Hope Mirrlees - Lud-In-The-Mist

The next day many of the 'prentices and artizans went on strike, and several captains of merchant vessels reported that their crews showed signs of getting out of hand.

Master Polydore was terrified out of his wits, and Mumchance was inclined to take a very gloomy view of the situation: "If the town chooses to rise the Yeomanry can do nothing against them," he said dejectedly. "We ain't organized (if your Worship will pardon the expression) for trouble - no, we ain't."

Then, as if by a miracle, everything quieted down. The strikers, as meek as lambs, returned to their work, the sailors ceased to be turbulent, and Mumchance declared that it was years since the Yeomanry had had so little to do.

"There's nothing like taking strong measures at once, " Master Polydore remarked complacently to Master Ambrose (whom he had taken as his mentor in the place of Endymion Leer). "Once let them feel that there is a strong man at the helm, and you can do anything with them. And, of course, they never felt that with poor old Nat."

Master Ambrose's only answer was a grunt - and a rather sardonic smile. For Master Ambrose happened to be one of the few people who knew what had really happened.

The sudden calm was due neither to a miracle, nor to the strong hand of Master Polydore. It had been brought about by two humble agents - Mistress Ivy Peppercorn and Hazel Gibberty.

One evening they had been sitting in the little parlour behind the grocer's shop over the first fire of the season.

As plaintiff and principal witness in the unpopular trial, their situation was not without danger. In fact, Mumchance had advised them to move into Lud till the storm had blown over. But, to Hazel, Lud was the place where the widow was buried, and, full as she was of western superstitions, she felt that she could not bear to sleep enclosed by the same town walls as the angry corpse. Nor would she return to the farm. Her aunt had told her of Master Nathaniel's half-joking plan to communicate with her, and Hazel insisted that even though he had gone behind the Debatable Hills it was their clear duty to remain within reach of a message.

That evening Mistress Ivy was waxing a little plaintive over her obstinacy. "I sometimes think, Hazel, your wits have been turned, living so long with that bad bold woman… and I don't wonder, I'm sure, poor child; and if my poor Peppercorn hadn't come along, I don't know what would have happened to me . But there's no sense, I tell you, in waiting on here - with the hams and bacon at home not cured yet, nor the fish salted for winter, nor your fruit pickled or preserved. You're a farmer on your own now, and you shouldn't forget it. And I wish to goodness you'd get all that silly nonsense out of your head. A message from the Mayor, indeed! Though I can't get over its being him that came to see me, and me never knowing, but giving him sauce, as if he'd been nothing but a shipmate of my poor Peppercorn's! No, no, poor gentleman, we'll never hear from him ! Leastways, not this side of the Debatable Hills."

Hazel said nothing. But her obstinate little chin looked even more obstinate than usual.

Then suddenly she looked up with startled eyes.

"Hark, auntie!" she cried. "Didn't you hear someone knocking?"

"What a girl you are for fancying things! It's only the wind," said Mistress Ivy querulously.

"Why, auntie, there it is again! No, no, I'm sure it's someone knocking. I'll just go and see," and she took a candle from the table; but her hand was trembling.

The knocking was audible now to Mistress Ivy as well.

"You just stay where you are, my girl!" she cried shrilly. "It'll be one of these rough chaps from the town, and I won't have you opening the door - no, I won't."

But Hazel paid no attention, and, though her face was white and her eyes very scared, she marched boldly into the shop and called, "Who's there?" through the door.

"By the Sun, Moon and Stars and the Golden Apples of the West!" came the answer.

"Auntie! auntie!" she cried shrilly, "it's from the Mayor. He has sent a messenger, and you must come."

This brought Mistress Ivy hurrying to her side. Though she was not of an heroic character, she came of good sturdy stock, and she was not going to leave her dead brother's child to face the dangers of the unseen alone, but her teeth were chattering with terror. Evidently the messenger was growing impatient, for he began beating a tattoo on the door and singing in a shrill sweet voice:

"Maids in your smocks

Look well to your locks

And beware of the fox

When the bellman knocks."

Hazel (not without some fumbling, for her hands were still trembling) drew the bolts, lifted the latch, and flung the door wide open. A sudden gust of wind extinguished her candle, so they could not see the face of the messenger.

He began speaking in a shrill, expressionless voice, like that of a child repeating a lesson: "I have given the password, so you know from whom I come. I am to bid you go at once to Lud-in-the-Mist, and find a sailor, by name Sebastian Thug - he will probably be drinking at the tavern of the Unicorn - also a deaf-mute, commonly known as Bawdy Bess, whom you will probably find in the same place. You will have need of no other introduction than the words, By the Sun, Moon and Stars and the Golden Apples of the West. You are to tell them that there is to be no more rioting, and that they are to keep the people quiet, for the Duke will send his deputy. And next you will go to Master Ambrose Honeysuckle and bid him remember the oath which he and Master Nathaniel pledged each other over wild-thyme gin, swearing to ride the wind with a loose rein, and to be hospitable to visions. And tell him that Lud-in-the-Mist must throw wide its gates to receive its destiny. Can you remember this?"

"Yes," said Hazel in a low puzzled voice.

"And now just a trifle to the messenger for his pains!" and his voice became gay and challenging. "I am an orchard thief and the citizen of a green world. Buss me, green maid!" and before Hazel had time to protest he gave her a smacking kiss on the lips and then plunged into the night, leaving the echoes of his "Ho, ho, hoh !" like a silvery trail in his wake.

"Well, I never did!" exclaimed Mistress Ivy in amazement, adding with a fat chuckle, "It would seem that it isn't only this side of the hills that saucy young fellows are to be found. But I don't quite know what to make of it, my girl. How are we to know he really comes from the Mayor?"

"Well, auntie, we can't know, of course, for certain -though, for my part, I don't think he was a Dorimarite. But he gave the password, so I think we must deliver the messages - there's nothing in them, after all, that could do any harm."

"That's true," said Mistress Ivy. "Though I'm sure I don't want to go trudging into Lud at this time of night on a fool's errand. But, after all, a promise is a promise -and doubly so when it's been given to somebody as good as dead."

So they put on their pattens and cloaks, lighted at lanthorn, and started off to walk into Lud, as briskly as Mistress Ivy's age and weight would allow, so as to get there before the gates were shut. Master Ambrose, as a Senator, would give them a pass to let them through on the way back.

The Unicorn was a low little tavern down by the wharf, of a not very savoury reputation. And as they peeped in at the foul noisy little den, Hazel had considerable difficulty in persuading Mistress Ivy to enter.

"And to think of the words we have to use too!" the poor woman whispered disconsolately; "they're not at the best of times the sort of words I like to hear on a woman's lips, but in a place like this you can't be too careful of your speech… it's never safe to swear at folks in liquor."