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HOW HORDLE JOHN FOUND A MAN WHOM HE MIGHT FOLLOW.
IF he might not return to Beaulieu within the year, and if his brother's
dogs were to be set upon him if he showed face upon Minstead land, then indeed
he was adrift upon earth. North,
south, east, and west--he might turn where he would, but all was equally chill
and cheerless. The Abbot had rolled
ten silver crowns in a lettuce-leaf and hid them away in the bottom of his
scrip, but that would be a sorry support for twelve long months. In all the
darkness there was but the one bright spot of the sturdy comrades whom he had
left that morning; if he could find them again all would be well.
The afternoon was not very advanced, for all that had befallen him.
When a man is afoot at cock-crow much may be done in the day.
If he walked fast he might yet overtake his friends ere they reached
their destination. He pushed on
therefore, now walking and now running. As
he journeyed he bit into a crust which remained from his Beaulieu bread, and he
washed it down by a draught from a woodland stream.
It was no easy or light thing to journey through this great forest, which
was some twenty miles from east to west and a good sixteen from Bramshaw Woods
in the north to Lymington in the south. Alleyne,
however, had the good fortune to fall in with a woodman, axe upon shoulder,
trudging along in the very direction that he wished to go.
With his guidance he passed the fringe of Bolderwood Walk, famous for old
ash and yew, through Mark Ash with its giant beech-trees, and on through the
Knightwood groves, where the giant oak was already a great tree, but only one of
many comely brothers. They plodded
along together, the woodman and Alleyne, with little talk on either side, for
their thoughts were as far asunder as the poles.
The peasant's gossip had been of the hunt, of the brocken, of the
grayheaded kites that had nested in Wood Fidley, and of the great catch of
herring brought back by the boats of Pitt's Deep.
The clerk's mind was on his brother, on his future--above all on this
strange, fierce, melting, beautiful woman who had broken so suddenly into his
life, and as suddenly passed out of it again.
So distrait was he and so random his answers, that the wood man took to
whistling, and soon branched off upon the track to Burley, leaving Alleyne upon
the main Christchurch road.
Down this he pushed as fast as he might, hoping at every turn and rise to
catch sight of his companions of the morning.
From Vinney Ridge to Rhinefield Walk the woods grow thick and dense up to
the very edges of the track, but beyond the country opens up into broad
dun-colored moors, flecked with clumps of trees, and topping each other in long,
low curves up to the dark lines of forest in the furthest distance.
Clouds of insects danced and buzzed in the golden autumn light, and the
air was full of the piping of the song-birds.
Long, glinting dragonflies shot across the path, or hung tremulous with
gauzy wings and gleaming bodies. Once a white-necked sea eagle soared screaming
high over the traveller's head, and again a flock of brown bustards popped up
from among the bracken, and blundered away in their clumsy fashion, half
running, half flying, with strident cry and whirr of wings.
There were folk, too, to be met upon the road--beggars and couriers,
chapmen and tinkers--cheery fellows for the most part, with a rough jest and
homely greeting for each other and for Alleyne.
Near Shotwood he came upon five seamen, on their way from Poole to
Southampton--rude red-faced men, who shouted at him in a jargon which he could
scarce understand, and held out to him a great pot from which they had been
drinking--nor would they let him pass until he had dipped pannikin in and taken
a mouthful, which set him coughing and choking, with the tears running down his
cheeks. Further on he met a sturdy black-bearded man, mounted on a
brown horse, with a rosary in his right hand and a long two-handed sword
jangling against his stirrup-iron. By
his black robe and the eight-pointed cross upon his sleeve, Alleyne recognized
him as one of the Knights Hospitallers of St. John of Jerusalem, whose
presbytery was at Baddesley. He
held up two fingers as he passed, with a "Benedice, filie meus!"
whereat Alleyne doffed hat and bent knee, looking with much reverence at one who
had devoted his life to the overthrow of the infidel. Poor simple lad! he had
not learned yet that what men are and what men profess to be are very wide
asunder, and that the Knights of St. John, having come into large part of the
riches of the ill-fated Templars, were very much too comfortable to think of
exchanging their palace for a tent, or the cellars of England for the thirsty
deserts of Syria.
Yet ignorance may be more precious than wisdom, for Alleyne as he walked
on braced himself to a higher life by the thought of this other's sacrifice, and
strengthened himself by his example which he could scarce have done had he known
that the Hospitaller's mind ran more upon malmsey than on mamalukes, and on
venison rather than victories.
As he pressed on the plain turned to woods once more in the region of
Wilverley Walk, and a cloud swept up from the south with the sun shining through
the chinks of it. A few great drops
came pattering loudly down, and then in a moment the steady swish of a brisk
shower, with the dripping and dropping of the leaves. Alleyne, glancing round
for shelter, saw a thick and lofty holly- bush, so hollowed out beneath that no
house could have been drier. Under
this canopy of green two men were already squatted, who waved their hands to
Alleyne that he should join them. As
he approached he saw that they had five dried herrings laid out in front of
them, with a great hunch of wheaten bread and a leathern flask full of milk, but
instead of setting to at their food they appeared to have forgot all about it,
and were disputing together with flushed faces and angry gestures. It was easy to see by their dress and manner that they were
two of those wandering students who formed about this time so enormous a
multitude in every country in Europe. The
one was long and thin, with melancholy features, while the other was fat and
sleek, with a loud voice and the air of a man who is not to be gainsaid.
"Come hither, good youth," he cried, "come hither!
Vultus ingenui puer. Heed
not the face of my good coz here. Foenum
habet in cornu, as Dan Horace has it; but I warrant him harmless for all
"Stint your bull's bellowing!" exclaimed the other.
"If it come to Horace, I have a line in my mind:
Loquaces si sapiat---- How doth it run?
The English o't being that a man of sense should ever avoid a great
talker. That being so, if all were
men of sense then thou wouldst be a lonesome man, coz."
"Alas! Dicon, I fear
that your logic is as bad as your philosophy or your divinity--and God wot it
would be hard to say a worse word than that for it.
For, hark ye: granting, propter argumentum, that I am a talker, then the
true reasoning runs that since all men of sense should avoid me, and thou hast
not avoided me, but art at the present moment eating herrings with me under a
holly-bush, ergo you are no man of sense, which is exactly what I have been
dinning into your long ears ever since I first clapped eyes on your sunken
"Tut, tut!" cried the other.
"Your tongue goes like the clapper of a mill-wheel.
Sit down here, friend, and partake of this herring.
Understand first, however, that there are certain conditions attached to
"I had hoped," said Alleyne, falling into the humor of the
twain, "that a tranchoir of bread and a draught of milk might be attached
"Hark to him, hark to him!" cried the little fat man.
"It is even thus, Dicon! Wit,
lad, is a catching thing, like the itch or the sweating sickness.
I exude it round me; it is an aura.
I tell you, coz, that no man can come within seventeen feet of me without
catching a spark. Look at your own
case. A duller man never stepped,
and yet within the week you have said three things which might pass, and one
thing the day we left Fordingbridge which I should not have been ashamed of
"Enough, rattle-pate, enough!" said the other.
"The milk you shall have and the bread also, friend, together with
the herring, but you must hold the scales between us."
"If he hold the herring he holds the scales, my sapient
brother," cried the fat man. "But I pray you, good youth, to tell us whether you are
a learned clerk, and, if so, whether you have studied at Oxenford or at
"I have some small stock of learning," Alleyne answered,
picking at his herring, "but I have been at neither of these places.
I was bred amongst the Cistercian monks at Beaulieu Abbey."
"Pooh, pooh!" they cried both together.
"What sort of an upbringing is that?"
"Non cuivis contingit adire Corinthum," quoth Alleyne.
"Come, brother Stephen, he hath some tincture of letters," said
the melancholy man more hopefully. "He
may be the better judge, since he hath no call to side with either of us.
Now, attention, friend, and let your ears work as well as your nether
jaw. Judex damnatur--you know the
old saw. Here am I upholding the
good fame of the learned Duns Scotus against the foolish quibblings and poor
silly reasonings of Willie Ockham."
"While I," quoth the other loudly, "do maintain the good
sense and extraordinary wisdom of that most learned William against the
crack-brained fantasies of the muddy Scotchman, who hath hid such little wit as
he has under so vast a pile of words, that it is like one drop of Gascony in a
firkin of ditch-water. Solomon his wisdom would not suffice to say what the rogue
"Certes, Stephen Hapgood, his wisdom doth not suffice," cried
the other. "It is as though a
mole cried out against the morning star, because he could not see it.
But our dispute, friend, is concerning the nature of that subtle essence
which we call thought. For I hold
with the learned Scotus that thought is in very truth a thing, even as vapor or
fumes, or many other substances which our gross bodily eyes are blind to.
For, look you, that which produces a thing must be itself a thing, and if
a man's thought may produce a written book, then must thought itself be a
material thing, even as the book is. Have
I expressed it? Do I make it
"Whereas I hold," shouted the other, "with my revered
preceptor, doctor, preclarus et excellentissimus, that all things are but
thought; for when thought is gone I prythee where are the things then?
Here are trees about us, and I see them because I think I see them, but
if I have swooned, or sleep, or am in wine, then, my thought having gone forth
from me, lo the trees go forth also. How now, coz, have I touched thee on the
Alleyne sat between them munching his bread, while the twain disputed
across his knees, leaning forward with flushed faces and darting hands, in all
the heat of argument. Never had he heard such jargon of scholastic philosophy, such
fine-drawn distinctions, such cross-fire of major and minor, proposition,
syllogism, attack and refutation. Question
clattered upon answer like a sword on a buckler.
The ancients, the fathers of the Church, the moderns, the Scriptures, the
Arabians, were each sent hurtling against the other, while the rain still
dripped and the dark holly-leaves glistened with the moisture.
At last the fat man seemed to weary of it, for he set to work quietly
upon his meal, while his opponent, as proud as the rooster who is left
unchallenged upon the midden, crowed away in a last long burst of quotation and
deduction. Suddenly, however, his
eyes dropped upon his food, and he gave a howl of dismay.
"You double thief!" he cried, "you have eaten my herrings,
and I without bite or sup since morning."
"That," quoth the other complacently, "was my final
argument, my crowning effort, or peroratio, as the orators have it.
For, coz, since all thoughts are things, you have but to think a pair of
herrings, and then conjure up a pottle of milk wherewith to wash them
"A brave piece of reasoning," cried the other, "and I know
of but one reply to it." On
which, leaning forward, he caught his comrade a rousing smack across his rosy
cheek. "Nay, take it not
amiss," he said, "since all things are but thoughts, then that also is
but a thought and may be disregarded."
This last argument, however, by no means commended itself to the pupil of
Ockham, who plucked a great stick from the ground and signified his dissent by
smiting the realist over the pate with it.
By good fortune, the wood was so light and rotten that it went to a
thousand splinters, but Alleyne thought it best to leave the twain to settle the
matter at their leisure, the more so as the sun was shining brightly once more.
Looking back down the pool-strewn road, he saw the two excited
philosophers waving their hands and shouting at each other, but their babble
soon became a mere drone in the distance, and a turn in the road hid them from
And now after passing Holmesley Walk and the Wooton Heath, the forest
began to shred out into scattered belts of trees, with gleam of corn-field and
stretch of pasture-land between. Here
and there by the wayside stood little knots of wattle-and-daub huts with
shock-haired laborers lounging by the doors and red- cheeked children sprawling
in the roadway. Back among the groves he could see the high gable ends and
thatched roofs of the franklin's houses, on whose fields these men found
employment, or more often a thick dark column of smoke marked their position and
hinted at the coarse plenty within. By
these signs Alleyne knew that he was on the very fringe of the forest, and
therefore no great way from Christchurch. The sun was lying low in the west and shooting its level rays
across the long sweep of rich green country, glinting on the white-fleeced sheep
and throwing long shadows from the red kine who waded knee-deep in the juicy
clover. Right glad was the
traveller to see the high tower of Christchurch Priory gleaming in the mellow
evening light, and gladder still when, on rounding a corner, he came upon his
comrades of the morning seated astraddle upon a fallen tree. They had a flat
space before them, on which they alternately threw little square pieces of bone,
and were so intent upon their occupation that they never raised eye as he
approached them. He observed with
astonishment, as he drew near, that the archer's bow was on John's back, the
archer's sword by John's side, and the steel cap laid upon the tree-trunk
"Mort de ma vie!" Aylward shouted, looking down at the dice.
"Never had I such cursed luck. A
murrain on the bones! I have not
thrown a good main since I left Navarre. A
one and a three! En avant, camarade!"
"Four and three," cried Hordle John, counting on his great
fingers, "that makes seven. Ho,
archer, I have thy cap! Now have at
thee for thy jerkin!"
"Mon Dieu!" he growled, "I am like to reach Christchurch
in my shirt." Then suddenly
glancing up, "Hola, by the splendor of heaven, here is our cher petit!
Now, by my ten finger bones! this is a rare sight to mine eyes."
He sprang up and threw his arms round Alleyne's neck, while John, no less
pleased, but more backward and Saxon in his habits, stood grinning and bobbing
by the wayside, with his newly won steel cap stuck wrong side foremost upon his
tangle of red hair.
"Hast come to stop?" cried the bowman, patting Alleyne all over
in his delight. "Shall not get away from us again!"
"I wish no better," said he, with a pringling in the eyes at
this hearty greeting.
"Well said, lad!" cried big John.
"We three shall to the wars together, and the devil may fly away
with the Abbot of Beaulieu! But your feet and hosen are all besmudged.
Hast been in the water, or I am the more mistaken."
"I have in good sooth," Alleyne answered, and then as they
journeyed on their way he told them the many things that had befallen him, his
meeting with the villein, his sight of the king, his coming upon his brother,
with all the tale of the black welcome and of the fair damsel.
They strode on either side, each with an ear slanting towards him, but
ere he had come to the end of his story the bowman had spun round upon his heel,
and was hastening back the way they had come, breathing loudly through his nose.
"What then?" asked Alleyne, trotting after him and gripping at
"I am back for Minstead, lad."
"And why, in the name of sense?"
"To thrust a handful of steel into the Socman.
What! hale a demoiselle against her will, and then loose dogs at his own
brother! Let me go!"
"Nenny, nenny!" cried Alleyne, laughing.
"There was no scath done. Come
back, friend"--and so, by mingled pushing and entreaties, they got his head
round for Christchurch once more. Yet he walked with his chin upon his shoulder,
until, catching sight of a maiden by a wayside well, the smiles came back to his
face and peace to his heart.
"But you," said Alleyne, "there have been changes with you
also. Why should not the workman carry his tools?
Where are bow and sword and cap--and why so warlike, John?"
"It is a game which friend Aylward hath been a-teaching of me."
"And I found him an over-apt pupil," grumbled the bowman.
"He hath stripped me as though I had fallen into the hands of the
tardvenus. But, by my hilt! you
must render them back to me, camarade, lest you bring discredit upon my mission,
and I will pay you for them at armorers' prices."
"Take them back, man, and never heed the pay," said John.
"I did but wish to learn the feel of them, since I am like to have
such trinkets hung to my own girdle for some years to come."
"Ma foi, he was born for a fr companion!" cried Aylward,
"He hath the very trick of speech and turn of thought.
I take them back then, and indeed it gives me unease not to feel my
yew-stave tapping against my leg bone. But
see, mes garcons, on this side of the church rises the square and darkling tower
of Earl Salisbury's castle, and even from here I seem to see on yonder banner
the red roebuck of the Montacutes."
"Red upon white," said Alleyne, shading his eyes; "but
whether roebuck or no is more than I could vouch.
How black is the great tower, and how bright the gleam of arms upon the
wall! See below the flag, how it twinkles like a star!"
"Aye, it is the steel head-piece of the watchman," remarked the
archer. "But we must on, if we
are to be there before the drawbridge rises at the vespers bugle; for it is
likely that sir Nigel, being so renowned a soldier, may keep hard discipline
within the walls, and let no man enter after sundown."
So saying, he quickened his pace, and the three comrades were soon close
to the straggling and broad-spread town which centered round the noble church
and the frowning castle.
It chanced on that very evening that Sir Nigel Loring, having supped
before sunset, as was his custom, and having himself seen that Pommers and
Cadsand, his two war-horses, with the thirteen hacks, the five jennets, my
lady's three palfreys, and the great dapple-gray roussin, had all their needs
supplied, had taken his dogs for an evening breather.
Sixty or seventy of them, large and small, smooth and shaggy--deer-hound,
boar-hound, blood- hound, wolf-hound, mastiff, alaun, talbot, lurcher, terrier,
spaniel--snapping, yelling and whining, with score of lolling tongues and waving
tails, came surging down the narrow lane which leads from the Twynham kennels to
the bank of Avon. Two russet- clad
varlets, with loud halloo and cracking whips, walked thigh- deep amid the swarm,
guiding, controlling, and urging. Behind
came Sir Nigel himself, with Lady Loring upon his arm, the pair walking slowly
and sedately, as befitted both their age and their condition, while they watched
with a smile in their eyes the scrambling crowd in front of them.
They paused, however, at the bridge, and, leaning their elbows upon the
stonework, they stood looking down at their own faces in the glassy stream, and
at the swift flash of speckled trout against the tawny gravel.
Sir Nigel was a slight man of poor stature, with soft lisping voice and
gentle ways. So short was he that
his wife, who was no very tall woman, had the better of him by the breadth of
three fingers. His sight having
been injured in his early wars by a basketful of lime which had been emptied
over him when he led the Earl of Derby's stormers up the breach at Bergerac, he
had contracted something of a stoop, with a blinking, peering expression of
face. His age was six and forty,
but the constant practice of arms. together with a cleanly life, had preserved his activity and
endurance unimpaired, so that from a distance he seemed to have the slight limbs
and swift grace of a boy. His face,
however, was tanned of a dull yellow tint, with a leathery, poreless look, which
spoke of rough outdoor doings, and the little pointed beard which he wore, in
deference to the prevailing fashion, was streaked and shot with gray.
His features were small, delicate, and regular, with clear-cut, curving
nose, and eyes which jutted forward from the lids.
His dress was simple and yet spruce.
A Flandrish hat of beevor, bearing in the band the token of Our Lady of
Embrun, was drawn low upon the left side to hide that ear which had been partly
shorn from his head by a Flemish man-at-arms in a camp broil before Tournay.
His cote-hardie, or tunic, and trunk-hosen were of a purple plum color,
with long weepers which hung from either sleeve to below his knees.
His shoes were of red leather, daintily pointed at the toes, but not yet
prolonged to the extravagant lengths which the succeeding reign was to bring
into fashion. A gold-embroidered
belt of knighthood encircled his loins, with his arms, five roses gules on a
field argent, cunningly worked upon the clasp.
So stood Sir Nigel Loring upon the bridge of Avon, and talked lightly
with his lady.
And, certes, had the two visages alone been seen, and the stranger been
asked which were the more likely to belong to the bold warrior whose name was
loved by the roughest soldiery of Europe, he had assuredly selected the lady's.
Her face was large and square and red, with fierce, thick brows, and the
eyes of one who was accustomed to rule. Taller
and broader than her husband, her flowing gown of sendall, and fur-lined tippet,
could not conceal the gaunt and ungraceful outlines of her figure.
It was the age of martial women. The
deeds of black Agnes of Dunbar, of Lady Salisbury and of the Countess of
Montfort, were still fresh in the public minds.
With such examples before them the wives of the English captains had
become as warlike as their mates, and ordered their castles in their absence
with the prudence and discipline of veteran seneschals.
Right easy were the Montacutes of their Castle of Twynham, and little had
they to dread from roving galley or French squadron, while Lady Mary Loring had
the ordering of it. Yet even in
that age it was thought that, though a lady might have a soldier's heart, it was
scarce as well that she should have a soldier's face.
There were men who said that of all the stern passages and daring deeds
by which Sir Nigel Loring had proved the true temper of his courage, not the
least was his wooing and winning of so forbidding a dame.
"I tell you, my fair lord," she was saying, "that it is no
fit training for a demoiselle: hawks and hounds, rotes and citoles singing a
French rondel, or reading the Gestes de Doon de Mayence, as I found her
yesternight, pretending sleep, the artful, with the corner of the scroll
thrusting forth from under her pillow. Lent
her by Father Christopher of the priory, forsooth --that is ever her answer.
How shall all this help her when she has castle of her own to keep, with
a hundred mouths all agape for beef and beer?"
"True, my sweet bird, true," answered the knight, picking a
comfit from his gold drageoir. "The
maid is like the young filly, which kicks heels and plunges for very lust of
life. Give her time, dame, give her time."
"Well, I know that my father would have given me, not time, but a
good hazel-stick across my shoulders. Ma
foi! I know not what the world is
coming to, when young maids may flout their elders. I wonder that you do not
correct her, my fair lord."
"Nay, my heart's comfort, I never raised hand to woman yet, and it
would be a passing strange thing if I began on my own flesh and blood.
It was a woman's hand which cast this lime into mine eyes, and though I
saw her stoop, and might well have stopped her ere she threw, I deemed it
unworthy of my knighthood to hinder or balk one of her sex."
"The hussy!" cried Lady Loring clenching her broad right hand.
"I would I had been at the side of her!"
"And so would I, since you would have been the nearer me my own. But
I doubt not that you are right, and that Maude's wings need clipping, which I
may leave in your hands when I am gone, for, in sooth, this peaceful life is not
for me, and were it not for your gracious kindness and loving care I could not
abide it a week. I hear that there is talk of warlike muster at Bordeaux once
more, and by St. Paul! it would be a new thing if the lions of England and the
red pile of Chandos were to be seen in the field, and the roses of Loring were
not waving by their side."
"Now wo worth me but I feared it!" cried she, with the color
all struck from her face. "I have noted your absent mind, your kindling eye, your
trying and rivetting of old harness. Consider
my sweet lord, that you have already won much honor, that we have seen but
little of each other, that you bear upon your body the scar of over twenty
wounds received in I know not how many bloody encounters.
Have you not done enough for honor and the public cause?"
"My lady, when our liege lord, the king, at three score years, and
my Lord Chandos at three-score and ten, are blithe and ready to lay lance in
rest for England's cause, it would ill be-seem me to prate of service done.
It is sooth that I have received seven and twenty wounds. There is the more reason that I should be thankful that I am
still long of breath and sound in limb. I
have also seen some bickering and scuffling. Six great land battles I count, with four upon sea, and seven
and fifty onfalls, skirmishes and bushments.
I have held two and twenty towns, and I have been at the intaking of
thirty-one. Surely then it would be
bitter shame to me, and also to you, since my fame is yours, that I should now
hold back if a man's work is to be done. Besides, bethink you how low is our
purse, with bailiff and reeve ever croaking of empty farms and wasting lands.
Were it not for this constableship which the Earl of Salisbury hath
bestowed upon us we could scarce uphold the state which is fitting to our
degree. Therefore, my sweeting, there is the more need that I should
turn to where there is good pay to be earned and brave ransoms to be won."
"Ah, my dear lord," quoth she, with sad, weary eyes.
"I thought that at last I had you to mine own self, even though your
youth had been spent afar from my side. Yet
my voice, as I know well, should speed you on to glory and renown, not hold you
back when fame is to be won. Yet
what can I say, for all men know that your valor needs the curb and not the
spur. It goes to my heart that you
should ride forth now a mere knight bachelor, when there is no noble in the land
who hath so good a claim to the square pennon, save only that you have not the
money to uphold it."
"And whose fault that, my sweet bird?" said he.
"No fault, my fair lord, but a virtue: for how many rich ransoms
have you won, and yet have scattered the crowns among page and archer and
varlet, until in a week you had not as much as would buy food and forage.
It is a most knightly largesse, and yet withouten money how can man
"Dirt and dross!" cried he.
"What matter rise or fall, so that duty be done and honor gained.
Banneret or bachelor, square pennon or forked, I would not give a denier for the
difference, and the less since Sir John Chandos, chosen flower of English
chivalry, is himself but a humble knight. But
meanwhile fret not thyself, my heart's dove, for it is like that there may be no
war waged, and we must await the news. But
here are three strangers, and one, as I take it, a soldier fresh from service.
It is likely that he may give us word of what is stirring over the
Lady Loring, glancing up, saw in the fading light three companions
walking abreast down the road, all gray with dust, and stained with travel, yet
chattering merrily between themselves. He in the midst was young and comely,
with boyish open face and bright gray eyes, which glanced from right to left as
though he found the world around him both new and pleasing.
To his right walked a huge red-headed man, with broad smile and merry
twinkle, whose clothes seemed to be bursting and splitting at every seam, as
though he were some lusty chick who was breaking bravely from his shell.
On the other side, with his knotted hand upon the young man's shoulder,
came a stout and burly archer, brown and fierce eyed, with sword at belt and
long yellow yew-stave peeping over his shoulder.
Hard face, battered head piece, dinted brigandine, with faded red lion of
St. George ramping on a discolored ground, all proclaimed as plainly as words
that he was indeed from the land of war. He
looked keenly at Sir Nigel as he approached, and then, plunging his hand under
his breastplate, he stepped up to him with a rough, uncouth bow to the lady.
"Your pardon, fair sir," said he, "but I know you the
moment I clap eyes on you, though in sooth I have seen you oftener in steel than
in velvet. I have drawn string
besides you at La Roche-d'Errien, Romorantin, Maupertuis, Nogent, Auray, and
"Then, good archer, I am right glad to welcome you to Twynham
Castle, and in the steward s room you will find provant for yourself and
comrades. To me also your face is
known, though mine eyes play such tricks with me that I can scarce be sure of my
own squire. Rest awhile, and you
shall come to the hall anon and tell us what is passing in France, for I have
heard that it is likely that our pennons may flutter to the south of the great
Spanish mountains ere another year be passed."
"There was talk of it in Bordeaux," answered the archer,
"and I saw myself that the armorers and smiths were as busy as rats in a
wheat-rick. But I bring you this letter from the valiant Gascon knight,
Sir Claude Latour. And to you,
Lady," he added after a pause, "I bring from him this box of red sugar
of Narbonne, with every courteous and knightly greeting which a gallant cavalier
may make to a fair and noble dame."
This little speech had cost the blunt bowman much pains and planning; but
he might have spared his breath, for the lady was quite as much absorbed as her
lord in the letter, which they held between them, a hand on either corner,
spelling it out very slowly, with drawn brows and muttering lips.
As they read it, Alleyne, who stood with Hordle John a few paces back
from their comrade, saw the lady catch her breath, while the knight laughed
softly to himself.
"You see, dear heart," said he, "that they will not leave
the old dog in his kennel when the game is afoot.
And what of this White Company, archer?"
"Ah, sir, you speak of dogs," cried Aylward; "but there
are a pack of lusty hounds who are ready for any quarry, if they have but a good
huntsman to halloo them on. Sir, we
have been in the wars together, and I have seen many a brave following but never
such a set of woodland boys as this. They
do but want you at their head, and who will bar the way to them!"
"Pardieu!" said Sir Nigel, "if they are all like their
messenger, they are indeed men of whom a leader may be proud.
Your name, good archer?"
"Sam Aylward, sir, of the Hundred of Easebourne and the Rape of
"And this giant behind you?"
"He is big John, of Hordle, a forest man, who hath now taken service
in the Company."
"A proper figure of a man at-arms," said the little knight.
"Why, man, you are no chicken, yet I warrant him the stronger man.
See to that great stone from the coping which hath fallen upon the
bridge. Four of my lazy varlets
strove this day to carry it hence. I
would that you two could put them to shame by budging it, though I fear that I
overtask you, for it is of a grievous weight."
He pointed as he spoke to a huge rough-hewn block which lay by the
roadside, deep sunken from its own weight in the reddish earth.
The archer approached it, rolling back the sleeves of his jerkin, but
with no very hopeful countenance, for indeed it was a mighty rock.
John, however, put him aside with his left hand, and, stooping over the
stone, he plucked it single-handed from its soft bed and swung it far into the
stream. There it fell with mighty
splash, one jagged end peaking out above the surface, while the waters bubbled
and foamed with far-circling eddy.
"Good lack!" cried Sir Nigel, and "Good lack!" cried
his lady, while John stood laughing and wiping the caked dirt from his fingers.
"I have felt his arms round my ribs," said the bowman,
"and they crackle yet at the thought of it.
This other comrade of mine is a right learned clerk, for all that he is
so young, hight Alleyne, the son of Edric, brother to the Socman of
"Young man," quoth Sir Nigel, sternly, "if you are of the
same way of thought as your brother, you may not pass under portcullis of
"Nay, fair sir," cried Aylward hastily, "I will be pledge
for it that they have no thought in common; for this very day his brother hath
set his dogs upon him, and driven him from his lands."
"And are you, too, of the White Company?" asked Sir Nigel.
"Hast had small experience of war, if I may judge by your looks and
"I would fain to France with my friends here," Alleyne
answered; "but I am a man of peace--a reader, exorcist, acolyte, and
"That need not hinder," quoth Sir Nigel.
"No, fair sir," cried the bowman joyously.
"Why, I myself have served two terms with Arnold de Cervolles, he
whom they called the archpriest. By
my hilt! I have seen him ere now, with monk's gown trussed to his knees, over
his sandals in blood in the fore- front of the battle.
Yet, ere the last string had twanged, he would be down on his four bones
among the stricken, and have them all houseled and shriven, as quick as shelling
peas. Ma foi! there were those who
wished that he would have less care for their souls and a little more for their
"It is well to have a learned clerk in every troop," said Sir
Nigel. "By St. Paul, there are
men so caitiff that they think more of a scrivener's pen than of their lady's
smile, and do their devoir in hopes that they may fill a line in a chronicle or
make a tag to a jongleur's romance. I
remember well that, at the siege of Retters, there was a little, sleek, fat
clerk of the name of Chaucer, who was so apt at rondel, sirvente, or tonson,
that no man dare give back a foot from the walls, lest he find it all set down
in his rhymes and sung by every underling and varlet in the camp.
But, my soul's bird, you hear me prate as though all were decided, when I
have not yet taken counsel either with you or with my lady mother.
Let us to the chamber, while these strangers find such fare as pantry and
cellar may furnish."
"The night air strikes chill," said the lady, and turned down
the road with her hand upon her lord's arm.
The three comrades dropped behind and followed: Aylward much the lighter
for having accomplished his mission, Alleyne full of wonderment at the humble
bearing of so renowned a captain, and John loud with snorts and sneers, which
spoke his disappointment and contempt.
"What ails the man?" asked Aylward in surprise.
"I have been cozened and bejaped," quoth he gruffly.
"By whom, Sir Samson the strong?"
"By thee, Sir Balaam the false prophet."
"By my hilt!" cried the archer, I though I be not Balaam, yet I
hold converse with the very creature that spake to him.
What is amiss, then, and how have I played you false?"
"Why, marry, did you not say, and Alleyne here will be my witness,
that, if I would hie to the wars with you, you would place me under a leader who
was second to none in all England for valor?
Yet here you bring me to a shred of a man, peaky and ill- nourished, with
eyes like a moulting owl, who must needs, forsooth, take counsel with his mother
ere he buckle sword to girdle."
"Is that where the shoe galls?" cried the bowman, and laughed
aloud. "I will ask you what
you think of him three months hence, if we be all alive; for sure I am
Aylward's words were interrupted by an extraordinary hubbub which broke
out that instant some little way down the street in the direction of the Priory.
There was deep-mouthed shouting of men, frightened shrieks of women,
howling and barking of curs, and over all a sullen, thunderous rumble,
indescribably menacing and terrible. Round
the corner of the narrow street there came rushing a brace of whining dogs with
tails tucked under their legs, and after them a white-faced burgher, with
outstretched hands and wide-spread fingers, his hair all abristle and his eyes
glinting back from one shoulder to the other, as though some great terror were
at his very heels. "Fly, my
lady, fly!" he screeched, and whizzed past them like bolt from bow; while
close behind came lumbering a huge black bear, with red tongue lolling from his
mouth, and a broken chain jangling behind him.
To right and left the folk flew for arch and doorway.
Hordle John caught up the Lady Loring as though she had been a feather,
and sprang with her into an open porch; while Aylward, with a whirl of French
oaths, plucked at his quiver and tried to unsling his bow. Alleyne, all unnerved
at so strange and unwonted a sight, shrunk up against the wall with his eyes
fixed upon the frenzied creature, which came bounding along with ungainly speed,
looking the larger in the uncertain light, its huge jaws agape, with blood and
slaver trickling to the ground. Sir
Nigel alone, unconscious to all appearance of the universal panic, walked with
unfaltering step up the centre of the road, a silken handkerchief in one hand
and his gold comfit-box in the other. It sent the blood cold through Alleyne's
veins to see that as they came together--the man and the beast--the creature
reared up, with eyes ablaze with fear and hate, and whirled its great paws above
the knight to smite him to the earth. He,
however, blinking with puckered eyes, reached up his kerchief, and flicked the
beast twice across the snout with it. "Ah,
saucy! saucy," quoth he, with gentle chiding; on which the bear, uncertain
and puzzled, dropped its four legs to earth again, and, waddling back, was soon
swathed in ropes by the bear-ward and a crowd of peasants who had been in close
A scared man was the keeper; for, having chained the brute to a stake
while he drank a stoup of ale at the inn, it had been baited by stray curs,
until, in wrath and madness, it had plucked loose the chain, and smitten or
bitten all who came in its path. Most scared of all was he to find that the
creature had come nigh to harm the Lord and Lady of the castle, who had power to
place him in the stretch-neck or to have the skin scourged from his shoulders.
Yet, when he came with bowed head and humble entreaty for forgiveness, he
was met with a handful of small silver from Sir Nigel, whose dame, however, was
less charitably disposed, being much ruffled in her dignity by the manner in
which she had been hustled from her lord's side.
As they passed through the castle gate, John plucked at Aylward's sleeve,
and the two fell behind.
"I must crave your pardon, comrade," said he, bluntly.
"I was a fool not to know that a little rooster may be the gamest.
I believe that this man is indeed a leader whom we may follow."
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