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CHAPTER XII. HOW ALLEYNE LEARNED MORE THAN HE COULD TEACH.
And now there came a time of stir and bustle, of furbishing of arms and
clang of hammer from all the southland counties. Fast spread the tidings
from thorpe to thorpe and from castle to castle, that the old game was
afoot once more, and the lions and lilies to be in the field with the
early spring. Great news this for that fierce old country, whose trade
for a generation had been war, her exports archers and her imports
prisoners. For six years her sons had chafed under an unwonted peace.
Now they flew to their arms as to their birthright. The old soldiers of
Crecy, of Nogent, and of Poictiers were glad to think that they might
hear the war-trumpet once more, and gladder still were the hot youth who
had chafed for years under the martial tales of their sires. To pierce
the great mountains of the south, to fight the tamers of the fiery
Moors, to follow the greatest captain of the age, to find sunny
cornfields and vineyards, when the marches of Picardy and Normandy were
as rare and bleak as the Jedburgh forests—here was a golden prospect
for a race of warriors. From sea to sea there was stringing of bows in
the cottage and clang of steel in the castle.
Nor did it take long for every stronghold to pour forth its cavalry, and
every hamlet its footmen. Through the late autumn and the early winter
every road and country lane resounded with nakir and trumpet, with the
neigh of the war-horse and the clatter of marching men. From the Wrekin
in the Welsh marches to the Cotswolds in the west or Butser in the
south, there was no hill-top from which the peasant might not have seen
the bright shimmer of arms, the toss and flutter of plume and of pensil.
From bye-path, from woodland clearing, or from winding moor-side track
these little rivulets of steel united in the larger roads to form a
broader stream, growing ever fuller and larger as it approached the
nearest or most commodious seaport. And there all day, and day after
day, there was bustle and crowding and labor, while the great ships
loaded up, and one after the other spread their white pinions and darted
off to the open sea, amid the clash of cymbals and rolling of drums and
*** shouts of those who went and of those who waited. From Orwell to
the Dart there was no port which did not send forth its little fleet,
gay with streamer and bunting, as for a joyous festival. Thus in the
season of the waning days the might of England put forth on to the
waters.
In the ancient and populous county of Hampshire there was no lack of
leaders or of soldiers for a service which promised either honor or
profit. In the north the Saracen's head of the Brocas and the scarlet
fish of the De Roches were waving over a strong body of archers from
Holt, Woolmer, and Harewood forests. De Borhunte was up in the east, and
Sir John de Montague in the west. Sir Luke de Ponynges, Sir Thomas West,
Sir Maurice de Bruin, Sir Arthur Lipscombe, Sir Walter Ramsey, and stout
Sir Oliver Buttesthorn were all marching south with levies from Andover,
Arlesford, Odiham and Winchester, while from Sussex came Sir John
Clinton, Sir Thomas Cheyne, and Sir John Fallislee, with a troop of
picked men-at-arms, making for their port at Southampton. Greatest of
all the musters, however, was that of Twynham Castle, for the name and
the fame of Sir Nigel Loring drew towards him the keenest and boldest
spirits, all eager to serve under so valiant a leader. Archers from the
New Forest and the Forest of Bere, billmen from the pleasant country
which is watered by the Stour, the Avon, and the Itchen, young cavaliers
from the ancient Hampshire houses, all were pushing for Christchurch to
take service under the banner of the five scarlet roses.
And now, could Sir Nigel have shown the bachelles of land which the laws
of rank required, he might well have cut his forked pennon into a
square banner, and taken such a following into the field as would have
supported the dignity of a banneret. But poverty was heavy upon him, his
land was scant, his coffers empty, and the very castle which covered him
the holding of another. Sore was his heart when he saw rare bowmen and
war-hardened spearmen turned away from his gates, for the lack of the
money which might equip and pay them. Yet the letter which Aylward had
brought him gave him powers which he was not slow to use. In it Sir
Claude Latour, the Gascon lieutenant of the White Company, assured him
that there remained in his keeping enough to fit out a hundred archers
and twenty men-at-arms, which, joined to the three hundred veteran
companions already in France, would make a force which any leader might
be proud to command. Carefully and sagaciously the veteran knight chose
out his men from the swarm of volunteers. Many an anxious consultation
he held with Black Simon, Sam Aylward, and other of his more experienced
followers, as to who should come and who should stay. By All Saints'
day, however ere the last leaves had fluttered to earth in the Wilverley
and Holmesley glades, he had filled up his full numbers, and mustered
under his banner as stout a following of Hampshire foresters as ever
twanged their war-bows. Twenty men-at-arms, too, well mounted and
equipped, formed the cavalry of the party, while young Peter Terlake of
Fareham, and Walter Ford of Botley, the martial sons of martial sires,
came at their own cost to wait upon Sir Nigel and to share with Alleyne
Edricson the duties of his squireship.
Yet, even after the enrolment, there was much to be done ere the party
could proceed upon its way. For armor, swords, and lances, there was no
need to take much forethought, for they were to be had both better and
cheaper in Bordeaux than in England. With the long-bow, however, it was
different. Yew staves indeed might be got in Spain, but it was well to
take enough and to spare with them. Then three spare cords should be
carried for each bow, with a great store of arrow-heads, besides the
brigandines of chain mail, the wadded steel caps, and the brassarts or
arm-guards, which were the proper equipment of the archer. Above all,
the women for miles round were hard at work cutting the white surcoats
which were the badge of the Company, and adorning them with the red lion
of St. George upon the centre of the breast. When all was completed and
the muster called in the castle yard the oldest soldier of the French
wars was fain to confess that he had never looked upon a better equipped
or more warlike body of men, from the old knight with his silk jupon,
sitting his great black war-horse in the front of them, to Hordle John,
the giant recruit, who leaned carelessly upon a huge black bow-stave in
the rear. Of the six score, fully half had seen service before, while a
fair sprinkling were men who had followed the wars all their lives, and
had a hand in those battles which had made the whole world ring with the
fame and the wonder of the island infantry.
Six long weeks were taken in these preparations, and it was close on
Martinmas ere all was ready for a start. Nigh two months had Alleyne
Edricson been in Castle Twynham—months which were fated to turn the
whole current of his life, to divert it from that dark and lonely bourne
towards which it tended, and to guide it into freer and more sunlit
channels. Already he had learned to bless his father for that wise
provision which had made him seek to know the world ere he had ventured
to renounce it.
For it was a different place from that which he had pictured—very
different from that which he had heard described when the master of the
novices held forth to his charges upon the ravening wolves who lurked
for them beyond the peaceful folds of Beaulieu. There was cruelty in it,
doubtless, and *** and sin and sorrow; but were there not virtues to
atone, robust positive virtues which did not shrink from temptation,
which held their own in all the rough blasts of the work-a-day world?
How colorless by contrast appeared the sinlessness which came from
inability to sin, the conquest which was attained by flying from the
enemy! Monk-bred as he was, Alleyne had native shrewdness and a mind
which was young enough to form new conclusions and to outgrow old
ones. He could not fail to see that the men with whom he was thrown in
contact, rough-tongued, fierce and quarrelsome as they were, were yet of
deeper nature and of more service in the world than the ox-eyed brethren
who rose and ate and slept from year's end to year's end in their own
narrow, stagnant circle of existence. Abbot Berghersh was a good man,
but how was he better than this kindly knight, who lived as simple a
life, held as lofty and inflexible an ideal of duty, and did with all
his fearless heart whatever came to his hand to do? In turning from the
service of the one to that of the other, Alleyne could not feel that
he was lowering his aims in life. True that his gentle and thoughtful
nature recoiled from the grim work of war, yet in those days of martial
orders and militant brotherhoods there was no gulf fixed betwixt the
priest and the soldier. The man of God and the man of the sword might
without scandal be united in the same individual. Why then should he,
a mere clerk, have scruples when so fair a chance lay in his way of
carrying out the spirit as well as the letter of his father's provision.
Much struggle it cost him, anxious spirit-questionings and midnight
prayings, with many a doubt and a misgiving; but the issue was that ere
he had been three days in Castle Twynham he had taken service under Sir
Nigel, and had accepted horse and harness, the same to be paid for out
of his share of the profits of the expedition. Henceforth for seven
hours a day he strove in the tilt-yard to qualify himself to be a worthy
squire to so worthy a knight. Young, supple and active, with all the
pent energies from years of pure and healthy living, it was not long
before he could manage his horse and his weapon well enough to earn
an approving nod from critical men-at-arms, or to hold his own against
Terlake and Ford, his fellow-servitors.
But were there no other considerations which swayed him from the
cloisters towards the world? So complex is the human spirit that it can
itself scarce discern the deep springs which impel it to action. Yet
to Alleyne had been opened now a side of life of which he had been as
innocent as a child, but one which was of such deep import that it could
not fail to influence him in choosing his path. A woman, in monkish
precepts, had been the embodiment and concentration of what was
dangerous and evil—a focus whence spread all that was to be dreaded and
avoided. So defiling was their presence that a true Cistercian might
not raise his eyes to their face or touch their finger-tips under ban of
church and fear of deadly sin. Yet here, day after day for an hour
after nones, and for an hour before vespers, he found himself in close
communion with three maidens, all young, all fair, and all therefore
doubly dangerous from the monkish standpoint. Yet he found that in their
presence he was conscious of a quick sympathy, a pleasant ease, a ready
response to all that was most gentle and best in himself, which filled
his soul with a vague and new-found joy.
And yet the Lady Maude Loring was no easy pupil to handle. An older and
more world-wise man might have been puzzled by her varying moods, her
sudden prejudices, her quick resentment at all constraint and authority.
Did a subject interest her, was there space in it for either romance
or imagination, she would fly through it with her subtle, active mind,
leaving her two fellow-students and even her teacher toiling behind her.
On the other hand, were there dull patience needed with steady toil and
strain of memory, no single fact could by any driving be fixed in her
mind. Alleyne might talk to her of the stories of old gods and heroes,
of gallant deeds and lofty aims, or he might hold forth upon moon and
stars, and let his fancy wander over the hidden secrets of the universe,
and he would have a rapt listener with flushed cheeks and eloquent eyes,
who could repeat after him the very words which had fallen from his
lips. But when it came to almagest and astrolabe, the counting of
figures and reckoning of epicycles, away would go her thoughts to horse
and hound, and a vacant eye and listless face would warn the teacher
that he had lost his hold upon his scholar. Then he had but to bring out
the old romance book from the priory, with befingered cover of sheepskin
and gold letters upon a purple ground, to entice her wayward mind back
to the paths of learning.
At times, too, when the wild fit was upon her, she would break into
pertness and rebel openly against Alleyne's gentle firmness. Yet he
would jog quietly on with his teachings, taking no heed to her mutiny,
until suddenly she would be conquered by his patience, and break into
self-revilings a hundred times stronger than her fault demanded. It
chanced however that, on one of these mornings when the evil mood was
upon her, Agatha the young tire-woman, thinking to please her mistress,
began also to toss her head and make tart rejoinder to the teacher's
questions. In an instant the Lady Maude had turned upon her two blazing
eyes and a face which was blanched with anger.
"You would dare!" said she. "You would dare!" The frightened tire-woman
tried to excuse herself. "But my fair lady," she stammered, "what have I
done? I have said no more than I heard."
"You would dare!" repeated the lady in a choking voice. "You, a
graceless baggage, a foolish lack-brain, with no thought above the
hemming of shifts. And he so kindly and hendy and long-suffering! You
would—ha, you may well flee the room!"
She had spoken with a rising voice, and a clasping and opening of her
long white fingers, so that it was no marvel that ere the speech was
over the skirts of Agatha were whisking round the door and the click of
her sobs to be heard dying swiftly away down the corridor.
Alleyne stared open-eyed at this tigress who had sprung so suddenly
to his rescue. "There is no need for such anger," he said mildly. "The
maid's words have done me no scath. It is you yourself who have erred."
"I know it," she cried, "I am a most wicked woman. But it is bad enough
that one should misuse you. Ma foi! I will see that there is not a
second one."
"Nay, nay, no one has misused me," he answered. "But the fault lies
in your hot and bitter words. You have called her a baggage and a
lack-brain, and I know not what."
"And you are he who taught me to speak the truth," she cried. "Now I
have spoken it, and yet I cannot please you. Lack-brain she is, and
lack-brain I shall call her."
Such was a sample of the sudden janglings which marred the peace of that
little class. As the weeks passed, however, they became fewer and less
violent, as Alleyne's firm and constant nature gained sway and influence
over the Lady Maude. And yet, sooth to say, there were times when he had
to ask himself whether it was not the Lady Maude who was gaining sway
and influence over him. If she were changing, so was he. In drawing her
up from the world, he was day by day being himself dragged down towards
it. In vain he strove and reasoned with himself as to the madness of
letting his mind rest upon Sir Nigel's daughter. What was he—a younger
son, a penniless clerk, a squire unable to pay for his own harness—that
he should dare to raise his eyes to the fairest maid in Hampshire? So
spake reason; but, in spite of all, her voice was ever in his ears and
her image in his heart. Stronger than reason, stronger than cloister
teachings, stronger than all that might hold him back, was that old, old
tyrant who will brook no rival in the kingdom of youth.
And yet it was a surprise and a shock to himself to find how deeply
she had entered into his life; how completely those vague ambitions and
yearnings which had filled his spiritual nature centred themselves now
upon this thing of earth. He had scarce dared to face the change which
had come upon him, when a few sudden chance words showed it all up hard
and clear, like a lightning flash in the darkness.
He had ridden over to Poole, one November day, with his fellow-squire,
Peter Terlake, in quest of certain yew-staves from Wat Swathling, the
Dorsetshire armorer. The day for their departure had almost come, and
the two youths spurred it over the lonely downs at the top of their
speed on their homeward course, for evening had fallen and there was
much to be done. Peter was a hard, wiry, brown faced, country-bred lad
who looked on the coming war as the schoolboy looks on his holidays.
This day, however, he had been sombre and mute, with scarce a word a
mile to bestow upon his comrade.
"Tell me Alleyne Edricson," he broke out, suddenly, as they clattered
along the winding track which leads over the Bournemouth hills, "has it
not seemed to you that of late the Lady Maude is paler and more silent
than is her wont?"
"It may be so," the other answered shortly.
"And would rather sit distrait by her oriel than ride gayly to the chase
as of old. Methinks, Alleyne, it is this learning which you have taught
her that has taken all the life and sap from her. It is more than she
can master, like a heavy spear to a light rider."
"Her lady-mother has so ordered it," said Alleyne.
"By our Lady! and withouten disrespect," quoth Terlake, "it is in my
mind that her lady-mother is more fitted to lead a company to a storming
than to have the upbringing of this tender and milk-white maid. Hark ye,
lad Alleyne, to what I never told man or woman yet. I love the fair Lady
Maude, and would give the last drop of my heart's blood to serve her."
He spoke with a gasping voice, and his face flushed crimson in the
moonlight.
Alleyne said nothing, but his heart seemed to turn to a lump of ice in
his ***.
"My father has broad acres," the other continued, "from Fareham Creek to
the slope of the Portsdown Hill. There is filling of granges, hewing
of wood, malting of grain, and herding of sheep as much as heart could
wish, and I the only son. Sure am I that Sir Nigel would be blithe at
such a match."
"But how of the lady?" asked Alleyne, with dry lips.
"Ah, lad, there lies my trouble. It is a toss of the head and a droop of
the eyes if I say one word of what is in my mind. 'Twere as easy to woo
the snow-dame that we shaped last winter in our castle yard. I did but
ask her yesternight for her green veil, that I might bear it as a token
or lambrequin upon my helm; but she flashed out at me that she kept it
for a better man, and then all in a breath asked pardon for that she had
spoke so rudely. Yet she would not take back the words either, nor would
she grant the veil. Has it seemed to thee, Alleyne, that she loves any
one?"
"Nay, I cannot say," said Alleyne, with a wild throb of sudden hope in
his heart.
"I have thought so, and yet I cannot name the man. Indeed, save myself,
and Walter Ford, and you, who are half a clerk, and Father Christopher
of the Priory, and Bertrand the page, who is there whom she sees?"
"I cannot tell," quoth Alleyne shortly; and the two squires rode on
again, each intent upon his own thoughts.
Next day at morning lesson the teacher observed that his pupil was
indeed looking pale and jaded, with listless eyes and a weary manner. He
was heavy-hearted to note the grievous change in her.
"Your mistress, I fear, is ill, Agatha," he said to the tire-woman, when
the Lady Maude had sought her chamber.
The maid looked aslant at him with laughing eyes. "It is not an illness
that kills," quoth she.
"Pray God not!" he cried. "But tell me, Agatha, what it is that ails
her?"
"Methinks that I could lay my hand upon another who is smitten with the
same trouble," said she, with the same sidelong look. "Canst not give a
name to it, and thou so skilled in leech-craft?"
"Nay, save that she seems aweary."
"Well, bethink you that it is but three days ere you will all be gone,
and Castle Twynham be as dull as the Priory. Is there not enough there
to cloud a lady's brow?"
"In sooth, yes," he answered; "I had forgot that she is about to lose
her father."
"Her father!" cried the tire-woman, with a little trill of laughter. "Oh
simple, simple!" And she was off down the passage like arrow from bow,
while Alleyne stood gazing after her, betwixt hope and doubt, scarce
daring to put faith in the meaning which seemed to underlie her words.
End of Chapter XII
CHAPTER XIII. HOW THE WHITE COMPANY SET FORTH TO THE WARS.
St. Luke's day had come and had gone, and it was in the season of
Martinmas, when the oxen are driven in to the slaughter, that the White
Company was ready for its journey. Loud shrieked the brazen bugles from
keep and from gateway, and merry was the rattle of the war-drum, as the
men gathered in the outer bailey, with torches to light them, for the
morn had not yet broken. Alleyne, from the window of the armory, looked
down upon the strange scene—the circles of yellow flickering light,
the lines of stern and bearded faces, the quick shimmer of arms, and the
lean heads of the horses. In front stood the bow-men, ten deep, with a
fringe of under-officers, who paced hither and thither marshalling the
ranks with curt precept or short rebuke. Behind were the little clump
of steel-clad horsemen, their lances raised, with long pensils drooping
down the oaken shafts. So silent and still were they, that they might
have been metal-sheathed statues, were it not for the occasional quick,
impatient stamp of their chargers, or the rattle of chamfron against
neck-plates as they tossed and strained. A spear's length in front of
them sat the spare and long-limbed figure of Black Simon, the Norwich
fighting man, his fierce, deep-lined face framed in steel, and the
silk guidon marked with the five scarlet roses slanting over his right
shoulder. All round, in the edge of the circle of the light, stood the
castle servants, the soldiers who were to form the garrison, and little
knots of women, who sobbed in their aprons and called shrilly to their
name-saints to watch over the Wat, or Will, or Peterkin who had turned
his hand to the work of war.
The young squire was leaning forward, gazing at the stirring and martial
scene, when he heard a short, quick gasp at his shoulder, and there was
the Lady Maude, with her hand to her heart, leaning up against the wall,
slender and fair, like a half-plucked lily. Her face was turned away
from him, but he could see, by the sharp intake of her breath, that she
was weeping bitterly.
"Alas! alas!" he cried, all unnerved at the sight, "why is it that you
are so sad, lady?"
"It is the sight of these brave men," she answered; "and to think how
many of them go and how few are like to find their way back. I have seen
it before, when I was a little maid, in the year of the Prince's great
battle. I remember then how they mustered in the bailey, even as they do
now, and my lady-mother holding me in her arms at this very window that
I might see the show."
"Please God, you will see them all back ere another year be out," said
he.
She shook her head, looking round at him with flushed cheeks and eyes
that sparkled in the lamp-light. "Oh, but I hate myself for being a
woman!" she cried, with a stamp of her little foot. "What can I do that
is good? Here I must bide, and talk and sew and spin, and spin and sew
and talk. Ever the same dull round, with nothing at the end of it. And
now you are going too, who could carry my thoughts out of these gray
walls, and raise my mind above tapestry and distaffs. What can I do? I
am of no more use or value than that broken bowstave."
"You are of such value to me," he cried, in a whirl of hot, passionate
words, "that all else has become nought. You are my heart, my life, my
one and only thought. Oh, Maude, I cannot live without you, I cannot
leave you without a word of love. All is changed to me since I have
known you. I am poor and lowly and all unworthy of you; but if great
love may weigh down such defects, then mine may do it. Give me but one
word of hope to take to the wars with me—but one. Ah, you shrink, you
shudder! My wild words have frightened you."
Twice she opened her lips, and twice no sound came from them. At last
she spoke in a hard and measured voice, as one who dare not trust
herself to speak too freely.
"This is over sudden," she said; "it is not so long since the world was
nothing to you. You have changed once; perchance you may change again."
"Cruel!" he cried, "who hath changed me?"
"And then your brother," she continued with a little laugh, disregarding
his question. "Methinks this hath become a family custom amongst the
Edricsons. Nay, I am sorry; I did not mean a jibe. But, indeed, Alleyne,
this hath come suddenly upon me, and I scarce know what to say."
"Say some word of hope, however distant—some kind word that I may
cherish in my heart."
"Nay, Alleyne, it were a cruel kindness, and you have been too good and
true a friend to me that I should use you despitefully. There cannot be
a closer link between us. It is madness to think of it. Were there no
other reasons, it is enough that my father and your brother would both
cry out against it."
"My brother, what has he to do with it? And your father——"
"Come, Alleyne, was it not you who would have me act fairly to all men,
and, certes, to my father amongst them?"
"You say truly," he cried, "you say truly. But you do not reject me,
Maude? You give me some ray of hope? I do not ask pledge or promise. Say
only that I am not hateful to you—that on some happier day I may hear
kinder words from you."
Her eyes softened upon him, and a kind answer was on her lips, when a
hoarse shout, with the clatter of arms and stamping of steeds, rose up
from the bailey below. At the sound her face set her eyes sparkled, and
she stood with flushed cheek and head thrown back—a woman's body, with
a soul of fire.
"My father hath gone down," she cried. "Your place is by his side. Nay,
look not at me, Alleyne. It is no time for dallying. Win my father's
love, and all may follow. It is when the brave soldier hath done his
devoir that he hopes for his reward, Farewell, and may God be with you!"
She held out her white, slim hand to him, but as he bent his lips over
it she whisked away and was gone, leaving in his outstretched hand the
very green veil for which poor Peter Terlake had craved in vain. Again
the hoarse cheering burst out from below, and he heard the clang of the
rising portcullis. Pressing the veil to his lips, he thrust it into the
*** of his tunic, and rushed as fast as feet could bear him to arm
himself and join the muster.
The raw morning had broken ere the hot spiced ale had been served round
and the last farewell spoken. A cold wind blew up from the sea and
ragged clouds drifted swiftly across the sky.
The Christchurch townsfolk stood huddled about the Bridge of Avon, the
women pulling tight their shawls and the men swathing themselves in
their gaberdines, while down the winding path from the castle came the
van of the little army, their feet clanging on the hard, frozen road.
First came Black Simon with his banner, bestriding a lean and powerful
dapple-gray charger, as hard and wiry and warwise as himself. After him,
riding three abreast, were nine men-at-arms, all picked soldiers, who
had followed the French wars before, and knew the marches of Picardy as
they knew the downs of their native Hampshire. They were armed to the
teeth with lance, sword, and mace, with square shields notched at the
upper right-hand corner to serve as a spear-rest. For defence each man
wore a coat of interlaced leathern thongs, strengthened at the shoulder,
elbow, and upper arm with slips of steel. Greaves and knee-pieces were
also of leather backed by steel, and their gauntlets and shoes were of
iron plates, craftily jointed. So, with jingle of arms and clatter of
hoofs, they rode across the Bridge of Avon, while the burghers shouted
lustily for the flag of the five roses and its gallant guard.
Close at the heels of the horses came two-score archers bearded and
burly, their round targets on their backs and their long yellow bows,
the most deadly weapon that the wit of man had yet devised, thrusting
forth from behind their shoulders. From each man's girdle hung sword or
axe, according to his humor, and over the right hip there jutted out the
leathern quiver with its bristle of goose, pigeon, and peacock feathers.
Behind the bowmen strode two trumpeters blowing upon nakirs, and two
drummers in parti-colored clothes. After them came twenty-seven sumpter
horses carrying tent-poles, cloth, spare arms, spurs, wedges, cooking
kettles, horse-shoes, bags of nails and the hundred other things which
experience had shown to be needful in a harried and hostile country. A
white mule with red trappings, led by a varlet, carried Sir Nigel's own
napery and table comforts. Then came two-score more archers, ten more
men-at-arms, and finally a rear guard of twenty bowmen, with big John
towering in the front rank and the veteran Aylward marching by the side,
his battered harness and faded surcoat in strange contrast with the
snow-white jupons and shining brigandines of his companions. A quick
cross-fire of greetings and questions and rough West Saxon jests flew
from rank to rank, or were bandied about betwixt the marching archers
and the gazing crowd.
"Hola, Gaffer Higginson!" cried Aylward, as he spied the portly figure
of the village innkeeper. "No more of thy nut-brown, mon gar. We leave
it behind us."
"By St. Paul, no!" cried the other. "You take it with you. Devil a drop
have you left in the great kilderkin. It was time for you to go."
"If your cask is leer, I warrant your purse is full, gaffer," shouted
Hordle John. "See that you lay in good store of the best for our
home-coming."
"See that you keep your throat whole for the drinking of it archer,"
cried a voice, and the crowd laughed at the rough pleasantry.
"If you will warrant the beer, I will warrant the throat," said John
composedly.
"Close up the ranks!" cried Aylward. "En avant, mes enfants! Ah, by my
finger bones, there is my sweet Mary from the Priory Mill! Ma foi, but
she is beautiful! Adieu, Mary ma cherie! Mon coeur est toujours a
toi. Brace your belt, Watkins, man, and swing your shoulders as a free
companion should. By my hilt! your jerkins will be as dirty as mine ere
you clap eyes on Hengistbury Head again."
The Company had marched to the turn of the road ere Sir Nigel Loring
rode out from the gateway, mounted on Pommers, his great black
war-horse, whose ponderous footfall on the wooden drawbridge echoed
loudly from the gloomy arch which spanned it. Sir Nigel was still in his
velvet dress of peace, with flat velvet cap of maintenance, and curling
ostrich feather clasped in a golden brooch. To his three squires riding
behind him it looked as though he bore the bird's egg as well as its
feather, for the back of his bald pate shone like a globe of ivory. He
bore no arms save the long and heavy sword which hung at his saddle-bow;
but Terlake carried in front of him the high wivern-crested bassinet,
Ford the heavy ash spear with swallow-tail pennon, while Alleyne was
entrusted with the emblazoned shield. The Lady Loring rode her palfrey
at her lord's bridle-arm, for she would see him as far as the edge
of the forest, and ever and anon she turned her hard-lined face
up wistfully to him and ran a questioning eye over his apparel and
appointments.
"I trust that there is nothing forgot," she said, beckoning to Alleyne
to ride on her further side. "I trust him to you, Edricson. Hosen,
shirts, cyclas, and under-jupons are in the brown basket on the left
side of the mule. His wine he takes hot when the nights are cold,
malvoisie or vernage, with as much spice as would cover the thumb-nail.
See that he hath a change if he come back hot from the tilting. There is
goose-grease in a box, if the old scars ache at the turn of the weather.
Let his blankets be dry and——"
"Nay, my heart's life," the little knight interrupted, "trouble not now
about such matters. Why so pale and wan, Edricson? Is it not enow
to make a man's heart dance to see this noble Company, such valiant
men-at-arms, such *** archers? By St. Paul! I would be ill to please
if I were not blithe to see the red roses flying at the head of so noble
a following!"
"The purse I have already given you, Edricson," continue the lady.
"There are in it twenty-three marks, one noble, three shillings and
fourpence, which is a great treasure for one man to carry. And I pray
you to bear in mind, Edricson, that he hath two pair of shoes, those of
red leather for common use, and the others with golden toe-chains,
which he may wear should he chance to drink wine with the Prince or with
Chandos."
"My sweet bird," said Sir Nigel, "I am right loth to part from you,
but we are now at the fringe of the forest, and it is not right that I
should take the chatelaine too far from her trust."
"But oh, my dear lord," she cried with a trembling lip, "let me bide
with you for one furlong further—or one and a half perhaps. You may
spare me this out of the weary miles that you will journey along."
"Come, then, my heart's comfort," he answered. "But I must crave a gage
from thee. It is my custom, dearling, and hath been since I have
first known thee, to proclaim by herald in such camps, townships, or
fortalices as I may chance to visit, that my lady-love, being beyond
compare the fairest and sweetest in Christendom, I should deem it great
honor and kindly condescension if any cavalier would run three courses
against me with sharpened lances, should he chance to have a lady whose
claim he was willing to advance. I pray you then my fair dove, that you
will vouchsafe to me one of those doeskin gloves, that I may wear it as
the badge of her whose servant I shall ever be."
"Alack and alas for the fairest and sweetest!" she cried. "Fair and
sweet I would fain be for your dear sake, my lord, but old I am and
ugly, and the knights would laugh should you lay lance in rest in such a
cause."
"Edricson," quoth Sir Nigel, "you have young eyes, and mine are somewhat
bedimmed. Should you chance to see a knight laugh, or smile, or even,
look you, arch his brows, or purse his mouth, or in any way show
surprise that I should uphold the Lady Mary, you will take particular
note of his name, his coat-armor, and his lodging. Your glove, my life's
desire!"
The Lady Mary Loring slipped her hand from her yellow leather gauntlet,
and he, lifting it with dainty reverence, bound it to the front of his
velvet cap.
"It is with mine other guardian angels," quoth he, pointing at the
saints' medals which hung beside it. "And now, my dearest, you have come
far enow. May the *** guard and prosper thee! One kiss!" He bent down
from his saddle, and then, striking spurs into his horse's sides, he
galloped at top speed after his men, with his three squires at his
heels. Half a mile further, where the road topped a hill, they looked
back, and the Lady Mary on her white palfrey was still where they had
left her. A moment later they were on the downward slope, and she had
vanished from their view.
End of Chapter XIII
CHAPTER XIV. HOW SIR NIGEL SOUGHT FOR A WAYSIDE VENTURE.
For a time Sir Nigel was very moody and downcast, with bent brows and
eyes upon the pommel of his saddle. Edricson and Terlake rode behind him
in little better case, while Ford, a careless and light-hearted youth,
grinned at the melancholy of his companions, and flourished his lord's
heavy spear, making a point to right and a point to left, as though
he were a paladin contending against a host of assailants. Sir Nigel
happened, however, to turn himself in his saddle-Ford instantly became
as stiff and as rigid as though he had been struck with a palsy. The
four rode alone, for the archers had passed a curve in the road, though
Alleyne could still hear the heavy clump, clump of their marching, or
catch a glimpse of the sparkle of steel through the tangle of leafless
branches.
"Ride by my side, friends, I entreat of you," said the knight, reining
in his steed that they might come abreast of him. "For, since it hath
pleased you to follow me to the wars, it were well that you should know
how you may best serve me. I doubt not, Terlake, that you will show
yourself a worthy son of a valiant father; and you, Ford, of yours; and
you, Edricson, that you are mindful of the old-time house from which
all men know that you are sprung. And first I would have you bear
very steadfastly in mind that our setting forth is by no means for the
purpose of gaining spoil or exacting ransom, though it may well happen
that such may come to us also. We go to France, and from thence I trust
to Spain, in humble search of a field in which we may win advancement
and perchance some small share of glory. For this purpose I would have
you know that it is not my wont to let any occasion pass where it is in
any way possible that honor may be gained. I would have you bear this
in mind, and give great heed to it that you may bring me word of all
cartels, challenges, wrongs, tyrannies, infamies, and wronging of
damsels. Nor is any occasion too small to take note of, for I have
known such trifles as the dropping of a gauntlet, or the flicking of
a breadcrumb, when well and properly followed up, lead to a most noble
spear-running. But, Edricson, do I not see a cavalier who rides down
yonder road amongst the nether shaw? It would be well, perchance, that
you should give him greeting from me. And, should he be of gentle blood
it may be that he would care to exchange thrusts with me."
"Why, my lord," quoth Ford, standing in his stirrups and shading his
eyes, "it is old Hob Davidson, the fat miller of Milton!"
"Ah, so it is, indeed," said Sir Nigel, puckering his cheeks; "but
wayside ventures are not to be scorned, for I have seen no finer
passages than are to be had from such chance meetings, when cavaliers
are willing to advance themselves. I can well remember that two leagues
from the town of Rheims I met a very valiant and courteous cavalier of
France, with whom I had gentle and most honorable contention for upwards
of an hour. It hath ever grieved me that I had not his name, for he
smote upon me with a mace and went upon his way ere I was in condition
to have much speech with him; but his arms were an allurion in chief
above a fess azure. I was also on such an occasion thrust through the
shoulder by Lyon de Montcourt, whom I met on the high road betwixt
Libourne and Bordeaux. I met him but the once, but I have never seen
a man for whom I bear a greater love and esteem. And so also with the
squire Le Bourg Capillet, who would have been a very valiant captain had
he lived."
"He is dead then?" asked Alleyne Edricson.
"Alas! it was my ill fate to slay him in a bickering which broke out in
a field near the township of Tarbes. I cannot call to mind how the
thing came about, for it was in the year of the Prince's ride through
Languedoc, when there was much fine skirmishing to be had at barriers.
By St. Paul! I do not think that any honorable cavalier could ask for
better chance of advancement than might be had by spurring forth before
the army and riding to the gateways of Narbonne, or Bergerac or Mont
Giscar, where some courteous gentleman would ever be at wait to do
what he might to meet your wish or ease you of your vow. Such a one at
Ventadour ran three courses with me betwixt daybreak and sunrise, to the
great exaltation of his lady."
"And did you slay him also, my lord?" asked Ford with reverence.
"I could never learn, for he was carried within the barrier, and as I
had chanced to break the bone of my leg it was a great unease for me
to ride or even to stand. Yet, by the goodness of heaven and the pious
intercession of the valiant St. George, I was able to sit my charger
in the ruffle of Poictiers, which was no very long time afterwards. But
what have we here? A very fair and courtly maiden, or I mistake."
It was indeed a tall and buxom country lass, with a basket of
spinach-leaves upon her head, and a great slab of bacon tucked under one
arm. She bobbed a frightened curtsey as Sir Nigel swept his velvet hat
from his head and reined up his great charger.
"God be with thee, fair maiden!" said he.
"God guard thee, my lord!" she answered, speaking in the broadest West
Saxon speech, and balancing herself first on one foot and then on the
other in her bashfulness.
"Fear not, my fair damsel," said Sir Nigel, "but tell me if perchance
a poor and most unworthy knight can in any wise be of service to you.
Should it chance that you have been used despitefully, it may be that I
may obtain justice for you."
"Lawk no, kind sir," she answered, clutching her bacon the tighter, as
though some design upon it might be hid under this knightly offer. "I
be the milking *** o' fairmer Arnold, and he be as kind a maister as
heart could wish."
"It is well," said he, and with a shake of the bridle rode on down the
woodland path. "I would have you bear in mind," he continued to his
squires, "that gentle courtesy is not, as is the base use of so many
false knights, to be shown only to maidens of high degree, for there
is no woman so humble that a true knight may not listen to her tale of
wrong. But here comes a cavalier who is indeed in haste. Perchance it
would be well that we should ask him whither he rides, for it may be
that he is one who desires to advance himself in chivalry."
The bleak, hard, wind-swept road dipped down in front of them into a
little valley, and then, writhing up the heathy slope upon the other
side, lost itself among the gaunt pine-trees. Far away between the black
lines of trunks the quick glitter of steel marked where the Company
pursued its way. To the north stretched the tree country, but to the
south, between two swelling downs, a glimpse might be caught of the cold
gray shimmer of the sea, with the white fleck of a galley sail upon the
distant sky-line. Just in front of the travellers a horseman was urging
his steed up the slope, driving it on with whip and spur as one who
rides for a set purpose. As he clattered up, Alleyne could see that the
roan horse was gray with dust and flecked with foam, as though it had
left many a mile behind it. The rider was a stern-faced man, hard of
mouth and dry of eye, with a heavy sword clanking at his side, and a
stiff white bundle swathed in linen balanced across the pommel of his
saddle.
"The king's messenger," he bawled as he came up to them. "The messenger
of the king. Clear the causeway for the king's own man."
"Not so loudly, friend," quoth the little knight, reining his horse half
round to bar the path. "I have myself been the king's man for thirty
years or more, but I have not been wont to halloo about it on a peaceful
highway."
"I ride in his service," cried the other, "and I carry that which
belongs to him. You bar my path at your peril."
"Yet I have known the king's enemies claim to ride in his same," said
Sir Nigel. "The foul fiend may lurk beneath a garment of light. We must
have some sign or warrant of your mission."
"Then must I hew a passage," cried the stranger, with his shoulder
braced round and his hand upon his hilt. "I am not to be stopped on the
king's service by every gadabout."
"Should you be a gentleman of quarterings and coat-armor," lisped Sir
Nigel, "I shall be very blithe to go further into the matter with you.
If not, I have three very worthy squires, any one of whom would take the
thing upon himself, and debate it with you in a very honorable way."
The man scowled from one to the other, and his hand stole away from his
sword.
"You ask me for a sign," he said. "Here is a sign for you, since you
must have one." As he spoke he whirled the covering from the object
in front of him and showed to their horror that it was a newly-severed
human leg. "By God's tooth!" he continued, with a brutal laugh, "you ask
me if I am a man of quarterings, and it is even so, for I am officer
to the verderer's court at Lyndhurst. This thievish leg is to hang at
Milton, and the other is already at Brockenhurst, as a sign to all men
of what comes of being over-fond of venison pasty."
"Faugh!" cried Sir Nigel. "Pass on the other side of the road, fellow,
and let us have the wind of you. We shall trot our horses, my friends,
across this pleasant valley, for, by Our Lady! a breath of God's fresh
air is right welcome after such a sight."
"We hoped to snare a falcon," said he presently, "but we netted a
carrion-crow. Ma foi! but there are men whose hearts are tougher than a
boar's hide. For me, I have played the old game of war since ever I had
hair on my chin, and I have seen ten thousand brave men in one day with
their faces to the sky, but I swear by Him who made me that I cannot
abide the work of the butcher."
"And yet, my fair lord," said Edricson, "there has, from what I hear,
been much of such devil's work in France."
"Too much, too much," he answered. "But I have ever observed that the
foremost in the field are they who would scorn to mishandle a prisoner.
By St. Paul! it is not they who carry the breach who are wont to sack
the town, but the laggard knaves who come crowding in when a way has
been cleared for them. But what is this among the trees?"
"It is a shrine of Our Lady," said Terlake, "and a blind beggar who
lives by the alms of those who worship there."
"A shrine!" cried the knight. "Then let us put up an orison." Pulling
off his cap, and clasping his hands, he chanted in a shrill voice:
"Benedictus dominus Deus meus, qui docet manus meas ad proelium,
et digitos meos ad bellum." A strange figure he seemed to his three
squires, perched on his huge horse, with his eyes upturned and the
wintry sun shimmering upon his bald head. "It is a noble prayer," he
remarked, putting on his hat again, "and it was taught to me by the
noble Chandos himself. But how fares it with you, father? Methinks that
I should have ruth upon you, seeing that I am myself like one who looks
through a horn window while his neighbors have the clear crystal. Yet,
by St. Paul! there is a long stride between the man who hath a horn
casement and him who is walled in on every hand."
"Alas! fair sir," cried the blind old man, "I have not seen the blessed
blue of heaven this two-score years, since a levin flash burned the
sight out of my head."
"You have been blind to much that is goodly and fair," quoth Sir Nigel,
"but you have also been spared much that is sorry and foul. This very
hour our eyes have been shocked with that which would have left you
unmoved. But, by St. Paul! we must on, or our Company will think that
they have lost their captain somewhat early in the venture. Throw the
man my purse, Edricson, and let us go."
Alleyne, lingering behind, bethought him of the Lady Loring's counsel,
and reduced the noble gift which the knight had so freely bestowed to a
single penny, which the beggar with many mumbled blessings thrust away
into his wallet. Then, spurring his steed, the young squire rode at the
top of his speed after his companions, and overtook them just at the
spot where the trees fringe off into the moor and the straggling hamlet
of Hordle lies scattered on either side of the winding and deeply-rutted
track. The Company was already well-nigh through the village; but, as
the knight and his squires closed up upon them, they heard the clamor of
a strident voice, followed by a roar of deep-chested laughter from
the ranks of the archers. Another minute brought them up with the
rear-guard, where every man marched with his beard on his shoulder and a
face which was agrin with merriment. By the side of the column walked
a huge red-headed bowman, with his hands thrown out in argument and
expostulation, while close at his heels followed a little wrinkled
woman who poured forth a shrill volley of abuse, varied by an occasional
thwack from her stick, given with all the force of her body, though she
might have been beating one of the forest trees for all the effect that
she seemed likely to produce.
"I trust, Aylward," said Sir Nigel gravely, as he rode up, "that this
doth not mean that any violence hath been offered to women. If such a
thing happened, I tell you that the man shall hang, though he were the
best archer that ever wore brassart."
"Nay, my fair lord," Aylward answered with a grin, "it is violence which
is offered to a man. He comes from Hordle, and this is his mother who
hath come forth to welcome him."
"You rammucky lurden," she was howling, with a blow between each catch
of her breath, "you shammocking, yaping, over-long good-for-nought. I
will teach thee! I will baste thee! Aye, by my faith!"
"Whist, mother," said John, looking back at her from the tail of his
eye, "I go to France as an archer to give blows and to take them."
"To France, quotha?" cried the old dame. "Bide here with me, and I shall
warrant you more blows than you are like to get in France. If blows be
what you seek, you need not go further than Hordle."
"By my hilt! the good dame speaks truth," said Aylward. "It seems to be
the very home of them."
"What have you to say, you clean-shaved galley-beggar?" cried the fiery
dame, turning upon the archer. "Can I not speak with my own son but you
must let your tongue clack? A soldier, quotha, and never a hair on
his face. I have seen a better soldier with pap for food and swaddling
clothes for harness."
"Stand to it, Aylward," cried the archers, amid a fresh burst of
laughter.
"Do not thwart her, comrade," said big John. "She hath a proper spirit
for her years and cannot abide to be thwarted. It is kindly and homely
to me to hear her voice and to feel that she is behind me. But I must
leave you now, mother, for the way is over-rough for your feet; but I
will bring you back a silken gown, if there be one in France or Spain,
and I will bring Jinny a silver penny; so good-bye to you, and God have
you in His keeping!" Whipping up the little woman, he lifted her lightly
to his lips, and then, taking his place in the ranks again, marched on
with the laughing Company.
"That was ever his way," she cried, appealing to Sir Nigel, who reined
up his horse and listened with the greatest courtesy. "He would jog on
his own road for all that I could do to change him. First he must be a
monk forsooth, and all because a *** was wise enough to turn her back
on him. Then he joins a rascally crew and must needs trapse off to the
wars, and me with no one to bait the fire if I be out, or tend the cow
if I be home. Yet I have been a good mother to him. Three hazel switches
a day have I broke across his shoulders, and he takes no more notice
than you have seen him to-day."
"Doubt not that he will come back to you both safe and prosperous, my
fair dame," quoth Sir Nigel. "Meanwhile it grieves me that as I have
already given my purse to a beggar up the road I——"
"Nay, my lord," said Alleyne, "I still have some moneys remaining."
"Then I pray you to give them to this very worthy woman." He cantered
on as he spoke, while Alleyne, having dispensed two more pence, left
the old dame standing by the furthest cottage of Hordle, with her shrill
voice raised in blessings instead of revilings.
There were two cross-roads before they reached the Lymington Ford, and
at each of then Sir Nigel pulled up his horse, and waited with many a
curvet and gambade, craning his neck this way and that to see if fortune
would send him a venture. Crossroads had, as he explained, been rare
places for knightly spear-runnings, and in his youth it was no uncommon
thing for a cavalier to abide for weeks at such a point, holding gentle
debate with all comers, to his own advancement and the great honor of
his lady. The times were changed, however, and the forest tracks wound
away from them deserted and silent, with no trample of war-horse or
clang of armor which might herald the approach of an adversary—so that
Sir Nigel rode on his way disconsolate. At the Lymington River they
splashed through the ford, and lay in the meadows on the further side to
eat the bread and salt meat which they carried upon the sumpter horses.
Then, ere the sun was on the slope of the heavens, they had deftly
trussed up again, and were swinging merrily upon their way, two hundred
feet moving like two.
There is a third cross-road where the track from Boldre runs down to the
old fishing village of Pitt's Deep. Down this, as they came abreast of
it, there walked two men, the one a pace or two behind the other. The
cavaliers could not but pull up their horses to look at them, for a
stranger pair were never seen journeying together. The first was a
misshapen, squalid man with cruel, cunning eyes and a shock of tangled
red hair, bearing in his hands a small unpainted cross, which he held
high so that all men might see it. He seemed to be in the last extremity
of fright, with a face the color of clay and his limbs all ashake as one
who hath an ague. Behind him, with his toe ever rasping upon the other's
heels, there walked a very stern, black-bearded man with a hard eye and
a set mouth. He bore over his shoulder a great knotted stick with three
jagged nails stuck in the head of it, and from time to time he whirled
it up in the air with a quivering arm, as though he could scarce hold
back from dashing his companion's brains out. So in silence they walked
under the spread of the branches on the grass-grown path from Boldre.
"By St. Paul!" quoth the knight, "but this is a passing strange sight,
and perchance some very perilous and honorable venture may arise from
it. I pray you, Edricson, to ride up to them and to ask them the cause
of it."
There was no need, however, for him to move, for the twain came swiftly
towards them until they were within a spear's length, when the man
with the cross sat himself down sullenly upon a tussock of grass by the
wayside, while the other stood beside him with his great cudgel still
hanging over his head. So intent was he that he raised his eyes neither
to knight nor squires, but kept them ever fixed with a savage glare upon
his comrade.
"I pray you, friend," said Sir Nigel, "to tell us truthfully who you
are, and why you follow this man with such bitter enmity?
"So long as I am within the pale of the king's law," the stranger
answered, "I cannot see why I should render account to every passing
wayfarer."
"You are no very shrewd reasoner, fellow," quoth the knight; "for if
it be within the law for you to threaten him with your club, then it is
also lawful for me to threaten you with my sword."
The man with the cross was down in an instant on his knees upon the
ground, with hands clasped above him and his face shining with hope.
"For dear Christ's sake, my fair lord," he cried in a crackling voice,
"I have at my belt a bag with a hundred rose nobles, and I will give it
to you freely if you will but pass your sword through this man's body."
"How, you foul knave?" exclaimed Sir Nigel hotly. "Do you think that
a cavalier's arm is to be bought like a packman's ware. By St. Paul! I
have little doubt that this fellow hath some very good cause to hold you
in hatred."
"Indeed, my fair sir, you speak sooth," quoth he with the club, while
the other seated himself once more by the wayside. "For this man is
Peter Peterson, a very noted rieve, draw-latch, and murtherer, who has
wrought much evil for many years in the parts about Winchester. It was
but the other day, upon the feasts of the blessed Simon and Jude, that
he slew my younger brother William in Bere Forest—for which, by the
black thorn of Glastonbury! I shall have his heart's blood, though I
walk behind him to the further end of earth."
"But if this be indeed so," asked Sir Nigel, "why is it that you have
come with him so far through the forest?"
"Because I am an honest Englishman, and will take no more than the law
allows. For when the deed was done this foul and base wretch fled to
sanctuary at St. Cross, and I, as you may think, after him with all
the posse. The prior, however, hath so ordered that while he holds this
cross no man may lay hand upon him without the ban of church, which
heaven forfend from me or mine. Yet, if for an instant he lay the cross
aside, or if he fail to journey to Pitt's Deep, where it is ordered that
he shall take ship to outland parts, or if he take not the first ship,
or if until the ship be ready he walk not every day into the sea as far
as his loins, then he becomes outlaw, and I shall forthwith dash out his
brains."
At this the man on the ground snarled up at him like a rat, while the
other clenched his teeth, and shook his club, and looked down at him
with *** in his eyes. Knight and squire gazed from rogue to avenger,
but as it was a matter which none could mend they tarried no longer, but
rode upon their way. Alleyne, looking back, saw that the murderer had
drawn bread and cheese from his scrip, and was silently munching it,
with the protecting cross still hugged to his breast, while the other,
black and grim, stood in the sunlit road and threw his dark shadow
athwart him.
End of Chapter XIV
CHAPTER XV. HOW THE YELLOW COG SAILED FORTH FROM LEPE.
That night the Company slept at St. Leonard's, in the great monastic
barns and spicarium—ground well known both to Alleyne and to John, for
they were almost within sight of the Abbey of Beaulieu. A strange thrill
it gave to the young squire to see the well-remembered white dress once
more, and to hear the measured tolling of the deep vespers bell.
At early dawn they passed across the broad, sluggish, reed-girt
stream—men, horses, and baggage in the flat ferry barges—and so
journeyed on through the fresh morning air past Exbury to Lepe.
Topping the heathy down, they came of a sudden full in sight of the old
sea-port—a cluster of houses, a trail of blue smoke, and a bristle of
masts. To right and left the long blue curve of the Solent lapped in a
fringe of foam upon the yellow beach. Some way out from the town a line
of pessoners, creyers, and other small craft were rolling lazily on the
gentle swell. Further out still lay a great merchant-ship, high ended,
deep waisted, painted of a canary yellow, and towering above the
fishing-boats like a swan among ducklings.
"By St. Paul!" said the knight, "our good merchant of Southampton hath
not played us false, for methinks I can see our ship down yonder. He
said that she would be of great size and of a yellow shade."
"By my hilt, yes!" muttered Aylward; "she is yellow as a kite's claw,
and would carry as many men as there are pips in a pomegranate."
"It is as well," remarked Terlake; "for methinks, my fair lord, that
we are not the only ones who are waiting a passage to Gascony. Mine eye
catches at times a flash and sparkle among yonder houses which assuredly
never came from shipman's jacket or the gaberdine of a burgher."
"I can also see it," said Alleyne, shading his eyes with his hand. "And
I can see men-at-arms in yonder boats which ply betwixt the vessel and
the shore. But methinks that we are very welcome here, for already they
come forth to meet us."
A tumultuous crowd of fishermen, citizens, and women had indeed swarmed
out from the northern gate, and approached them up the side of the moor,
waving their hands and dancing with joy, as though a great fear had been
rolled back from their minds. At their head rode a very large and solemn
man with a long chin and a drooping lip. He wore a fur tippet round his
neck and a heavy gold chain over it, with a medallion which dangled in
front of him.
"Welcome, most puissant and noble lord," he cried, doffing his bonnet
to Black Simon. "I have heard of your lordship's valiant deeds, and in
sooth they might be expected from your lordship's face and bearing. Is
there any small matter in which I may oblige you?"
"Since you ask me," said the man-at-arms, "I would take it kindly if you
could spare a link or two of the chain which hangs round your neck."
"What, the corporation chain!" cried the other in horror. "The ancient
chain of the township of Lepe! This is but a sorry jest, Sir Nigel."
"What the plague did you ask me for then?" said Simon. "But if it is
Sir Nigel Loring with whom you would speak, that is he upon the black
horse."
The Mayor of Lepe gazed with amazement on the mild face and slender
frame of the famous warrior.
"Your pardon, my gracious lord," he cried. "You see in me the mayor and
chief magistrate of the ancient and powerful town of Lepe. I bid you
very heartily welcome, and the more so as you are come at a moment when
we are sore put to it for means of defence.'
"Ha!" cried Sir Nigel, pricking up his ears.
"Yes, my lord, for the town being very ancient and the walls as old
as the town, it follows that they are very ancient too. But there is a
certain villainous and bloodthirsty Norman pirate hight Tete-noire, who,
with a Genoan called Tito Caracci, commonly known as Spade-beard, hath
been a mighty scourge upon these coasts. Indeed, my lord, they are very
cruel and black-hearted men, graceless and ruthless, and if they should
come to the ancient and powerful town of Lepe then—"
"Then good-bye to the ancient and powerful town of Lepe," quoth Ford,
whose lightness of tongue could at times rise above his awe of Sir
Nigel.
The knight, however, was too much intent upon the matter in hand to give
heed to the flippancy of his squire. "Have you then cause," he asked,
"to think that these men are about to venture an attempt upon you?"
"They have come in two great galleys," answered the mayor, "with two
bank of oars on either side, and great store of engines of war and
of men-at-arms. At Weymouth and at Portland they have murdered and
ravished. Yesterday morning they were at Cowes, and we saw the smoke
from the burning crofts. To-day they lie at their ease near Freshwater,
and we fear much lest they come upon us and do us a mischief."
"We cannot tarry," said Sir Nigel, riding towards the town, with the
mayor upon his left side; "the Prince awaits us at Bordeaux, and we may
not be behind the general muster. Yet I will promise you that on our way
we shall find time to pass Freshwater and to prevail upon these rovers
to leave you in peace."
"We are much beholden to you!" cried the mayor "But I cannot see, my
lord, how, without a war-ship, you may venture against these men. With
your archers, however, you might well hold the town and do them great
scath if they attempt to land."
"There is a very proper cog out yonder," said Sir Nigel, "it would be a
very strange thing if any ship were not a war-ship when it had such men
as these upon her decks. Certes, we shall do as I say, and that no later
than this very day."
"My lord," said a rough-haired, dark-faced man, who walked by the
knight's other stirrup, with his head sloped to catch all that he was
saying. "By your leave, I have no doubt that you are skilled in land
fighting and the marshalling of lances, but, by my soul! you will find
it another thing upon the sea. I am the master-shipman of this yellow
cog, and my name is Goodwin Hawtayne. I have sailed since I was as high
as this staff, and I have fought against these Normans and against the
Genoese, as well as the Scotch, the Bretons, the Spanish, and the Moors.
I tell you, sir, that my ship is over light and over frail for such
work, and it will but end in our having our throats cut, or being sold
as slaves to the Barbary heathen."
"I also have experienced one or two gentle and honorable ventures upon
the sea," quoth Sir Nigel, "and I am right blithe to have so fair a task
before us. I think, good master-shipman, that you and I may win great
honor in this matter, and I can see very readily that you are a brave
and stout man."
"I like it not," said the other sturdily. "In God's name, I like it not.
And yet Goodwin Hawtayne is not the man to stand back when his fellows
are for pressing forward. By my soul! be it sink or swim, I shall
turn her beak into Freshwater Bay, and if good Master Witherton, of
Southampton, like not my handling of his ship then he may find another
master-shipman."
They were close by the old north gate of the little town, and Alleyne,
half turning in his saddle, looked back at the motley crowd who
followed. The bowmen and men-at-arms had broken their ranks and were
intermingled with the fishermen and citizens, whose laughing faces
and hearty gestures bespoke the weight of care from which this welcome
arrival had relieved them. Here and there among the moving throng of
dark jerkins and of white surcoats were scattered dashes of scarlet and
blue, the whimples or shawls of the women. Aylward, with a fishing lass
on either arm, was vowing constancy alternately to her on the right and
her on the left, while big John towered in the rear with a little chubby
maiden enthroned upon his great shoulder, her soft white arm curled
round his shining headpiece. So the throng moved on, until at the very
gate it was brought to a stand by a wondrously fat man, who came darting
forth from the town with rage in every feature of his rubicund face.
"How now, Sir Mayor?" he roared, in a voice like a bull. "How now, Sir
Mayor? How of the clams and the scallops?"
"By Our Lady! my sweet Sir Oliver," cried the mayor. "I have had so much
to think of, with these wicked villains so close upon us, that it had
quite gone out of my head."
"Words, words!" shouted the other furiously. "Am I to be put off with
words? I say to you again, how of the clams and scallops?"
"My fair sir, you flatter me," cried the mayor. "I am a peaceful trader,
and I am not wont to be so shouted at upon so small a matter."
"Small!" shrieked the other. "Small! Clams and scallops! Ask me to your
table to partake of the dainty of the town, and when I come a barren
welcome and a bare board! Where is my spear-bearer?"
"Nay, Sir Oliver, Sir Oliver!" cried Sir Nigel, laughing.
"Let your anger be appeased, since instead of this dish you come upon an
old friend and comrade."
"By St. Martin of Tours!" shouted the fat knight, his wrath all changed
in an instant to joy, "if it is not my dear little game rooster of the
Garonne. Ah, my sweet coz, I am right glad to see you. What days we have
seen together!"
"Aye, by my faith," cried Sir Nigel, with sparkling eyes, "we have
seen some valiant men, and we have shown our pennons in some noble
skirmishes. By St. Paul! we have had great joys in France."
"And sorrows also," quoth the other. "I have some sad memories of the
land. Can you recall that which befell us at Libourne?"
"Nay, I cannot call to mind that we ever so much as drew sword at the
place."
"Man, man," cried Sir Oliver, "your mind still runs on nought but blades
and bassinets. Hast no space in thy frame for the softer joys. Ah,
even now I can scarce speak of it unmoved. So noble a pie, such tender
pigeons, and sugar in the gravy instead of salt! You were by my side
that day, as were Sir Claude Latour and the Lord of Pommers."
"I remember it," said Sir Nigel, laughing, "and how you harried the cook
down the street, and spoke of setting fire to the inn. By St. Paul! most
worthy mayor, my old friend is a perilous man, and I rede you that you
compose your difference with him on such terms as you may."
"The clams and scallops shall be ready within the hour," the mayor
answered. "I had asked Sir Oliver Buttesthorn to do my humble board
the honor to partake at it of the dainty upon which we take some little
pride, but in sooth this alarm of pirates hath cast such a shadow on my
wits that I am like one distrait. But I trust, Sir Nigel, that you will
also partake of none-meat with me?"
"I have overmuch to do," Sir Nigel answered, "for we must be aboard,
horse and man, as early as we may. How many do you muster, Sir Oliver?"
"Three and forty. The forty are drunk, and the three are but indifferent
sober. I have them all safe upon the ship."
"They had best find their wits again, for I shall have work for every
man of them ere the sun set. It is my intention, if it seems good to
you, to try a venture against these Norman and Genoese rovers."
"They carry caviare and certain very noble spices from the Levant aboard
of ships from Genoa," quoth Sir Oliver. "We may come to great profit
through the business. I pray you, master-shipman, that when you go on
board you pour a helmetful of sea-water over any of my rogues whom you
may see there."
Leaving the *** knight and the Mayor of Lepe, Sir Nigel led the
Company straight down to the water's edge, where long lines of flat
lighters swiftly bore them to their vessel. Horse after horse was slung
by main force up from the barges, and after kicking and plunging in
empty air was dropped into the deep waist of the yellow cog, where rows
of stalls stood ready for their safe keeping. Englishmen in those days
were skilled and prompt in such matters, for it was so not long before
that Edward had embarked as many as fifty thousand men in the port
of Orwell, with their horses and their baggage, all in the space of
four-and-twenty hours. So urgent was Sir Nigel on the shore, and so
prompt was Goodwin Hawtayne on the cog, that Sir Oliver Buttesthorn had
scarce swallowed his last scallop ere the peal of the trumpet and clang
of nakir announced that all was ready and the anchor drawn. In the last
boat which left the shore the two commanders sat together in the sheets,
a strange contrast to one another, while under the feet of the rowers
was a litter of huge stones which Sir Nigel had ordered to be carried to
the cog. These once aboard, the ship set her broad mainsail, purple
in color, and with a golden St. Christopher bearing Christ upon his
shoulder in the centre of it. The breeze blew, the sail bellied, over
heeled the portly vessel, and away she plunged through the smooth blue
rollers, amid the clang of the minstrels on her poop and the shouting of
the black crowd who fringed the yellow beach. To the left lay the green
Island of Wight, with its long, low, curving hills peeping over each
other's shoulders to the sky-line; to the right the wooded Hampshire
coast as far as eye could reach; above a steel-blue heaven, with a
wintry sun shimmering down upon them, and enough of frost to set the
breath a-smoking.
"By St. Paul!" said Sir Nigel gayly, as he stood upon the poop and
looked on either side of him, "it is a land which is very well worth
fighting for, and it were pity to go to France for what may be had at
home. Did you not spy a crooked man upon the beach?"
"Nay, I spied nothing," grumbled Sir Oliver, "for I was hurried down
with a clam stuck in my gizzard and an untasted goblet of Cyprus on the
board behind me."
"I saw him, my fair lord," said Terlake, "an old man with one shoulder
higher than the other."
"'Tis a sign of good fortune," quoth Sir Nigel. "Our path was also
crossed by a woman and by a priest, so all should be well with us. What
say you, Edricson?"
"I cannot tell, my fair lord. The Romans of old were a very wise people,
yet, certes, they placed their faith in such matters. So, too, did
the Greeks, and divers other ancient peoples who were famed for their
learning. Yet of the moderns there are many who scoff at all omens."
"There can be no manner of doubt about it," said Sir Oliver Buttesthorn,
"I can well remember that in Navarre one day it thundered on the left
out of a cloudless sky. We knew that ill would come of it, nor had we
long to wait. Only thirteen days after, a haunch of prime venison was
carried from my very tent door by the wolves, and on the same day two
flasks of old vernage turned sour and muddy."
"You may bring my harness from below," said Sir Nigel to his squires,
"and also, I pray you, bring up Sir Oliver's and we shall don it here.
Ye may then see to your own gear; for this day you will, I hope, make a
very honorable entrance into the field of chivalry, and prove yourselves
to be very worthy and valiant squires. And now, Sir Oliver, as to our
dispositions: would it please you that I should order them or will you?"
"You, my cockerel, you. By Our Lady! I am no chicken, but I cannot claim
to know as much of war as the squire of Sir Walter Manny. Settle the
matter to your own liking."
"You shall fly your pennon upon the fore part, then, and I upon the
poop. For foreguard I shall give you your own forty men, with two-score
archers. Two-score men, with my own men-at-arms and squires, will serve
as a poop-guard. Ten archers, with thirty shipmen, under the master, may
hold the waist while ten lie aloft with stones and arbalests. How like
you that?"
"Good, by my faith, good! But here comes my harness, and I must to work,
for I cannot slip into it as I was wont when first I set my face to the
wars."
Meanwhile there had been bustle and preparation in all parts of the
great vessel. The archers stood in groups about the decks, new-stringing
their bows, and testing that they were firm at the nocks. Among them
moved Aylward and other of the older soldiers, with a few whispered
words of precept here and of warning there.
"Stand to it, my hearts of gold," said the old bowman as he passed from
knot to knot. "By my hilt! we are in luck this journey. Bear in mind the
old saying of the Company."
"What is that, Aylward?" cried several, leaning on their bows and
laughing at him.
"'Tis the master-bowyer's rede: 'Every bow well bent. Every shaft well
sent. Every stave well nocked. Every string well locked.' There, with
that jingle in his head, a bracer on his left hand, a shooting glove on
his right, and a farthing's-worth of wax in his girdle, what more doth a
bowman need?"
"It would not be amiss," said Hordle John, "if under his girdle he had
tour farthings'-worth of wine."
"Work first, wine afterwards, mon camarade. But it is time that we
took our order, for methinks that between the Needle rocks and the Alum
cliffs yonder I can catch a glimpse of the topmasts of the galleys.
Hewett, Cook, Johnson, Cunningham, your men are of the poop-guard.
Thornbury, Walters, Hackett, Baddlesmere, you are with Sir Oliver on the
forecastle. Simon, you bide with your lord's banner; but ten men must go
forward."
Quietly and promptly the men took their places, lying flat upon their
faces on the deck, for such was Sir Nigel's order. Near the prow was
planted Sir Oliver's spear, with his arms—a boar's head gules upon a
field of gold. Close by the stern stood Black Simon with the pennon of
the house of Loring. In the waist gathered the Southampton mariners,
hairy and burly men, with their jerkins thrown off, their waists braced
tight, swords, mallets, and pole-axes in their hands. Their leader,
Goodwin Hawtayne, stood upon the poop and talked with Sir Nigel, casting
his eye up sometimes at the swelling sail, and then glancing back at the
two *** who held the tiller.
"Pass the word," said Sir Nigel, "that no man shall stand to arms or
draw his bow-string until my trumpeter shall sound. It would be well
that we should seem to be a merchant-ship from Southampton and appear to
flee from them."
"We shall see them anon," said the master-shipman. "Ha, said I not so?
There they lie, the water-snakes, in Freshwater Bay; and mark the reek
of smoke from yonder point, where they have been at their devil's work.
See how their shallops pull from the land! They have seen us and called
their men aboard. Now they draw upon the anchor. See them like ants upon
the forecastle! They stoop and heave like handy ship men. But, my fair
lord, these are no niefs. I doubt but we have taken in hand more than
we can do. Each of these ships is a galeasse, and of the largest and
swiftest make."
"I would I had your eyes," said Sir Nigel, blinking at the pirate
galleys. "They seem very gallant ships, and I trust that we shall have
much pleasance from our meeting with them. It would be well to pass the
word that we should neither give nor take quarter this day. Have you
perchance a priest or friar aboard this ship, Master Hawtayne?"
"No, my fair lord."
"Well, well, it is no great matter for my Company, for they were all
houseled and shriven ere we left Twynham Castle; and Father Christopher
of the Priory gave me his word that they were as fit to march to heaven
as to Gascony. But my mind misdoubts me as to these Winchester men who
have come with Sir Oliver, for they appear to be a very ungodly crew.
Pass the word that the men kneel, and that the under-officers repeat to
them the pater, the ave, and the credo."
With a clank of arms, the rough archers and *** took to their knees,
with bent heads and crossed hands, listening to the hoarse mutter from
the file-leaders. It was strange to mark the hush; so that the lapping
of the water, the straining of the sail, and the creaking of the timbers
grew louder of a sudden upon the ear. Many of the bowmen had drawn
amulets and relics from their bosoms, while he who possessed some
more than usually sanctified treasure passed it down the line of his
comrades, that all might kiss and reap the virtue.
The yellow cog had now shot out from the narrow waters of the Solent,
and was plunging and rolling on the long heave of the open channel. The
wind blew freshly from the east, with a very keen edge to it; and the
great sail bellied roundly out, laying the vessel over until the water
hissed beneath her lee bulwarks. Broad and ungainly, she floundered from
wave to wave, dipping her round bows deeply into the blue rollers, and
sending the white flakes of foam in a spatter over her decks. On her
larboard quarter lay the two dark galleys, which had already hoisted
sail, and were shooting out from Freshwater Bay in swift pursuit, their
double line of oars giving them a vantage which could not fail to bring
them up with any vessel which trusted to sails alone. High and bluff the
English cog; long, black and swift the pirate galleys, like two fierce
lean wolves which have seen a lordly and unsuspecting stag walk past
their forest lair.
"Shall we turn, my fair lord, or shall we carry on?" asked the
master-shipman, looking behind him with anxious eyes.
"Nay, we must carry on and play the part of the helpless merchant."
"But your pennons? They will see that we have two knights with us."
"Yet it would not be to a knight's honor or good name to lower his
pennon. Let them be, and they will think that we are a wine-ship for
Gascony, or that we bear the wool-bales of some mercer of the Staple. Ma
foi, but they are very swift! They swoop upon us like two goshawks on a
heron. Is there not some symbol or device upon their sails?"
"That on the right," said Edricson, "appears to have the head of an
Ethiop upon it."
"'Tis the badge of Tete-noire, the Norman," cried a ***-mariner. "I
have seen it before, when he harried us at Winchelsea. He is a wondrous
large and strong man, with no ruth for man, woman, or beast. They say
that he hath the strength of six; and, certes, he hath the crimes of six
upon his soul. See, now, to the poor souls who swing at either end of
his yard-arm!"
At each end of the yard there did indeed hang the dark figure of a man,
jolting and lurching with hideous jerkings of its limbs at every plunge
and swoop of the galley.
"By St. Paul!" said Sir Nigel, "and by the help of St. George and Our
Lady, it will be a very strange thing if our black-headed friend does
not himself swing thence ere he be many hours older. But what is that
upon the other galley?"
"It is the red cross of Genoa. This Spade-beard is a very noted captain,
and it is his boast that there are no *** and no archers in the world
who can compare with those who serve the Doge Boccanegra."
"That we shall prove," said Goodwin Hawtayne; "but it would be well,
ere they close with us, to raise up the mantlets and pavises as a screen
against their bolts." He shouted a hoarse order, and his *** worked
swiftly and silently, heightening the bulwarks and strengthening them.
The three ship's anchors were at Sir Nigel's command carried into the
waist, and tied to the mast, with twenty feet of cable between, each
under the care of four ***. Eight others were stationed with leather
water-bags to quench any fire-arrows which might come aboard, while
others were sent up the mast, to lie along the yard and drop stones or
shoot arrows as the occasion served.
"Let them be supplied with all that is heavy and weighty in the ship,"
said Sir Nigel.
"Then we must send them up Sir Oliver Buttesthorn," quoth Ford.
The knight looked at him with a face which struck the smile from his
lips. "No squire of mine," he said, "shall ever make jest of a belted
knight. And yet," he added, his eyes softening, "I know that it is but
a boy's mirth, with no sting in it. Yet I should ill do my part towards
your father if I did not teach you to curb your tongue-play."
"They will lay us aboard on either quarter, my lord," cried the master.
"See how they stretch out from each other! The Norman hath a mangonel
or a trabuch upon the forecastle. See, they bend to the levers! They are
about to loose it."
"Aylward," cried the knight, "pick your three trustiest archers, and see
if you cannot do something to hinder their aim. Methinks they are within
long arrow flight."
"Seventeen score paces," said the archer, running his eye backwards and
forwards. "By my ten finger-bones! it would be a strange thing if we
could not notch a mark at that distance. Here, Watkin of Sowley, Arnold,
Long Williams, let us show the rogues that they have English bowmen to
deal with."
The three archers named stood at the further end of the poop, balancing
themselves with feet widely spread and bows drawn, until the heads of
the cloth-yard arrows were level with the centre of the stave. "You
are the surer, Watkin," said Aylward, standing by them with shaft upon
string. "Do you take the rogue with the red coif. You two bring down the
man with the head-piece, and I will hold myself ready if you miss. Ma
foi! they are about to loose her. Shoot, mes garcons, or you will be too
late."
The throng of pirates had cleared away from the great wooden catapult,
leaving two of their number to discharge it. One in a scarlet cap
bent over it, steadying the jagged rock which was balanced on the
spoon-shaped end of the long wooden lever. The other held the loop of
the rope which would release the catch and send the unwieldy missile
hurtling through the air. So for an instant they stood, showing hard and
clear against the white sail behind them. The next, redcap had fallen
across the stone with an arrow between his ribs; and the other, struck
in the leg and in the throat, was writhing and spluttering upon the
ground. As he toppled backwards he had loosed the spring, and the huge
beam of wood, swinging round with tremendous force, cast the corpse of
his comrade so close to the English ship that its mangled and distorted
limbs grazed their very stern. As to the stone, it glanced off obliquely
and fell midway between the vessels. A roar of cheering and of laughter
broke from the rough archers and *** at the sight, answered by a yell
of rage from their pursuers.
"Lie low, mes enfants," cried Aylward, motioning with his left hand.
"They will learn wisdom. They are bringing forward shield and mantlet.
We shall have some pebbles about our ears ere long."
End of Chapter XV �