"But the fairies, grandsire, the fairies?" said Anne.
"Well, well; bide a bit. Where war I? Ah, I see. I had a mad horse in Shottery—what time I came back from Leicestershire—and I would fain have sold him; so I e'en rode him along with some other youngsters to Kenilworth Green, where there war a wake holden underneath the abbey walls. Folks spoke darkly of old Kenilworth then. Now I'm told there be rare new buildings reared up there."
"There are," said Ralph Coulter. "A fine new castle hath been built by the Earl, glorious to look on, and called Leicester's Buildings, and ornamented, that it would do you good to look on 'em."
"Ah," said the elder Hathaway, "times are changed hugely. At the time I speak of old Clinton's Tower was ornamented and hung with the bodies of caitiffs, traitors, and outlaws; for the whole country round was full of disturbance, famine, and war. Howbeit, as I was saying, I went to Kenilworth to sell my sorrel nag; but I couldn't do so. So after I had taken a draught at the Leicester Arms there, I rode away to a relation I had at Monkspath. Travelling was very unsafe then, as you may believe—worse than now-a-days—and I hastened on to get through the woods before nightfall; and when I had got within about a mile of Monkspath, I saw a man, just as it began to grow twilight, coming towards me. He was dressed in a bright green doublet, and either my eyes deceived me, or the good liquor of the hostel made me see double, but he had a sort of familiar flitting at his back. He was very small in make and height, and wore a bright golden bugle at his waist. My horse stopped of himself as the little man came up, and seemed all of a tremble, and wouldn't pass him nohow; so I dismounted, and tried to lead him past. But it wur all one; the horse wur fixed as firm as one of the old oaks beside us. 'Will you sell that brute?' said the little hunter. ''Tis what I wish,' I answered. 'It is very ugly: is it a cow or a horse?' said the little man. 'He was a horse a minute ago,' I answered; 'but now he seems turned to stone: I can't make him go, no wise.' 'My people have got him fast,' said the little man; 'he can't go. What do you ask for him?' inquired the little wretch. 'Fifteen pieces,' I said. 'There's thirty,' said the little man. 'Now stand aside whilst I mount.' So saying, the little gentleman gave me the thirty pieces, and got upon the horse. No sooner had he done so than the beast went mad outright, I thought. He flew about, capered, and kicked out his heels, as if a flame of fire had lighted on his crupper. I ran to get out of the way, for fear of being struck, and when I turned, lo, horse and man were clean gone—sink into the earth as it were, and vanished, leaving me in the greatest of terror and confusion; whilst a wild and beautiful strain—a sort of hollow winding note of a bugle—seemed to pass through the air."
"Strange," said several of the listeners. "Was it not?"
"As soon as I had a little recovered myself," continued the quaint old man, "I hastened on to Monkspath, and sought my relation. He took me to an old monk belonging to the abbey beside the castle, to whom I told the story, and asked his advice about the money, and whether I might use it. The monk gave me leave to use one-half the money, provided I gave him t' other half; 'for,' said he, 'as you in no way circumvented or endeavoured to cheat the buyer, be he witch, devil, or fairy, you are fully entitled to what you asked. The other fifteen pieces,' said he, 'I will lay up in store for the use of our abbey.' On this assurance I was well satisfied, so I hastened to get out the purse the little gentleman had given me; but the worst of it all was that no purse could I find; my pocket was empty, my purse gone, and the monk rated at me for a knave, whilst my relation laughed at me for a fool."
"He, he, he—ugh—O dear—O dear!"
"And the horse," said Anne—"the horse? you forgot the horse, grandfather."
"The horse—oh, ah, true enough—the horse. Why I found him, on my return home here, grazing quietly in the orchard, with his saddle turned under his belly, and covered with mud and mire, as if he had been drawn through all the mosses and sloughs between this and Coventry."
"And you was not at all flustered that night?" said Shakespeare. "Pardon the question, But I thought the little man in green might have treated you to an extra cup."