Evening was at hand as I reached a little alehouse well away from the road and pleasantly secluded by trees: thither came I, fondling Penfeather's money in my pocket, for I was again mightily sharp set. But all at once I stopped, for, passing the open lattice, I heard loud laughter and a merry voice: "And there, believe me, gossips" (quoth this voice), "as sure as this be beef--aye, and good beef and cooked to a turn, mistress--there's this great, lob-lolly, hectoring Tom Button fast i' the pillory--and by this good ale, a woeful sight, his eyes blacked, his nose a-bleeding, his jerkin torn and a dead cat about his neck, oho--aha! Tom Button--big Tom, fighting Tom so loud o' tongue and ready o' fist--Tom as have cowed so many--there is he fast by the neck and a-groaning, see ye, gossips, loud enough for six, wish I may die else! And the best o' the joke is--the key be gone, as I'm a sinner! So they needs must break the lock to get him out. Big Tom, as have thrashed every man for miles." But here merry voice and laughter ceased and a buxom woman thrust smiling face from the window, and face (like her voice) was kindly when she addressed me: "What would ye, young master?"
"A little food, mistress," says I, touching my weather-worn hat and pulling it lower over my bruised and swollen features.
"Why come in, master, come in--there be none here but my Roger and Godby the peddler, as knoweth everyone."
So I entered forthwith a small, snug chamber, and seating myself in the darkest corner, acknowledged the salutations of the two men while the good-looking woman, bustling to and fro, soon set before me a fine joint of roast beef with bread and ale, upon which I incontinent fell to.
The two men sat cheek by jowl at the farther end of the table, one a red-faced, lusty fellow, the other, a small, bony man who laughed and ate and ate and laughed and yet contrived to talk all the while, that it was a wonder to behold.
"Was you over to Lamberhurst way, master?" says he to me, all at once.
"Aye!" I nodded, busy with the beef.
"Why then, happen ye saw summat o' the sport they had wi' the big gipsy i' the pillory--him as 'saulted my Lady Brandon and nigh did for her ladyship's coz?"
"Aye," says I again, bending over my platter.
"'Tis ill sport to bait a poor soul as be helpless, I think--nay I know, for I've stood there myself ere now, though I won't say as I didn't clod this fellow once or twice to-day myself--I were a rare clodder in my time, aha! Did you clod this big rogue, master?"