Nay, verily, but I will
wait to rise till I be come to London town. And so I bid thee, whoever
thou art, make place for me that I may pass thee upon the road."
The carter, wondering much who this drunken madman might be, made no
answer but drove his creaking vehicle forward slowly as before, and in
the middle of the highway. Behind him, and at the tail of the cart,
followed Walter Skinner with equal slowness. For some moments he said
nothing more as, with closed eyes and heavily nodding head, he rode
along. Then he roused himself. "Stop!" he called fiercely. "Stop, I
say. I will go to bed in thy wagon or cart or whatever it may be, which
I cannot see for want of light."
"I carry not passengers for naught," observed the carter, civilly.
"Yea, but thou wilt carry me," retorted Walter Skinner. "I tell thee I
serve the king. Why, the prior of St. Edmund's did give me a horse when
mine own was gone, and wilt thou refuse me a bed? It shall go hard with
thee, varlet that thou art, if thou dost. I be ready to sink from
weariness. Lend me a hand down and into thy cart; lead thou my horse,
and so shall we proceed, I at rest as becometh the king's man, and thou
serving me, thy proper master.
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