' ha' told me that,' he said. 'And money is a goodly thing in
its place--but not to a man with a bellyful of water. Y' shall feel my
fist when I be rested. Meanwhile wait and, being a cub, hear how _men_
talk.' He slapped his chest and repeated to Hogben: 'Who be 'ee?'

Hogben, delighted to be asked at last a question, shewed his
formidable teeth and beneath his familiar contortion of the eyelids
brought out the words that one of the women who had brought him down
was her that had brought Squahre Culpepper to sit on a squared stone
before Calais gate.

'Why, I am a made man, for all you see me sit here,' Culpepper
answered indolently. 'I ha' done a piece of work for which I am to be
seised of seven farms in Kent land. See yo'--they send me messengers
with money to Calais gate.' He pointed his thumb at the young Poins.

The boy, to prove that he was no common messenger, drew his right leg
up and said:

'Nay, goodman Squire; an ye had slain the Cardinal the farms should
have been yours. As it lies, ye are no more than lieutenant of Calais
stone barges.'

'Thou liest,' Culpepper answered negligently, not turning his gaze
from the gatewarden to whom he addressed a friendly question of, Who
was the woman that had brought the two of them down.

'Now, Squahre!' the Lincolnshire man grinned delightedly; 'thu hast
asked me tue questions. Answer me one: Did _thee_ lie upon her when
thee put her name up in the township of Stamford?'

'Stamford in Lincolnshire was thy townplace?' Culpepper asked. 'But
who was thy woman? I ha' had so many women and lied about so many more
that I never had!'

The Lincolnshire man threw his leather cap to the keystone of the
archway, caught it again and set it upon his thatch of hair, having
the solemnity of one who performs his rituals.

'Goodly squahre that thee art!' he said; 'thou has harmed a many
wenches in truth and in lies.'

Culpepper spied a down feather on his knee.

'Curse the mattress that I lay upon this night,' he said amiably.

He set his head back and blew the feather high into the air so that it
floated out towards the tranquil and sunny pasture fields of France.

'Cub!' he said to Hal Poins, 'take this as a lesson of the death that
lies about the pilgrim's path. For why am I not a pilgrim? I was sent
to rid Paris of a Cardinal Pole, who, being in league with the devil,
hath a magic tongue. Mark this story well, cub, who art sent me with
money and gifts from the King