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CHAPTER XVIII.
HOW SIR NIGEL LORING PUT A PATCH UPON HIS EYE.
IT was on the morning of Friday, the eight-and twentieth day of November,
two days before the feast of St. Andrew, that the cog and her two prisoners,
after a weary tacking up the Girondo and the Garonne, dropped anchor at last in
front of the noble city of Bordeaux. With
wonder and admiration, Alleyne, leaning over the bulwarks, gazed at the forest
of masts, the swarm of boats darting hither and thither on the bosom of the
broad curving stream, and the gray crescent-shaped city which stretched with
many a tower and minaret along the western shore.
Never had he in his quiet life seen so great a town, nor was there in the
whole of England, save London alone, one which might match it in size or in
wealth. Here came the merchandise
of all the fair countries which are watered by the Garonne and the Dordogne--the
cloths of the south, the skins of Guienne, the wines of the Medoc--to be borne
away to Hull, Exeter, Dartmouth, Bristol or Chester, in exchange for the wools
and woolfels of England. Here too
dwelt those famous smelters and welders who had made the Bordeaux steel the most
trusty upon earth, and could give a temper to lance or to sword which might mean
dear life to its owner. Alleyne
could see the smoke of their forges reeking up in the clear morning air.
The storm had died down now to a gentle breeze, which wafted to his ears
the long-drawn stirring bugle-calls which sounded from the ancient ramparts.
"Hola, mon petit!" said Aylward, coming up to where he stood.
"Thou art a squire now, and like enough to win the golden spurs, while I am
still the master-bowman, and master-bowman I shall bide.
I dare scarce wag my tongue so freely with you as when we tramped
together past Wilverley Chase, else I might be your guide now, for indeed I know
every house in Bordeaux as a friar knows the beads on his rosary."
"Nay, Aylward," said Alleyne, laying his hand upon the sleeve
of his companion's frayed jerkin, "you cannot think me so thrall as to
throw aside an old friend because I have had some small share of good fortune.
I take it unkind that you should have thought such evil of me."
"Nay, mon gar. 'Twas
but a flight shot to see if the wind blew steady, though I were a rogue to doubt
it."
"Why, had I not met you, Aylward, at the Lynhurst inn, who can say
where I had now been! Certes, I had not gone to Twynham Castle, nor become
squire to Sir Nigel, nor met----" He paused abruptly and flushed to his
hair, but the bowman was too busy with his own thoughts to notice his young
companion's embarrassment.
"It was a good hostel, that of the 'Pied Merlin,' " he
remarked. "By my ten finger bones! when I hang bow on nail and change my
brigandine for a tunic, I might do worse than take over the dame and her
business."
"I thought," said Alleyne, "that you were betrothed to
some one at Christchurch."
"To three," Aylward answered moodily, "to three.
I fear I may not go back to Christchurch.
I might chance to see hotter service in Hampshire than I have ever done
in Gascony. But mark you now yonder
lofty turret in the centre, which stands back from the river and hath a broad
banner upon the summit. See the
rising sun flashes full upon it and sparkles on the golden lions.
'Tis the royal banner of England, crossed by the prince's label.
There he dwells in the Abbey of St. Andrew, where he hath kept his court
these years back. Beside it is the
minster of the same saint, who hath the town under his very special care."
"And how of yon gray turret on the left?"
" 'Tis the fane of St. Michael, as that upon the right is of St.
Remi. There, too, above the poop of
yonder nief, you see the towers of Saint Croix and of Pey Berland.
Mark also the mighty ramparts which are pierced by the three water-gates,
and sixteen others to the landward side."
"And how is it, good Aylward, that there comes so much music from
the town? I seem to hear a hundred
trumpets, all calling in chorus."
"It would be strange else, seeing that all the great lords of
England and of Gascony are within the walls, and each would have his trumpeter
blow as loud as his neighbor, lest it might be thought that his dignity had been
abated. Ma foi! they make as much
louster as a Scotch army, where every man fills himself with girdle-cakes, and
sits up all night to blow upon the toodle-pipe. See all along the banks how the
pages water the horses, and there beyond the town how they gallop them over the
plain! For every horse you see a
belted knight hath herbergage in the town, for, as I learn, the men-at-arms and
archers have already gone forward to Dax."
"I trust, Aylward," said Sir Nigel, coming upon deck,
"that the men are ready for the land.
Go tell them that the boats will be for them within the hour."
The archer raised his hand in salute, and hastened forward.
In the meantime Sir Oliver had followed his brother knight, and the two
paced the poop together, Sir Nigel in his plum-colored velvet suit with flat cap
of the same, adorned in front with the Lady Loring's glove and girt round with a
curling ostrich feather. The lusty knight, on the other hand, was clad in the
very latest mode, with cote-hardie, doublet, pourpoint, courtpie, and paltock of
olive-green, picked out with pink and jagged at the edges.
A red chaperon or cap, with long hanging cornette, sat daintily on the
back of his black-curled head, while his gold-hued shoes were twisted up a la
poulaine, as though the toes were shooting forth a tendril which might hope in
time to entwine itself around his massive leg.
"Once more, Sir Oliver," said Sir Nigel, looking shorewards
with sparkling eyes, "do we find ourselves at the gate of honor, the door
which hath so often led us to all that is knightly and worthy.
There flies the prince's banner, and it would be well that we haste
ashore and pay our obeisance to him. The
boats already swarm from the bank."
"There is a goodly hostel near the west gate, which is famed for the
stewing of spiced pullets," remarked Sir Oliver.
"We might take the edge of our hunger off ere we seek the prince,
for though his tables are gay with damask and silver he is no trencherman
himself, and hath no sympathy for those who are his betters."
"His betters!"
"His betters before the tranchoir, lad.
Sniff not treason where none is meant.
I have seen him smile in his quiet way because I had looked for the
fourth time towards the carving squire. And
indeed to watch him dallying with a little gobbet of bread, or sipping his cup
of thrice-watered wine, is enough to make a man feel shame at his own hunger.
Yet war and glory, my good friend, though well enough in their way, will
not serve to tighten such a belt as clasps my waist."
"How read you that coat which hangs over yonder galley,
Alleyne?" asked Sir Nigel.
"Argent, a bend vert between cotises dancette gules."
"It is a northern coat. I
have seen it in the train of the Percies. From
the shields, there is not one of these vessels which hath not knight or baron
aboard. I would mine eyes were
better. How read you this upon the
left?"
"Argent and azure, a barry wavy of six."
"Ha, it is the sign of the Wiltshire Stourtons!
And there beyond I see the red and silver of the Worsleys of
Apuldercombe, who like myself are of Hampshire lineage, Close behind us is the
moline cross of the gallant William Molyneux, and beside it the bloody chevrons
of the Norfork Woodhouses, with the amulets of the Musgraves of Westmoreland.
By St. Paul! it would be a very strange thing if so noble a company were
to gather without some notable deed of arms arising from it.
And here is our boat, Sir Oliver, so it seems best to me that we should
go to the abbey with our squires, leaving Master Hawtayne to have his own way in
the unloading."
The horses both of knights and squires were speedily lowered into a broad
lighter, and reached the shore almost as soon as their masters.
Sir Nigel bent his knee devoutly as he put foot on land, and taking a
small black patch from his bosom he bound it tightly over his left eye.
"May the blessed George and the memory of my sweet lady-love raise
high my heart!" quoth he. "And
as a token I vow that I will not take this patch from my eye until I have seen
something of this country of Spain, and done such a small deed as it lies in me
to do. And this I swear upon the
cross of my sword and upon the glove of my lady."
"In truth, you take me back twenty years, Nigel," quoth Sir
Oliver, as they mounted and rode slowly through the water-gate. "After
Cadsand, I deem that the French thought that we were an army of the blind, for
there was scarce a man who had not closed an eye for the greater love and honor
of his lady. Yet it goes hard with
you that you should darken one side, when with both open you can scarce tell a
horse from a mule. In truth, friend, I think that you step over the line of
reason in this matter."
"Sir Oliver Buttesthorn," said the little knight shortly,
"I would have you to understand that, blind as I am, I can yet see the path
of honor very clearly, and that that is the road upon which I do not crave
another man's guidance."
"By my soul," said Sir Oliver, "you are as tart as
verjuice this morning! If you are bent upon a quarrel with me I must leave you to
your humor and drop into the 'Tete d'Or' here, for I marked a varlet pass the
door who bare a smoking dish, which had, methought, a most excellent
smell."
"Nenny, nenny," cried his comrade, laying his hand upon his
knee; "we have known each other over long to fall out, Oliver, like two raw
pages at their first epreuves. You
must come with me first to the prince, and then back to the hostel; though sure
I am that it would grieve his heart that any gentle cavalier should turn from
his board to a common tavern. But
is not that my Lord Delewar who waves to us?
Ha! my fair lord, God and Our Lady be with you!
And there is Sir Robert Cheney. Good-morrow,
Robert! I am right glad to see you."
The two knights walked their horses abreast, while Alleyne and Ford, with
John Northbury, who was squire to Sir Oliver, kept some paces behind them, a
spear's-length in front of Black Simon and of the Winchester guidon-bearer.
Northbury, a lean, silent man, had been to those parts before, and sat
his hosse with a rigid neck; but the two young squires gazed eagerly to right or
left, and plucked each other's sleeves to call attention to the many strange
things on every side of them.
"See to the brave stalls!" cried Alleyne.
"See to the noble armor set forth, and the costly taffeta--and oh,
Ford, see to where the scrivener sits with the pigments and the ink-horns, and
the rolls of sheepskin as white as the Beaulieu napery! Saw man ever the like
before?"
"Nay, man, there are finer stalls in Cheapside," answered Ford,
whose father had taken him to London on occasion of one of the Smithfield
joustings. "I have seen a
silversmith's booth there which would serve to buy either side of this street.
But mark these houses, Alleyne, how they thrust forth upon the top.
And see to the coats-of-arms at every window, and banner or pensel on the
roof."
"And the churches!" cried Alleyne.
"The Priory at Christ church was a noble pile, but it was cold and
bare, methinks, by one of these, with their frettings, and their carvings, and
their traceries, as though some great ivy-plant of stone had curled and wantoned
over the walls."
"And hark to the speech of the folk!" said Ford.
"Was ever such a hissing and clacking? I wonder that they have not
wit to learn English now that they have come under the English crown. By Richard of Hampole! there are fair faces amongst them.
See the wench with the brown whimple!
Out on you, Alleyne, that you would rather gaze upon dead stone than on
living flesh!"
It was little wonder that the richness and ornament, not only of church
and of stall, but of every private house as well, should have impressed itself
upon the young squires. The town was now at the height of its fortunes.
Besides its trade and its armorers, other causes had combined to pour
wealth into it. War, which had
wrought evil upon so many fair cities around, had brought nought but good to
this one. As her French sisters
decayed she increased, for here, from north, and from east, and from south, came
the plunder to be sold and the ransom money to be spent.
Through all her sixteen landward gates there had set for many years a
double tide of empty-handed soldiers hurrying Francewards, and of enriched and
laden bands who brought their spoils home.
The prince's court, too, with its swarm of noble barons and wealthy
knights, many of whom, in imitation of their master, had brought their ladies
and their children from England, all helped to swell the coffers of the
burghers. Now, with this fresh
influx of noblemen and cavaliers, food and lodging were scarce to be had, and
the prince was hurrying forward his forces to Dax in Gascony to relieve the
overcrowding of his capital.
In front of the minster and abbey of St. Andrews was a large square
crowded with priests, soldiers, women, friars, and burghers, who made it their
common centre for sight-seeing and gossip.
Amid the knot of noisy and gesticulating townsfolk, many small parties of
mounted knights and squires threaded their way towards the prince's quarters,
where the huge iron-clamped doors were thrown back to show that he held audience
within. Two-score archers stood
about the gateway, and beat back from time to time with their bow-staves the
inquisitive and chattering crowd who swarmed round the portal.
Two knights in full armor, with lances raised and closed visors, sat
their horses on either side, while in the centre, with two pages to tend upon
him, there stood a noble-faced man in flowing purple gown, who pricked off upon
a sheet of parchment the style and title of each applicant, marshalling them in
their due order, and giving to each the place and facility which his rank
demanded. His long white beard and searching eyes imparted to him an
air of masterful dignity, which was increased by his tabard-like vesture and the
heraldic barret cap with triple plume which bespoke his office.
"It is Sir William de Pakington, the prince's own herald and
scrivener," whispered Sir Nigel, as they pulled up amid the line of knights
who waited admission. "Ill
fares it with the man who would venture to deceive him.
He hath by rote the name of every knight of France or of England; and all
the tree of his family, with his kinships, coat-armor, marriages, augmentations,
abatements, and I know not what beside. We
may leave our horses here with the varlets, and push forward with our
squires."
Following Sir Nigel's counsel, they pressed on upon foot until they were
close to the prince's secretary, who was in high debate with a young and foppish
knight, who was bent upon making his way past him.
"Mackworth!" said the king-at-arms.
"It is in my mind, young sir, that you have not been presented
before."
"Nay, it is but a day since I set foot in Bordeaux, but I feared
lest the prince should think it strange that I had not waited upon him."
"The prince hath other things to think upon," quoth Sir William
de Pakington; "but if you be a Mackworth you must be a Mackworth of
Normanton, and indeed I see now that your coat is sable and ermine."
"I am a Mackworth of Normanton," the other answered, with some
uneasiness of manner.
"Then you must be Sir Stephen Mackworth, for I learn that when old
Sir Guy died he came in for the arms and the name, the war- cry and the
profit."
"Sir Stephen is my elder brother, and I am Arthur, the second
son," said the youth.
"In sooth and in sooth!" cried the king-at-arms with scornful
eyes. "And pray, sir second
son, where is the cadency mark which should mark your rank.
Dare you to wear your brother's coat without the crescent which should
stamp you as his cadet. Away to
your lodgings, and come not nigh the prince until the armorer hath placed the
true charge upon your shield." As
the youth withdrew in confusion, Sir William's keen eye singled out the five red
roses from amid the overlapping shields and cloud of pennons which faced him.
"Ha!" he cried, "there are charges here which are above
counterfeit. "The roses of
Loring and the boar's head of Buttesthorn may stand back in peace, but by my
faith! they are not to be held back in war.
Welcome, Sir Oliver, Sir Nigel! Chandos will be glad to his very
heart-roots when he sees you. This way, my fair sirs.
Your squires are doubtless worthy the fame of their masters.
Down this passage, Sir Oliver! Edricson! Ha! one of the old strain of
Hampshire Edricsons, I doubt not. And Ford, they are of a south Saxon stock, and
of good repute. There are Norburys in Cheshire and in Wiltshire, and also, as I
have heard, upon the borders. So,
my fair sirs, and I shall see that you are shortly admitted."
He had finished his professional commentary by flinging open a folding
door, and ushering the party into a broad hall, which was filled with a great
number of people who were waiting, like themselves, for an audience.
The room was very spacious, lighted on one side by three arched and
mullioned windows, while opposite was a huge fireplace in which a pile of
faggots was blazing merrily. Many
of the company had crowded round the flames, for the weather was bitterly cold;
but the two knights seated themselves upon a bancal, with their squires standing
behind them. Looking down the room,
Alleyne marked that both floor and ceiling were of the richest oak, the latter
spanned by twelve arching beams, which were adorned at either end by the lilies
and the lions of the royal arms. On
the further side was a small door, on each side of which stood men-at-arms.
From time to time an elderly man in black with rounded shoulders and a
long white wand in his hand came softly forth from this inner room, and beckoned
to one or other of the company, who doffed cap and followed him.
The two knights were deep in talk, when Alleyne became aware of a
remarkable individual who was walking round the room in their direction.
As he passed each knot of cavaliers every head turned to look after him,
and it was evident, from the bows and respectful salutations on all sides, that
the interest which he excited was not due merely to his strange personal
appearance. He was tall and straight as a lance, though of a great age, for his
hair, which curled from under his velvet cap of maintenance, was as white as the
new-fallen snow. Yet, from the
swing of his stride and the spring of his step, it was clear that he had not yet
lost the fire and activity of his youth. His
fierce hawk- like face was clean shaven like that of a priest, save for a long
thin wisp of white moustache which drooped down half way to his shoulder.
That he had been handsome might be easily judged from his high aquiline
nose and clear-cut chin; but his features had been so distorted by the seams and
scars of old wounds, and by the loss of one eye which had been torn from the
socket, that there was little left to remind one of the dashing young knight who
had been fifty years ago the fairest as well as the boldest of the English
chivalry. Yet what knight was there
in that hall of St. Andrews who would not have gladly laid down youth, beauty,
and all that he possessed to win the fame of this man?
For who could be named with Chandos, the stainless knight, the wise
councillor, the valiant warrior, the hero of Crecy, of Winchelsea, of Poictiers,
of Auray, and of as many other battles as there were years to his life?
"Ha, my little heart of gold!" he cried, darting forward
suddenly and throwing his arms round Sir Nigel.
"I heard that you were here and have been seeking you."
"My fair and dear lord," said the knight, returning the
warrior's embrace, "I have indeed come back to you, for where else shall I
go that I may learn to be a gentle and a hardy knight?"
"By my troth!" said Chandos with a smile, "it is very
fitting that we should be companions, Nigel, for since you have tied up one of
your eyes, and I have had the mischance to lose one of mine, we have but a pair
between us. Ah, Sir Oliver! you
were on the blind side of me and I saw you not.
A wise woman hath made prophecy that this blind side will one day be the
death of me. We shall go in to the prince anon; but in truth he hath much upon
his hands, for what with Pedro, and the King of Majorca, and the King of
Navarre, who is no two days of the same mind, and the Gascon barons who are all
chaffering for terms like so many hucksters, he hath an uneasy part to play.
But how left you the Lady Loring?"
"She was well, my fair lord, and sent her service and greetings to
you."
"I am ever her knight and slave.
And your journey, I trust that it was pleasant?"
"As heart could wish. We
had sight of two rover galleys, and even came to have some slight bickering with
them."
"Ever in luck's way, Nigel!" quoth Sir John.
"We must hear the tale anon. But
I deem it best that ye should leave your squires and come with me, for,
howsoe'er pressed the prince may be, I am very sure that he would be loth to
keep two old comrades-in-arms upon the further side of the door.
Follow close behind me, and I will forestall old Sir William, though I
can scarce promise to roll forth your style and rank as is his wont." So
saying, he led the way to the inner chamber, the two companions treading close
at his heels, and nodding to right and left as they caught sight of familiar
faces among the crowd.