“All’s ready now,” his voice sounded. “What we set out to do four months ago we’ve done. I’ll tell you again, for the last time, what that is. Most of you have never journeyed a dozen miles from this spot in your lives; I have, and it’s right that I should tell you what I know. Back o’ th’ Mooin’s only an odd corner of this land; it’s now setting itself up against all the rest. Before these furnaces are lighted for ore you’ve the odds to reckon. The trade’s paid you up to now, but it’s been a small trade, followed quietly in corners. You’re now going to make a great traffic of it, and that in the daylight. I’ll tell you what that means....”
Only the steady roar of the furnaces interrupted him as he began this, his last warning. He told them briefly how one part of a realm might prosper at the expense of the rest; how, pushed too far, that ceased to avail; how, by the commonness of a commodity, came cheapness; how gold alone, by its scarcity, settled the value of all other things; how even that was alterable at the decree of personages in authority; and again of the frightful risk.
“One man,” he continued, his voice shaking a little, “one man, speaking ten words in hatred or anger or liquor, can overwhelm all. Silver can be fought with silver, and they’ll offer rewards. Bribe, they will, and suborn and corrupt. Are we safe with that? Can’t we think of a man among us that, for a King’s reward, will sell us?...”
Rising murmurs began to interrupt him. They increased as he continued. Presently they drowned his voice. He stopped and cried, “Let one speak for you.” Mish Murgatroyd was thrust forward.
From his lips came a thick utterance.
“We’ve heard ye, Arthur,” he said, swaying a little. “There’s naught naughbut one thing we ha’ to speak tul, eh, lads? For what ye say about makkin’ silver cheap an’ that, ’tis for ye to say how mich we shall mak’ an’ all that, an’ that’s why th’ lads calls ye king. Nobody’ll set up ageean ye i’ sich matters, so that’s sattled. But I’ll tell ye when ye weant be king onny longer. Ye’ll not be king when th’ man ye speak of offers to sell us. What, lads? What, Dick? What, Belch an’ Hell Harry? Who deals wi’ that man?”
A short ferocious roar answered him.
“Ay. I think Arthur heard that. We sattle wi’ him; so that’s done wi’ an’ all. What else is there? Nooan so mich. All’s ready, or near by. For th’ coal, we know how to get coal wi’out Arthur, an’ Arthur can tak’ a rest of a bit. We’ll see to things. We’ll see to th’ man that tak’s a bribe an’ all. Fill th’ pannikin, Leventoes; Arthur’ll ha’ one more drink wi’ us....”
* * * * *
Monjoy and Eastwood strode along the Causeway to Wadsworth. The morning star had set; the day had broken a clear saffron; and the singing of the mounting larks could be heard far away. The bells of an approaching pack jangled, the packmen gave them good morning, and the jangling died away behind them. The sun came up in splendour, and a regal glory bathed the heather. As Big Monjoy removed his cap of foxskin his great russet head seemed to burn, and he turned to Eastwood.