[CHAPTER I.]
OXFORD FAIR.
"WHAT d'ye lack? What d'ye lack? Here's Flemish cloth. Here's—"
"What d'ye lack?" screamed a louder voice. "Here's Sheffield knives." But the cries of both pedlars were drowned in the increasing din, for this was the first day of Oxford Autumn Fair, and the students from the different colleges were pouring into the market-place, some to buy cloth for winter doublets, or knives, or books, while others came for the mere fun, and, after purchasing a few cakes or wastrel bread for their midday meal, pushed and jostled and chaffed the crowd, and were cuffed and joked in turn with merry laughter. But all at once a cry arose above the general din of pedlars and buyers. "A Greek! a Greek!" was shouted, and then another answering cry of defiance rang out, "A Trojan! a Trojan!" while, as if by magic, sticks were suddenly flourished, and angry words of defiance were bandied about, and the wrathful cry, "A Greek! a Greek!" resounded from all points, to be drowned the next moment in a louder shout, "A Trojan! a Trojan!" and then the fight began.
The pedlars ceased to shout, and gathered their wares closer on the stalls, and the townspeople sought refuge in tents or any place of shelter at hand, for pedlars and people alike would have a sorry time of it during the fray. So they drew closer together for mutual protection, and left the more open spaces for the combatants, who used sticks and missiles against each other without mercy, Trojans beating Greeks, and Greeks belabouring Trojans.
"This all comes of the new learning," said one of the pedlars to his neighbour, who was hastily gathering up his rolls of cloth and replacing them on the mule's back, before the angry crowd should stumble over them.
"The new learning?" repeated the other. "Why, where hast thou been the last two years not to know what a stir it has made in the world, and like to make more since these hot-headed lads have taken to fight over it?"
As he spoke two of them came tearing through the fair, closely followed by two or three others, flourishing stout sticks, without much regard as to what or who was felled by their blows. As the cloth-merchant was reached the cudgel of a pursuing Trojan struck down one of the retreating Greeks, who had lost his weapon of defence.
The lad was stunned, and would have fallen under the legs of the mule if he had not been rescued by the pedlar, for his assailant swept on in search of the other Greek, and did not stop to see what mischief he had done.
The lad groaned as he was dragged to the shelter of one of the stalls, and they saw there was a deep cut on his forehead, but there was a barber-surgeon close at hand, who had set up his tent here in the fair, and the lad was carried to him to have the wound dressed, for he was unconscious, and continued so until his friends came in search of him an hour later.