. And I should not like much tohurt him neither," said he, "for the tiresome old fool has painfullylaboured to teach me all he could. But enough of that--here are we atWayland Smith's forge-door."

  "You jest, my little friend," said Tressilian; "here is nothing but abare moor, and that ring of stones, with a great one in the midst, likea Cornish barrow."

  "Ay, and that great flat stone in the midst, which lies across the topof these uprights," said the boy, "is Wayland Smith's counter, that youmust tell down your money upon."

  "What do you mean by such folly?" said the traveller, beginning to beangry with the boy, and vexed with himself for having trusted such ahare-brained guide.

  "Why," said Dickie, with a grin, "you must tie your horse to thatupright stone that has the ring in't, and then you must whistle threetimes, and lay me down your silver groat on that other flat stone, walkout of the circle, sit down on the west side of that little thicketof bushes, and take heed you look neither to right nor to left for tenminutes, or so long as you shall hear the hammer clink, and wheneverit ceases, say your prayers for the space you could tell a hundred--orcount over a hundred, which will do as well--and then come into thecircle; you will find your money gone and your horse shod."

  "My money gone to a certainty!" said Tressilian; "but as for therest--Hark ye, my lad, I am not your school-master, but if you play offyour waggery on me, I will take a part of his task off his hands, andpunish you to purpose."

  "Ay, when you catch me!" said the boy; and presently took to hisheels across the heath, with a velocity which baffled every attempt ofTressilian to overtake him, loaded as he was with his heavy boots. Norwas it the least provoking part of the urchin's conduct, that he did notexert his utmost speed, like one who finds himself in danger, or who isfrightened, but preserved just such a rate as to encourage Tressilian tocontinue the chase, and then darted away from him with the swiftness ofthe wind, when his pursuer supposed he had nearly run him down, doublingat the same time, and winding, so as always to keep near the place fromwhich he started.

  This lasted until Tressilian, from very weariness, stood still, and wasabout to abandon the pursuit with a hearty curse on the ill-favouredurchin, who had engaged him in an exercise so ridiculous. But the boy,who had, as formerly, planted himself on the top of a hillock closein front, began to clap his long, thin hands, point with his skinnyfingers, and twist his wild and ugly features into such an extravagantexpression of laughter and derision, that Tressilian began half to doubtwhether he had not in view an actual hobgoblin.

  Provoked extremely, yet at the same time feeling an irresistible desireto laugh, so very odd were the boy's grimaces and gesticulations, theCornishman returned to his horse, and mounted him with the purpose ofpursuing Dickie at more advantage.

  The boy no sooner saw him mount his horse, than he holloed out to himthat, rather than he should spoil his white-footed nag, he would come tohim, on condition he would keep his fingers to himself.

  "I will make no conditions with thee, thou ugly varlet!" saidTressilian; "I will have thee at my mercy in a moment."

  "Aha, Master Traveller," said the boy, "there is a marsh hard by wouldswallow all the horses of the Queen's guard. I will into it, andsee where you will go then. You shall hear the bittern bump, and thewild-drake quack, ere you get hold of me without my consent, I promiseyou."

  Tressilian looked out, and, from the appearance of the ground behindthe hillock, believed it might be as the boy said, and accordinglydetermined to strike up a peace with so light-footed and ready-witted anenemy. "Come down," he said, "thou mischievous brat! Leave thy moppingand mowing, and, come hither. I will do thee no harm, as I am agentleman."

  The boy answered his invitation with the utmost confidence, and danceddown from his stance with a galliard sort of step, keeping his eye atthe same time fixed on Tressilian's, who, once more dismounted, stoodwith his horse's bridle in his hand, breathless, and half exhausted withhis fruitless exercise, though not one drop of moisture appeared on thefreckled forehead of the urchin, which looked like a piece of dry anddiscoloured parchment, drawn tight across the brow of a fleshless skull.

  "And tell me," said Tressilian, "why you use me thus, thou mischievousimp? or what your meaning is by telling m
e so absurd a legend as youwished but now to put on me? Or rather show me, in good earnest, thissmith's forge, and I will give thee what will buy thee apples throughthe whole winter."

  "Were you to give me an orchard of apples," said Dickie Sludge, "I canguide thee no better than I have done. Lay down the silver token on theflat stone--whistle three times--then come sit down on the western sideof the thicket of gorse. I will sit by you, and give you free leave towring my head off, unless you hear the smith at work within two minutesafter we are seated."

  "I may be tempted to take thee at thy word," said Tressilian, "if youmake me do aught half so ridiculous for your own mischievous sport;however, I will prove your spell. Here, then, I tie my horse to thisupright stone. I must lay my silver groat here, and whistle three times,sayest thou?"

  "Ay, but thou must whistle louder than an unfledged ousel," said theboy, as Tressilian, having laid down his money, and half ashamed of thefolly he practised, made a careless whistle--"you must whistle louderthan that, for who knows where the smith is that you call for? He may bein the King of France's stables for what I know."

  "Why, you said but now he was no devil," replied Tressilian.

  "Man or devil," said Dickie, "I see that I must summon him for you;"and therewithal he whistled sharp and shrill, with an acuteness of soundthat almost thrilled through Tressilian's brain. "That is what I callwhistling," said he, after he had repeated the signal thrice; "and nowto cover, to cover, or Whitefoot will not be shod this day."

  Tressilian, musing what the upshot of this mummery was to be, yetsatisfied there was to be some serious result, by the confidence withwhich the boy had put himself in his power, suffered himself to beconducted to that side of the little thicket of gorse and brushwoodwhich was farthest from the circle of stones, and there sat down; and asit occurred to him that, after all, this might be a trick for stealinghis horse, he kept his hand on the boy's collar, determined to make himhostage for its safety.

  "Now, hush and listen," said Dickie, in a low whisper; "you will soonhear the tack of a hammer that was never forged of earthly iron, for thestone it was made of was shot from the moon." And in effect Tressiliandid immediately hear the light stroke of a hammer, as when a farrieris at work. The singularity of such a sound, in so very lonely a place,made him involuntarily start; but looking at the boy, and discovering,by the arch malicious expression of his countenance, that the urchin sawand enjoyed his slight tremor, he became convinced that the whole wasa concerted stratagem, and determined to know by whom, or for whatpurpose, the trick was played off.

  Accordingly, he remained perfectly quiet all the time that the hammercontinued to sound, being about the space usually employed in fixinga horse-shoe. But the instant the sound ceased, Tressilian, instead ofinterposing the space of time which his guide had required, started upwith his sword in his hand, ran round the thicket, and confronted a manin a farrier's leathern apron, but otherwise fantastically attired in abear-skin dressed with the fur on, and a cap of the same, which almosthid the sooty and begrimed features of the wearer. "Come back, comeback!" cried the boy to Tressilian, "or you will be torn to pieces; noman lives that looks on him." In fact, the invisible smith (now fullyvisible) heaved up his hammer, and showed symptoms of doing battle.

  But when the boy observed that neither his own entreaties nor themenaces of the farrier appeared to change Tressilian's purpose, butthat, on the contrary, he confronted the hammer with his drawn sword,he exclaimed to the smith in turn, "Wayland, touch him not, or you willcome by the worse!--the gentleman is a true gentleman, and a bold."

  "So thou hast betrayed me, Flibbertigibbet?" said the smith; "it shallbe the worse for thee!"

  "Be who thou wilt," said Tressilian, "thou art in no danger from me,so thou tell me the meaning of this practice, and why thou drivest thytrade in this mysterious fashion."

  The smith, however, turning to Tressilian, exclaimed, in a threateningtone, "Who questions the Keeper of the Crystal Castle of Light, the Lordof the Green Lion, the Rider of the Red Dragon? Hence!--avoid thee, ereI summon Talpack with his fiery lance, to quell, crush, and consume!"These words he uttered with violent gesticulation, mouthing, andflourishing his hammer.

  "Peace, thou vile cozener, with thy gipsy cant!" replied Tressilianscornfully, "and follow me to the next magistrate, or I will cut theeover the pate."

  "Peace, I pray thee, good Wayland!" said the boy. "Credit me, theswaggering vein will not pass here; you must cut boon whids." ["Givegood words."--SLANG DIALECT.]

  "I think, worshipful sir," said the smith, sinking his hammer, andassuming a more gentle and submissive tone of voice, "that when so poora man does his day's job, he might be permitted to work it out after hisown fashion. Your horse is shod, and your farrier paid--what need youcumber yourself further than to mount and pursue your journey?"

  "Nay, friend, you are mistaken," replied Tressilian; "every man has aright to take the mask from the face of a cheat and a juggler; and yourmode of living raises suspicion that you are both."

  "If you are so determined; sir," said the smith, "I cannot help myselfsave by force, which I were unwilling to use towards you, MasterTressilian; not that I fear your weapon, but because I know you to bea worthy, kind, and well-accomplished gentleman, who would rather helpthan harm a poor man that is in a strait."

  "Well said, Wayland," said the boy, who had anxiously awaited the issueof their conference. "But let us to thy den, man, for it is ill for thyhealth to stand here talking in the open air."

  "Thou art right, Hobgoblin," replied the smith; and going to the littlethicket of gorse on the side nearest to the circle, and opposite to thatat which his customer had so lately crouched, he discovered a trap-doorcuriously covered with bushes, raised it, and, descending into theearth, vanished from their eyes. Notwithstanding Tressilian's curiosity,he had some hesitation at following the fellow into what might be a denof robbers, especially when he heard the smith's voice, issuing from thebowels of the earth, call out, "Flibertigibbet, do you come last, and besure to fasten the trap!"

  "Have you seen enough of Wayland Smith now?" whispered the urchinto Tressilian, with an arch sneer, as if marking his companion'suncertainty.

  "Not yet," said Tressilian firmly; and shaking off his momentaryirresolution, he descended into the narrow staircase, to which theentrance led, and was followed by Dickie Sludge, who made fast thetrap-door behind him, and thus excluded every glimmer of daylight. Thedescent, however, was only a few steps, and led to a level passage ofa few yards' length, at the end of which appeared the reflection of alurid and red light. Arrived at this point, with his drawn sword inhis hand, Tressilian found that a turn to the left admitted him andHobgoblin, who followed closely, into a small, square vault, containinga smith's forge, glowing with charcoal, the vapour of which filled theapartment with an oppressive smell, which would have been altogethersuffocating, but that by some concealed vent the smithy communicatedwith the upper air. The light afforded by the red fuel, and by a lampsuspended in an iron chain, served to show that, besides an anvil,bellows, tongs, hammers, a quantity of ready-made horse-shoes, and otherarticles proper to the profession of a farrier, there were also stoves,alembics, crucibles, retorts, and other instruments of alchemy. Thegrotesque figure of the smith, and the ugly but whimsical features ofthe boy, seen by the gloomy and imperfect light of the charcoal fire andthe dying lamp, accorded very well with all this mystical apparatus,and in that age of superstition would have made some impression on thecourage of most men.

  But nature had endowed Tressilian with firm nerves, and his education,originally good, had been too sedulously improved by subsequent study togive way to any imaginary terrors; and after giving a glance around him,he again demanded of the artist who he was, and by what accident he cameto know and address him by his name.

  "Your worship cannot but remember," said the smith, "that about threeyears since, upon Saint Lucy's Eve, there came a travelling juggler to acertain hall in Devonshire, and exhibited his skill before a wor
shipfulknight and a fair company.--I see from your worship's countenance, darkas this place is, that my memory has not done me wrong."

  "Thou hast said enough," said Tressilian, turning away, as wishingto hide from the speaker the painful train of recollections which hisdiscourse had unconsciously awakened.

  "The juggler," said the smith, "played his part so bravely that theclowns and clown-like squires in the company held his art to be littleless than magical; but there was one maiden of fifteen, or thereby, withthe fairest face I ever looked upon, whose rosy cheek grew pale, and herbright eyes dim, at the sight of the wonders exhibited."

  "Peace, I command thee, peace!" said Tressilian.

  "I mean your worship no offence," said the fellow; "but I have cause toremember how, to relieve the young maiden's fears, you condescendedto point out the mode in which these deceptions were practised, and tobaffle the poor juggler by laying bare the mysteries of his art, as ablyas if you had been a brother of his order.--She was indeed so fair amaiden that, to win a smile of her, a man might well--"

  "Not a word more of her, I charge thee!" said Tressilian. "I do wellremember the night you speak of--one of the few happy evenings my lifehas known."

  "She is gone, then," said the smith, interpreting after his own fashionthe sigh with which Tressilian uttered these words--"she is gone, young,beautiful, and beloved as she was!--I crave your worship's pardon--Ishould have hammered on another theme. I see I have unwarily driven thenail to the quick."

  This speech was made with a mixture of rude feeling which inclinedTressilian favourably to the poor artisan, of whom before he wasinclined to judge very harshly. But nothing can so soon attract theunfortunate as real or seeming sympathy with their sorrows.

  "I think," proceeded Tressilian, after a minute's silence, "thou wert inthose days a jovial fellow, who could keep a company merry by song, andtale, and rebeck, as well as by thy juggling tricks--why do I find theea laborious handicraftsman, plying thy trade in so melancholy a dwellingand under such extraordinary circumstances?"

  "My story is not long," said the artist, "but your honour had bettersit while you listen to it." So saying, he approached to the fire athree-footed stool, and took another himself; while Dickie Sludge, orFlibbertigibbet, as he called the boy, drew a cricket to the smith'sfeet, and looked up in his face with features which, as illuminated bythe glow of the forge, seemed convulsed with intense curiosity. "Thoutoo," said the smith to him, "shalt learn, as thou well deservest at myhand, the brief history of my life; and, in troth, it were as well tellit thee as leave thee to ferret it out, since Nature never packed ashrewder wit into a more ungainly casket.--Well, sir, if my poor storymay pleasure you, it is at your command, But will you not taste a stoupof liquor? I promise you that even in this poor cell I have some instore."

  "Speak not of it," said Tressilian, "but go on with thy story, for myleisure is brief."

  "You shall have no cause to rue the delay," said the smith, "foryour horse shall be better fed in the meantime than he hath been thismorning, and made fitter for travel."

  With that the artist left the vault, and returned after a few minutes'interval. Here, also, we pause, that the narrative may commence inanother chapter.