“Friends,” said Havelok, “if I do two men’s work I get two men’s pay, or else I might want to know the reason why. But I am only one man, all the same, and it seems right to me that none should be the loser. Wherefore I have a mind to share my pay fairly.”
There was a sort of shout at that and Havelok set his four loaves in a row on the rail beside him. But then some of the rougher men went to make a rush at them, and he took the foremost two and shook them, so that others laughed and bade the rest beware.
“So that is just where the trouble comes in,” said Havelok coolly; “the strong get the first chance, as I did this morning, by reason of there being none to see fair play.”
“Bide in the market, master, and we will make you judge among us,” cried a small man from the edge of the crowd.
“Fair and softly,” Havelok answered. “I am not going to bide here longer than I can help. Come hither, grandfer,” and he beckoned to the old man who had bidden them wait his return, “tell me the names of the men who have been longest without any work.”
The old man pointed out three, and then Havelok stopped him.
“One of these loaves is my own wage,” he said; “but you three shall have the others, and that will be the easiest day’s work you ever did. But think not that I am going to do the like every day, for Lincoln hill is no easy climb, and the loaf is well earned at the top. Moreover, it is not good to encourage the idle by working for them.”
So the three men had their loaves, and Havelok began to eat his own slowly, swinging his legs on the bridge rail while the men watched him.
“Master,” said the small man from behind, pushing forward a little, now that the crowd was looser, “make a law for the market, I pray you, that all may have a chance.”
“Who am I to make laws?” said my brother slowly, and, as he said this, his hand went up to his brows as it had gone last night when the palace had wearied him.