VI + 

Of the Dispute in the Marketplace + 

It was in the middle of spring when I was first taken to school, and my life till the end of the following summer was comparatively uneventful. On Saturdays I went home, to tell Jacob Trusty of my doings during the week, and to receive his counsel and admonition on various matters. Those weekend visits home were great events. On the Saturday I visited all my old haunts, took out my dog, saw to my garden, and went round the farmstead renewing acquaintance with man and beast. On the Sunday we went to church as usual. Then came Monday morning again, and I wended my way to school once more, generally catching up Jack Drumbleforth on the road. Having fought and beaten Dennis Watson, there was little else left me to do in that line, for no lad of my own age and size cared to fight with me, and the elder lads were, of course, above battling with their junior. So I went on with my tasks in a steady and laborious fashion, not being over-ready of perception, but still determined to do what lay in me. In this manner of life the months passed on quietly. But just as summer was over, and we had brought home the last load of the corn-harvest, there came matters which changed the whole course of my life. + 

I have already told you that between the Watsons of Castle Hill and the Dales of Dale’s Field there was an ancient root of contention in the shape of a piece of land lying between our respective estates. The ownership of this, which was but a strip of meadow, had been disputed ’twixt Dale and Watson for many a generation, though neither side had ever sought the aid of the law in order to settle matters once and for all. Formerly, if one house had sent flocks to graze on the debatable ground, the other had forthwith driven the offending animals away. Sometimes blows had arisen from this proceeding, and the servants from each farmstead had turned out with quarterstaff or cudgel, and fought fiercely one with another. But for nearly fifty years previous to my time neither side had claimed the land, though both were equally careful that no right of way should be established across it by third parties. Yet although matters had been quiet, the red spirit of dislike and resentment ran strong as ever, and of all men in that neighbourhood, Rupert Watson of Castle Hill was the only one that my father never held speech with. + 

It was the first week of September, 1631, and by permission of Dr. Parsons I had come home from school on the Thursday in order to be present at our harvest-supper, which was a great event, and not to be missed on any account. There were gathered together on that occasion all our servants, male and female, all that ever worked for us on odd days during the year, such as at turnip-hoeing or sheepshearing times, and with them came their wives and families, so that our great barn was well filled. There were also two or three farmers of our acquaintance from the neighbouring villages, and sometimes Parson Drumbleforth was present to hallow the ceremony, as he indeed was upon this occasion, and with him Jack, who had been permitted to beg off from school. Great doings there were at our harvest-supper, namely, an abundance of provisions and good cheer, and after that dancing to the music of the village fiddler, who sat on a tub in the centre, and played for all he was worth until neither man nor maiden could dance any longer. Nor were the horses forgotten, which had worked so hard during the harvest-month, for they on that night had each an extra feed of corn. + 

On this particular occasion, when the supper was well over, and Tom Treddle, the fiddler, had just got into the swing of his first tune, Will White, the miller, of Smeaton, drew my father aside into a corner, and began to talk to him. + 

“I am afraid, Master Dale,” said Will, “that you are going to have trouble;” and he nodded his head in the direction of the woods that bound our farm. + 

“What is it, Will?” asked my father. + 

“Why, certainly,” answered the miller, “ ’tis none of my business, and maybe I ought not to meddle with it. But you see my nearest way from home to your place here, Master Dale, lies across the fields. Now, as I came along tonight, I saw that Rupert Watson has turned out his horses into that piece of land which he says is his, and which you say is yours. So therefore I say, I fear there will be trouble.” + 

“Trouble there will be!” answered my father. “And I am sorry for it, for the old sore has lain unopened these fifty years, and should have healed for what I would have done. But Rupert Watson must not turn his cattle on my land. Well, join the dancers, good Will, and I will consider what’s to be done.” + 

Now, it was not easy to decide upon a course of action, because there was sure to be trouble, whatever conduct were pursued. For if my father patiently suffered Rupert Watson’s horses to occupy the land, it would amount to an acknowledgment that the land was not ours; and if, on the other hand, he drove them away, there would be resistance on the part of the Watsons, and then would come fighting. However, by the time the dancers had all tired, and the folks were nearly all gone home, my father had made up his mind. So he called up to him Jacob Trusty and Timothy Grass and Reuben Larkspur, and all our regular labourers, ten men and youths in all, and began to talk to them in the barn. “Lads,” said he, “ye know that there is a strip of meadow-land lying between Watson’s estate and mine which we both claim? Mine I believe it to be, else I would not claim it. It hath always been understood to be mine, as Jacob here will tell you.” + 

“Dale’s land it was, and is, and always will be,” said Jacob. + 

“Well,” continued my father, “for fifty years the matter has been quiet, but Rupert Watson has seen fit to break the peace at last. Tonight he has turned his horses into the land in question, thinking, no doubt, that our merrymaking would prevent us from noticing the matter. However, Miller White saw them, and told me of it. Now, I am not going to allow Rupert Watson’s horses to feed on my lands. Nor will I simply turn them out. I will take such measures as will lead, I doubt not, to a final settlement of this matter. What say you, Jacob?” + 

“It hath gone on long enough,” said Jacob. “Let it be settled and done with.” + 

“ ’Tis good counsel. Now, lads, there are ten of ye, and I make eleven. Take each of ye a good stout staff, lest we be attacked, and then follow me, and we will take Rupert Watson’s horses, and put them into pound at Darrington. Then he will have to settle with the pinder ere he can regain them, and if he likes to take the law of me, he is welcome.” + 

So the men, with much approval, went for their staves, and prepared to carry out my father’s wishes. + 

Now, as it happened, Parson Drumbleforth had gone home a good three hours before that, but Jack had remained to sleep at our house, and he and I had lurked in a dark corner of the barn to hear what my father said to the men. When we heard of the proposed expedition against Rupert Watson’s horses, nothing would content us but that we must go; and knowing that if we asked leave we should not get it, we waited till all had left the barn, and then ran away into the fields, and hid under a hedge until my father and his men came along, behind whom we followed in the moonlight until we reached the debatable strip of land, and saw the horses, twelve in number, cropping the grass. We had expected that some spy would have been sent by Rupert Watson to watch over the horses, in case of an attack; but he, fancying we should all be busy with the harvest-supper, had left them alone, and our men had no difficulty in surrounding them and driving them away. Then Jack and I ran home as hard as possible, and had only just retired to bed when my father came in to tell my mother that the younger men had taken the horses to the pinfold at Darrington. + 

The next day passed away peacefully enough with us, but towards night came one from Darrington, who told us that at noon Rupert Watson had ridden up in a great passion, and had demanded his horses of the pinder, and threatened all manner of violence against those who had impounded them. To whom the pinder, being in the right, and having the law behind him, made answer that he knew nought of the rights or wrongs of the dispute ’twixt Dales and Watsons, but that the horses being come into his pound, should not go thence until the pinning-fee were paid. Which fee Rupert Watson was forced in the end to disburse, and so departed, vowing vengeance on us Dales root and branch. When my mother heard this she was troubled, but my father bade her be of good cheer. + 

On the Saturday morning, I accompanied my father to market, my mother staying at home, which, as events proved, was a fortunate thing, for she would have been sore put about by the scene which followed our arrival in the marketplace. It was rather late when we reached the town, and, after putting up our horse and cart, went into the street to do our business, and the frequenters of the market were already gathered in full force about the Butter Cross and the Beast Fair. My father had said, as we came along, that he should probably have some words with Rupert Watson if they met, and I was therefore on the lookout for our enemy, but for a long time I saw nothing of him. In such a small place, however, we were bound to meet him, and meet him we did, as we went to dine at the ordinary. For there he stood on the steps of the inn, a tall, dark-faced man, with a look of anger and hatred on his countenance, which reminded me of his son Dennis. + 

Rupert Watson saw us coming along the street, and I saw him square himself so as to fill the doorway of the inn. There were some twenty or thirty farmers standing round, and they, knowing what had taken place, looked on with much curiosity as my father drew near. + 

“Keep by me, Will,” said my father; “thou shalt come to no harm⁠—nor shall I, for that matter.” + 

When we were a few yards from him, Rupert Watson broke out upon my father in a loud voice, so that men came running along the marketplace and from the shambles to see who it was that caused such a commotion. + 

“So, Master Dale!” shouted Rupert Watson; “so you dare to show your face here after your work t’other night! It were better, perhaps, that you were in gaol for a horse-thief. A pretty jest, to steal another’s cattle and clap them into pound! An you and your men had not been drunk with your rioting, I would take the law of you!” + 

Then my father stood squarely in front of him, and looked Rupert Watson in the face. “Master Watson,” said he, “when you talk of jest and riot, I understand you not. What I do understand is this that you turned your horses upon my land, from whence I removed them to the parish pound. And I warn you, Master Watson, in the presence of these gentlemen, that this I shall do again if ever you offend in like manner.” + 

Then the cloud on Rupert Watson’s face grew black indeed, and he poured upon my father a torrent of vulgar abuse. “Thy land!” quoth he. “Land of thine or thy fathers it never was. And I will turn my cattle upon it this night, and if thou, or any of thy men, dare to set foot upon the land, I will shoot the trespassers through the head!” + 

“Master Watson,” said my father, “I care nothing for your threats. What I can do for myself, I will do; what I cannot do, the law shall do for me.” + 

“Ay, ay,” said someone in the crowd; “law is a good word. Your two families have disputed this matter for generations; why not go to law and have done with it?” + 

“As for shooting of men through the head,” said another, “ ’tis poor talk, and I trow the magistrates would have somewhat to say to it.” + 

“Who asked thy counsel?” said Rupert Watson. “A man hath a right to defend his own, hath he not? The land, I say, is mine.” + 

“I neither know nor care whose the land is,” said an old farmer at our elbow; “but this I do know, Rupert, that thou hast never put cattle on it since Castle Hill came into thy hands. Why hast suddenly fallen in love with it? ’Tis but an acre or two at most.” + 

“The land, I say, is mine,” said Rupert Watson once more. “And mine it shall be. So look to yourself, William Dale, for if I find you or yours setting foot upon it I will shoot you, I say, as I would a dog!” + 

“I care not for your threatening, Master Watson,” answered my father. “You may take your own course. But if ever I find cattle of yours on my land again, into the parish pound they will go. And now stand aside, and let me and my lad pass.” + 

And therewith he strode up on a sudden, and Rupert Watson, with one glance at his great form and determined face, slunk out of the doorway, and we went inside the inn and dined at the ordinary. And while we were dining I saw Rupert Watson enter, and retire into a corner with a little person whose manners reminded me of a weasel. My father told me this was Lawyer Sharpe, of Wakefield. + 

“ ’Tis the most unscrupulous attorney that ever lived, Will, boy,” said my father, “and I doubt not he and Watson are contriving some scheme against me, which they are welcome to do. I care for nothing of their invention.” + 

It was vastly to my liking that most of those to whom we spoke that day sided with my father, and condemned Rupert Watson, both for turning out his horses on the debatable piece of land, and likewise for creating a disturbance at the inn door. For though no man, not even the oldest, could rightly say if the land belonged to Dales or to Watsons, they yet remembered that for fifty years the trouble had been allowed to rest, and that it was now revived through no fault of my father’s. + 

“Rupert Watson,” said the old farmer who had spoken at the inn door, “is in the wrong this time. Let sleeping dogs lie, say I. Now he has stirred the dog up, and must not complain if it show its teeth. But mind you, Master Dale, I know not if the land be yours or his.” + 

“It has always been held to be ours in our family,” said my father. + 

“Ay, marry, and to be theirs in their family. My advice is, go to law, if ye can settle it in no different fashion. Though law is but a parlous method of deciding a question like yon. Whether ye lose or win, the lawyers will have your money.” + 

“It is for him to decide,” said my father; “I shall do nothing⁠—only this, that if he sends his cattle on the land again, I shall again put them into pound.” + 

So we went home that Saturday, and that evening, and for many a following evening, strict watch was kept upon the narrow strip of meadow-land, for my father was determined that every inch of his acres should be protected. But Rupert Watson made no further movement, and the weeks passed by till it was October, and we heard no more of the matter. + 

Nevertheless our enemy⁠—for I can call him by no other name, considering his deeds⁠—was not idle in his efforts to vex and annoy us. For one Saturday, early in October, as I was talking to Jacob Trusty in the fold, there came riding in at our gate a man on a brown mare, whose face was strange to both of us, and who immediately hailed us with an inquiry if this were Dale’s Field. I said “Yes;” whereupon he consulted a paper which he drew from his vest, and then asked if William Dale were about, to which I answered that my father was at market, and would not be home until five or six o’clock. + 

“Then I must needs get off my horse, lad,” said the stranger, “and wait his return. Dost think a feed of corn could be found for my horse? He has carried me four-and-twenty miles this morning, and needs a rest.” + 

I handed the horse over to one of our lads, and conducted the stranger into the house, where he was received by my mother, to whom he made a very polite bow. + 

“Master Dale, mistress, is not at home, I understand, but will return anon. With your permission I will rest myself until he comes, for I cannot go away until I have seen him. I am a sheriff’s officer, and have a writ to serve upon him at the suit of one Rupert Watson.” + 

So it seemed that our enemy was going to have the law of us after all. + 