第8章 The Watch at Two

Gild Ingelbeck came to the yard at two in the morning on the seventh day. Kessin woke in the room at the back of the hall and heard the wheel turn, and she put her boots on and went out to the yard, and he was sitting on it, and he was watching the road, and he did not look at her. He was a big man, older than Brin, with a grey beard kept short and a coat that had been warm for a long time, and his hands were on his knees and they were steady, and his eyes were on the road and they did not move. She stood at the foot of the wheel and looked at the road. The road was two miles and it was dark and it went out of the yard and under the hedge and to the bridge at Gillanwick, and on the road was nothing, and she stood there for an hour with him, and he did not move, and she did not speak, and the donkey slept at the gate with his head on his front knees. At four he got up and went out through the gate and walked the road, and she stayed on the wheel, and he came back at seven at dawn and sat down on the wheel and did not look at her. She came out to the yard and stood at the foot of it and looked at the road, and the road was clear, and she did not speak, and he did not speak, and the mist came up off the grass and lay there. At half eight he got up and went in to the hall and sat at the table, and Kessin put the bread on the table and the coffee on, and he ate the bread and drank the coffee, and did not speak, and she did not speak, and the boy came in at eight with his case and sat down across from him, and ate the bread and drank the coffee, and did not speak, and neither of them spoke to the other. At nine he got up and put his hat on and went out through the gate, and did not come back for a week. The boy asked about him on the eighth day. "He is the night-watch," said Kessin. "I know who he is," said Peth. "He is the man who used to walk the lane at night for the old woman. He went away the year before the smith died. He has not been paid for it. Two years now, he has not been paid for it." "I know who he is," said Kessin. "I do not know why he came back." "He came back because the hall has a keeper," said Peth. "Is that why," said Kessin. "I do not know," said Peth. "He did not say." Kessin put the pen down on the ledger and looked at the boy. "He did not say," she said. "He did not say," said Peth. "Then I will not ask him." "You will not ask him," said Peth. "That is the way of it. That is the way he will say it." "Yes," said Kessin. "That is the way he will say it." She wrote his name on the board on the eighth day, with a card of her own, and she wrote the fare on the ledger, and she wrote it in the space where the old woman had written pay Turrel first, and she did not write why he came, because she had not asked him, and she had not asked him because the way of it was that he had not said, and the way of it was that if she asked him he would not say it again, and the way of it was that if he said it he would have to walk the road, and he would not walk the road if he had said it, and if he did not walk the road, the hall would not have a watch, and if the hall did not have a watch, the hall would not have a night, and if the hall did not have a night, the hall would not have a keeper. Turrel came in at ten with the lamp and the cloth, and she saw the line on the ledger, and she did not say anything, and she put the bread on the shelf, and she lit the lamp, and she went to the stove, and she put the coffee on, and Kessin drank the coffee, and she said, "He has been here." "He has been here," said Turrel. "He has eaten the bread." "He has eaten the bread." "He has walked the road." "He has walked the road." "He will not come back for a week." "He will not come back for a week," said Turrel. "And then he will come back, and he will sit on the wheel at two, and he will get up at four, and he will walk the road, and he will come back at seven, and he will eat the bread, and he will drink the coffee, and he will not say a word, and he will put his hat on, and he will go out through the gate." "I will not ask him," said Kessin. "You will not ask him," said Turrel. "That is the way of it. That is the way he will say it." "That is the way he will say it," said Kessin. She wrote the line on the ledger, and put the card on the board, and sat with the lamp and the bread and the coffee, and the boy sat across from her with his case, and the donkey slept at the gate, and the board had four cards on it, and the hall had taken in a night. The boy took his boots off and set them on the bench, and the soles of them were white with the chalk of the fourth stone, and he stood at the window and watched the road go out of the yard and under the hedge and to the bridge, and he said, "I have kept it." And Kessin said, "You have kept it," and neither of them said more, and the lamp burned low and the coffee went cold and outside the wall Clack said something to the night. ---