VII
Of Our Coming from York
My mother, womanlike, was somewhat disturbed at the idea of having aught to do with law matters, and she looked exceedingly grave when the sheriff’s officer announced his mission. But my father, coming home a little later, made light of the matter, and bade the man sit down and eat and drink, and conversed with him on the weather and similar matters, so that the bearer of Rupert Watson’s writ presently departed much fortified in mind and body.
“It is the best thing that could have happened,” said my father, talking to my mother about the matter, “for now the question will be decided and done with. If the law says the land is mine, mine it will be forever; if ’tis Rupert Watson’s, then the law will say so. And perhaps the old enmity between us will die out. I have no wish to live in strife with any man.”
“For all that,” said my mother, “you will never be friendly with Rupert Watson. For he has a bad heart, and is a cruel man, and with such I am sure you will never agree.”
“Friends, perhaps not,” answered my father. “But it might come to us exchanging a good day like Christians, instead of riding by on the high-road as if we were sworn enemies. However, if this matter be settled, our children may live at peace, and even friendship, if Rupert and I never do.”
Now, I knew that could never be, because Dennis had sworn that he would hate me forever, and I knew he meant it. Nothing, I felt sure, would ever make Dennis forgive me for thrashing him, and I, on my part, felt no desire to make friends with him. I had an instinctive dislike for Dennis, and felt that oil and water would mix sooner than he and I. However, I said nothing of this to my father or mother.
When Jacob Trusty heard of the law proceedings, he exercised much thought upon the matter, and often discussed it with me of a Saturday afternoon.
“That the land is ours,” said Jacob Trusty, “is certain, and yet it would sore puzzle and moyther my head to give good reason for thinking so. Thy great-grandfather and thy grandfather, William, always claimed that land, and thy father claimed it after them. But then the grandfather of this black-faced Watson likewise claimed it. Wherefore the difficulty was the same in those days. Ah! many a bloody head there hath been over that strip of meadow-land. For sixty years ago either Dale or Watson was forever driving cattle on it; and if it were a Dale, then a Watson came forth and drove them off; and if it were a Watson, he had to reckon with a Dale; and first there were words, and then there were blows, and then there was a stiff fight, and if there were no heads broken, ’twas not for want of hard hitting. Howbeit, in thy grandfather’s time and in thy father’s matters have been quiet and peaceable.”
“Shall we win the day, do you think, Jacob?” I asked.
“Nay, lad, who can tell? One thing I can tell thee without doubt, and that is, that the men who will profit by this matter are the lawyers. Whether thy father win or lose, or Rupert Watson lose or win, the lawyers will fill their pockets. Wherefore, William, boy, as thou goest through the world, mark one thing, namely, that whenever two men fall out, there will always be a third man whose interest it will be to keep up the strife. For while John and Thomas are disputing as to which of them shall have the egg, Richard comes up and eats it out of hand. Such is law, out of which thou wilt do well to keep.”
Nevertheless, it was necessary that my father should employ the services of an attorney, and he therefore placed his case in the hands of Lawyer Hook, who had managed all his difficult matters for many years. Mr. Hook was considerably exercised in his own mind over this dispute ’twixt the Dales and Watsons, for he could not lay his hands on anything which served to decide the matter in our favour. Neither was he able to see how judge and jury could settle the matter. “For indeed, Master Dale,” said he, having ridden over one afternoon to talk with my father, “the evidence for and against is as conflicting as any I ever knew. You say on your side that your family hath always claimed the land, and you bring half a score of ancient gaffers and gammers to say the same. Now, Rupert Watson saith that it hath always been matter of certainty in his family that the land is theirs, and he too bringeth various old folk to support him. However, we shall, maybe, find light somewhere. In any case, I fear it will cost you a pretty penny, and unless you have some great love for the land—’tis, I understand, but a narrow strip—I would let it go.”
But my father would not hear of that. He had no mind to throw away his money in law, but he would not yield a yard of the land his fathers had left him. He must fight Rupert Watson on this point, whatever it cost.
A few nights after that we were sitting round the fire in my mother’s parlour, and my father was telling us of some incident at the market, from which he had just come, when one of our maids came in and said that Jacob Trusty was in the kitchen, and wanted to speak to the master. My father would have risen and gone to him, but just then Jacob himself appeared and stood within the doorway, having first pushed the girl out and closed the door.
“Master and mistress,” said Jacob, “there are some things best said without hearers, so I make bold to come in here where are no lads and lasses to hear us, save only your own, which have a right to hear all.”
“Sit down, Jacob,” said my father. “Say thy say, man.”
Jacob, however, remained standing, leaning on his thick staff. “Master,” said he, “I have been thinking about this matter of the land. Also the other day Lawyer Hook met me on the turnpike, and asked me some questions, and I could see that he had little confidence. Now it came to me to ask you if there are no papers. Papers always go with land, so I’ve heard.”
“Whatever I have, Jacob, are with Mr. Hook,” said my father. “And old as they are, they are no good on this point.”
“That brings me to what I want to say,” said Jacob. “I served your grandfather first when I was a lad ten years old. There were four of us, Tom Hodge, Anthony Boone, Dick Simpson, and myself, all slept in that chamber against the apple loft. There was an old chest in that chamber full of books and papers, and as never a one of us could read we used to wonder at them. Why not look in there, master?”
“The box is still there,” said my mother.
“But the papers were taken out when I was a lad,” said my father. “Mr. Hook has them now. However, ’tis good counsel, Jacob, and I’ll look in the box again.”
While Jacob went into the kitchen to drink a mug of ale, my father told me to get a candle and accompany him upstairs to the chamber mentioned, which was quite in accordance with my desires. So we ascended to the chamber, which was in a remote corner of the house, and had long been given up to the storing away of ancient lumber. Thus there was in it old saddles of curious fashion, and rusty bits and stirrup-irons, together with quaintly-carved chairs, broken and whole, and many other odds and ends accumulated in a house which has stood the brunt of some three hundred years. Amidst this mass of dust-covered lumber stood the oak chest spoken of by Jacob Trusty.
“It is empty, I fear, Will,” said my father, pulling it into the middle of the floor; “but we will examine it to please old Jacob, who means well. Ah! you see there is nothing at all in it.”
Nor was there, as far as we could see, for the interior was bare and empty, save for a thick coat of dust. I looked at the ancient chest curiously, holding the candle where the light would fall on its quaint carvings and the grotesque figures on the ends.
“My great-grandfather kept his papers and valuables in this chest, Will,” said my father. “See, here are drawers to put money in. And there is a secret drawer. See if thou canst find it, lad.”
But I could not, and did not make out where it was until my father drew out a drawer which had a false bottom, and this being removed, a small receptacle was laid bare.
“It is not very large,” said my father, “but it sufficed to store anything especially worth the keeping.”
Having admired the ingenious manner of the contrivance, I essayed to put the drawer in its place again, but found that it would not fit into the cavity prepared for it. Something seemed to lie in the way, and prevent the drawer from fitting properly. Putting my hand into the hole to discover the reason, my fingers encountered a thin packet of paper which I immediately drew out and held up to my father’s wondering gaze.
“What is this, lad?” said he. “Papers? They must have been placed in the secret drawer or behind it, and slipped underneath. ’Tis an ancient-looking packet, too.”
That indeed it was, for the cover was yellow with age, and the handwriting upon it was of such an ancient fashion that neither my father nor myself could decipher it. So we carried it downstairs, and having called Jacob Trusty into the parlour to see what his counsel had procured for us, my mother took the packet to see what she could make out of it. Having stripped off the cover, she found some large papers with seals attached to them, but despite her clerkship she could make naught out of any of them, save that on the margin of one there was somewhat written which appeared to be of more recent date than the body of the writing. This, after some pains, she made out to be as follows: “Ye cloase lying next to Wattson’s land at Castle Hill ys myne by this deede. W. D. 1510.” Which we took to show that one of our ancestors at least had something more than supposition to rest on when claiming the narrow strip of land. My father fastened up the papers again, and having charged us all to say nothing to anyone about them, the next day he carried them over to Lawyer Hook, and told him how we had come across them. Lawyer Hook, after having with much labour read various of the papers, and particularly the one bearing the marginal note, was much pleased, and informed my father that we now had a perfect case, and should give Masters Watson and Sharpe such a surprise as they had not reckoned for.
“For this deed, Master Dale,” said he, “proves that in the reign of Henry the Seventh the Watson of that day did sell to the then William Dale this bit of land in exchange for three acres of land which had belonged to your yeomanry, but was somewhat inconvenient of access to you, but easily come at by him. So now rest content, Master Dale, and say naught to anyone of this, and let Sharpe gather together what evidence he can, and when we are called on for our defence, we will produce our deed, and come away from the Assizes victorious.”
So the time went by until December, and in the second week of that month the judges came to hold the Assize at York, and it was necessary for my father to attend. Now, he had made me a promise just before the dispute with Rupert Watson, that the next time business took him to York he would carry me with him, so that I might see the great city and its Minster. You may be sure that I neglected not to remind him of his promise, now that I knew he was bound to go to York. And though it yet wanted a fortnight of the holidays, he stood to his word, and begged leave of Dr. Parsons to take me away from school earlier than usual, which leave the doctor granted when he heard whither we were bound.
On the 14th day of December, then, we set out for York, my father mounted on his brown mare and I riding Dumpling. We had but twenty-four miles to travel, and I was much set up at the prospect of riding along the Great North Road and forming one of the never-ceasing procession which was continually passing and repassing to or from London and York. So we said goodbye to my mother and Lucy and rode away, and having dined at Sherburn, which lies almost halfway between Dale’s Field and York, we journeyed forward to the city in the afternoon, and arrived there long ere darkness had set in. As I had never seen York before, I was much impressed by my first sight of that fair and beautiful city, which lies like a jewel in the midst of the rolling meadows and moors of Yorkshire, and I could do naught else but admire and wonder at its various sights. First, there was the Minster, which struck me with the most profound astonishment, being of such immensity in size and conception, that our church at home, though a fine one, seemed quite small in comparison. Then there were the city walls and the bars, through which we passed to enter the town, with their portcullises and guards and spikes over the towers, on which still stood the grisly heads of some that had been executed awhile before. And though the Minster seemed vast enough to hold all the people in the county, there were churches everywhere, some of them of exceeding great age. What with the Minster, and the churches, and the city walls, and the fine houses and people, I was thrown into a whirl of amazement, which did but increase the next day when Lawyer Hook conducted us to the Castle, where the Assizes were opened, and it was necessary for us to attend. There did I first behold the majesty of the law, and saw a judge sitting on the bench in scarlet robes and ermine, with many lawyers before him arguing and disputing, and the twelve honest men in the jury-box wondering which was right and which wrong. Now, indeed, I need say little about our case, which was not called for some three days after we had reached York, there being many matters to deal with before we could be attended to. When it came on at last it was speedily over, for when Rupert Watson’s side had put before judge and jury all they knew or could invent, our counsel produced the ancient deed, and the matter was settled, and the land ours forever without dispute. And the judge having said some sharp words about hastily rushing into litigation, ordered Rupert Watson to pay all the costs we had been put to, the business was over, and we were free to go where we pleased. I could have well done to stay awhile in York and see more of the city at my leisure, but my father was anxious to reach home and tell my mother of our success. So having dined at our inn and paid the score for ourselves and our beasts, we mounted the latter and set out homewards, well pleased with the result of our journey.
It was well on into the afternoon when we left York, and having paused awhile at Sherburn to give the horses a feed, the darkness came on suddenly, and speedily surrounded us. This by itself was no great matter, for the brown mare and Dumpling could both have taken their way homeward blindfold. But as Providence ruled it, there came upon us a heavy snowstorm as we descended the hill from Bryam into Ferrybridge, and this confused our cattle, so that progress was slow, Dumpling in particular objecting to the snow, which drove right against us as we pressed along and made our faces tingle with its sharpness. However, we gained Ferrybridge, and after a short stay there entered upon the last three miles of our journey, it being then eight o’clock in the evening and the snow coming down faster than ever.
Now, the road ’twixt Ferrybridge and Darrington is a lonely one, and never over-pleasant to ride along at any time of night. There were no carriages or coaches going along on this night, and we met nothing but a post-chaise going north. The snow increased at every step, and the beasts beneath us groaned with their efforts to keep their footing and persevere on their homeward way.
“ ’Tis a wild night, Will,” said my father, who rode on my right hand; “and thy mother will be anxious for us. We shall be home in half an hour an we keep at it. Shake Dumpling up, lad; she is half afraid of the snow, and will—”
I never knew what more my father would have said. As he spoke, a figure seemed to rise up out of the storm right in our path. I heard a sharp report of firearms and saw the flash. My father fell from his horse without even a groan.