interest toward Kit. The two rarely discussed their work in progress. Nevertheless, Will ventured a peek.
“May I see?” said Will hopefully.
“If you must.” Kit replied. He kept his hand on the page but tilted it so Will could read.
As Will sped through the final lines, he hummed to himself and put a finger on his lip.
“How about: Since Hero’s time hath half the world been black.”
Kit nodded gently as if running the words over in his mind.
“Half the world... been black... I don’t know...”
With a reluctant smile, he turned and gave Will a sardonic look.
“Bob Green was right,” said Kit.
“What about?”
“You are an upstart crow.”
Will grinned back at him.
“Well, this crow's famished right about now.”
“You’re always hungry.”
“No, I’m not. When are we stopping?”
Before Kit could answer, the carriage wheels found the smooth dirt road of a village and churned to a stop by the village well. Just a few yards up the road was an alehouse. Will gave a cry of joy, quickly packed his work away, leapt out of the carriage, and made straight for the alehouse door. Kit stayed behind briefly. Once he was sure that he was alone he wrote Will's suggestion down to finish the description.
“Upstart crow,” he mumbled to himself with a smile.
The journey up to Cheshire took Kit and Will through the counties of Buckingham, Northampton, and Stafford. Luckily, they rode through Warwickshire and Will suggested they spend a night in Stratford-upon-Avon with his wife Anne and his three children. Kit was tired of the poor quality inns they had seen so far and readily obliged.
Will's home in Stratford consisted of two rooms over a grain merchant's shop on the main street: one room served as the master chamber, the other served as the kitchen, living room, and children's bedchamber. Since Will had been unable to send word in advance, their visit surprised Anne.
Anne had lank, mouse-brown hair, a matronly frame and strong wrists. Older than the two men, she exuded a demure confidence and moved about languorously. She was quickly overjoyed to see Will after so many months away in London and scolded him gently for not replying promptly enough to her letters. Towards Kit, she played the generous hostess and took every care to make him feel at home. Though her kitchen was mean, she prepared them all a delicious pea soup, and rapidly cooked some parsnips to go with a smoked ham she'd been saving. For desert, they shared half an apple tart – the crust brittle and golden, yet creamy to the palate. Kit said it was the best meal he'd ever tasted.
As for the children, little Judith took a liking to Kit immediately: he couldn't sit down without her climbing up onto his knee, and before bed she’d enticed him in to telling her a story. Hamnet, her twin brother, was poorly with stomach cramps and lay confined to his bed in the corner. In contrast, Susana, though only ten years old, was the eldest child and had already acquired a degree of maturity. She followed her mother everywhere. When asked a question, she stood on the spot with her hands precociously clasped behind her back and answered in an articulate, serious manner.
In the late evening hours, once the children were asleep, Anne, Will, and Kit sat around the fire and chatted over pewter cups brimful with Brandywine. Will and Anne snuggled together, and hardly a moment passed when Will didn't dote on her in some way – refilling her cup, picking off the crumbs from the coarse fabric of her dress, or stroking her hand. Kit watched them with a smile. The next day, when he and Will started back on the road, he told Anne he was sorry to leave and he meant it deeply.
During the second half of the journey, the countryside became full of heaths and windswept pastures, and the roads pressed through the dips and rises of wide, bare-back hills. Fields now lay vast and open, studded with soft black molehills and pale, twisting long grasses. Horsechestnuts
“May I see?” said Will hopefully.
“If you must.” Kit replied. He kept his hand on the page but tilted it so Will could read.
As Will sped through the final lines, he hummed to himself and put a finger on his lip.
“How about: Since Hero’s time hath half the world been black.”
Kit nodded gently as if running the words over in his mind.
“Half the world... been black... I don’t know...”
With a reluctant smile, he turned and gave Will a sardonic look.
“Bob Green was right,” said Kit.
“What about?”
“You are an upstart crow.”
Will grinned back at him.
“Well, this crow's famished right about now.”
“You’re always hungry.”
“No, I’m not. When are we stopping?”
Before Kit could answer, the carriage wheels found the smooth dirt road of a village and churned to a stop by the village well. Just a few yards up the road was an alehouse. Will gave a cry of joy, quickly packed his work away, leapt out of the carriage, and made straight for the alehouse door. Kit stayed behind briefly. Once he was sure that he was alone he wrote Will's suggestion down to finish the description.
“Upstart crow,” he mumbled to himself with a smile.
The journey up to Cheshire took Kit and Will through the counties of Buckingham, Northampton, and Stafford. Luckily, they rode through Warwickshire and Will suggested they spend a night in Stratford-upon-Avon with his wife Anne and his three children. Kit was tired of the poor quality inns they had seen so far and readily obliged.
Will's home in Stratford consisted of two rooms over a grain merchant's shop on the main street: one room served as the master chamber, the other served as the kitchen, living room, and children's bedchamber. Since Will had been unable to send word in advance, their visit surprised Anne.
Anne had lank, mouse-brown hair, a matronly frame and strong wrists. Older than the two men, she exuded a demure confidence and moved about languorously. She was quickly overjoyed to see Will after so many months away in London and scolded him gently for not replying promptly enough to her letters. Towards Kit, she played the generous hostess and took every care to make him feel at home. Though her kitchen was mean, she prepared them all a delicious pea soup, and rapidly cooked some parsnips to go with a smoked ham she'd been saving. For desert, they shared half an apple tart – the crust brittle and golden, yet creamy to the palate. Kit said it was the best meal he'd ever tasted.
As for the children, little Judith took a liking to Kit immediately: he couldn't sit down without her climbing up onto his knee, and before bed she’d enticed him in to telling her a story. Hamnet, her twin brother, was poorly with stomach cramps and lay confined to his bed in the corner. In contrast, Susana, though only ten years old, was the eldest child and had already acquired a degree of maturity. She followed her mother everywhere. When asked a question, she stood on the spot with her hands precociously clasped behind her back and answered in an articulate, serious manner.
In the late evening hours, once the children were asleep, Anne, Will, and Kit sat around the fire and chatted over pewter cups brimful with Brandywine. Will and Anne snuggled together, and hardly a moment passed when Will didn't dote on her in some way – refilling her cup, picking off the crumbs from the coarse fabric of her dress, or stroking her hand. Kit watched them with a smile. The next day, when he and Will started back on the road, he told Anne he was sorry to leave and he meant it deeply.
During the second half of the journey, the countryside became full of heaths and windswept pastures, and the roads pressed through the dips and rises of wide, bare-back hills. Fields now lay vast and open, studded with soft black molehills and pale, twisting long grasses. Horsechestnuts
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