the babe continued his tale…
the fire was warm enough, and the food only a little worse than we might have expected in such an establishment, and there was enough of it that we had no complaint.
the parlor having only table, gex and i and our two servants all sat at it, without ceremony, as the hard working landlord, who seemed to have no one to assist him, served us.
the storm which had caused us to stop in the tumbledown inn broke with full force as we were dining, making me, at least, thankful that we had stopped, and i was feeling content enough, and generous enough, to offer the landlord a glass of our wine, which of course, we had brought ourselves, and which he speedily and obsequiously accepted.
the two blind beggar boys had, at my invitation, made themselves as comfortable as they could beside the fire, and the one with the harp had strummed it, amiably enough, as we dined, and i tossed him a couple of scraps of food as a reward.
the musician caught the scraps with a practiced hand, and made as if to offer one of them to his companion, the self-proclaimed poet, but i stopped him with a laugh.
“oh ho,“ i said, “he has not yet earned his dinner. come, young bard, let us hear some of your immortal verses.”
thomas scowled silently at my familiar banter with the two ragamuffins, and gex and william continued feeding their faces, indifferent to it.
nothing abashed, the little fellow turned his sightless eyes to me, and announced. “i have only been waiting your command, sir. what would you like, an epic -?"
“perhaps you can work up to that. “ i interrupted him.
“very well, then, a ballad of ancient times, when heroes walked the earth -“
“how about a ballad of love, “ i interrupted him again, “ a song to win the heart of a maiden?”
“i can not recite one from my own experience,” he replied. “ as i do not believe i have ever encountered one of those creatures, in this unfortunate cosmos we inhabit in which they are in such short supply, but i have many variations on the theme, derived from the ancient masters of the bardic art.”
“than please - proceed,” i told him.
he then began to recite, as his companion plucked a few notes on his harp:
i love a lusty wench
with a backside thick as mutton
and a nose as red as a robin’s breast
and shiny as a hussar’s button
we will love all night and day
and scatter her father’s hay
till the rafters shake, and the earth quake
and the chickens and cows run away
william and i laughed at this, and even gex managed a wintry smile, but thomas expressed himself as scandalized.
“insolent puppy! do you mock the master’s request?”
“stay, thomas, “ i counseled him. “it is all in good jest,” and i threw the boy a large morsel from my plate.
“but come, my lad,” i said. “do attempt something a little more genteel. as if you were truly attempting to win the favor of a fair maiden, or even a goddess.”
“if you wish, sir. i pride myself on the extensiveness of my repertoire. but, look ye, you have proclaimed yourself a poet, perhaps when i am finished, you can favor us with one of your own attempts.”
at this escalation of effrontery, thomas started to rise from his chair, but i put a hand on his arm.
“that sounds an excellent plan,” i told the boy, “as i think none of us are going anywhere this night. perhaps we can battle all night. so - you first.”
at my words, a tremendous roll of thunder sounded outside.
37. arboc
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