“I will not ask you to carry more than that,” Berthun began.
“Why, man, this is foolishness. If you have a porter, make him carry all he can, else he will not earn his keep.”
“As you will,” answered the steward, shrugging his shoulders as one who cannot account for some folk’s whims, and going on to the next booth.
Now, I suppose that the idlers looked to see Havelok walk away with this light load gladly, as any one of them would have done, and that then their turn would have come; but this was not what they expected. Maybe they would have liked to see the strong man sweep up all the palace marketing and carry it, as a show, but it might interfere with their own gains. So there was a murmur or two among them, and this grew when Havelok took the next burden in like manner.
“Ho, master cook,” cried a ragged man at last, “this is not the custom, and it is not fair that one man should do all the work, and all for one wage.”
Berthun took no notice of this; and so the cry was repeated, and that by more than one. And at last he turned round and answered.
“Go to, ye knaves,” he said with a red face and angrily; “if I find a man who will save me the trouble of your wrangles every day, shall I not do as I please?”
Then there was a tumult of voices, and some of them seemed sad, as if a last hope was gone, and that Havelok heard.
“There is somewhat in this,” he said to the cook. “What pay have you given to each man who carries for you?”
“A yesterday’s loaf each,” answered Berthun, wondering plainly that Havelok paid any heed to the noise.