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In the desolate swamps through which the sluggish Bure crawls reluctantly to mingle its waters with the Yare; by the banks of the Waveney where the little Bungay nunnery had been a refuge for the widow, the forsaken, or the devout for centuries; in the valley of the Nar the Norfolk Holy Land where seven monasteries of one sort or another clustered, each distant from the other but a few short miles among the ooze and sedge and chill loneliness of the Broads, where the tall reeds wave and whisper, and all else is silent the glorious buildings with their sumptuous churches were little better than centres of contagion.
Part of Fred's route lay along the banks of the Yare, not far from its mouth. At a spot where there were many old anchors and cables, old and new trawl-beams, and sundry other seafaring rusty and tarry objects, the young fisherman met a pretty young girl, who stopped suddenly, and, with her large blue eyes expressing unspeakable surprise, exclaimed, "Fred!"
Ther's none knows o' that but yoh an' me. He's safe, Yare is, only fur yoh an' me. Yoh speak the wured an' back he goes to the lock-up. Fur life. D' yoh see?" "I see." "He's tryin' to do right, Yare is." The old man went on, trying not to be eager, and watching Holmes's face. "He's tryin'. Sendin' him back yoh know how that 'll end. Seems like as we'd his soul in our hands.
It's a bad life, Joe Yare's; I wish 'n' 't would be better to the end" He stopped with a wistful look at Holmes, who stood outwardly attentive, but with little thought to waste on Joe Yare. The old coal-digger drummed on the fire-plug uneasily. "Myself, 't was for Lois's sake I thowt on it. To speak plain, yoh'll mind that Stokes affair, th' note Yare brought? Yes?
Elfric, my father, and I stood on our little watch tower at Reedham, and looked out over the wide sea mouth of Yare and Waveney, to the old gray walls of the Roman Burgh on the further shore, and the white gulls cried round us, and the water sparkled in the fresh sea breeze from the north and east, and the bright May-time sun shone warmly on us, and our hearts went out to the sea and its freedom, so that my father said: "Once again is the spirit of Hengist stirring in me, and needs must that you and I take ship, and go on the swan's path even as our forefathers went; let us take the good ship somewhere anywhere to be on the sea again.
Later in the evening you would see an old man coming along, close by the wall, with his head down, a very dark man, with gray, thin hair, Joe Yare, Lois's old father. No one spoke to him, people always were looking away as he passed; and if old Mr. or Mrs. Polston were on the steps when he came up, they would say, "Good-evening, Mr. Yare," very formally, and go away presently.
No doubt it also was known at first as Wintan ceaster; but, as at Winchester, the shorter form Ceaster would naturally be employed in local colloquial usage; and when the chief centre of East Anglian population was removed a few miles north to Norwich, the north wick then a port on the navigable estuary of the Yare the older station sank into insignificance, and was only locally remembered as Caistor.
As he turned to go up the steps, he caught sight of something crouched underneath them in the dark, hiding from him: whether a man or a dog he could not see. He touched it. "What d' ye want, Mas'r?" said a stifled voice. He touched it again with his stick. The man stood upright, back in the shadow: it was old Yare. "Had ye any word wi' me, Mas'r?" He saw the negro's face grow gray with fear.
Off to sea again; lay her off. That will do, for the present; let us yare a little, now, for a change.
We hunted one day alone together, and had ridden far across our nearer lands to find fresh ground, so that we were in the wide forest country that stretches towards Norwich, on the south of the Yare. Maybe we were five miles from the old castle at Caistor.
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