CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 BOUGHT WITH THE INCOJfE t 
 OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT 
 FUND GIVEN IN 1891 BY 
 
 HENRY WILLIAMS SAGE 
 
The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013342773 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PR4622.S6 1909 
 
 Sir Nigel. 
 
 3 1924 013 342 773 
 
 SIR NIGEL 
 
WORKS SY A. CO NAN DOYLE. 
 
 The White Company, 
 
 MicAH Clarke. 
 
 The Refugees. 
 
 Rodney Stone. 
 
 Uncle Bernac : a Memory of the Empire. 
 
 The Great Shadow. 
 
 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. 
 
 Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes. 
 
 The Sign of Four. 
 
 A Study in Scarlet. 
 
 The Firm of Girdlestone. 
 
 The Parasite. 
 
 Exploits of Brigadier Gerard. 
 
 Captain of the Polestar. 
 
 Round the Red Lamp. 
 
 The Stark Munro Letters. 
 
 The Doings of Raffles Haw. 
 
 The Tragedy of the Kokosko. 
 
 Songs of Action. 
 
 A Duet. 
 
 The Green Flag, and other Stories of War 
 
 and Sport. 
 The Great Boer War. 
 Adventures of Gerard. 
 The Hound of the Baskervilles. 
 Return of Sherlock Holmes. 
 Sir Nigel. 
 
 Through the Magic Door, 
 Round-the-Fire Stories, 
 
' A SUDDEN WILli, PIERCE SHOUT PEALED UP TO THE VAULTED CEILING." 
 
 'iFrontiapieci: {see page 223.) 
 
SIR NIGEL 
 
 BY 
 
 ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 " THE WHITE COMPANY," ETC. 
 
 JV£IV EDITION 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 LONDON 
 SMITH, ELDER & CO., 15, WATERLOO PLACE 
 
 1909 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
PRINTED BY 
 
 WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED 
 
 LONDON AND BECCLES 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 Dame History is so austere a lady that if one has been so 
 ill-advised as to take a liberty with her one should hasten 
 to make amends by repentance and confession. Events 
 have been transposed to the extent of some few months 
 in this narrative in order to preserve the continuity and 
 evenness of the story. I hope so small a divergence may 
 seem a venial error after so many centuries. For the rest 
 it is as accurate as a good deal of research and hard work 
 could make it. 
 
 The matter of diction is always a question of taste and 
 discretion in a historical reproduction. In the year 1350 
 the upper classes still spoke Norman-French, though they 
 were just beginning to condescend to English. The lower 
 classes spoke the English of the original Piers Plowman 
 text, which would be considerably more obscure than their 
 superior's French if the two were now reproduced or 
 imitated. The most which the chronicler can do is to 
 catch the cadence and style of their talk, and to infuse 
 here and there such a dash of the archaic as may indic-ate 
 their fashion of speech. 
 
 I am aware that there are incidents which may 
 strike the modem reader as brutal and repellent. It is 
 useless, however, to draw the Twentieth Century and 
 label it the Fourteenth. It was a sterner age, and men's 
 code of morality, especially in matters of cruelty, was very 
 different. There is no incident in the text for which very 
 
vi INTRODUCTION 
 
 good warrant may not be given. The fantastic graces of 
 chivalry lay upon the surface of life, but beneath it was a 
 half-savage population, fierce and animal, with little ruth 
 or mercy. It was a raw, rude England, full of elemental 
 passions, and redeemed only by elemental virtues. Such I 
 have tried to draw it. 
 
 For good or bad, many books have gone to the building 
 of this one. I look round my study table and I survey 
 those which lie with me at the moment, before I happily 
 disperse them for ever. I see La Croix's " Middle Ages," 
 Oman's " Art of War," Eietstap's " Armorial General," De 
 la Borderie's " Histoire de Bretagne," Dame Berners' 
 "Boke of St. Albans," "The Chronicle of Jocelyn 
 of Brakelond," "The Old Eoad," Hewitt's "Ancient 
 Armour," Coussan's " Heraldry," Boutell's " Arms," 
 Browne's " Chaucer's England," Gust's " Scenes of the 
 Middle Ages," Jusserand's "Wayfaring Life," Ward's 
 " Canterbury Pilgrims," Cornish's " Chivalry," Hastings' 
 "British Archer," Strutt's "Sports," Johnes "Eroissart," 
 Hargrove's "Archery," Longman's "Edward III.," Wright's 
 " Domestic Manners." With these and many others I have 
 lived for months. If I have been unable to combine and 
 transfer their effect the fault is mine. 
 
 ARTHUE CONAN DOYLE. 
 
 Undeeshaw, 
 October, 1906. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAFTEB PAGB 
 
 I. The House of Loking .,. ... ... ... 1 
 
 II. How THE Devii. came to Wavekley ... 7 
 
 III. The Yellow Hokse of Ckooksbuky ... ... 14 
 
 IV. How THE SCMMONEH CAME TO THE MANOR-HOUSE OF 
 
 TiLFOED ... ... ... ... ... 32 
 
 V. How Nigel was tried by the Abbot of 
 
 Waverley ... ... ... ... ... 47 
 
 VI. In which Lady Eemynteude opens the Iron Coffer 64 
 
 VII. How Nigel went marketing to GuiLDroED ... 75 
 
 VIII. How THE King hawked on Crooksbury Heath 92 
 
 IX. How Nigel held the Bridge at Tilford ... 104 
 
 X. How the King greeted his Seneschal of Calais 114 
 
 XI. In the Hall of the Knight op Ddppun ... 12? 
 
 XII. How Nigel fought The Twisted Man op Shalfobd 140 
 
 XIII. How the Comrades journeyed down the Old, Old 
 
 KoAD ... ... ... ... ... 156 
 
 XrV. How Nigel chased the Red Ferret ... 179 
 
 XV. How the Red Ferret came to Cosfobd ... ... 204 
 
 YI. How the Kino's Court feasted in Calais Castle 215 
 
 vii 
 
viti CONTENTS 
 
 CHAFTSR FADE 
 
 XVII. The Spaniards on the Sea ... ... ... 227 
 
 XVIII. How Black Simon claimed Forfeit from the 
 
 King OP Saek... ... ... ... 250 
 
 XIX. How A Squire of England met a Squire of 
 
 France 262 
 
 XX. How the English attempted the Castle of La 
 
 Brohiniere ... ... ... ... 283 
 
 XXI. How the Second Messenger went to Cosfoed 297 
 
 XXIL How EoBEKT OF Beaumanoik came to Ploermel 315 
 
 XXIII. How Thirty of Josselin encountered Thirty of 
 
 Ploermel ... ... ... ... ... 325 
 
 XXIV. How Nigel was called to his Master ... 342 
 
 XXV. How the King of France held Counsel at 
 
 Maupertuis ... ... ,., ... 357 
 
 XXVI. How Nigel found his Third Deed ... 367 
 
 XXVII. How THE Third Messenger came to CosrosD ... 388 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 " A Sudden Wild, Fierce Shout pealed up to the Vaulted 
 Ceiling" ... ... ... ... Frontispiece 
 
 TO FACE FAQB 
 
 "With neithek Saddle nok Stikeups to help him, . . . 
 
 he was habd fkessed to hold his own" ... 24 
 
 "Despekatelt Nigel strove to gain his Swoed" ... 42 
 
 "Had Widdicombe been steuck by a Thunderbolt, he 
 COULD not have flown faster or farther feom his 
 Saddle" ... ... ... ... ... 108 
 
 " A Strange Sight it was that met them now in the 
 
 Circle or Light"... ... ... ... ... 154 
 
 "Then slowly the Whole Figure of a Man in Complete 
 Plate-aemoue emerged on the Deck" ... ... 200 
 
 "Swinging their Mighty Weapon, the Storming Party 
 
 THUDDED AND CRASHED UPON THE GaTE " ... ... 292 
 
 "'Indeed, Eustace, tod have done well to say what is 
 
 IN YOUR Mind'" ... ... ... ... 360 
 
 U£ 
 
SIR NIGEL 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE HOUSE OF LOEING 
 
 In the month of July of the year 1348, between the feasts 
 of St. Benedict and of St. Swithin, a strange thing came 
 upon England, for out of the east there drifted a monstrous 
 cloud, purple and pUed, heavy with evil, climbing slowly up 
 the hushed heaven. In the shadow of that strange cloud 
 the leaves drooped in the trees, the birds ceased their calling, 
 and the cattle and the sheep gathered cowering under the 
 hedges. A gloom fell upon all the land, and men stood 
 with their eyes upon the strange cloud and a heaviness 
 upon their hearts. They crept into the churches, where the 
 trembUng people were blessed and shriven by the trembling 
 priests. Outside no bird flew, and there came no rustling 
 from the woods, nor any of the homely sounds of Nature. 
 All was still, and nothing moved, save only the great cloud 
 which rolled up and onward, with fold on fold from the 
 black horizon. To the west was the light summer sky, to the 
 east this brooding cloud-bank, creeping ever slowly across, 
 until the last thin blue gleam faded away and the whole 
 vast sweep of the heavens was one great leaden arch. 
 
 Then the rain began to fall. All day it rained, and all 
 the night and all the week and all the month, until folk 
 had forgotten the blue heavens and the gleam of the sun- 
 shine. It was not heavy, but it was steady and cold and 
 
 I B 
 
2 SIR NIGEL 
 
 unceasing, so that the people were weary of its hissing and 
 its splashing, with the slow drip from the eaves. Always 
 the same thick evil cloud flowed from east to west with 
 the rain beneath it. None could see for more than a 
 bow-shot from their dwellings for the drifting veil of the 
 rain-storms. Every morning the folk looked upward for a 
 break, but their eyes rested always upon the same endless 
 cloud, until at last they ceased to look up, and their hearts 
 despaired of ever seeing the change. It was raining at 
 Lammas-tide and raining at the Feast of the Assumption 
 and still raining at Michaelmas. The crops and the hay, 
 sodden and black, had rotted in the fields, for they were 
 not worth the garnering. The sheep had died, and the 
 calves also, so there was little to kill when Martinmas 
 came and it was time to salt the meat for winter. They 
 feared a famine, but it was worse than famine which was 
 in store for them. 
 
 For the rain had ceased at last, and a sickly autumn 
 sun shone upon a land which was soaked and sodden with 
 water. Wet and rotten leaves reeked and festered under 
 the foul haze which rose from the woods. The fields were 
 spotted with monstrous fungi of a size and colour never 
 matched before — scarlet and mauve and liver and black. 
 It was as though the sick earth had burst into foul 
 pustules ; mildew and lichen mottled the walls, and with 
 that filthy crop Death sprang also from the water-soaked 
 earth. Men died, and women and children, the baron of 
 the castle, the franklin on the farm, the monk in the 
 abbey, and the villein in his wattle-and-daub cottage. All 
 breathed the same polluted reek and aU died the same 
 death of corruption. Of those who were stricken none 
 recovered, and the illness was ever the same— gross boils, 
 raving, and the black blotches which gave its name to the 
 disease, AU through the winter the dead rotted by the 
 wayside for want of some one to bury them. In many a 
 village no single man was left alive. Then at last the 
 
THE HOUSE OF LORING 3 
 
 spring came, with sunshine and health and lightness and 
 laughter — the greenest, sweetest, tenderest spring that 
 England had ever known. But only half of England could 
 know it-^the other half had passed away with the great 
 purple cloud. 
 
 Yet it was there, in that steam of death, in that reek 
 of corruption, that the brighter and freer England was 
 bom. There in that dark hour the first streak of the new 
 dawn was seen. For in no way save by a great upheaval 
 and change could the nation break away from that iron 
 feudal system which held her limbs. But now it was a 
 new country which came out from that year of death. The 
 barons were dead in swaths. No high turret nor cunning 
 moat could keep out that black commoner who struck 
 them down. Oppressive laws slackened for want of those 
 who could enforce them, and once slackened could never 
 be enforced again. The labourer would be a slave no 
 longer. The bondsman snapped his shackles. There was 
 much to do and few left to do it. Therefore the few 
 should be free men, name their own price, and work where 
 and for whom they would. It was the black death which 
 cleared the way for the great rising thirty years later 
 which left the English peasant the freest of his class in 
 Europe. 
 
 But there were few so far-sighted that they could see 
 that here as ever good was coming out of evU. At the 
 moment misery and ruin were brought into every family. 
 The dead cattle, the ungamered crops, the untilled lands — 
 every spring of wealth had dried up at the same moment. 
 Those who were rich became poor; but those who were 
 poor already, and especially those who were poor with the 
 burden of gentility upon their shoulders, found themselves 
 in a perilous state. All through England the smaller 
 gentry were ruined, for they had no trade save war, and 
 they drew their living from the work of others. On many 
 a manor-house there came evil times, and on none more 
 
4 SIR NIGEL 
 
 than on the Manor of Tilford, where for many generations 
 the noble family of the Lorings had held their home. 
 
 There was a time when the Lorings had held the 
 country from the North Downs to the Lakes of Frensham, 
 and when their grim castle-keep rising above the green 
 meadows which border the Eiver Wey had been the 
 strongest fortalice betwixt Guildford Castle in the east 
 and Winchester in the west. But there came that Barons' 
 War, in which the King used his Saxon subjects as a whip 
 with which to scourge his Norman barons, and Castle 
 Loring, like so many other great strongholds, was swept 
 from the face of the land. From that time the Lorings, 
 with estates sadly curtailed, lived in what had been the 
 dower-house, with enough for their needs, but shorn of all 
 their splendour. 
 
 And then came their lawsuit with Waverley Abbey, 
 when the Cistercians laid claim to their richest land, with 
 peccary, turbary, and feudal rights over the remainder. It 
 straggled on for years, this great lawsuit, and when it was 
 finished the men of the Church and the men of the Law 
 had divided all that was richest of the estate between 
 them. There was still left the old manor-house, from 
 which with each generation there came a soldier to uphold 
 the credit of the name, and to show the five scarlet roses 
 on the silver shield where it had always been shown — in 
 the van. There were twelve bronzes in the little chapel, 
 where Mathew the priest said mass every morning, all of 
 men of the house of Loring. Two lay with their legs 
 crossed, as being from the Crusades. Six others rested 
 their feet upon Lions, as having died in war. Four only 
 lay with the effigy of their hounds to show that they had 
 passed in peace. 
 
 Of this famous but impoverished family, doubly im- 
 poverished by law and by pestilence, two members were 
 living in the year of grace 1349— Lady Ermyntrude Loring 
 and her grandson Nigel. Lady Ermyntrude's husband 
 
THE HOUSE OF LORING 5 
 
 had fallen before tlie Scottish spearmen at Stirling, and 
 her son Eustace, Nigel's father, had found a glorious death, 
 nine years before this chronicle opens, upon the poop of a 
 Norman galley at the sea-fight of Sluys. The lonely old 
 ■woman, fierce and brooding like the falcon mewed in her 
 chamber, was soft only toward the lad whom she had 
 brought up. All the tenderness and love of her nature, 
 so hidden from others that they could not imagine their 
 existence, were lavished upon him. She could not bear 
 him away from her, and he, with that respect for authority 
 which the age demanded, would not go without her blessing 
 and consent. 
 
 So it came about that Nigel, with his lion heart and 
 with the blood of a hundred soldiers thrilling in his veins, 
 still at the age of two-and-twenty, wasted the weary days 
 reclaiming his hawks with leash and lure or training the 
 alans and spaniels who shared with the family the big 
 earthen-floored hall of the manor-house. 
 
 Day by day the aged Lady Ermyntrude had seen him 
 wax in strength and in manhood, small of stature, it is 
 true, but with muscles of steel and a soul of fire. Erom 
 all parts, from the warden of Guildford Castle, from the 
 tilt-yard of Farnham, tales of his prowess were brought 
 back to her, of his daring as a rider, of his debonair 
 courage, of his skill with all weapons ; but still she, who 
 had both husband and son torn from her by a bloody 
 death, could not bear that this, the last of the Lorings, the 
 final bud of so famous an old tree, should share the same 
 fate. With a weary heart, but with a smiling face, he 
 bore with his uneventful days, while she would ever put 
 off the evil time, until the harvest was better, until the 
 monks of Waverley should give up what they had taken, 
 until his uncle should die and leave money for his outfit, 
 or any other excuse with which she could hold him to her 
 
 e. 
 
 And, indeed, there was need for a man at Tilford, for 
 
6 SIR NIGEL 
 
 the strife betwixt the Abbey and the manor-house had 
 never been appeased, and still on one pretext or another 
 the monks would clip off yet one more slice of their 
 neighbour's land. Over the winding river, across the 
 green meadows, rose the short square tower and the high 
 gray walls of the grim Abbey, with' its bell tolling by day 
 and night, a voice of menace and of dread to the little 
 household. 
 
 It is in the heart of the great Cistercian monastery 
 that this chronicle of old days must take its start, as we 
 trace the feud betwixt the monks and the house of Loring 
 with those events to which it gave birth, ending with the 
 coming of Chandos, the strange spear-running of Tilford 
 Bridge, and the deeds with which Nigel won fame in the 
 wars. Elsewhere, in the chronicle of the White Company, 
 it has been set forth what manner of man was Nigel 
 Loring. Those who love him may read herein the things 
 which went to his making. Let us go back together and 
 gaze upon this green stage of England, the scenery, hiU, 
 plain and river even as now, the actors in much our very 
 selves, in much also so changed in thought and act that 
 they might be dwellers in another world to ours. 
 
CHAPTER 11 
 
 sow THE DEVIL CAME TO WAVEELEY 
 
 The day was the first of May, whicli was the Festival of 
 the Blessed Apostles Philip and James. The year was the 
 1349th from man's salvation. 
 
 From tierce to sext, and then again from sext to nones, 
 Abbot John of the House of Waverley had been seated in 
 his study while he conducted the many high duties of his 
 office. All round for many a mile on every side stretched 
 the fertile and flourishing estate of which he was the 
 master. In the centre lay the broad Abbey buildings, 
 with chmrch and cloisters, hospitium, chapter-house and 
 frater-house, all buzzing with a busy life. Through the 
 open window came the low hum of the voices of the 
 brethren as they walked in pious converse in the ambu- 
 latory below. From across the cloister there rolled the 
 distant rise and fall of a Gregorian chant, where the pre- 
 centor was hard at work upon the choir, while down in the 
 chapter-house sounded the strident voice of Brother Peter, 
 expounding the rule of Saint Bernard to the novices. 
 
 Abbot John rose to stretch his cramped limbs. He 
 looked out at the greensward of the cloister, and at the 
 graceful line of open Gothic arches which skirted a covered 
 walk for the brethren within. Two and two in their black- 
 and-white garb, with slow step and heads inclined,- they 
 paced round and round. Several of the more studious had 
 brought their illuminating work from the scriptorium, and 
 sat in the warm sunshine, with their little platters of pig- 
 ments and packets of gold-leaf before them, their shoulders 
 
 7 
 
8 SIR NIGEL 
 
 rounded and their faces sunk low over the white sheets 
 of vellum. There, too, was the copper-worker with his 
 burin and graver. Learning and art were not traditions 
 with the Cistercians as with the parent Order of the 
 Benedictines, and yet the library of Waverley was well 
 filled both with precious books and with pious students. 
 
 But the true glory of the Cistercian lay in his outdoor 
 work, and so ever and anon there passed through the 
 cloister some sun-burned monk, soiled mattock or shovel in 
 hand, with his gown looped to his knee, fresh from the fields 
 or the garden. The lush green water-meadows speckled 
 with the heavy-fleeced sheep, the acres of corn-land re- 
 claimed from heather and bracken, the vineyards on the 
 southern slope of Crooksbury HiU, the rows of Hankley 
 fish-ponds, the Frensham marshes drained and sown with 
 vegetables, the spacious pigeon-cotes, all circled the great 
 Abbey round with the visible labours of the Order. 
 
 The Abbot's full and florid face shone with a quiet 
 content as he looked out at his huge but well-ordered 
 household. Like every head of a prosperous Abbey, 
 Abbot John, the fourth of the name, was a man of varied 
 accomplishment. Through his own chosen instruments 
 he had to minister a great estate, and to keep order and 
 decorum among a large body of men living a celibate life. 
 He was a rigid disciplinarian toward all beneath him, a 
 supple diplomatist to aU above. He held high debate with 
 neighbouring abbots and lords, with bishops, with papal 
 legates, and even on occasion with the King's majesty 
 himself. Many were the subjects with which he must be 
 conversant. Questions of doctrine, questions of building, 
 points of forestry, of agriculture, of drainage, of feudal 
 law, all came to the Abbot for settlement. He held the 
 scales of Justice in all the Abbey banlieue which stretched 
 over many a mile of Hampshire and of Surrey. To the 
 monks his displeasure might mean fasting, exile to some 
 sterner community, or even imprisonment in chains. Over 
 
HOW THE DEVIL CAME TO WAVERLEY 9 
 
 tlie laymen also he could hold any punishment save only 
 corporeal death, instead of -which he had in hand the far 
 more dreadful weapon of spiritual excommunication. 
 
 Such ^ere the powers of the Abbot, and it is no 
 wonder that there were masterful lines in the ruddy 
 features of Abbot John, or that the brethren, glancing up, 
 should put on an even meeker carriage and more demure 
 expression as they saw the watchful face in the window 
 above them. 
 
 A knock at the door of his study recalled the Abbot 
 to his immediate duties, and he returned to his desk. 
 Already he hdd spoken with his cellarer and prior, 
 almoner, chaplain, and lector, but now in the tall and 
 gaunt monk who obeyed his summons to enter he 
 recognized the most important and also the most im- 
 portunate of his agents, Brother Samuel the sacrist, whose 
 office, corresponding to that of the layman's bailiff, placed 
 the material interests of the monastery and its dealings • 
 with the outer world entirely under his control, subject 
 only to the check of the Abbot. Brother Samuel was 
 a gnarled and stringy old monk, whose stern and sharp- 
 featured face reflected no light from above, but only that 
 sordid workaday world toward which it was for ever turned. 
 A huge book of accounts was tucked under one of his 
 arms, while a great bunch of keys hung from the other 
 hand, a badge of his office, and also, on occasion of im- 
 patience, a weapon of offence, as many a scarred head 
 among rustics and lay brothers could testify. 
 
 The Abbot sighed wearily, for he suffered much at the 
 hands of his strenuous agent. 
 
 " Well, Brother Samuel, what is your will ? " he asked. 
 
 "Holy father, I have to report that I have sold the 
 wool to Master Baldwin of Winchester at two shillings a 
 bale more than it fetched last year, for the murrain among 
 the sheep has raised the price." 
 
 " You have done well, brother." 
 
lo SIR NIGEL 
 
 " I have also to tell you that I have distrained Wat 
 the warrener from his cottage ; for his Christmas rent is 
 still unpaid, nor the hen-rents of last year." 
 
 " He has a wife and four children, brother," He was 
 a good, easy man, the Abbot, though liable to be over- 
 borne by his sterner subordinate. 
 
 " It is true, holy father ; but if I should pass him, then 
 how am I to ask the rent of the foresters of Puttenham, 
 or the hinds in the village ? Such a thing spreads from 
 house to house, and where then is the wealth of Waverley?" 
 
 " What else. Brother Samuel ? " 
 
 " There is the matter of the fish-ponds." 
 
 The Abbot's face brightened. It was a subject upon 
 which he was an authority. If the rule of his Order had 
 robbed him of the softer joys of life, he had the keener 
 zest for those which remained. 
 
 " How have the char prospered, brother ? " 
 
 " They have done well, holy father ; but the carp have 
 died in the Abbot's pond." 
 
 " Carp prosper only upon a gravel bottom. They must 
 be put in also in their due proportion, three milters to one 
 spawner, brother sacrist, and the spot must be free from 
 wind, stony and sandy, an eU deep, with willows and grass 
 upon the banks. Mud for tench, brother, gravel for carp." 
 
 The sacrist leaned forward with the face of one who 
 bears tidings of woe. 
 
 " There are pike in the Abbot's pond," said he. 
 
 " Pike ! " cried the Abbot, in horror. " As well shut up 
 a wolf in our sheepfold. How came a pike in the pond ? 
 There were no pike last year, and a pike does not fall with 
 the rain nor rise in the springs. The pond must be drained, 
 or we shall spend next Lent upon stock-fish, and have the 
 brethren do'w^n with the great sickness ere Easter Sunday 
 has come to absolve us from our abstinence." 
 
 " The pond shaU be drained, holy father ; I have already 
 ordered it. Then we shall plant pot-herbs on the mud 
 
HOW THE DEVIL CAME TO WAVERLEY ii 
 
 bottom, and after we have gathered them in, return the 
 fish and water once more from- the lower pond, so that they 
 may fatten among the rich stubble." 
 
 " Good ! " cried the Abbot. " I would have three fish- 
 stews in every well-ordered house-»-one dry for herbs, one 
 shallow for the fry and the yearlings, and one deep for the 
 breeders and the table-fish. But still, I have not heard 
 you say how the pike came in the Abbot's pond ? " 
 
 A spasm of anger passed over the fierce face of the 
 sacrist, and his keys rattled as his bony hand clasped them 
 more tightly, 
 
 " Young Nigel Loring ! " said he. " He swore that he 
 would do us scathe, and in this way he has done it." 
 
 " How know you this ? " 
 
 " Six weeks ago he was seen day by day fishing for pike 
 at the great Lake of Frensham. Twice at night he has 
 been met with a bundle of straw under his arm on the 
 Haukley Down. "Well I wot that the straw was wet and 
 that a live pike lay withia it." 
 
 .The Abbot shook his head. " I have heard much of 
 this youth's wild ways ; but now, indeed, he has passed all 
 bounds, if what you say be truth. It was bad enough when 
 it was said that he slew the king's deer in Woolmer Chase, 
 or broke the head of Hobbs the chapman, so that he lay 
 for seven days betwixt life and death in our infirmary, 
 saved only by Brother Peter's skill in the pharmacies of 
 herbs ; but to put pike in the Abbot's pond — why should 
 he play such a devil's prank ? " 
 
 " Because he hates the House of Waverley, holy father ; 
 because he swears that we hold his father's land." 
 
 " In which there is surely some truth." 
 
 " But, holy father, we hold no more than the law has 
 allowed." 
 
 " True, brother, and yet, between ourselves, we may 
 admit that the heavier purse may weigh down the scales of 
 Justice. When I have passed the old house and have seen 
 
12 SIR NIGEL 
 
 that aged woman with her ruddled cheeks and her baleful 
 eyes look the curses she dare not speak, I have many a 
 time wished that we had other neighbours." 
 
 " That we can soon bring about, holy father. Indeed, it 
 is of it that I wished to speak to you. Surely it is not hard 
 for us to drive them from the country-side. There are 
 thirty years' claims of escuage unsettled, and there is 
 Sergeant Wilkins, the lawyer of Guildford, whom I will 
 warrant to draw up such arrears of dues and rents and 
 issues of hidage and fodder-corn that these folk, who are 
 as beggarly as they are proud, will have to sell the roof- 
 tree over them ere they can meet them. Within three 
 days I wiU have them at our mercy." 
 
 " They are an ancient family and of good repute; I 
 would not treat them too harshly, brother." 
 
 " Bethink you of the pike in the carp pond ! " 
 
 The Abbot hardened his heart at the thought. " It was 
 indeed a devil's deed — when we had but newly stocked it 
 with char and with carp. Well, well, the law is the law, 
 and if you can use it to their hurt it is still lawful to 
 do so. Have these claims been advanced ? " 
 
 " Deacon, the bailiff, with his two varlets went down to 
 the Hall yesternight on the matter of the escuage, and 
 came screaming back with this young hot-head raging at 
 their heels. He is small and slight, yet he has the strength 
 of many men in the hour of his wrath. The bailiff swears 
 that he will go no more, save with half a score of archers 
 to uphold him." 
 
 The Abbot was red with anger at this new offence. " I 
 will teach him that the servants of Holy Church, even 
 though we of the rule of Saint Bernard be the lowliest and 
 humblest of her children, can still defend their own against 
 the froward and the violent ! Go, cite this man before the 
 Abbey court. Let him appear in the chapter-house after 
 tierce to-morrow." 
 
 But the wary sacrist shook his head. " Nay, holy, father, 
 
HOW THE DEVIL CAME TO WAVERLEY 13 
 
 the times are not yet ripe. Give me three days, I pray you, 
 that my case against him may be complete. Bear in mind 
 that the father and the grandfather of this unruly squire 
 were both famous men of their day and the foremost knights 
 in the king's own service, living in high honour and dying 
 in their knightly duty. The Lady Ermyntrude Loring was 
 first lady to the king's mother. Eoger Fifcz-Allan of Farn- 
 ham and Sir Hugh Walcott of GuUdford Castle were each 
 old comrades-in-arms of Nigel's father, and sib to him on 
 the distaff side. Already there has been talk that M'e have 
 dealt harshly with them. Therefore, my rede is that we be 
 wise and wary and wait until his cup be indeed full." 
 
 The Abbot had opened his mouth to reply, when the 
 consultation was interrupted by a most unwonted buzz of 
 excitement from among the monks in the cloister below. 
 Questions and answers in excited voices sounded from one 
 side of the ambulatory to the other. Sacrist and Abbot 
 were gazing at each other in amazement at such a breach 
 of the discipline and decorum of their well-trained flock, 
 when there came a swift step upon the stair, and a 
 white-faced brother flung open the door and rushed into 
 the room. 
 
 " Father Abbot ! " he cried. " Alas, alas ! Brother John 
 is dead, and the holy sub-prior is dead, and the Devil is 
 loose in the five-virgate field ! " 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE YELLOW HOESE OF OROOKSBURY 
 
 In those simple times there was a great wonder and 
 mystery in life. Man walked in fear and solemnity, with 
 Heaven very close above his head, and Hell below his 
 very feet. God's visible hand was everywhere, in the 
 rainbow and the comet, in the thunder and the wind. The 
 Devil, too, raged openly upon the earth ; he skulked behind 
 the hedgerows in the gloaming ; he laughed loudly in the 
 night-time ; he clawed the dying sinner, pounced on the 
 unbaptized babe, and twisted the limbs of the epileptic. 
 A foul iiend slunk ever by a man's side and whispered 
 vUlainies in his ear, while above him there hovered an 
 angel of grace who pointed to the steep and narrow track. 
 How could one doubt these things, when Pope and priest 
 and scholar and king were all united in believing them, 
 with no single voice of question in the whole wide world ? 
 
 Every book read, every picture seen, every tale heard 
 from nurse or mother, all taught the same lesson. And as 
 a man travelled through the world his faith would grow the 
 firmer, for go where he would there were the endless shrines 
 of the saints, each with its holy relic in the centre, and 
 around it the tradition of incessant miracles, with stacks 
 of deserted crutches and silver votive hearts to prove them. 
 At every turn he was made to feel how thin was the veil, 
 and how easily rent, which screened him from the awful 
 denizens of the unseen world. 
 
 Hence the wild announcement of the frightened monk 
 seemed terrible rather than incredible to those whom he 
 
 »4 
 
THE YELLOW HORSE OF CROOKSBURY 15 
 
 addressed. The Abbot's ruddy face paled for a moment, it 
 is true, but lie plucked the crucifix from his desk and rose 
 valiantly to his feet. 
 
 " Lead me to him ! " said he. " Show me the foul fiend 
 who dares to lay his grip upon brethren of the holy house 
 of Saint Bernard ! Eun down to my chaplain, brother ! 
 Bid him bring the exorcist with him, and also the blessed 
 box of relics, and the bones of Saint James from under the 
 altar ! With these and a contrite and humble heart we 
 may show front to all the powers of darkness." 
 
 But the sacrist was of a more critical turn of mind.' 
 He clutched the monk's arm with a grip which left its 
 five purple spots for many a day to come. 
 
 " Is this the way to enter the Abbot's own chamber' 
 without knock or reverence, or so much as a 'Pax 
 vobiscum ' ? " said he, sternly. " You were wont to be our 
 gentlest novice, of lowly carriage in chapter, devout in 
 psalmody, and strict in the cloister. Pull your wits 
 together and answer me straightly. In what form has the 
 foul fiend appeared, and how has he done this grievous 
 scathe to our brethren ? Have you seen him with your 
 own eyes, or do you repeat from hearsay 1 Speak, man, 
 or you stand on the penance-stool in the chapter-house 
 this very hour ! " 
 
 Thus adjured, the frightened monk grew calmer in his 
 bearing, though liis white lips and his startled eyes, with 
 the gasping of his breath, told of his inward tremors. 
 
 " If it please you, holy father, and you, reverend 
 sacrist, it came about in this way. James the sub-prior, 
 and Brother John and I had spent our day from sext 
 onward on Hankley cutting bracken for the cow-houses. 
 We were coming back over the five-virgate field, and the 
 holy sub-prior was telling us a saintly tale from the life 
 of Saint Gregory, when there came a sudden sound Uke a 
 rushing torrent, and the foul fiend sprang over the high 
 wall which skirts the water-meadow and rushed upon us 
 
i6 SIR NIGEL 
 
 with the speed of the wind. The lay brother he struck to 
 the ground and trampled into the mire. Then, seizing 
 the good sub-prior in his teeth, he rushed round the 
 field, swinging him as though he were a fardel of old 
 clothes. 
 
 " Amazed at such a sight, I stood without movement, 
 and had said a credo and three aves, when the Devil 
 dropped the sub-prior and sprang upon me. With the 
 help of St. Bernard I clambered over the wall, but not 
 before his teeth had found my leg, and he had torn away 
 the whole back skirt of my gown." 
 
 As he spoke he turned and gave corroboration to his 
 story by the hanging ruins of his long trailing garment. 
 
 " In what shape, then, did Satan appear ? " the Abbot 
 demanded. 
 
 "As a great yellow horse, holy father — a monster 
 horse, with eyes of fire and the teeth of a griffin." 
 
 " A yellow horse ! " The sacrist glared at the scared 
 monk. "You foolish brother 1 how will you behave when 
 you have indeed to face the King of Terrors himself if 
 you can be so frightened by the sight of a yellow horse ? 
 It is the horse of Franklin Aylward, my father, which has 
 been distrained by us because he owes the Abbey fifty 
 good shillings, and can never hope to pay it. Such a 
 horse, they say, is not to be found betwixt this and the 
 king's stables at Windsor, for his sire was a Spanish 
 destrier, and his dam an Arab mare of the very breed 
 which Saladin kept for his own use, and even, it has 
 been said, under the shelter of his own tent. I took 
 him in discharge of the debt, and I ordered the varlets 
 who had haltered him to leave him alone in the water- 
 meadow, for I have heard that the beast has indeed a 
 most evil spirit, and has killed more men than one." 
 
 " It was an ill day for Waverley that you brought such 
 a monster within its bounds," said the Abbot. " If the 
 sub-prior and brother John be indeed dead, then it would 
 
THE YELLOW HORSE OF CROOKSBURY \^ 
 
 seem that if the horse be not the devil, he is at least the 
 devil's instrument." 
 
 " Horse or devil, holy father, I heard him shout with 
 joy as he trampled upon brother John, and had you seen 
 him tossing the sub-prior as a dog shakes a rat, you would 
 perchance have felt even as I did." 
 
 " Come, then," cried the Abbd't, " let us see with our 
 own eyes what evil has been done;" 
 
 And the three monks hurried down the stair which 
 led to the cloisters. 
 
 They had no sooner descended than their more pressing 
 fears were set at rest, for at that very moment, limping,' 
 dishevelled and mud-stained, the two sufferers were being 
 led in amid a crowd of sympathizing brethren. Shouts 
 and cries from outside showed, however, that some further 
 drama was in progress, and both Abbot and sacrist 
 hastened onward as fast as the dignity of their office 
 would permit, until they had passed the gates and gained 
 the wall of the meadow. Looking over it, a remarkable 
 sight presented itself to their eyes. 
 
 Fetlock deep in the lush grass there stood a magnificent 
 horse, such a horse as a sculptor or a soldier might thrill 
 to see. His colour was a light chestnut, with mane and 
 tail of a more tawny tint. Seventeen hands high, with a 
 barrel and haunches which bespoke tremendous strength, 
 he fined down to the most delicate lines of dainty breed 
 in neck and crest and shoulder. He was indeed a glorious 
 sight as he stood there, his beautiful body leaning back 
 from his wide-spread and propped forelegs, his head craned 
 high, his ears erect, his mane bristKng, his red nostrils 
 opening and shutting with wrath, and his flashing eyes 
 turning from side to side in haughty menace and defiance. 
 
 Scattered round in a respectful circle, six of the Abbey 
 lay servants and foresters, each holding a halter, were 
 creeping toward him. Every now and then, with a 
 beautiful toss and swerve and plunge, the great creature 
 
 g 
 
i8 SIR NIGEL 
 
 would turn upon one of his would-be captors, and with 
 outstretched head, flying mane and flashing teeth, would 
 chase him screaming to the safety of the wall, while the 
 others would close swiftly in behind, and cast their ropes 
 in the hope of catching neck or leg, but only in their turn 
 to be chased to the nearest refuge. 
 
 Had two of these ropes settled upon the horse, and had 
 their throwers found some purchase of stump or boulder 
 by which they could hold them, then the man's brain 
 might have won its wonted victory over swiftness and 
 strength. But the brains were themselves at fault which 
 imagined that one such rope would serve any purpose 
 save to endanger the thrower. 
 
 Yet so it was, and what might have been foreseen 
 occurred at the very moment of the arrival of the monks. 
 The horse, having chased one of his enemies to the wall, 
 remained so long snorting his contempt over the coping 
 that the others were able to creep upon him from behind. 
 Several ropes were flung, and one noose settled over the 
 proud crest and lost itself in the waving mane. In an 
 instant the creature had turned, and the men were flying 
 for their lives ; but he who had cast the rope lingered, 
 uncertain what use to make of his own success. That 
 moment of doubt was fatal. With a yell of dismay, the 
 man saw the great creature rear above him. Then with a 
 crash the fore-feet fell upon him and dashed bini to the 
 ground. He rose screaming, was hurled over once more, 
 and lay a quivering, bleeding heap, while the savage horse, 
 the most cruel and terrible in its anger of all creatures on 
 earth, bit and shook and trampled the writhing body. 
 
 A loud waU of horror rose from the lines of tonsured 
 heads which skirted the high wall — a wail which suddenly 
 died away into a long, hushed silence, broken at last by a 
 rapturous cry of thanksgiving and of joy. 
 
 On the road which led to the old dark manor-house 
 
THE YELLOW HORSE OF CROOKSBURY 19 
 
 upon the side of the hill a youth had been riding. His 
 mount was a sorry one, a weedy, shambling, long-haired 
 colt, and his patched tunic of faded purple with stained 
 leather belt presented no very smart appearance ; yet in 
 the bearing of the man, in the poise of his head, in his 
 easy, graceful carriage, and in the bold glance of his large 
 blue eyes, there was that stamp of distinction and of 
 breed which would have given him a place of his own in 
 any assembly. He was of small stature, but his frame 
 was singularly elegant and graceful. His face, though 
 tanned with the weather, was delicate in features, and 
 most eager and alert in expression. A thick fringe of 
 crisp yeUow curls broke from under the dark flat cap 
 which he was wearing, and a short golden beard hid the 
 outline of his strong, square chin. One white osprey 
 feather thrust through a gold brooch in the front of his 
 cap gave a touch of grace to his sombre garb. This and 
 other points of his attire, the short hanging mantle, the 
 leather-sheathed hunting-knife, the cross-belt which sus- 
 tained a brazen horn, the soft doe-skin boots and the 
 prick spurs, would all disclose themselves to an observer ; 
 but at the first glance the brown face set in gold, and the 
 dancing light of the quick, reckless, laughing eyes, were 
 the one strong memoiy left behind. 
 
 Such was the youth who, cracking his whip joyously, 
 and followed by half a score of dogs, cantered on his rude 
 pony down the Tilford Lane, and thence it was that, with 
 a smUe of amused contempt upon his face, he observed the 
 comedy in the field and the impotent efforts of the servants 
 of Waverley. 
 
 Suddenly, however, as the comedy turned swiftly to 
 black tragedy, this passive spectator leaped into quick 
 strenuous life. With a spring he was off his pony, and 
 with another he was over the stone wall and flying swiftly 
 across the field. Looking up from his victim, the great 
 yellow horse saw this other enemy approach, and spurning 
 
20 SIR NIGEL 
 
 the prostrate but still ■writhing body with his heels, 
 dashed at the newcomer. 
 
 But this time there was no hasty flight, no rapturous 
 pursuit to the wall. The little man braced himself straight, 
 flung up his metal-headed whip, and met the horse with 
 a crashing blow upon the head, repeated again and again 
 with every attack. In vain the horse reared and tried to 
 overthrow its enemy with swooping shoulders and pawing 
 hoofs. Cool, swift, and alert, the man sprang swiftly aside 
 from under the very shadow of death, and then again came 
 the swish and thud of the unerring blow from the heavy 
 handle. 
 
 The horse drew off, glared with wonder and fury at 
 this masterful man, and then trotted round in a circle, with 
 mane bristling, tail streaming, and ears on end, snorting 
 in its rage and pain. The man, hardly deigning to glance 
 at his fell neighbour, passed on to the wounded forester, 
 raised him in his arms, with a strength which could not 
 have been expected in so slight a body, and carried him, 
 groaning, to the wall, where a dozen hands were out- 
 stretched to help him over. Then, at his leisure, the 
 young man also climbed the wall, smiling back with cool 
 contempt at the yellow horse, which had come raging after 
 him once more. 
 
 As he sprang down, a dozen monks surrounded him to 
 thank him or to praise him; but he would have turned 
 sullenly away without a word had he not been stopped 
 by Abbot John in person. 
 
 - " Nay, Squire Loring," said he, " if you be a bad friend 
 to our Abbey, yet we must needs own that you have 
 played the part of a good Christian this day, for if there 
 be breath left in our servant's body it is to you next to our 
 blessed patron Saint Bernard that we owe it." 
 
 " By Saint Paul ! I owe you no good- will, Abbot John," 
 said the young man. "The shadow of your Abbey has 
 ever fallen across the house of Loring. As to any small 
 
THE YELLOW HORSE OF CROOKSBURY 21 
 
 deed that I may have done this day, I ask no thanks for 
 it. It is not for you nor for your house that I have done 
 it, but only because it was my pleasure so to do." 
 
 The Abbot flushed at the bold words, and bit his lip 
 with vexation. 
 
 It was the sacrist, however, who answered : " It would 
 be more fittiag and more gracious," said he, " if you were 
 to speak to the holy Father Abbot in a manner suited to 
 his high rank and to the respect which is due to a Prince 
 of the Church." 
 
 The youth turned his bold blue eyes upon the monk, 
 and his sunburned face darkened with anger. 
 
 " "Were it not for the gown upon your back, and for your 
 silvering hair, I would answer you in another fashion," said 
 he. " You are the lean wolf which growls ever at our door, 
 greedy for the little which hath been left to us. Say and 
 do what you will with me, but by Saint Paul ! if I find 
 that Dame Ermyntrude is bated by your ravenous pack I 
 will beat them off with this whip from the little patch 
 which still remains of all the acres of my fathers." 
 
 " Have a care, Nigel Loring, have a care ! " cried the 
 Abbot, with finger upraised. " Have you no fears of the 
 law of England ? " 
 
 " A just law I fear and obey." 
 
 " Have you no respect for Holy Church ? " 
 
 " I respect all that is holy in her. I do not respect 
 those who grind the poor or steal their neighbour's 
 land." 
 
 "Eash man, many a one has been blighted by her ban 
 for less than you have now said ! And yet it is not for us 
 to judge you harshly this day. You are young, and hot 
 words come easily to your lips. How fares the forester?" 
 
 " His hurt is grievous, Father Abbot, but h? will live," 
 said a brother, looking up from the prostrate form. " With 
 a blood-letting and an electuary, I will warrant him sound 
 within a month." 
 
23 SIR NIGEL 
 
 " Then bear him to the hospital. And now, brother, 
 about this terrible beast who still gazes and snorts at us 
 over the top of the wall as though his thoughts of Holy 
 Church were as uncouth as those of Squire Nigel himself, 
 what are we to do with him ? " 
 
 " Here is Franklin Aylward," said one of the brethren. 
 " The horse was his, and doubtless he will take it back to 
 his farm." 
 
 But the stout red-faced farmer shook his head at the 
 proposal. " Not I, in faith ! " said he. " The beast hath 
 chased me twice round the paddock ; it has nigh slain my 
 boy Samkin. He would never be happy till he had ridden 
 it, nor has he ever been happy since. There is not a hind 
 in my employ who will enter his stall. lU fare the day 
 that ever I took the beast from the Castle stud at Guild- 
 ford, where they could do nothing with it and no rider 
 could be found bold enough to mount it! When the 
 sacrist here took it for a fifty-shilling debt he made his 
 own bargain and must abide by ik He comes no more 
 to the Crooksbury farm." 
 
 " And he stays no more here," said the Abbot. " Brother 
 sacrist, you have raised the Devil, and it is for you to lay 
 it again." 
 
 " That I will most readily," cried the sacrist. " The 
 pittance-maater can stop the fifty shillings from my very 
 own weekly dole, and so the Abbey be none the poorer. 
 In the mean time here is Wat with his arbalist and a bolt 
 in his girdle. Let him drive it to the head through this 
 cursed creature, for his hide and his hoofs are of more 
 value than his wicked self." 
 
 A hard brown old woodman who had been shooting 
 vermin in the Abbey groves stepped forward with a grin 
 of pleasure. After a lifetime of stoats and foxes, this was 
 indeed a noble quarry which was to fall before him. 
 Fitting a bolt on the nut of his taut crossbow, he had 
 raised it to his shoulder and levelled it at the fierce, proud. 
 
THE YELLOW HORSE OF CROOKSBURY 23 
 
 dishevelled head which tossed in savage freedom at the 
 other side of the wall. His finger was crooked on the 
 spring, when a blow from a whip struck the bow upward 
 and the bolt- flew harmless over the Abbey orchard, while 
 the woodman shrank abashed from Mgel Loring's angry 
 eyes. 
 
 " Keep your bolts for your weasels," said he. "Would 
 you take life from a creature whose only fault is that its 
 spirit is so high that it has met none yet who dare control 
 it? You would slay such a horse as a king might be 
 proud to mount, and all because a countiy franklin, or a 
 monk, or a monk's varlet, has not the wit nor the hands 
 to master him ? " 
 
 The sacrist turned swiftly on the Squire. " The Abbey 
 owes you an offering for this day's work, however rude 
 your words may be," said he. " If you think so much of 
 the horse, you may desire to own it. If I am to pay for 
 it, then with the holy Abbot's permission it is in my gift, 
 and I bestow it freely upon you." 
 
 The Abbot plucked at his subordinate's sleeve. " Be- 
 think you, brother sacrist," he whispered, " shall we not 
 have this man's blood upon our heads 1 " 
 
 " His pride is as stubborn as the horse's, holy father," 
 the sacrist answered, his gaunt face breaking into a mali- 
 cious smile. " Man or beast, one will break the other, and 
 the world will be the better for it. If you forbid me " 
 
 " Nay, brother, you have bought the horse, and you 
 may have the bestowal of it." 
 
 " Then I give it — hide and hoofs, tail and temper — to 
 Nigel Loring, and may it be as sweet and as gentle to him 
 as he hath been to the Abbot of Waverley ! " 
 
 The sacrist spoke aloud amid the tittering of the monks, 
 for the man concerned was out of earshot. At the first 
 words which had Shown him the turn which affairs had 
 taken he had run swiftly to the spot where he had left his 
 pony. From its mouth he removed the bit and the stout 
 
24 SIR NIGEL 
 
 bridle whicli held it. Then leaving the creature to nibble 
 the grass by the wayside, he sped back whence he came. 
 
 " I take your gift, monk," said he, " though I know 
 well why it is that you give it. Yet I thank you, for 
 there are two things upon earth for which I have ever 
 yearned, and which my thin purse could never buy. The 
 one is a noble horse, such a horse as my father's son 
 should have betwixt his thighs, and here is the one of all 
 others which I would have chosen, since some small deed 
 is to be done in the winning of him, and some honour- 
 able advancement to be gained. How is the horse called ? " 
 
 " Its name," said the franklin, " is Pommers. I warn 
 you, young sir, that none may ride him, for many have 
 tried, and the luckiest is he who has only a staved rib to 
 show for it." 
 
 " I thank you for your rede," said Mgel, " and now I 
 see that this is indeed a horse which I would journey far 
 to meet. I am your man, Pommers, and you are my horse, 
 and this night you shall own it, or I will never need horse 
 again. My spirit against thine, and God hold thy spirit 
 high, Pommers, so that the greater be the adventure, and 
 the more hope of honour gained ! " 
 
 While he spoke the young Squire had climbed on to 
 .the top of the wall and stood there balanced, the very 
 image of grace and spirit and gallantry, his bridle hanging 
 from one hand and his whip grasped in the other. With 
 a fierce snort, the horse made for him instantly, and his 
 white teeth flashed as he snapped ; but again a heavy blow 
 from the loaded whip caused him to swerve, and even at 
 the instant of the swerve, measuring the distance with 
 steady eyes, and bending his supple body for the spring, 
 Nigel bounded into the air and fell with his legs astride 
 the broad back of the yellow horse. For a minute, with 
 neither saddle nor stirrups to help him, and the beast 
 ramping and rearing like a mad thing beneath him, he 
 was hard pressed to hold his own. His legs were like two 
 
'"W^TH NEITHER SAliDLE NOR STIRRUPS TO HELP Hill, 
 PRESSED TO HOLD HIS OWN." 
 
 HE WAS HARD 
 
THE YELLOW HORSE OF CROOKSBURY ^25 
 
 bands of steel welded on to the swelling arches of the 
 great horse's ribs, and his left hand was buried deep in the 
 tawny mane. 
 
 Never had the dull round of the lives of the gentle 
 brethren of Waverley been broken by so fiery a scene. 
 Springing to right and swooping to left, now with its 
 tangled wicked head betwixt its fore-feet, and now pawing 
 eight feet high in the air, with scarlet, furious nostrils and 
 maddened eyes, the yellow horse was a thing of terror 
 and of beauty. But the lithe figure on his back, bending 
 like a reed in the wind to every movement, firm below, 
 pliant above, with calm inexorable face, and eyes which 
 danced and gleamed with the joy of contest, still held its 
 masterful place for all that the fiery heart and the iron 
 muscles of the great beast could do. 
 
 Once a long drone of dismay rose from the monks, as, 
 rearing higher and higher yet, a last mad effort sent the» 
 creature toppling over backward upon its rider. But, swift 
 and cool, he had writhed from under it ere it fell, spurned 
 it with his foot as it rolled upon the earth, and then seizing 
 its mane as it rose, swung himself lightly on to its back 
 once more. Even the grim sacrist could not but join the 
 cheer, as Pommers, amazed to find the rider still upon Ms 
 back, plunged and curveted down the field. 
 
 But the wild horse only swelled into a greater fury. 
 In the sullen gloom of its untamed heart there rose the 
 furious resolve to dash the life from this clinging rider, 
 even if it meant destruction to beast and man. With red, 
 blazing eyes it looked round for death. On three sides the 
 five-virgate field was bounded by a high wall, broken only 
 at one spot by a heavy four-foot wooden gate. But on the 
 fourth side was a low gray building, one of the granges of 
 the Abbey, presenting a long flank unbroken by door or 
 window. The horse stretched itself into a gallop, and 
 headed straight for that craggy thirty-foot wall. He would 
 break in red ruin at the base of it if he could but dash 
 
26 SIR NIGEL 
 
 for ever the life of this man, who claimed mastery over that 
 which had never found its master yet. 
 
 The great haunches gathered under it, the eager hoofs 
 drummed the grass, as faster and still more fast the frantic 
 horse bore himself and his rider toward the wall. Would 
 Nigel spring off? To do so would be to bend his will to 
 that of the beast beneath him. There was a better way 
 than that. Cool, quick and decided, the man swiftly passed 
 both whip and bridle into the left hand which still held the 
 mane. Then with the right he slipped his short mantle 
 from his shoulders, and lying forward along the creature's 
 strenuous, rippling back, he cast the flapping cloth over 
 the horse's eyes. 
 
 The result was but too successful, for it nearly brought 
 about the downfall of the rider. When those red eyes, 
 straining for death, were suddenly shrouded in unexpected 
 darkness, the amazed horse propped on its fore-feet and 
 came to so dead a stop that Nigel was shot forward on to 
 its neck, and hardly held himself by his hair-entwined 
 hand. Ere he had slid back into position the moment of 
 danger had passed, for the horse, its purpose all blurred in 
 its mind by this strange thing which had befallen, wheeled 
 round once more, trembling in every fibre, and tossing its 
 petulant head until at last the mantle had been slipped 
 from its eyes and the chilling darkness had melted into the 
 homely circle of sunlit grass once more. 
 
 But what was this new outrage which had been inflicted 
 upon it ? What was this defiling bar of iron which was 
 locked hard against its mouth ? What were these straps 
 which galled the tossing neck, this band which spanned 
 its brow ? In those instants of stillness ere the mantle 
 had been plucked away Nigel had lain forward, had slipped 
 the snaffle between the champing teeth, and had deftly 
 secured it. 
 
 Blind, frantic fury surged in the yeUow horse's heart 
 once more at this new degradation, this badge of serfdom 
 
THE YELLOW HORSE OF CROOKSBURY 27 
 
 and infamy. His spirit rose high and menacing at the 
 touch. He loathed this place, these people, all and every- 
 thing ■which threatened his freedom. He would have done 
 ■with them for ever ; he would see them no more ! Let him 
 away to the uttermost parts of the earth, to the great plains 
 where freedom is ! Anywhere over the far horizon where 
 he could get away from the defiling bit and the insufferable 
 mastery of man ! 
 
 He turned with a rush, and one magnificent deer-like 
 bound carried him over the four-foot gate. Nigel's hat 
 had flown off, and his yellow curls streamed behind him 
 as he rose and fell in the leap. They were in the water- 
 meadow now, and the rippling stream twenty feet wide 
 gleamed in front of them, running down to the main 
 cun-ent of the Wey. The yellow horse gathered his 
 haunches under him and flew over like an arrow. He 
 took off from behind a boulder and cleared a furze-bush 
 on the farther side. Two stones still mark the leap from 
 hoof-mark to hoof-mark, and they are eleven good paces 
 apart. Under the hanging branch of the great oak tree 
 on the farther side (that Quercus Tilfordimsis still shown 
 as the bound of the Abbey's immediate precincts) the 
 great horse passed. He had hoped to sweep off his rider, 
 but Nigel sank low on the heaving back, with his face 
 buried in the flying mane. The rough bough rasped him 
 rudely, but never shook his spirit nor his grip. Rearing, 
 plimging, and struggling, Pommers broke through the 
 sapling grove and was out on the broad stretch of Hankley 
 Down. 
 
 And now came such a ride as still lingers in the 
 gossip of the lowly country folk, and forms the rude jingle 
 of that old Surrey ballad, now nearly forgotten, save for 
 the refrain — 
 
 The Doe that sped on Hinde Head, 
 
 The Kestril on the winde. 
 And Nigel on the Yellow Horse 
 
 Can leave the world behinde. 
 
28 SIR NIGEL 
 
 Before them lay a rolling ocean of dark heather, knee- 
 deep, swelling in billow on billow up to the clear-cut hill 
 before them. Above stretched one unbroken arch of 
 peaceful blue, with a sun which was sinking down towards 
 the Hampshire hills. Through the deep heather, down 
 the gullies, over the watercourses, up the broken slopes, 
 Pommers flew, his great heart bursting with rage, and 
 every fibre quivering at the indignities which he had 
 endured. 
 
 And still, do what he would, the man clung fast to his 
 heaving sides and to his flying mane, silent, motionless, 
 inexorable, letting him do what he would, but fixed as 
 Fate upon his purpose. Over Hankley Down, through 
 Thursley Marsh, with the reeds up to Ms mud-splashed 
 withers, onward up the long slope of the Headland of the 
 Hinds, down by the Nutcombe Gorge, slipping, blundering, 
 bounding, but never slackening his fearful speed, on went 
 the great yellow horse. The villagers of Shottermill heard 
 the wild clatter of hoofs, but ere they could swing the ox- 
 hide curtains of their cottage doors, horse and rider were 
 lost amid the high bracken of the Haslemere Valley. On 
 he went, and on, tossing the miles behind his flying hoofs. 
 No marsh-land could clog him, no hill could hold him 
 back. Up the slope of Linchmere and the long ascent 
 of Fernhurst he thundered as on the level, and it was not 
 until he had flown down the incline of Henley Hill, and 
 the grey castle tower of Midhurst rose over the coppice in 
 front, that at last the eager outstretched neck sank a little 
 on the breast, and the breath came quick and fast. Look 
 where he would, in woodland and on Down, his straining 
 eyes could catch no sign of those plains of freedom which 
 he sought. 
 
 And yet another outrage ! It was bad that this creature 
 should still cling so tight upon his back, but now he would 
 even go to the intolerable length of checking him and 
 guiding him on the way that he would have him go. There 
 
THE YELLOW HORSE OF CROOKSBURY 29 
 
 was a sharp pluck at his mouth, and his head was tttmed 
 north once more. As well go that way as another ; but 
 the man was mad indeed if he thought that such a horse as 
 Pommers was at the end of his spirit or his strength. He 
 would soon show him that he was unconquered, if it 
 strained his sinews or broke his heart to do so. Back, then, 
 he flew up the long, long ascent. Would he ever get to 
 the end of it? Yet he would not own that he could 
 go no farther while the man still kept his grip. He 
 was white with foam and caked with mud. His eyes 
 were gorged with blood, his mouth open and gasping, 
 his nostrils expanded, his coat stark and reeking. On 
 he flew down the long Sunday Hill, until he reached 
 the deep Kingsley Marsh at the bottom. No, it was 
 too much ! Flesh and blood could go no further. As 
 he struggled oiit from the reedy slime, with the heavy 
 black mud stUl clinging to his fetlocks, he at last eased 
 down with sobbing breath, and slowed the tumultuous 
 gallop to a canter. 
 
 Oh, crowning infamy ! Was there no limit to these 
 degradations ? He was no longer even to choose his own 
 pace. Since he had chosen to gallop so far at his own will 
 he must now gallop further still at the will of another. "A 
 spur struck home on either flank. A stinging whip-lash 
 fell across his shoulder. He bounded his own height in the 
 air at the pain and the shame of it. Then, forgetting his 
 weary limbs, forgetting his panting, reeking sides, forget- 
 ting everything save this intolerable insult and the burn- 
 ing spirit within, he plunged off once more upon his 
 furious gallop. He was out on the heather slopes again, 
 and heading for Weydown Common. On he flew and 
 on. But again his brain failed him, and again his 
 limbs trembled beneath him, and yet again he strove 
 to ease his pace, only to be driven onward by the cruel 
 spur and the falling lash. He was blind and giddy with 
 fatigue, 
 
30 SIR NIGEL 
 
 He saw no longer where he placed his feet, he cared 
 no longer whither he went, but his one mad longing was 
 to get away from this dreadful thing, this torture which 
 clung to him and would not let him go. Through Thursley 
 village he passed, his eyes straining in his agony, his heart 
 bursting within him, and he had won his way to the crest 
 of Thursley Down, still stung forward by stab and blow, 
 when his spirit weakened, his giant strength ebbed out of 
 him, and with one deep sob of agony the yeUow horse 
 sank among the heather. So sudden was the fall that 
 Nigel flew forward over his shoulder, and beast and man 
 lay prostrate and gasping, while the last red rim of the 
 sun sank behind Butser and the first stars gleamed ia a 
 violet sky. 
 
 The young Squire was the first to recover, and kneeling 
 by the panting, overwrought horse, he passed his hand 
 gently over the tangled mane and down the foam-flecked 
 face. The red eye rolled up at him ; but it was wonder, 
 not hatred, a prayer and not a threat, which he could 
 read in it. As he stroked the reeking muzzle, the horse 
 whinnied gently and thrust his nose into the hollow of his 
 hand. It was enough. It was the end of the contest, the 
 acceptance of new conditions by a chivalrous foe from a 
 chivalrous victor. 
 
 " You are my horse, Pommers," Nigel whispered, and 
 he laid his cheek against the craning head. " I know you, 
 Pommers, and you know me, and with the help of Saint 
 Paul we shall teach some other folk to know us both. 
 Now let us walk together as far as this moorland pond, 
 for indeed I wot not whether it is you or I who need 
 the water most." 
 
 And so it was that some belated monks of Waverley, 
 passing homeward from the outer farms, saw a strange 
 sight, which they carried on with them so that it reached 
 that very night the ears both of sacrist and of Abbot. For, 
 as they passed through Tilford, they had seen horse and 
 
THE YELLOW HORSE OF CROOKSBURY 31 
 
 man walking side by" side and head by head up the manor- 
 house lane. And when they had raised their lanterns on 
 the pair, it was none other than the young Squire himself 
 who was leading home, as a shepherd leads a lamb, the 
 fearsome yellow horse of Crooksbury. 
 
CHAPTEE IV 
 
 HOW THE SUMMONEE CAME TO THE MANOR-HOUSE OF 
 TILFORD 
 
 By the date of this chronicle, the ascetic sternness of the 
 old Norman castles had been humanized and refined, so 
 that the new dwellings of the nobility, if less imposing in 
 appearance, were much more comfortable as places of 
 residence. A gentle race had built their houses rather 
 for peace than for war. He who compares the savage 
 bareness of Pevensey or Guildford with the piled grandeur 
 of Bodmin or Windsor cannot fail to understand the change 
 in manners which they represent. 
 
 The earlier castles had a set purpose, for they were 
 built that the invaders might hold down the country ; but 
 when the Conquest was once firmly established, a castle 
 had lost its meaning, save as a refuge from justice or as a 
 centre for civil strife. On the marches of Wales and of 
 Scotland the castle might continue to be a bulwark to the 
 kingdom, and there still grew and flourished ; but in all 
 other places they were rather a menace to the King's 
 majesty, and as such were discouraged and destroyed. By 
 the reign of the third Edward the greater part of the old 
 fighting castles had been converted into dwelling-houses 
 or had been ruined in the civil wars, and left where their 
 grim grey bones are still littered upon the brows of our 
 hills. The new buildings were either great country-houses, 
 capable of defence, but mainly residential, or they were 
 manor-houses with no military significance at all. 
 
 Such was the Tilford Manor-house, where the last 
 
 33 
 
HOW THE SUMMONER CAME TO TILFORD 33 
 
 survivors of the old and magnificent house of Loring still 
 struggled hard to keep a footing and to hold off the monks 
 and the lawyers from the few acres which were left to 
 them. The mansion was a two-storied one, framed in 
 heavy beams of wood, the interstices filled with rude 
 blocks of stone. An outside staircase led up to several 
 sleeping-rooms above. Below, there were only two apart- 
 ments, the smaller of which was the bower of the aged 
 Lady Ermyntrude. The other was the hall, a very large 
 room, which served as the living-room of the family and 
 as the common dining-room of themselves and of their 
 little group of servants and retainers. The dwellings of 
 these servants, the kitchens, the offices, and the stables 
 were all represented by a row of penthouses and sheds 
 behind the main building. Here lived Charles, the page ; 
 Peter, the old falconer; Eed Swire, who had followed 
 Nigel's grandfather to the Scottish wars ; Weathercote, 
 the broken minstrel ; John, the cook, and other survivors 
 of more prosperous days, who still clung to the old house 
 as the barnacles to some wrecked and stranded vessel. 
 
 One evening, about a week after the breaking of the 
 yellow horse, Nigel and his grandmother sat on either side 
 of the large empty fireplace in this spacious apartment. 
 The supper had been removed, and so had the trestle 
 tables upon which it had been served, so that the room 
 seemed bare and empty. The stone floor was strewed 
 with a thick layer of green rushes, which was swept out 
 every Saturday, and carried with it all the dirt and debris 
 of the week. Several dogs were now crouched among 
 these rushes, gnawing and cracking the bones which had 
 been thrown from the table. A long wooden buffet loaded 
 with plates and dishes filled one end of the room, but 
 there was little other furniture, save some benches against 
 the walls, two dorseret chairs, one small table littered with 
 chessmen, and a great iron coffer. In one corner was a 
 high wickerwork stand, and on it two stately falcons were 
 
 D 
 
34 SIR NIGEL 
 
 perched, silent and motionless, save for an occasional 
 twinkle of their fierce yellow eyes. 
 
 But if the actual fittings of the room would have 
 aippeared scanty to one who had lived in a more luxurious 
 age, he would have been surprised on looking up to see 
 the multitude of objects which were suspended above his 
 head. Over the fireplace were the coats-of-arms of a 
 number of houses allied by blood or by marriage to the 
 Lorings. The two cresset-lights which flared upon each 
 side gleamed upon the blue lion of the Percies, the red 
 birds of de Valence, the black engrailed cross of de Mohun, 
 the silver star of de Vere, and the ruddy bars of FitzAlan, 
 all grouped round the famous red roses on the silver shield 
 which the Lorings had borne to glory upon many a bloody 
 field. Then from side to side the room was spanned by 
 heavy oaken beams, from which a great number of objects 
 were hanging. There were mail-shirts of obsolete pattern, 
 several shields, one or two rusted and battered helmets, 
 bow-staves, lances, otter-spears, harness, fishing-rods, and 
 other implements of war or of the chase, while higher 
 still amid the black shadows could be seen rows of hams, 
 flitches of bacon, salted geese, and those other forms of 
 preserved meat which played so great a part in the house- 
 keeping of the Middle Ages. 
 
 Dame Ermyntrude Loring, daughter, wife, and mother 
 of warriors, was herself a formidable figure. Tall and 
 gaunt, with hard craggy features and intolerant dark eyes, 
 even her snow-white hair and stooping back could not 
 entirely remove the sense of fear which she inspired in 
 those around her. Her thoughts and memories went back 
 to harsher times, and she looked upon the England around 
 her as a degenerate and efieminate land which had fallen 
 away from the old standard of knightly courtesy and 
 valour. 
 
 The rising power of the people, the growing wealth of 
 the Church, the increasing luxury in life and manners, and 
 
HOW THE SUMMONER CAME TO TILFORD 35 
 
 the gentler tone of the age were all equally abhorrent to 
 her, so that the dread of her fierce face, and even of the 
 heavy oak staff with which she supported her failing limbs, 
 was widespread through all the country round. 
 
 Yet if she was feared she was also respected, for in 
 days when books were few and readers scarce, a long 
 memory and a ready tongue were of the more value ; and 
 where, save from Dame Ermyntrude, could the young un- 
 lettered Squires of Surrey and Hampshire hear of their 
 grandfathers and their battles, or learn that lore of heraldry 
 and chivalry which she handed down from a ruder but a 
 more martial age ? Poor as she was, there was no one in 
 Surrey whose guidance would be more readily sought upon 
 a question of precedence or of conduct than the Dame 
 Ermyntrude Loring. 
 
 She sat now with bowed back by the empty fireplace, 
 and looked across at Nigel with all the harsh lines of her 
 old ruddled face softening into love and pride. The young 
 Squire was busy cutting bird-bolts for his crossbow, and 
 whistling softly as he worked. Suddenly he looked up 
 and caught the dark eyes which were fixed upon him. 
 He leaned forward and patted the bony hand. 
 
 " What hath pleased you, dear dame ? I read pleasure 
 in your eyes." 
 
 " I have heard to-day, Nigel, how you came to win that 
 great war-horse which stamps in our stable." 
 
 " Nay, dame ; I had told you that the monks had given 
 it to me." 
 
 " You said so, fair son, but never a word more. Yet 
 the horse which you brought home was a very different 
 horse, I wot, to that which was given you. Why did you 
 not teU me ? " 
 
 " I should think it shame to talk of such a thing." 
 
 " So would your father before you, and his father no 
 less. They would sit silent among the knights when the 
 wine went round and listen to every man's deeds ; but if 
 
36 SIR NIGEL 
 
 perchance there was any one who spoke louder than tlie 
 rest and seemed to be eager for honour, then afterwards 
 your father would pluck him softly by the sleeve and 
 whisper in his ear to learn if there was any small vow of 
 which he could relieve him, or if he would deign to per- 
 form some noble deed of arms upon his person. And if 
 the man were a braggart and would go no further, your 
 father would be silent and none wotild know it. But if 
 he bore himself well, your father would spread his fame 
 far and wide, but never make mention of himself." 
 
 Nigel looked at the old woman with shining eyes. " I 
 love to hear you speak of him," said he. " I pray you to 
 teU me once more of the manner of his death." 
 
 " He died as he had lived, a very courtly gentleman. 
 It was at the great sea-battle upon the Norman coast, and 
 your father was in command of the after-guard in the 
 King's own ship. Now the French had taken a great 
 English ship the year before, when they came over and 
 held the narrow seas and burned the town of Southampton, 
 This ship was the Christopher, and they placed it in the 
 front of their battle ; but the English closed upon it and 
 stormed over its side, and slew all who were upon it. 
 
 "But your father and Sir Lorredan of Genoa, who 
 commanded the Christopher, fought upon the high poop, so 
 that aU the fleet stopped to watch it, and the King himself 
 cried aloud at the sight, for Sir Lorredan was a famous 
 man-at-arms and bore himself very stoutly that day, and 
 many a knight envied your father that he should have 
 chanced upon so excellent a person. But your father bore 
 him back and struck him such a blow with a mace that 
 he turned the helmet half round on his head, so that he 
 could no longer see through the eyeholes, and Sir Lorredan 
 threw down his sword and gave himself to ransom. But 
 your father took him by the helmet and twisted it until 
 he had it straight upon his head. Then, when he cpuld 
 see once again, he handed him his sword, and prayed him 
 
HOW THE SUMMONER CAME TO TILFORD 37 
 
 that he would rest himself and then continue, for it was 
 great profit and joy to see any gentleman carry himself so 
 well. So they sat together and rested by the rail of the 
 poop ; but even as they raised their hands again your 
 father was struck by a stone from a mangonel and so 
 died." 
 
 " And this Sir Lorredan," cried Nigel, " he died also, 
 as I understand ? " 
 
 " I fear that he was slain by the archers, for they loved 
 your father, and they do not see these things with our 
 eyes." 
 
 " It was a pity," said Nigel ; " for it is clear that he 
 was a good knight and bore himself very bravely." 
 
 " Time was, when I was young, when commoners dared 
 not have laid their grimy hands upon such a man. Men 
 of gentle blood and coat-armour made war upon each 
 other, and the others, spearmen or archers, could scramble 
 amongst themselves. But now all axe of a level, and only 
 here and there one like yourself, fair son, who reminds me 
 of the men who are gone." 
 
 Nigel leaned forward and took her hands in his. 
 " What I am you have made me," said he. 
 
 " It is true, Nigel. I have indeed watched over you 
 as the gardener watches his most precious blossom', for in 
 you alone are all the hopes of our ancient house, and soon 
 — very soon — you will be alone." 
 
 " Nay, dear lady, say not that." 
 
 " I am very old, Nigel, and I feel the shadow closing 
 in upon me. My heart yearns to go, for all whom I have 
 known and loved have gone before me. And you — it 
 will be a blessed day for you, since I have held you back 
 from that world into which your brave spirit longs to 
 plunge." 
 
 "Nay, nay, I have been happy here with you at 
 Tilford." 
 
 " We are very poor, Nigel. I do not know where we 
 
38 SIR NIGEL 
 
 may find the money to fit you for the wars. Yet we have 
 good friends. There is Sir John Chandos, who has won 
 such credit in the Trench wars, and who rides ever hy the 
 King's bridle-arm. He was your father's friend, and they 
 were squires together. If I sent you to court with a 
 message to him he would do what he could." 
 
 Nigel's fair face flushed. "Nay, dame Ermyntrude, I 
 must find my own gear, even as I have found my own 
 horse, for I had rather ride into battle in this tunic than 
 owe my suit to another." 
 
 " I feared that you would say so, Nigel ; but indeed I 
 know not how else we may get the money," said the old 
 woman, sadly. " It was different in the days of my father. 
 I can remember that a suit of mail was but a small matter 
 in those days, for in every English town such things could 
 be made. But year by year, since men have come to take 
 more care of their bodies, there have been added a plate 
 of proof here and a cunniag joint there, and all must be 
 from Toledo or Milan, so that a knight must have much 
 metal in his purse ere he puts any on his limbs." 
 
 Nigel looked up wistfully at the old armour which was 
 slung on the beams above him. " The ash spear is good," 
 said he, " and so is the oaken shield with facings of steel. 
 Sir Eodger FitzAlan handled them and said that he had 
 never seen better. But the armour " 
 
 Lady Ermyntrude shook her old head and laughed, 
 " You have your father's great soul, Nigel, but you have 
 not his mighty breadth of shoulder and length of limb. 
 There was not in all the King's great host a taller or a 
 stronger man. His harness would be little use to you. 
 No, fair son, I rede you that when the time comes you 
 sell this crumbling house and the few acres which are 
 still left, and so go forth to the wars in the hope that 
 with your own right hand you will plant the fortunes of 
 a new house of Loring." 
 
 A shadow of anger passed over Nigel's fresh young 
 
HOW THE SUMMONER CAME TO TILFORD 39 
 
 face. " I know not if we may hold off these monks and 
 their lawyers much longer. This very day there came a 
 man from Guildford with claims from the Abbey extending 
 back before my father's death." 
 
 " Where are they, fair son ? " 
 
 " They are flapping on the furze-bushea of Hankley, 
 for I sent his papers and parchments down wind as fast 
 as ever falcon flew." 
 
 "Nay! you were mad to do that, Nigel. And the 
 man, where is he ? " 
 
 "Red Swire and old George the Archer threw him 
 into the Thursley bog." 
 
 " Alas ! I fear me such things cannot be done in these 
 days, though my father or my husband would have sent 
 the rascal back to Guildford without his ears. But the 
 Church and the Law are too strong now for us who are 
 of gentler blood. Trouble will come of it, Nigel, for the 
 Abbot of Waverley is not one who will hold back the 
 shield of the Church from those who are her servants." 
 
 " The Abbot would not hurt us. It is that grey lean 
 woK of a sacrist who hungers for our land. Let him do 
 his worst. I fear him not." 
 
 " He has such an engine at his back, Nigel, that even 
 the bravest must fear him. The ban which blasts a man's 
 soul is ia the keeping of his Church, and what have we to 
 place against it ? I pray you to speak him fair, Nigel." 
 
 " Nay, dear lady, it is both my duty and my pleasure 
 to do what you bid me ; but I would die ere I ask as a 
 favour that which we can claim as a right. Never can I 
 cast my eyes from yonder window that I do not see the 
 swelling down-lands and the rich meadows, glade and 
 dingle, copse and wood, which have been ours since 
 Norman WUliam gave them to that Loring who bore 
 his shield at Senlac. Now by trick and fraud they have 
 passed away from us, and many a franklin is a richer man 
 than I ; but never shall it 1)| said that I saved the rest by 
 
40 SIR NIGEL 
 
 bending my neck to their yoke. Let them do their worst, 
 and let me endure it or fight it as best I may." 
 
 The old lady sighed and shook her head. " You speak 
 as a Loring should, and yet I fear that some great trouble 
 will befall us. But let us talk no more of such matters, 
 since we caimot mend them. Where is your citole, Mgel ? 
 WUl you not play and sing to me ? " 
 
 The gentleman of those days could scarce read and 
 write ; but he spoke in two languages, played at least one 
 musical instrument as a matter of course, and possessed a 
 number of other accomplishments, from the imping of 
 hawk's feathers, to the mystery of venery, with know- 
 ledge of every beast and bird, its time of grace and when 
 it was seasonable. As far as physical feats went, to vault 
 barebacked upon a horse, to hit a running hare with a 
 crossbow-bolt, or to climb the angle of a castle courtyard, 
 were feats which had come by nature to the young Squire ; 
 but it was very different with music, which had called for 
 many a weary hour of irksome work. Now at last he • 
 could master the strings, but both his ear and his voice 
 were not of the best, so that it was well, perhaps, that 
 there was so small and so prejudiced an audience to the 
 Norman-French chanson, which he sang in a high reedy 
 voice with great earnestness of feeling, but with many 
 a slip and quaver, waving his yellow head in cadence 
 to the music — 
 
 " A Bword 1 A sword I Ah, give me a sword 1 
 
 For the world is all to win. 
 Though the way be hard and the door be barred, 
 
 The strong man enters in. 
 If Chance and Fate still hold the gate. 
 
 Give me the iron key, 
 And turret high my plume shall fly, 
 
 Or you may weep for me 1 
 
 " A horse I A horse I Ah, give me a horse I 
 To bear me out afar, 
 Where blackest need sind grimmest deed 
 And sweetest perils are. 
 
HOW THE SUMMONER CAME TO TILFORD 41 
 
 Hold thou my ways from glutted days 
 
 Where poisoned leisure lies, 
 And point the path of tears and wrath 
 
 Which mounts to high emprise ! 
 
 " A heart I A heart I Ah, give me a heart 
 
 To rise to circumstance I 
 Serene and high and hold to try 
 
 The hazard of the chance. 
 With strength to wait, but fixed as fate 
 
 To plan and dare and do. 
 The peer of all, and only thrall, 
 
 Sweet lady mine, to you I " 
 
 tt may have been that the sentiment went for more 
 than the music, or it may have been the nicety of her 
 own ears had been dulled by age, but old Dame Ermyn- 
 trude clapped her lean hands together and cried out in 
 shrill applause. 
 
 " Weathercote has indeed had an apt pupil ! " she said. 
 " I pray you that you wUl sing again." 
 
 " Nay, dear dame, it is turn and turn betwixt you and 
 me. I beg that you will recite a romance, you who know 
 them all. For all the years that I have listened I have 
 never yet come to the end of them, and I dare swear that 
 there are more in your head than in all the great books 
 which they showed me at Guildford Castle. I would fain 
 hear ' Doon of Mayence,' or ' The Song of Eoland,' or ' Sir 
 Isumbras.' " 
 
 So the old dame broke into a long poem, slow and dull 
 in the inception, but quickening as the interest grew, until 
 with darting hands and glowing face she poured forth the 
 verses which told of the emptiness of sordid life, the beauty 
 of heroic death, the high sacredness of love and the bondage 
 of honour. Mgel, with set, still features and brooding 
 eyes, drank in the fiery words, until at last they died 
 upon the old woman's lips and she sank back weary in 
 her chair. Nigel stooped over her and kissed her brow. 
 
 "Your words will ever be as a star upon my path," 
 
43 SIR NIGEL, 
 
 said he. Then carrying over the small table and the 
 chessmen, he proposed that they should play their usual 
 game before they sought their rooms for the night. 
 
 But a sudden and rude interruption broke in upon their 
 gentle contest. A dog pricked its ears and barked. The 
 others ran growling to the door. And then there came a 
 sharp clash of arms, a dull heavy blow as from a club or 
 sword pommel, and a deep voice from without summoned 
 them to open in the king's name. The old dame and 
 Nigel had both sprung to their feet, their table overturned 
 and their chessmen scattered among the rushes. Nigel's 
 hand had sought his crossbow, but the Lady Ermyntrude 
 grasped his arm. 
 
 "Nay, fair son! Have you not heard that it is in 
 the King's name?" said she. "Down, Talbot! Down, 
 Bayard ! Open the door and let his messenger in ! " 
 
 Nigel undid the bolt, and the heavy wooden door swung 
 outward upon its hinges. The light from the flaring cres- 
 sets beat upon steel caps and fierce bearded faces, with the 
 glimmer of drawn swords and the yellow gleam of bow^ 
 staves. A dozen armed archers forced their way into the 
 room. At their head were the gaunt sacrist of Waverley 
 and a stout elderly man clad in a red-velvet doublet and 
 breeches, much staiaed and mottled with mud and clay. 
 He bore a great sheet of parchment with a fringe of dangling 
 seals, which he held aloft as he entered, 
 
 " I call on Nigel Loring!" he cried. "I, the officer of 
 the King's law and the lay summoner of Waverley, caU 
 upon the man named Nigel Loring ! " 
 
 *'Iamhe." 
 
 ** Yes, it is he ! " cried the sacrist. " Archers, do as 
 you were ordered ! " 
 
 In an instant the band threw themselves upon him Kke 
 the hounds on a stag. Desperately Nigel strove to gain 
 his sword, which lay upon the iron coffer. With ihe con- 
 vulsive strength which comes from the spirit rather than 
 
"DESPERATKLY NIGEL STROVE TO GAIN HIS SWORD.' 
 
HOW THE SUMMONER CAME TO TILFORD 43 
 
 from the body, he bore them all in that direction, but the 
 sacrist snatched the weapon from its place, and the rest 
 dragged the writhing Squire to the ground and swathed 
 him in a cord, 
 
 " Hold him fast, good archers ! Keep a stout grip on 
 him ! " cried the summoner. " I pray you, one of you, 
 prick off these great dogs which snarl at my heels. Stand 
 off, I say, in the name of the king! Watkin, come betwixt 
 me and these creatures, who have as little regard for the 
 law as their master." 
 
 One of the archers kicked off the faithfid dogs. But 
 there were others of the household who were equally ready 
 to show their teeth in defence of the old house of Loring. 
 From the door which led to their quarters there emerged 
 the pitiful muster of Nigel's threadbare retainers. There 
 was a time when ten knights, forty men-at-arms, and two 
 hundred archers would march behind the scarlet roses. 
 JSTow at this last rally, when the young head of the house 
 lay bound in his own hall, there mustered at his call the 
 page Charles with a cudgel, John the cook with his longest 
 spit. Red Swire the aged man-at-arms with a formidable 
 axe swung over his snowy head, and Weathercote the min- 
 strel with a boar-spear. Yet this motley array was fired 
 with the spirit of the house, and under the lead of the fierce 
 old soldier they would certainly have flung themselves upon 
 the ready swords of the archers, had the Lady Ermyntrude 
 not swept between them. 
 
 " Stand back, Swire ! " she cried. " Back, Weathercote ! 
 Charles, put a leash on Talbot, and hold Bayard back ! " 
 Her black eyes blazed upon the invaders until they shrank 
 from that baleful gaze. " Who are you, you rascal robbers, 
 who dare to misuse the king's name and to lay hands upon 
 one whose smallest drop of blood has more worth than all 
 your thrall and caitiff bodies 1 " 
 
 "Nay, not so fast, dame, not so fast, I pray you!" cried 
 the stout summoner whose face had resumed its natural 
 
44 SIR NIGEL 
 
 colour, now that he had a woman to deal with. " There is 
 a law of England, mark you, and there are those who serve 
 and uphold it, who are the true men and the king's own 
 lieges. Such a one am I. Then, again, there are those 
 who take such as me and transfer, carry or convey us into 
 a bog or morass. Such a one is this graceless old man with' 
 the axe, whom I have seen already this day. There are also 
 those who tear, destroy, or scatter the papers of the law, of 
 which this young man is the chief. Therefore I would rede 
 you, dame, not to rail against us, but to understand that 
 we are the king's men on the king's own service." 
 
 " What, then, is your errand in this house at this hour 
 of the night ? " 
 
 The summoner cleared his throat pompously, and turn- 
 ing his parchment to the light of the cressets he read out 
 a long document in Norman-French, couched in such a style 
 and such a language that the most involved and foolish 
 of our forms were simplicity itself compared to those by 
 which the men of the long gown made a mystery of that 
 which of all things on earth should be the plainest and the 
 most simple. Despair fell cold upon Nigel's heart and 
 blanched the face of the old dame as they listened to the 
 dread catalogue of claims and suits and issues, questions 
 of peccary and turbary, of house-bote and fire-bote, which 
 ended by a demand for all the lands, hereditaments, tene- 
 ments, messuages and curtilages, which made up their 
 worldly all. 
 
 Nigel, still bound, had been placed with his back against 
 the iron coffer, whence he heard with dry lips and moist 
 brow this doom of his house. Now he broke in on the 
 recital with a vehemence which made the summoner jump — 
 
 " You shall rue what you have done this night ! " he 
 cried. " Poor as we are, we have our friends who will not 
 see us wronged, and I will plead my cause before the 
 king's own majesty at Windsor, that he, who saw the 
 father die, may know what things are done in his royal 
 
HOW THE SUMMONER CAME TO TILFORD 45 
 
 name against tlie son. But these matters are to be settled 
 in course of law in the king's courts, and how will you 
 excuse yourself for this assault upon my house and person? " . 
 
 " Nay, that is another matter," said the sacrist. " The 
 question of debt may indeed be an affair of a civil court. ' 
 But it is a crime against the law and an act of the Devil 
 which comes within the jurisdiction of the Abbey Court of 
 Waverley when you dare to lay hands upon the summoner 
 or his papers." 
 
 "Indeed, he speaks truth," cried the ofl&cial. "I know 
 no blacker sin." 
 
 " Therefore," said the stern monk, " it is the order of 
 the holy father Abbot that you sleep this night in the 
 Abbey cell, and that to-morrow you be brought before him 
 at the court held in the chapter-house so that you receive 
 the fit punishment for this and the many other violent and 
 froward deeds which you have wrought upon the servants 
 of Holy Church. Enough is now said, worthy master 
 summoner. Archers, remove your prisoner ! " 
 
 As Nigel was lifted up by four stout archers, the Dame 
 Ermyntrude would have rushed to his aid, but the sacrist 
 thrust her back. 
 
 "Stand off, proud woman ! Let the law take its course, 
 and learn to humble your heart before the power of Holy 
 Church. Has your life not taught its lesson, you, whose 
 horn was exalted among the highest and will soon not 
 have a roof above your grey hairs? Stand back, I say, 
 lest I lay a curse upon you ! " 
 
 The old dame flamed suddenly into white wrath as 
 she stood before the angry monk — 
 
 " Listen to me while I lay a curse upon you and yours ! " 
 she cried, as she raised her shrivelled arms and blighted 
 him with her flashing eyes : " As you have done to the 
 house of Loring, so may God do to you, until your power 
 is swept from the land of England, and of your great 
 Abbey of Waverley there is nothing left but a pile of grey 
 
46 SIR NIGEL 
 
 stones in a green meadow ! I see it ! I see it ! With 
 my old eyes I see it ! From scullion to abbot and from 
 cellar to tower, may Waverley and all witbin it droop and 
 wither from this night on ! " 
 
 The monk, hard as he was, quailed before the frantic 
 figure and the bitter, burning words. Already the sum- 
 moner and the archers with their prisoner were clear of the 
 house. He turned, and with a clang he shut the heavy 
 door behind him. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 HOW NIGEL WAS TEIED BY THE ABBOT OF WAVEKLEY 
 
 The law of the Middle Ages, shrouded as it was in old 
 Norman-French dialect, and abounding in uncouth and 
 incomprehensible terms, in deodands and heriots, in infang 
 and outfang, was a fearsome weapon in the hands of those 
 who knew how to use it. It was not for nothing that the 
 first act of the rebel commoners was to hew off the head of 
 the Lord Chancellor. In an age when few knew how to 
 read or to write, these mystic phrases and intricate forms, 
 with the parchments and seals which were their outward 
 expression, struck cold terror into hearts which were 
 steeled against mere physical danger. 
 
 Even young Nigel Loring's blithe and elastic spirit was 
 chilled as he lay that night in the penal cell of Waverley, 
 and pondered over the absolute ruin which threatened his 
 house from a source against which all his courage was of 
 no avail. As well take up sword and shield to defend 
 himself against the black death, as against this blight of 
 Holy Church. He was powerless in the grip of the Abbey. 
 Already they had shorn off a field here and a grove there, 
 and now in one sweep they would take in the rest, and 
 where then was the home of the Lorings, and where should 
 Lady Ermyntrude lay her aged head, or his old retainers, 
 broken and spent, eke out the balance of their days. He 
 shivered as he thought of it. 
 
 It was very well for him to threaten to carry the 
 matter before the king, but it was years since Eoyal Edward 
 had heard the name of Loring, and Nigel knew that the 
 
 47 
 
48 SIR NIGEL 
 
 memory of princes was a short one. Besides, the Church 
 was the ruling power in the palace as well as in the cottage, 
 and it was only for very good cause that a king could be 
 expected to cross the purposes of so high a prelate as the 
 Abbot of Waverley, as long as they came within the scope 
 of the law. Where, then, was he to look for help ? With 
 the simple and practical piety of the age, he prayed for the 
 aid of his own particular saints: of Saint Paul, whose 
 adventures by land and sea had always endeared him ; of 
 Saint George, who had gained much honourable advance- 
 ment from the Dragon ; and of Saint Thomas, who was a 
 gentleman of coat-armour, who would understand and help 
 a person of gentle blood. Then, much comforted by his 
 naive orisons, he enjoyed the sleep of youth and health 
 imtil the entrance of the lay brother with the bread and 
 small beer, which served as breakfast in the morning. 
 
 The Abbey court sat in the chapter-house at the 
 canonical hour of tierce, which was nine in the forenoon. 
 At all times the function was a solemn one, even when 
 the culprit might be a villein who was taken poaching on 
 the Abbey estate, or a chapman who had given false 
 measure from his biased scales. But now, when a man of 
 noble birth was to be tried, the whole legal and ecclesias- 
 tical ceremony was carried out with every detail, grotesque 
 or impressive, which the full ritual prescribed. Mid the 
 distant roll of church music and the slow tolling of the 
 Abbey bell, the white-robed brethren, two and two, walked 
 thrice round the hall singing the Benedicite and the Veni, 
 Creator before they settled in their places at the desks on 
 either side. Then in turn each high officer of the Abbey 
 from below upward, the almoner, the lector, the chaplain, 
 the subprior and the prior, swept to their wonted places. 
 
 Finally there came the grim sacrist, with demure 
 triumph upon his downcast features, and at his heels 
 Abbot John himself, slow and dignified, with pompous 
 walk and solemn, composed face, his iron-beaded rosary 
 
HOW NIGEL WAS TRIED BY THE ABBOT 49 
 
 swinging from his waist, his breviary in his hand, and his 
 lips muttering as he hurried through his office for the day. 
 He knelt at his high prie-dieu ; the brethren, at a signal 
 from the prior, prostrated themselves upon the floor, and 
 the low deep voices rolled in prayer, echoed back from 
 the arched and vaulted roof like the wash of waves from 
 an ocean cavern. Finally the monks resumed their seats ; 
 there entered clerks in seemly black with pens and parch- 
 ment; the red-velveted summoner appeared to tell his 
 tale ; Nigel was led in with archers pressing close around 
 him ; and then, with much calling of old French and 
 much legal incantation and mystery, the court of the 
 Abbey was open for business. 
 
 It was the sacrist who first advanced to the oaken desk 
 reserved for the witnesses and expounded in hard, dry, 
 mechanical fashion the many claims which the House of 
 Waverley had agaiast the family of Loriog. Some genera- 
 tions back, in return for money advanced or for spiritual 
 favour received, the Loring of the day had admitted that 
 his estate had certain feudal duties toward the Abbey. 
 The sacrist held up the crackling yellow parchment with 
 swinging leaden seals on which the claim was based. 
 Amid the obligations was that of escuage, by which the 
 price of a knight's fee should be paid every year. No such 
 price had been paid, nor had any service been done. The- 
 accumulated years came now to a greater sum than the 
 fee -simple of the estate. There were other claims also. 
 The sacrist called for his books, and with thin, eager fore- 
 finger he tracked them down; dues for this, and tallage 
 for that, so many shillings this year, and so many nobles 
 that one. Some of it occurred before Nigel was born; 
 some of it when he was but a child. The accounts had 
 been checked and certified by the sergeant of the law. 
 
 Nigel listened to the dread recital, and felt like some 
 young stag who stands at bay with brave pose and heart 
 
50 SIR NIGEL 
 
 of fire, but who sees himself compassed round and knows 
 clearly that there is no escape. With his bold young face, 
 his steady blue eyes, and the proud poise of his head, he 
 was a worthy scion of the old house, and the sun, shining 
 through the high oriel window, and showing up the stained 
 and threadbare condition of his once rich doublet, seemed 
 to illuraiaate the fallen fortunes of his family. 
 
 The sacrist had finished his exposition, and the sergeant- 
 at-law was about to conclude a case which Nigel could in 
 no way controvert, when help came to him from an un- 
 expected quarter. It may have been a certain malignity 
 with which the sacrist urged his suit, it may have been a 
 diplomatic dislike to driving matters to extremes, or it 
 may have been some genuine impulse of kindliness, for 
 Abbot John was choleric but easily appeased. Whatever 
 the cause, the result was that a white plump hand, raised 
 in the air with a gesture of authority, showed that the case 
 was at an end. 
 
 " Our brother sacrist hath done his duty in urging this 
 suit," said he, " for the worldly wealth of this Abbey is 
 placed in his pious keeping, and it is to him that we 
 should look if we suffered in such ways, for we are but 
 the trustees of those who come after us. But to my 
 keeping has been consigned that which is more precious 
 stiU, the inner spirit and high repute of those who follow 
 the rule of Saint Bernard. Now, it has ever been our 
 endeavour, since first our saintly founder went down into 
 the valley of Clairvaux and built himself a cell there, that 
 we should set an example to all men in gentleness and 
 humility. For this reason it is that we build our houses 
 in lowly places, that we have no tower to our Abbey 
 churches, and that no finery and no metal, save only iron 
 or lead, come within our walls. A brother shall eat from 
 a wooden platter, drink from an iron cup, and light 
 himself from a leaden sconce. Surely it is not for such 
 an order who await the exaltation which is promised to 
 
HOW NIGEL WAS TRIED BY THE ABBOT 51 
 
 the humble, to judge their own case and so acquire the 
 lands of their neighbour ! If our cause be just, as indeed 
 I believe that it is, then it were better that it be judged 
 at the king's assizes at Guildford, and so I decree that 
 the case be now dismissed from the Abbey court so that 
 it can be heard elsewhere." 
 
 Nigel breathed a prayer to the three sturdy saints who 
 had stood by him so manfully and well in the hour of his 
 need. 
 
 "Abbot John," said he, "I never thought that any 
 man of my name would utter thanks to a Cistercian of 
 Waverley ; but, by Saint Paul ! you have spoken like a man 
 this day, for it would indeed be to play with cogged dice 
 if the Abbey's case is to be tried in the Abbey court," 
 
 The eighty white- clad brethren looked with half-resent- 
 ful, half-amused eyes as they listened to this frank address 
 to one who, in their small lives, seemed to be the direct 
 viceregent of Heaven. The archers had stood back from 
 Mgel, as though he were at liberty to go, when the loud 
 voice of the summoner broke in upon the silence — 
 
 " If it please you, holy father Abbot," cried the voice, 
 " this decision of yours is indeed secundum legem and intra 
 vires so far as the civil suit is concerned which lies between 
 this person and the Abbey. That is your affair ; but it is 
 I, Joseph the summoner, who have been grievously and 
 criminally mishandled, my writs, papers, and indentures 
 destroyed, my authority flouted, and my person dragged 
 through a bog, quagmire or morass, so that my velvet 
 gabardine and silver badge of office were lost and are, as 
 I verily believe, in the morass, quagmire or bog afore- 
 mentioned, which is the same bog, morass " 
 
 " Enough ! " cried the Abbot, sternly. " Lay aside this 
 
 foolish fashion of speech, and say straitly what you desire." 
 
 "Holy father, I have been the officer of the king's 
 
 law no less than the servant of Holy Church, and I have 
 
 been let, hindered, and assaulted in the performance of 
 
52 SIR NIGEL 
 
 my lawful and proper duties, whilst my papers, drawn in 
 the king's name, have been shended and rended and cast 
 to the wind. Therefore I demand justice upon this man 
 in the Abbey court, the said assault having been com- 
 mitted within the banlieue of the Abbey's jurisdiction." 
 
 " What have you to say to this, brother sacrist ? " 
 asked the Abbot in some perplexity. 
 
 " I would say, father, that it is within our power to 
 deal gently and charitably with all that concerns oiu'- 
 sclves, but that where the king's officer is concerned, we 
 are wanting in our duty if we give him less than the 
 protection that he demands. I would remind you also, 
 holy father, that this is not the first of this man's violence, 
 but that he has before now beaten our servants, defied our 
 authority, and put pike in the Abbot's own fish-pond." 
 
 The prelate's heavy cheeks flushed with anger as this 
 old grievance came fresh into his mind. His eyes 
 hardened as he looked at the prisoner. " Tell me. Squire 
 Nigel, did you indeed put pike in the pond ? " 
 
 The young man drew himself proudly up. "Ere I 
 answer such a question, father Abbot, do you answer one 
 from me, and tell me what the monks of Waverley have 
 ever done for me that I should hold my hand when I 
 could injure them ? " 
 
 A low murmur ran round the room, partly wonder at 
 his frankness, and partly anger at his boldness. 
 
 The Abbot settled down ia his seat as one who has 
 made up his mind. " Let the case of the summoner be 
 laid before me," said he. " Justice shall be done, and the 
 offender shall be punished, be he noble or simple. Let the 
 plaint be brought before the court." 
 
 The tale of the summoner, though rambling and filled 
 with endless legal reiteration, was only too clear in its 
 essence, Eed Swire, with his angry face framed in white 
 bristles, was led in, and confessed to his ill-treatment of 
 the official. A second culprit, a little wiry, nut-brown 
 
HOW NIGEL WAS TRIED BY THE ABBOT 53 
 
 archer from Churt, had aided and abetted in the deed. 
 Both of them were ready to declare that young Squire 
 Nigel Loring knew nothing of the matter. But then there 
 was the awkward incident of the tearing of the writs. 
 Nigel, to whom a lie was an impossibility, had to admit 
 that with his own hands he had shredded those august 
 documents. As to an excuse or an explanation, he was 
 too proud to advance any. A cloud gathered over the brow 
 of the Abbot, and the sacrist gazed with an ironical snule 
 at the prisoner, while a solemn hush fell over the chapter- 
 house as the case ended and only judgment remaiaed. 
 
 " Squire Nigel," said the Abbot, " it was for you, who 
 are, as all men know, of ancient lineage in this land, to 
 give a fair example by which others should set their 
 conduct. Instead of this, your manor-house has ever been 
 a centre for the stirring up of strife, and now not content 
 with your harsh showing toward us, the Cistercian monks 
 of Waverley, you have even marked your contempt for the 
 king's law, and through your servants have mishandled 
 the person of his messenger. For such offences it is in my 
 power to call the spiritual terrors of the Church upon yftur 
 head, and yet I would not be harsh with you, seeing that 
 you are young, and that even last week you saved the life 
 of a servant of the Abbey when in peril. Therefore it is 
 by temporal and carnal means that I wiU use my power 
 to tame your overbold spirit, and to chasten that head- 
 strong and violent humour which has caused such scandal 
 in your dealings with our Abbey. Bread and water for 
 six weeks from now to the Feast of Saint Benedict, with a 
 daily exhortation from our chaplain, the pious Father 
 Ambrose, may stiU avail to bend the stiff neck and to 
 soften the hard heart." 
 
 At this ignominious sentence, by which the proud heir 
 of the house of Loring would share the fate of the meanest 
 village poacher, the hot blood of Nigel rushed to his face, 
 and his eye glanced round him with a gleam which said 
 
54 SIR NIGEL 
 
 more plainly than words that there could be no tame 
 acceptance of such a doom. Twice he tried to speak, and 
 twice his anger and his shame held the words in his throat. 
 
 " I am no subject of yours, proud Abbot ! " he cried at 
 last. " My house has ever been vavasor to the king. I 
 deny the power of you and your court to lay sentence 
 upon me. Punish these your own monks, who whimper 
 at your frovm, but do not dare to lay your hand upon 
 him who fears you not, for he is a free man, and the peer 
 of any save only the king himself." 
 
 The Abbot seemed for an instant taken aback by these 
 bold words, and by the high and strenuous voice in which 
 they were uttered. But the sterner sacrist came as ever 
 to stiffen his will. He held up the old parchment in his 
 hand. 
 
 " The Lorings were indeed vavasors to the king," said 
 he ; " but here is the very seal of Eustace Loring, which 
 shows that he made himself vassal to the Abbey, and held 
 his land from it." 
 
 " Because he was gentle," cried Nigel, " because he had 
 no thought of trick or guile." 
 
 " "Eay ! " said the summoner. " If my voice may be 
 heard, father Abbot, upon a point of the law, it is of no 
 weight what the causes may have been why a deed is 
 subscribed, signed or confirmed, but a court is concerned 
 only with the terms, articles, covenants, and contracts of 
 the said deed." 
 
 " Besides," said the sacrist, " sentence is passed by the 
 Abbey court, and there is an end of its honour and good 
 name if it be not upheld." 
 
 " Brother sacrist," said the Abbot, angrily, " methinks 
 you show overmuch zeal in this case, and certes, we are 
 well able to uphold the dignity and honour of the Abbey 
 court without any rede of thine. As to you, worthy 
 summoner, you will give your opinion when we crave for 
 it, and not before, or you may yourself get some touch of 
 
HOW NIGEL WAS TRIED BY THE ABBOT 55 
 
 the power of our tribunal. But your case hath been tried, 
 Squire Loring, and judgment given. I have no more to say." 
 
 He motioned with his hand, and an archer laid his 
 grip upon the shoulder of the prisoner. But that rough 
 plebeian touch woke every passion of revolt in Nigel's 
 spirit. Of all his high line of ancestors, was there one 
 who had been subjected to such ignominy as this ? Would 
 they not have preferred death? And should he be the 
 first to lower their spirit or their traditions ? With a 
 quick, lithe movement, he slipped under the arm of the 
 archer, and plucked the short, straight sword from the 
 soldier's side as he did so. The next instant he had 
 wedged himself into the recess of one of the narrow 
 windows, and there were his pale, set face, his burning 
 eyes, and his ready blade turned upon the assembly. 
 
 " By Saint Paul ! " said he, " I never thought to find 
 honourable advancement under the roof of an abbey, but, 
 perchance, there may be some room for it ere you hale me 
 to your prison." 
 
 The chapter-house was in an uproar. Never in the long 
 and decorous history of the Abbey had such a scene been 
 witnessed withia its walls. The monks themselves seemed 
 for an instant to be affected by this spirit of daring revolt. 
 Their own Hfelong fetters hung more loosely as they 
 viewed this unheard-of defiance of authority. They broke 
 from their seats on either side, and huddled half-scared, 
 half-fascinated, in a large half-circle round the defiant 
 captive, chattering, pointing, grimacing, a scandal for all 
 time. Scourges should fall and penance be done for many 
 a long week before the shadow of that day should pass 
 from Waverley. But meanwhile there was no effort to 
 bring them back to their rule. Everything was chaos and 
 disorder. The Abbot had left his seat of justice and 
 hurried angrily forward, to be engulfed and hustled in the 
 crowd of his own monks like a sheep-dog who finds 
 himself entangled amid a fiock. 
 
56 SIR NIGEL 
 
 Only the sacrist stood clear. He had taken shelter 
 behind the half-dozen archers, who looked with some 
 approval and a good deal of indecision at this bold fugitive 
 from justice. 
 
 " On him ! " cried the sacrist, " Shall he defy the 
 authority of the court, or shall one man hold six of you 
 at bay ? Close in upon him and seize him. You, Bad- 
 dlesmere, why do you hold back ? " 
 
 The man in question, a tall, bushy-bearded fellow, 
 clad like the others in green jerkin and breeches, with 
 high brown boots, advanced slowly, sword in hand, against 
 Nigel. His heart was not in the business, for these clerical 
 courts were not popular, and every one had a tender heart 
 for the fallen fortunes of the house of Loring and wished 
 well to its young heir. 
 
 "Come, young sir, you have caused scathe enough," 
 said he. " Stand forth and give yourself up ! " 
 
 " Come and fetch me, good fellow," said Nigel, with a 
 dangerous smile. 
 
 The archer ran in. There was a rasp of steel, a blade 
 flickered like a swift dart of flame, and the man staggered 
 back, with blood running down his forearm and dripping 
 from his fingers. He wrung them and growled a Saxon 
 path. 
 
 " By the black rood of Bromeholm ! " he cried, " I had 
 as soon put my hand down a fox's earth to drag- up a 
 vixen from her cubs." 
 
 "Stand off!" said Nigel, curtly. "I would not hurt 
 you ; but, by Saint Paul ! I will not be handled, or some 
 one will be hurt in the handling." 
 
 So fierce was his eye and so menacing his blade as he 
 crouched in the narrow bay of the window that the little 
 knot of archers were at a loss what to do. The Abbot had 
 forced his way through the crowd, and stood, purple with 
 outraged dignity, at their side, 
 
 "He is outside the law," said he. "He hath shed 
 
HOW NIGEL WAS TRIED BY THE ABBOT 57 
 
 blood in a court of justice, and for such a sin there is no 
 forgiveness. I will not have my court so flouted and set 
 at naught. He who draws the sword, by the sword also 
 let him perish. Forester Hugh, lay a shaft to your bow 1 " 
 
 The man, who was one of the Abbey's lay servants, put 
 his weight upon his long bow and slipped the loose end of 
 the string into the upper notch. Then, drawing one of the 
 terrible three-foot arrows, steel-tipped and gaudily winged, 
 from his waist, he laid it to the string. 
 
 " Now draw your bow and hold it ready ! " cried the 
 fui-ious Abbot. " Squire Nigel, it is not for Holy Church 
 to shed blood, but there is naught but violence which will 
 prevail against the violent, and on your head be the sin. 
 Cast down the sword which you hold in your hand ! " 
 
 " Will you give me freedom to leave your Abbey ? " 
 
 "When you have abided your sentence and purged 
 your sin." 
 
 " Then I had rather die where I stand than give up my 
 Bword." 
 
 A dangerous flame lit in the Abbot's eyes. He came 
 of a fighting Norman stock, like so many of those fierce 
 prelates who, bearing a mace lest they should be guilty of 
 effusion of blood, led their troops into battle, ever remem- 
 bering that it was one of their own cloth and dignity who, 
 crosier in hand, had turned the long-drawn bloody day of 
 Hastings. The soft accent of the churchman was gone, 
 and it was the hard voice of the soldier which said — 
 
 " One minute I give you, and no more. Then when I 
 cry ' Loose ! ' drive me an arrow through his body." 
 
 The shaft was fitted, the bow was bent, and the stern 
 eyes of the woodman were fixed on his mark. Slowly the 
 minute passed, while Nigel breathed a prayer to his three 
 soldier saints, not that they should save his body in this 
 life, but that they should have a kindly care for his soul 
 in the next. Some thought of a fierce wildcat sally crossed 
 his mind, but once out of his corner he was lost indeed. 
 
58 SIR NIGEL 
 
 Yet at the last be would have rushed among his enemies, 
 and his body was bent for the spring, when with a deep 
 sonorous hum, like a breaking harp-string, the cord of the 
 bow was cloven in twain, and the arrow tinkled upon the 
 tiled floor. At the same moment a young curly-headed 
 bowman, whose broad shoulders and deep chest told of 
 immense strength, as clearly as hia frank, laughing face 
 and honest hazel eyes did of good humour and courage, 
 sprang forward, sword in hand, and took his place by Nigel's 
 side. 
 
 " Nay, comrades ! " said he. " Samkin Aylward cannot 
 stand by and see a gallant man shot down like a bull at 
 the end of a baiting. Five against one is long odds, but 
 two against four is better ; and, by my finger-bones ! Squire 
 Nigel and I leave this room together, be it on our feet 
 or no." 
 
 The formidable appearance of this ally and his high 
 reputation among his fellows gave a further chill to the 
 lukewarm ardour of the attack. Aylward's left arm was 
 passed through his strung bow, and he was known from 
 Woolmer Forest to the Weald as the quickest, surest archer 
 that ever dropped a running deer at ten-score paces. 
 
 " Nay, Baddlesmere, hold your fingers from your string- 
 case, or I may chance to give your drawing hand a two 
 months' rest," said Aylward. " Swords, if you wiU, com- 
 rades, but no man strings his bow till I have loosed mine." 
 
 Yet the angry hearts of both Abbot and sacrist rose 
 higher with a fresh obstacle. 
 
 " This is an ill day for your father, Franklin Aylward, 
 who holds the tenancy of Crooksbury," said the sacrist- 
 " He will rue it that ever he begot a son who will lose him 
 his acres and his steading." 
 
 " My father is a bold yeoman, and would rue it even 
 more that ever his son should stand by while foul work 
 was afoot," said Aylward, stoutly. "Fall on, comrades J 
 We are waiting." 
 
HOW NIGEL WAS TRIED BY THE ABBOT 59 
 
 Encouraged by promises of reward if they should fall 
 in the service of the Abbey, and by threats of penalties if 
 they should hold back, the four archers were about to close, 
 when a singular interruption gave an entirely new turn to 
 the proceedings. 
 
 At the door of the chapter-house, while these fiery 
 doings had been afoot, there had assembled a mixed crowd 
 of lay brothers, servants, and varlets who had watched the 
 development of the drama with the interest and delight 
 with which men hail a sudden break in a dull routine. 
 Suddenly there was an agitation at the back of this group, 
 then a swirl ia the centre, and finally the front rank was 
 violently thrust aside, and through the gap there emerged 
 a strange and whimsical figure, who from the instant of 
 his appearance dominated both chapter-house and Abbey, 
 monks, prelates, and archers, as if he were their owner and 
 their master. 
 
 He was a man somewhat above middle age, with thin, 
 lemon-coloured hair, a curling moustache, a tufted chin of 
 the same hue, and a high craggy face, aU running to a great 
 hook of the nose, like the beak of an eagle. His skin was 
 tanned a brown-red by much exposure to the wind and 
 sun. In height he was tall, and his figure was thin and 
 loose-jointed, but stringy and hard-bitten. One eye was 
 entirely covered by its lid, which lay flat over an empty 
 socket, but the other danced and sparkled with a most 
 roguish light, darting here and there with a twinkle of 
 humour and criticism and intelligence, the whole fire of 
 his soul bursting through that one narrow cranny. 
 
 His dress was as noteworthy as his person. A rich 
 purple doublet and cloak was marked on the lapels with a 
 strange scarlet device shaped like a wedge. Costly lace 
 himg round his shoulders, and amid its soft folds there 
 smouldered the duU red of a heavy golden chain. A 
 knight's belt at his waist and a knight's golden spurs 
 twinkUng from his doeskin riding-boots proclaimed his 
 
60 SIR NIGEL 
 
 rank, and on the wrist of his left gauntlet there sat a 
 demure little hooded falcon of a breed which in itself was 
 a mark of the dignity of the owner. Of weapons he had 
 none, but a mandoline was slung by a black silken band 
 over his back, and the high brown end projected above his 
 shoulder. Such was the man, quaint, critical, masterful, 
 with a touch of what is formidable behind it, who now 
 surveyed the opposing groups of armed men and angry 
 monks with an eye which commanded their attention. 
 
 "Excusez!" said he, in a lisping French. " Hxcusez, 
 mes amis ! I had thought to arouse you from prayer or 
 meditation, but never have I seen such a holy exercise as 
 this under an abbey's roof, with swords for breviaries and 
 archers for acolytes. I fear that I have come amiss, and 
 yet I ride on an errand from one who permits no delay." 
 
 The Abbot, and possibly the sacrist also, had begun to 
 realize that events had gone a great deal farther than they 
 had intended, and that without an extreme scandal it was 
 no easy matter for them to save their dignity and the good 
 name of Waverley. Therefore, in spite of the debonair, not 
 to say disrespectful, bearing of the newcomer, they rejoiced 
 at his appearance and intervention. 
 
 "I am the Abbot of Waverley, fair son," said the 
 prelate. " If your message deal with a public matter it 
 may be fitly repeated in the chapter-house ; if not I will 
 give you audience in my own chamber ; for it is clear to 
 me that you are a gentleman of blood and coat-armour 
 who would not lightly break in upon the business of our 
 court — a business which, as you have remarked, is little 
 welcome to men of peace like myself and the brethren of 
 the rule of Saint Bernard." 
 
 "Pardieu! Father Abbot," said the stranger. "One 
 had but to glance at you and your men to see that the 
 business was indeed little to your taste, and it may be 
 even less so when I say that rather than see this young 
 person in the window, who hath a noble bearing, further 
 
HOW NIGEL WAS TRITED BY THE ABBOT 6i 
 
 molested by these archers, I will adventure my person on 
 his behalf." 
 
 The Abbot's smile turned to a frown at these frank 
 words. " It would become you better, sir, to deliver tho 
 message of which you say that you are the bearer, than 
 to uphold a prisoner against the rightful judgment of a 
 court." 
 
 The stranger swept the court with his questioning eye. 
 ■"The message is not for you, good father Abbot. It is 
 for one I know not. I have been to his house, and 
 they have sent me hither. The name is Mgel Loring." 
 
 " It is for me, fair sir." 
 
 '" I had thought as much. I knew your father, Eustace 
 Loring, and though he would have made two of you, yet 
 he has left his stamp plain enough upon your face." 
 
 "You know not the truth of this matter," said the 
 Abbot. " If you are a loyal man, you will stand aside, 
 for this young man hath grievously offended against the 
 law, and it is for the king's lieges to give us their 
 support." 
 
 " And you have haled him up for judgment," cried the 
 stranger, with much amusement. "It is as though a 
 rookery sat in judgment upon a falcon. I warrant that 
 you have found it easier to judge than to punish. Let 
 me tell you, father Abbot, that this standeth not aright. 
 When powers such as these were given to the like of you, 
 they were given that you might check a brawling under- 
 ling or correct a drunken woodman, and not that you 
 might drag the best blood in England to your bar and set 
 your archers on him if he questioned your findings." 
 
 The Abbot was little used to hear such words of 
 reproof uttered in so stem a voice under his own abbey 
 roof and before his listening monks. 
 
 "You may perchance find that an Abbey court has 
 more powers than you wot of. Sir Knight," said he, "if 
 knight indeed you be who are so uncourteous and short in 
 
62 SIR NIGEL 
 
 your speech. Ere we go further, I woiild ask your name 
 and style 1 " 
 
 The stranger laughed. " It is easy to see that you are 
 indeed men of peace," said he proudly. "Had I shown 
 this sign," and he touched the token upon his lapels, 
 " whether on shield or pennon, in the marches of France 
 or Scotland, there is not a cavalier but would have known 
 the red pUe of Chandos." 
 
 Chandos, John Chandos, the flower of English chivalry, 
 the pink of knight-errantry, the hero already of fifty 
 desperate enterprises, a man known and honoured from 
 end to end of Europe ! Nigel gazed at him as one who 
 sees a vision. The archers stood back abashed, while the 
 monks crowded closer to stare at the famous soldier of 
 the French wars. The Abbot abated his tone, and a smile 
 came to his angry face. 
 
 "We are indeed men of peace. Sir John, and little 
 skilled in warlike blazonry," said he ; " yet stout as are 
 our Abbey walls, they are not so thick that the fame of 
 your exploits has not passed through them and reached 
 our ears. If it be your pleasure to take an interest in 
 this young and misguided squire, it is not for us to thwart 
 your kind intention or to withhold such grace as you 
 request. I am glad indeed that he hath one who can set 
 him so fair an example for a friend." 
 
 " I thank you for your courtesy, good father Abbot," 
 said Chandos, carelessly. " This young squire has, how- 
 ever, a better friend than myself, one who is kinder to 
 those he loves and more terrible to those he hates, It ia 
 from him I bear a message." 
 
 " I pray you, fair and honoured sir," said Nigel, " that 
 you will tell me what is the message that you bear." 
 
 "The message, mon ami, is that your friend comes 
 into these parts and would have a night's lodging at the 
 manor-house of Tilford for the love and respect that he 
 bears your family." 
 
HOW NIGEL WAS TRIED BY THE ABBOT 63 
 
 "Nay, he is most welcome," said Nigel, "and yet I 
 hope that he is one who can relish a soldier's fare and 
 sleep under a humble roof, for indeed we can but give our 
 best, poor as it is." 
 
 "He is indeed a soldier and a good one," Chandos 
 answered, laughing, "and I warrant he has slept in 
 rougher quarters than Tilford Manor-house." 
 
 " I have few friends, fair sir," said Nigel, with a 
 puzzled face. "I pray you give me this gentleman's 
 name." 
 
 " His name is Edward." 
 
 "Sir Edward Mortimer of Kent, perchance, or is it 
 Sir Edward Brocas of whom the Lady Ermyntrude talks?" 
 
 " Nay, he is known as Edward only, and if you ask a 
 second name it is Plantagenet, for he who comes to seek 
 the shelter of your roof is your liege lord and mine, the 
 King's high majesty, Edward of England." 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 IN WHICH LADY ERMYNTEUDE OPENS THE IRON COFFER 
 
 As in a dream Nigel heard these stupendous and incredible 
 words. As in a dream also he had a vision of a smiling 
 and conciliatory Abbot, of an obsequious sacrist, and of a 
 band of archers who cleared a path for him and for the 
 king's messenger through the motley crowd who had choked 
 the entrance of the Abbey court. A minute later he was 
 walking by the side of Chandos through the peaceful 
 cloister, and in front, in the open archway of the great 
 gate, was the broad yellow road between its borders of 
 green meadow-land. The spring air was the sweeter and 
 the more fragrant for that chill dread of dishonour and 
 captivity which had so recently frozen his ardent heart. 
 He had already passed the portal when a hand plucked at 
 his sleeve, and he turned to find himself confronted by 
 the brown honest face and hazel eyes of the archer who 
 had interfered in his behalf. 
 
 " Well," said Aylward, " what have you to say to me, 
 young sir ? " 
 
 " What can I say, my good fellow, save that I thank 
 you with all my heart ? By Saint Paul ! if you had been 
 my blood brother you could not have stood by me more 
 stoutly." 
 
 " Nay ! but this is not enough." 
 
 Mgel coloured with vexation, and the more so as 
 Chandos was listening with his critical smile to their 
 conversation. 
 
 " If you had heard what was said in the court," said 
 64 
 
LADY- ERMYNTRUDE'S COFFER 65 
 
 he, "you will understand that I am not blessed at this 
 moment with much of this world's gear. The black 
 death and the monks have between them been heavy 
 upon our estate. Willingly would I give you a handful 
 of gold for your assistance, since that is what you seem 
 to crave; but indeed I have it not, and so once more I 
 say that you must be satisfied with my thanks." 
 
 " Your gold is nothing to me," said Aylward, shortly, 
 " nor would you buy my loyalty if you filled my wallet 
 with rose nobles, so long as you were not a man after my 
 own heart. But I have seen you back the yellow horse, 
 and I have seen you face the Abbot of Waverley, and 
 you are such a master as I would very gladly serve if you 
 have by chance a place for such a man. I have seen your 
 following, and I doubt not that they were stout fellows in 
 your grandfather's time ; but which of them now would 
 draw a bow-string to his ear ? Through you I have left 
 the service of the Abbey of Waverley, and where can I 
 look now for a post ? If I stay here I am all undone like 
 a fretted bow-string." 
 
 " Nay, there can be no difficulty there," said Chandos. 
 "Pardieu! a roistering, swaggering dare-devil archer is 
 worth his price on the French border. There are two 
 hundred such who march behind my own person, and I 
 would ask nothing better than to see you among them." 
 
 " I thank you, noble sir, for your offer," said Aylward, 
 " and I had rather follow your banner than many another 
 one, for it is well-known that it goes ever forward, and I 
 have heard enough of the wars to know that there are small 
 pickings for the man who lags behind. Yet, if the squire 
 will have me, I would choose to fight under the five roses 
 of Loring, for though I was born in the hundred of Ease- 
 bourne and the rape of Chichester, yet I have growii up 
 and learned to use the longbow in these parts, and as the 
 free son of a free franklin I had rather serve my own 
 neighbour than a stranger." 
 
 F 
 
66 SIR NIGEL 
 
 " My good fellow," said Nigel, " I have told you that I 
 could in no wise reward you for such service." 
 
 " If you will but take me to the wars I will see to my 
 own reward," said Aylward. " Till then I ask for none, 
 save a corner of your table and six feet of your floor, for 
 it is certain that the only reward I would get from the 
 Abbey for this day's work would be the scourge for my 
 back and the stocks for my ankles. Samkin Aylward is 
 your man, Squire Nigel, from this hour on, and by these 
 ten finger-bones he trusts the Devil will fly away with him 
 if ever he gives you cause to regret it ! " So saying he 
 raised his hand to his steel cap in salute, slung his great 
 yellow bow over his back, and followed on some paces in 
 the rear of his new master. 
 
 "Pardieu! I have arrived a la, bonne heure," said 
 Chandos. " I rode from Windsor and came to your manor- 
 house, to find it empty save for a fine old dame, who told 
 me of your troubles. From her I walked across to the 
 Abbey, and none too soon, for what with cloth-yard shafts 
 for your body, and bell, book, and candle for your soul, it 
 was no very cheerful outlook. But here is the very dame 
 herself, if I mistake not." 
 
 It was indeed the formidable figure of the Lady Ermyn- 
 trude, gaunt, bowed, and leaning on her staff, which had 
 emerged from the door of the manor-house and advanced 
 to greet them. She croaked with laughter, and shook her 
 stick at the great building as she heard of the discomfiture 
 of the Abbey court. Then she led the way into the hall, 
 where the best which she could provide had been laid out 
 for their illustrious guest. There was Chandos blood in 
 her own veins, traceable back through the de Greys, de 
 Multons, de Valences, de Montagues, and other high and 
 noble strains, so that the meal had been eaten and cleared 
 before she had done tracing the network of intermarriages 
 and connections, with quarterings, impalements, lozenges 
 and augmentations by which the blazonry of the two families 
 
LADY ERMYNTRUDE'S COFFER ey 
 
 might be made to show a common origin. Back to the 
 Conquest and before it there was not a noble family-tree 
 every twig and bud of which was not familiar to the Dame 
 Ermyntrude. 
 
 And now, when the trestles were cleared and the three 
 were left alone in the hall, Chandos broke his message to 
 the lady. " King Edward hath ever borne in mind that 
 noble knight, your son. Sir Eustace," said he. " He will 
 journey to Southampton next week, and I am his harbinger. 
 He bade me say, noble and honoured lady, that he would 
 come from Guildford in an easy stage so that he might 
 spend one night under your roof." 
 
 The old dame flushed with pleasure, and then turned 
 white with vexation at the words. 
 
 " It is in truth great honour to the house of Loring," said 
 she, " yet our roof is now humble and, as you have seen, our 
 fare is plain. The king knows not that we are so poor. 
 I fear lest we seem churlish and niggard in his eyes." 
 
 But Chandos reasoned away her fears. The king's 
 retinue would journey on to Farnham Castle. There were 
 no ladies in his party. Though he was king, still he was 
 a hardy soldier, and cared little for his ease. In any case, 
 since he had declared his coming, they must make the best 
 of it. Finally, with all delicacy, Chandos offered his own 
 purse if it would help in the matter. But already the Lady 
 Ermyntrude had recovered her composure. 
 
 " Nay, fair kinsman, that may not be," said she. " I 
 will make such preparation as I may for the king. He 
 will bear in mind that if the house of Loring can give 
 nothing else, they have always held tiitiir blood and their 
 lives at his disposal." 
 
 Chandos was to ride on to Farnham Castle and beyond, 
 but he expressed his desire to have a warm bath ere he left 
 Tilford, for, like most of his fellow-knights, he was much 
 addicted to simmering in the hottest water that he could 
 possibly endure. The bath therefore, a high hooped 
 
68 SIR NIGEL 
 
 arrangement like a broader but shorter churn, was earned 
 into the privacy of the guest-chamber, and thither it was 
 that Mgel was summoned to hold him company while he 
 stewed and sweltered in his tub, 
 
 Nigel perched himself upon the side of the high bed, 
 swinging his legs over the edge and gazing with wonder 
 'and amusement at the quaint face, the ruffled yellow hair, 
 and the sinewy shoulders of the famous warrior, dimly 
 seen amid a pillar of steam. He was in a mood for talk ; 
 so Nigel, with eager lips, plied him with a thousand ques- 
 tions about the wars, hanging upon every word which 
 came back to him, like those of the ancient oracles, out 
 of the mist and the cloud. To Ohandos himself, the old 
 soldier for whom war had lost its freshness, it was a 
 renewal of his own ardent youth to listen to Nigel's rapid 
 questions and to mark the rapt attention with which he 
 listened. 
 
 "Tell me of the Welsh, honoured sir?" asked the 
 squire. " What manner of soldiers are the Welsh ? " 
 
 "They are very valiant men of war," said Chandos, 
 splashing about in his tub. " There is good skirmishing 
 to be had in their valleys if you ride with a small following. 
 They flare up like a furze-bush in the flames, but if for a 
 short space you may abide the heat of it, then there is a 
 chance that it may be cooler." 
 
 " And the Scotch ? " asked Nigel. " You have made 
 war upon them also, as I understand." 
 
 " The Scotch knights have no masters in the world, and 
 he who can hold his own with the best of them, be it a 
 Douglas, a Murray, or a Seaton, has nothing more to learn. 
 Though you be a hard man, you wiU always meet as hard 
 a one if you ride northward. If the Welsh be like the 
 furze-fire, then, pardieu ! the Scotch are the peat, for they 
 will smoulder and you will never come to the end of them. 
 I have had many happy hours on the marches of Scotland, 
 for even if there be no war the Percies of Alnwick or the 
 
LADY ERMYNTRUDE'S COFFER 69 
 
 Governor of Carlisle can still raise a little bickering with 
 the border clans." 
 
 " I bear in mind that my father was wont to say that 
 they were very stout spearmen." 
 
 " No better in the world, for their spears are twelve foot 
 long and they hold them in very thick array ; but their 
 archers are weak, save only the men of Ettrick and Selkirk, 
 who come from the forest. I pray you to open the lattice, 
 Nigel, for the steam is overthick. Now, in Wales it is 
 the spearmen who are weak, and there are no archers in 
 these islands like the men of Gwent with their bows of 
 elm, which shoot with such power that I have known a 
 cavalier to have his horse killed when the shaft had passed 
 through his mail breeches, his thigh, and his saddle. And 
 yet, what is the most strongly shot arrow to these new balls 
 of iron driven by the fire-powder which will crush a man's 
 armour as an egg is crushed by a stone ? Our fathers knew 
 them not." 
 
 " Then the better for us," cried Nigel, " since there is 
 at least one honourable venture which is all our own." 
 
 Chandos chuckled and turned upon the flushed youth 
 a twinkling and sympathetic eye. " You have a fashion 
 of speech which carries me back to the old men whom I 
 met in my boyhood," said he. " There were some of the 
 real old knight-errants left in those days, and they spoke 
 as you do. Young as you are, you belong to another age. 
 Where got you that trick of thought and word ? " 
 
 " I have had only one to teach me, the Lady Ermyn- 
 trude." 
 
 " Pardieu ! she has trained a proper young hawk ready 
 to stoop at a lordly quarry," said Chandos. " I would that 
 I had the first unhooding of you. Will you not ride with 
 me to the wars ? " 
 
 The tears brimmed over from Nigel's eyes, and he 
 wrung the gaunt hand extended from the bath. " By 
 Saint Paul ! what could I ask better in the world ? I 
 
70 SIR NIGEL 
 
 fear to leave her, for she has none other to care for her. 
 But if it can in any way be arranged " 
 
 " The king's hand may smooth it out. Say no more 
 until he is here. But if you wish to ride with me " 
 
 " What could man wish for more ? Is there a squire 
 in England who would not serve under the banner of 
 Chandos! "Whither do you go, fair sir? And when do 
 you go ? Is it to Scotland ? Is it to Ireland ? Is it to 
 France ? But alas, alas ! " 
 
 The eager face had clouded. For the instant he had 
 forgotten that a suit of armour was as much beyond his 
 means as a service of gold plate. Down in a twinkling 
 came all his high hopes to the ground. Oh, these sordid 
 material tilings, which come between our dreams and their 
 fulfilment ! The squire of such a knight must dress with 
 the best. Yet all the fee simple of Tilford would scarce 
 Bufiice for one suit of plate. 
 
 Chandos, with his quick wit and knowledge of the 
 world, had guessed the cause of this sudden change. 
 
 " If you fight under my banner it is for me to find the 
 weapons," said he. " Nay, I will not be denied." 
 
 But Nigel shook his head sadly. "It may not be. 
 The Lady Ermyntrude would sell this old house and every 
 acre round it, ere she would permit me to accept this 
 gracious bounty which you offer. Yet I do not despair, 
 for only last week I won for myself a noble war-horse for 
 which I paid not a penny, so perchance a suit of armour 
 may also come my way." 
 
 " And how won you the horse ? " 
 
 "It was given me by the monks of Waverley." 
 
 " This is wonderful. Pardieu ! I should have expected, 
 from what I have seen, that they M'ould have given you 
 little save their malediction." 
 
 "They had no use for the horse, and they gave it 
 to me." 
 
 " Then we have only to find some one who has no use 
 
LADY ERMYNTRUDE'S COFFER 71 
 
 for a suit of armour and will give it to you. Yet I trust 
 that you will think better of it and let me, since that 
 good lady proves that I am your kinsman, fit you for 
 the wars." 
 
 " I thank you, noble sir, and if I should turn to any one 
 it would indeed be to you ; but there are other ways which 
 I would try first. But I pray you, good Sir John, to tell 
 me of some of your noble spear-runnings against the French, 
 for the whole land rings with the tale of your deeds, and 
 I have heard that in one morning three champions have 
 fallen before your lance. Was it not so ? " 
 
 " That it was indeed so these scars upon my body will 
 prove ; but these were the follies of my youth." 
 
 " How can you call them follies ? Are they not the 
 means by which honourable advancement may be gained 
 and one's lady exalted 1 " 
 
 " It is right that you should think so, Nigel. At your 
 age a man should have a hot head and a high heart. I 
 also had both, and fought for my lady's glove or for my 
 vow or for the love of fighting. But as one grows older 
 and commands men one has other things to think of. One 
 thinks less of one's own honour and more of the safety of 
 the army. It is not your own spear, your own sword, 
 your own arm, which will turn the tide of fight ; but a 
 cool head may save a stricken field. He who knows when 
 his horsemen should charge and when they should fight 
 on foot, he who can mix his archers with his men-at-arms 
 in such a fashion that each can support the other, he who 
 can hold up his reserve and pour it into the- battle when 
 it may turn the tide, he who has a quick eye for boggy 
 land and broken ground — that is the man who is of 
 more worth to an army than Roland, Oliver, and all the 
 paladins." 
 
 " Yet if his knights fail him, honoured sir, all his head- 
 work will not prevail." 
 
 " True enough, Nigel ; so may every squire ride to the 
 
^2 SIR NIGEL 
 
 wars -wifch his soul on fire, as yours is now. But I must 
 linger no longer, for the king's service must he done. 
 : I will dress, and when I have bid farewell to the noble 
 Dame Ermyntrude I will on to Farnham; hut you will 
 see me here again on the day that the king comes." 
 
 So Chandos went his way that evening, walking his 
 horse through the peaceful lanes and twanging his citole 
 as he went, for he loved music and was famous for his 
 merry songs. The cottagers came from their huts and 
 laughed and clapped as the rich full voice swelled and sank 
 to the cheery tinkling of the strings. There were few who 
 saw him pass that would have guessed that the quaint 
 one-eyed man with the yellow hair was the toughest 
 fighter and craftiest man of war in Europe. Once only, 
 as he entered Farnham, an old broken man-at-arms ran 
 out in his rags and clutched at his horse as a dog gambols 
 round his master. Chandos threw him a kind word and a 
 gold coin as he passed on to the castle. 
 
 In the mean while young Nigel and the Lady Ermyn- 
 trude, left alone with their difficulties, looked blankly in 
 each other's faces. 
 
 " The cellar is well-nigh empty," said Nigel. " There 
 are two firkins of small beer and a tun of canary. How can 
 we set such drink before the king and his court ? " 
 
 " We must have some wine of Bordeaux. With that 
 and the mottled cow's calf and the fowls and a goose, we 
 can set forth a sufficient repast if he stays only for the one 
 night. How many will be with him ? " 
 
 " A dozen, at the least." 
 
 The old dame wrung her hands in despair. 
 
 "Nay, take it not to heart, dear lady!" said Nigel. 
 " We have but to say the word and the king would stop 
 at Waverley, where he and his court would find all that 
 they could wish." 
 
 " Never ! " cried the Lady Ermyntrude. " It would be 
 shame and disgrace to us for ever if the king were to pass 
 
LADY ERMYNTRUDE'S COFFER 73 
 
 our door when he has graciously said that he was fain to 
 enter in. Nay, I will do it. Never did I think that I 
 would be forced to this, but I know that he would wish it, 
 and I wUl do it." 
 
 She went to the old iron coffer, and taking a small key 
 from her girdle she unlocked it. The rusty hinges, scream- 
 ing shrilly as she threw back the lid, proclaimed how 
 seldom it was that she had penetrated into the sacred 
 recesses of her treasure-chest. At the top were some relics 
 of old finery : a silken cloak spangled with gold stars, a 
 coif of silver filigree, a roll of Venetian lace. Beneath 
 were little packets tied in silk which the old lady handled 
 with tender care; a man's hunting-glove, a child's shoe, 
 a love-knot done in faded-green ribbon, some letters in 
 rude rough script, and a vernicle of Saiut Thomas. Then 
 from the very bottom of the box she drew three objects, 
 swathed in silken cloth, which she uncovered and laid 
 upon the table. The one was a bracelet of rough gold 
 studded with uncut rubies, the second was a gold salver, 
 and the third was a high goblet of the same metal. 
 
 " You have heard me speak of these, Nigel, but never 
 before have you seen them, for indeed I have not opened 
 the hutch for fear that we might be tempted in our great 
 need to turn them into money. I have kept them out of 
 my sight and even out of my thoughts. But now it is 
 the honour of the house which calls, and even these must 
 go. This goblet was that which my husband. Sir Nele 
 Loring, won after the intaking of Belgrade, when he and 
 his comrades held the lists from matins to vespers against 
 the flower of the French chivalry. The salver was given 
 him by the Earl of Pembroke in memory of his valour 
 upon the field of Falkirk." 
 
 " And the bracelet, dear lady ? " 
 
 " You will not laugh, Nigel ? " 
 
 " Nay, why should I laugh ? " 
 
 " The bracelet was the prize for the Queen of Beauty 
 
74 SIR NIGEL 
 
 wliich was given to me before all the high-born ladies of 
 England by Sir Nele Loring a month before our marriage. 
 The Queen of Beauty, Nigel — I, old and twisted, as you 
 see me. Five strong men went down before his lance 
 ere he won that triaket for me. And now in my last 
 years " 
 
 "Nay, dear and honoured lady, we will not part 
 with it." 
 
 "Yes, Nigel, he would have it so. I can hear Lis 
 whisper in my ear. Honour to him was everything — the 
 rest nothing. Take it from me, Nigel, ere my heart 
 weakens. To-morrow you will ride with it to Guildford ; 
 you will see Thorold the goldsmith ; and you will raise 
 enough money to pay for all that we shall need for the 
 king's coming." 
 
 She turned her face away to hide the quivering of her 
 wrinkled features, and the crash of the iron lid covered 
 the sob which burst from her overwrought soul. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 HOW NIGEL WENT MARKETING TO GUILDFOED 
 
 It was on a bright June morning that young Mgel, with 
 youth and springtime to make his heart light, rode upon 
 his errand from TUford to Guiyford town. Beneath him 
 was his great yellow war-horse, caracoling and curveting 
 as he went, as blithe and free of spirit as his master. In 
 all England > one would scarce have found upon that 
 morning so high-mettled and so debonair a pair. The 
 sandy road wound through groves of fir, where the breeze 
 came soft and fragrant with resinous gums, or over heathery 
 downs, which rolled away to north and to south, vast and 
 untenanted, for on the uplands the soil was poor and water 
 scarce. Over Crooksbury Common he passed, and then 
 across the great Heath of Puttenham, following a sandy 
 path which wound amid the bracken and the heather, for 
 he meant to strike the Pilgrims' Way where it turned 
 eastward from Farnham and from Scale. As he rode he 
 continually felt his saddle-bag with his hand, for in it, 
 securely strapped, he had placed the precious treasures of 
 the Lady Ermyntrude. As he saw the grand tawny neck 
 tossing before him, and felt the easy heave of the great 
 horse and heard the muffled drumming of his hoofs, he 
 could have sung and shouted with the joy of living. 
 
 Behind him, upon the little brown pony which had 
 been Nigel's former mount, rode Samkin Aylward, the 
 bowman, who had taken upon himself the duties of 
 personal attendant and body-guard. His great shoulders 
 and breadth of frame seemed dangerously top-heavy upon 
 
 75 
 
ff, SIR NIGEL 
 
 the tiny steed, but he ambled along, whistling a merry 
 lilt, and as lighthearted as his master. There was no 
 countryman who had not a nod and no woman who had 
 not a smile for the jovial bowman, who rode for the most 
 part with his face over his shoulder, staring at the last 
 petticoat which had passed him. Once only he met with 
 a harsher greeting. It was from a tall, white-headed, red- 
 faced man whom they met upon the moor. 
 
 " Good morrow, dear father ! " cried Aylward. " How 
 is it with you at Crooksbury? And how are the new 
 black cow and the ewes from Alton, and Mary the dairy- 
 maid, and all your gear ? " 
 
 " It ill becomes you to ask, you ne'er-do-weel," said 
 the old man. " You have angered the monks of Waverley, 
 whose tenant I am, and they would drive me out of my 
 farm. Yet there are three more years to run, and do what 
 they may I will bide till then. But little did I think that 
 I should lose my homestead through you, Samkin, and big 
 as you are I would knock the dust out of that green jerkin 
 with a good hazel switch if I had you at Crooksbury." 
 
 " Then you shall do it to-morrow morning, good father, 
 for I will come and see you then. But indeed I did not 
 do more at Waverley than you would have done yourself. 
 Look me in the eye, old hot-head, and tell me if you would 
 have stood by while the last Loring — look at him as he 
 rides with his head in the air and his soul in the clouds — 
 was shot down before your very eyes at the bidding of that 
 fat monk ! If you would, then I disown you as my father." 
 
 " Nay, Samkin, if it was like that, then perhaps what 
 you did was not so far amiss. But it is hard to lose the old 
 farm when my heart is buried deep in the good brown soil." 
 
 " Tut, man ! there are three years to run, and what may 
 not happen in three years ? Before that time I shall have 
 gone to the wars, and when I have opened a French strong 
 box or two you can buy the good brown soil and snap 
 your fingers at Abbot John and his bailiffs. Am I not as 
 
HOW NIGEL WENT MARKETING ^^ 
 
 proper a man as Tom Withstaff of Churt ? And yet lie 
 came back after six months with his pockets full of rose 
 nobles and a French wench on either arm." 
 
 " God preserve us from the wenches, Samkin ! But 
 indeed I think that if there is money to be gathered you 
 are as likely to get your fist full as any man who goes to 
 the war. But hasten, lad, hasten ! Already your young 
 master is over the brow." 
 
 Thus admonished, the archer waved his gauntleted hand 
 to his father, and digging his heels into the sides of his 
 little pony soon drew up with the squire. Nigel glanced 
 over his shoulder and slackened speed until the pony's 
 head was up to his saddle. 
 
 " Have I not heard, archer," said he, " that an outlaw 
 has been loose in these parts ? " 
 
 "It is true, fair sir. He was villein to Sir Peter 
 Mandeville, but he broke his bonds and fled into the 
 forests. Men call him the ' Wild Man of Puttenham.' " 
 
 " How comes it that he has not been hunted down ? 
 If the man be a draw-latch and a robber it would be an 
 honourable deed to clear the country of such an evil." 
 
 " Twice the serjeants-at-arms from Guildford have come 
 out against him, but the fox has many earths, and it would 
 puzzle you to get him out of them." 
 
 " By Saint Paul ! were my errand not a pressing one I 
 would be tempted to turn aside and seek him. Where 
 lives he, then ? " 
 
 " There is a great morass beyond Puttenham, and across 
 ib there are caves in which he and his people lurk." 
 
 " His people ? He hath a band ? " 
 
 " There are several with him." 
 
 " It sounds a most honourable enterprise," said Nigel. 
 " When the king hath come and gone we will spare a day 
 for the outlaws of Puttenham. I fear there is little chance 
 for us to see them on this journey." 
 
 "They prey upon the pilgrims who pass along the 
 
;8 SIR NIGEL 
 
 Winchester Eoad, and they are well loved by the folk in 
 these parts, for they rob none of them and have an open 
 hand for all who will help them." 
 
 " It is right easy to have an open hand with the money 
 that you have stolen," said Nigel ; " but I fear that they 
 will not try to rob two men with swords at their girdles 
 like you and me, so we shall have no profit from them." 
 
 They had passed over the wild moors and had come 
 down now into the main road by which the pilgrims from 
 the west of England made their way to the national shrine 
 of Canterbury. It passed from Winchester, and up the 
 beautiful valley of the Itchen until it reached Farnham, 
 where it forked into two branches, one of which ran along 
 the Hog's Back, while the second wound to the south and 
 came out at St. Catharine's Hill, where stands the Pilgrim's 
 shrine, a grey old ruin now, but once so august, so crowded, 
 and so affluent. It was this second branch upon which 
 Nigel and Aylward found themselves as they rode to 
 Guildford. 
 
 iNo one, as it chanced, was going the same way as 
 themselves, but they met one large drove of pilgrims 
 returning from their journey, with pictures of Saint Thomas 
 and snails' shells or little leaden ampullae in their hats 
 and bundles of purchases over their shoulders. They were 
 a grimy, ragged, travel-stained crew, the men walking, the 
 women borne on asses. Man and beast, they limped 
 along as if it would be a glad day when they saw their 
 homes once more. These and a few beggars or minstrels, 
 who crouched among the heather on either side of the 
 track in the hope of receiving an occasional farthing from 
 the passer-by, were the only folk they met until they had 
 reached the village of Puttenham. Already there was a 
 hot sun and just breeze enough to send the dust flying 
 down the road, so they were glad to clear their throats 
 with a glass of beer at the ale-stake in the village, where 
 the fair alewife gave Nigel a cold farewell because he had 
 
HOW NIGEL WENT MARKETING 79 
 
 no attentions for her, and Aylward a box on the ears 
 because he had too many. 
 
 On the farther side of Puttenham the road runs through 
 thick woods of oak and beech, with a tangled undergrowth 
 of fern and bramble. Here they met a patrol of sergeants- 
 at-arms, tall fellows, well-mounted, clad in studded-leather 
 caps and tunics, with lances and swords. They walked 
 their horses slowly on the shady side of the road, and 
 stopped as the travellers came up, to ask if they had been 
 molested on the way. 
 
 " Have a care," they added, " for the ' Wild Man ' and 
 his wife are out. Only yesterday they slew a merchant 
 from the west and took a hundred crowns." 
 
 " His wife, you say ? " 
 
 " Yes, she is ever at his side, and has saved him many 
 a time, for if he has the strength it is she who has the wit. 
 I hope to see their heads together upon the green grass 
 one of these mornings." , 
 
 The patrol passed downward toward Farnham, and so, 
 as it proved, away from the robbers, who had doubtless 
 watched them closely from the dense brushwood which 
 skirted the road. Coming round a curve, Nigel and 
 Aylward were aware of a tall and graceful woman who 
 sat, wringing her hands and weeping bitterly, upon the 
 bank by the side of the track. At such a sight of beauty 
 in distress Nigel pricked Pommers with the spur and in 
 three bounds was at the side of the unhappy lady. 
 
 " Wliat ails you, fair dame ? " he asked. " Is there 
 any small matter in which I may stand your friend, or is 
 it possible that any one hath so hard a heart as to do you 
 an injury ? " 
 
 She rose and turned upon him a face full of hope and 
 entreaty. 
 
 " Oh, save my poor, poor father ! " she cried. " Have 
 you perchance seen the way-wardens ? They passed us, 
 and I fear they are beyond call," 
 
8o SIR NIGEL 
 
 " Yes, they have ridden onward, but we may serve as 
 well." 
 
 " Then, hasten, hasten, I pray you ! Even now they 
 may be doing him to death. They have dragged him into 
 yonder grove and I have heard his voice growing ever 
 weaker in the distance. Hasten, I implore you ! " 
 
 Nigel sprang from his horse and tossed the rein to 
 Aylward. 
 
 "Nay, let us go together. How many robbers were 
 there, lady ? " 
 
 " Two stout fellows." 
 
 " Then I come also." 
 
 " Nay, it is not possible," said Nigel. " The wood is 
 too thick for horses, and we cannot leave them in the 
 road." 
 
 " I will guard them," cried the lady. 
 
 " Pommers is not so easily held. Do you bide here, 
 Aylward, until you hear from me. Stir not, I command 
 you!" 
 
 So saying, Nigel, with the light of adventure gleaming 
 in his joyous eyes, drew his sword and plimged swiftly 
 into the forest. 
 
 Par and fast he ran, from glade to glade, breaking 
 through the bushes, springing over the brambles, light as 
 a young deer, peering this way and that, straining his ears 
 for a sound, and catching only the cry of the wood-pigeons. 
 Still on he went, with the constant thought of the weeping 
 woman behind and of the captured man in front. It was 
 not until he was footsore and out of breath that he stopped 
 with his hand to his side, and considered that his own 
 business had still to be done, and that it was time once 
 more that he should seek the road to Guildford. 
 
 Meantime Aylward had found his own rough means of 
 consoling the woman in the road, who stood sobbing with 
 her face against the side of Pommers' saddle. 
 
 " Nay, weep not, my pretty one," said he. " It brings 
 
HOW NIGEL WENT MARKETING 8i 
 
 the tears to my own eyes to see them stream from 
 thine." 
 
 "Alas! good archer, he was the best of fathers, so 
 gentle and so kind ! Had you but known him, you must 
 have loved him." 
 
 "Tut, tut! he will suffer no scathe. Squire Nigel 
 will bring him back to you anon." 
 
 " No, no, I shall never see him more. Hold me, archer, 
 or I fall!" 
 
 Aylward pressed his ready arm round the supple 
 waist. The fainting woman leaned with her hand upon 
 his shoulder. Her pale face looked past him, and it was 
 some new light in her eyes, a flash of expectancy, of 
 triumph, of wicked joy, which gave him sudden warning 
 of his danger. 
 
 He shook her off and sprang to one side, but only just 
 in time to avoid a crashing blow from a great club in the 
 hands of a man even taller and stronger than himself. 
 He had one quick vision of great white teeth clinched 
 in grim ferocity, a wild flying beard and blazing wild- 
 beast eyes. The next instant he had closed, ducking 
 his head beneath another swing of that murderous 
 cudgel. 
 
 With his arms round the robber's burly body and his 
 face buried in his bushy beard, Aylward gasped and strained 
 and heaved. Back and forward in the dusty road the two 
 men stamped and staggered, a grim wrestling-match, with 
 life for the prize. Twice the great strength of the outlaw 
 had Aylward nearly down, and twice with his greater youth 
 and skill the archer restored his grip and his balance. Then 
 at last his turn came. He slipped his leg behind the other's 
 knee, and, giving a mighty wrench, tore him across it. 
 With a hoarse shout the outlaw toppled backward, and 
 had hardly reached the ground before Aylward had his 
 knee upon his chest and his short sword deep in his beard 
 and pointed to his throat, 
 
 Q 
 
82 SIR NIGEL 
 
 " By these ten finger-bones ! " he gasped, " one more 
 struggle and it is your last ! " 
 
 The man lay still enough, for he was half-stunned by 
 the crashing fall. Aylward looked round him, but the 
 Avoman had disappeared. At the first blow struck she 
 had vanished into the forest. He began to have fears 
 for his master, thinking that he perhaps had been lured 
 into some death-trap; but his forebodings were soon at 
 rest, for Nigel himself came hastening down the road, 
 which he had struck some distance from the spot where 
 he left it. 
 
 " By Saint Paul ! " he cried, " who is this man on whom 
 you are perched, and where is the lady who has honoured 
 us so far as to crave our help ? Alas, that I have been 
 unable to find her father ! " 
 
 " As well for you, fair sir," said Aylward, " for I am of 
 opinion that her father was the Devil. This woman is, 
 as I believe, the wife of the 'Wild Man of Puttenham,' 
 and this is the ' Wild Man ' himself who set upon me and 
 tried to brain me with his club." 
 
 The outlaw, who had opened his eyes, looked with a 
 scowl from his captor to the newcomer. 
 
 " You are in luck, archer," said he, " for I have come to 
 grips with many a man, but I cannot call to mind any 
 who have had the better of me." 
 
 " You have indeed the grip of a bear," said Aylward ; 
 " but it was a coward deed that your wife should hold me 
 while you dashed out my brains with a stick. It is also 
 a most villainous thing to lay a snare for wayfarers by 
 asking. for their pity and assistance, so that it was our 
 own soft hearts which brought us into such danger. The 
 next who hath real need of our help may suffer for your 
 sins." 
 
 " When the hand of the whole world is against you," 
 said the outlaw, in a surly voice, " you must fight as best 
 you can." 
 
HOW NIGEL WENT MARKETING 83 
 
 " You well deserve to be hanged, if only because you 
 have brought this woman, who is fair and gentle-spoken, 
 to such a life," said Nigel. " Let us tie him by the wrist 
 to my stin-up leather, Aylward, and we wiU lead him into 
 Guildford." 
 
 The archer drew a spare bowstring from his case and 
 had bound the prisoner as directed, when Nigel gave a 
 sudden start and cry of alarm. 
 
 " Holy Mary ! " he cried. " Where is the saddle-bag ? " 
 
 It had been cut away by a sharp knife. Only the two 
 ends of a strap remained. Aylward and Nigel stared at 
 each other in blank dismay. Then the young squire shook 
 his clenched hands and pulled at his yellow curls in his 
 despair. 
 
 " The Lady Ermyntrude's bracelet ! My grandfather's 
 cup ! " he cried. " I would have died ere I lost them ! 
 What can I say to her ? I dare not return until I have 
 found them. Oh, Aylward, Aylward ! how came you to 
 let them be taken ? " 
 
 The honest archer had pushed back his steel cap and 
 was scratching his tangled head. 
 
 "Nay, I know nothing of it. You never said that 
 there was aught of price in the bag, else had I kept 
 a better eye upon it. Certes ! it was not this fellow 
 who took it, since I have never had my hands from 
 him. It can only be the woman who fled with it whUe 
 we fought." 
 
 Nigel stamped about the road in his perplexity. " I 
 would follow her to the world's end if I knew where I 
 could find her, but to seai'ch these woods for her is to look 
 for a mouse in a wheat-field. Good Saint George, thou 
 who didst overcome the Dragon, I pray you by that most 
 honourable and knightly achievement that you wHl be 
 with me now ! And you also, great Saint JiJian, patron 
 of all wayfarers in distress! Two candles shall burn 
 before your shrine at Godalming, if you will but bring me 
 
84 SIR NIGEL 
 
 back my saddle-bag. What would I not give to have it 
 back?" 
 
 " Will you give me my life ? " asked the outlaw. 
 " Promise that I go free, and you shall have it back, if 
 it be indeed true that my wife has taken it." 
 
 "Nay, I cannot do that," said Mgel. "My honour 
 would surely be concerned, since my loss is a private one ; 
 but it would be to the public scathe that you should go 
 free. By Saint Paul ! it would be an ungentle deed if in 
 order to save my own I let you loose upon the gear of a 
 hundred others." 
 
 " I will not ask you to let me loose," said the " Wild 
 Man." "If you will promise that my life be spared I 
 will restore your bag." 
 
 " I cannot give such a promise, for it will lie with the 
 sheriff and reeves of Guildford." 
 
 " Shall I have your word in my favour ? " 
 
 " That T could promise you, if you will give back the 
 bag, though I know not how far my word may avail. But 
 your words are vain, for you cannot think that we will be 
 so fond as to let you go in the hope that you return ? " 
 
 " I would not ask it," said the " Wild Man," " for I can 
 get your bag and yet never stir from the spot where I 
 stand. Have I your promise upon your honour and all 
 that you hold dear that you will ask for grace ? " 
 
 " You have." 
 
 "And that my wife shall be unharmed ? " 
 
 " I promise it." 
 
 The outlaw laid back his head and uttered a long shrill 
 cry like the howl of a wolf. There was a silent pause, and 
 then, clear and shrill, there rose the same cry no great 
 distance away in the forest. Again the " Wild Man " 
 called, and again his mate replied. A third time he sum- 
 moned, as the deer bells to the doe in the greenwood. 
 Then with a rustle of brushwood and snapping of twigs 
 the woman was before theai once more, tall, pale, graceful, 
 
HOW NIGEL WENT MARKETING 8? 
 
 wondetful. She glanced neither at Aylward nor Nigel, 
 but ran to the side of her husband. 
 
 " Dear and sweet lord," she cried, " I trust they have 
 done you no hurt. I waited by the old ash, and my heart 
 sank when you came not." 
 
 " I have been taken at last, wife." 
 
 " Oh, cursed, cursed day ! Let him go, kind, gentle 
 sirs, do not take him from me ! " 
 
 " They will speak for me at Guildford," said the " Wild 
 Man." " They have sworn it. But hand them first the 
 bag that you have taken." 
 
 She drew it out from under her loose cloak. " Here it 
 is, gentle sir. Indeed it went to my heart to take it, for 
 you had mercy upon me in my trouble. But now I am, 
 as you see, in real and very sore distress. Will you not 
 have mercy now ? Take ruth on us, fair sir ! On my 
 knees I beg it of you, most gentle and kindly squire ! " 
 
 Nigel had clutched his bag, and right glad he was to 
 feel that the treasures were all safe within it. 
 
 " My promise is given," said he. " I will say what I 
 can ; but the issue rests with others, I pray you to stand 
 up, for indeed I cannot promise more." 
 
 "Then I must be content," said she, rising, with a 
 composed face. " I have prayed you to take ruth, and 
 indeed I can do no more ; but ere I go back to the forest 
 I would rede you to be on your guard lest you lose your 
 bag once more. Wot you how I took it, archer ? Nay, it 
 was simple enough, and may happen again, so I make it 
 clear to you. I had this knife in my sleeve, and though 
 it is small it is very sharp. I slipped it down like this. 
 Then, when I seemed to weep with my face against the 
 saddle, I cut down like this " 
 
 In an instant she had shorn through the stirrup leather 
 which bound her man, and he, diving under the belly of 
 the horse, had slipped like a snake into the brushwood. 
 In passing he had struck Pommers from beneath, and the 
 
86 SIR NIGEL 
 
 great horse, enraged and insulted, was rearing high, with 
 two men hanging to his bridle. When at last he had 
 calmed there was no sign left of the " Wild Man" or of 
 his wife. In vain did Aylward, an arrow on his string, 
 run here and there among the great trees and peer down 
 the shadowy glades. When he returned he and his master 
 cast a shame-faced glance at each other. 
 
 " I trust that we are better soldiers than jailers," said 
 Aylward, as he climbed on his pony. 
 
 But Nigel's frown relaxed into a smile. "At least we 
 have gained back what we lost," said he. " Here I place 
 it on the pommel of my saddle, and I shall not take my 
 eyes from it until we are safe in Guildford town." 
 
 So they jogged on together imtil passing Saint Catha- 
 rine's shrine they crossed the winding Wey once more, 
 and so found themselves in the steep high street with its 
 heavy-eaved gabled houses, its monkish hospitium upon 
 the left, where good ale may stiU be quaffed, and its great 
 square-keeped castle upon the right, no grey and grim 
 skeleton of ruin, but very quick and alert, with blazoned 
 banner flying free, and steel caps twinkling from the 
 battlement. A row of booths extended from the castle 
 gate to the high street, and two doors from the Church of 
 the Tiinity was that of Thorold the goldsmith, a rich 
 burgess and Mayor of the town. 
 
 He looked long and lovingly at the rich rubies and at 
 the fine work upon the goblet. Then he stroked his flowing 
 grey beard as he pondered whether he should offer fifty 
 nobles or sixty, for he knew well that he could sell them 
 again for two hundred. If he offered too much his profit 
 would be reduced. If he offered too little the youth 
 might go as far as London with them, for they were rare 
 and of great worth. The young man was ill-clad, and his 
 eyes were anxious. Perchance he was hard pressed and 
 was ignorant of the value of what he bore. He would 
 •sound hira. 
 
HOW NIGEL WENT MARKETING 87 
 
 " These things are old and out of fashion, fair sir," said 
 he. " Of the stones I can scarce say if they are of good 
 quality or not, but they are dull and rough. Yet, if your 
 price be low I may add them to my stock, though indeed 
 this booth was made to sell and not to buy. What do 
 you ask ? " 
 
 Mgel bent his brows in perplexity. Here was a game 
 in which neither his bold heart nor his active limbs could 
 help him. It was the new force mastering the old : the 
 man of commerce conquering the man of war — wearing 
 him down and weakening him through the centuries until 
 he had him as his bond-servant and his thrall. 
 
 " I know not what to ask, good sir," said Nigel. " It 
 is not for me, nor for any man who bears my name, to 
 chaffer and to haggle. You know the worth of these 
 things, for it is your trade to do so. The Lady Ermyn- 
 trude lacks money, and we must have it against the king'3 
 coming, so give me that which is right and just, and we 
 will say no more." 
 
 The goldsmith smiled. The business was growing 
 more simple and more profitable. He had intended to, 
 offer fifty, but surely it would be sinful waste to give 
 more than twenty-five. 
 
 " I shall scarce know what to do with them when I 
 have them," said he. " Yet I should not grudge twenty 
 nobles if it is a matter in which the king is con- 
 cerned." 
 
 Nigel's heart turned to lead. This sum would not buy, 
 one-half what was needful. It was clear that the Lady 
 Ermyntrude had overvalued her treasures. Yet he could 
 not return empty-handed, so if twenty nobles was the real 
 worth, as this good old man assured him, then he must be 
 thankful and take it. 
 
 " I am concerned by what you say," said he. " You 
 know more of these things than I can do. However, I 
 will take " 
 
SS SIR NIGEL 
 
 " A hundred and fifty," whispered Aylward's voice in 
 his ear. 
 
 " A hundred and fifty," said Nigel, only too relieved to 
 have found the humblest guide upon these unwonted paths. 
 
 The goldsmith started. This youth was not the simple 
 soldier that he had seemed. That frank face, those blue 
 eyes, were traps for the unwary. Never had he been more 
 taken aback ia a bargain. 
 
 "This is fond talk and can lead to nothing, fair sir," 
 said he, turning away and fiddling with the keys of his 
 strong boxes. " Yet I have no wish to be hard on you. 
 Take my outside price, which is fifty nobles." 
 
 " And a hundred," whispered Aylward. 
 
 " And a hundred," said Nigel, blushing at his own greed. 
 
 "Well, well, take a hundred!" cried the merchant. 
 " Fleece me, skin me, leave me a loser, and take for your 
 wares the full hundred ! " 
 
 " I should be shamed for ever if I were to treat you so 
 badly," said Nigel. "You have spoken me fair, and I 
 would not grind you down. Therefore, I wiU gladly take 
 one hundred " 
 
 "And fifty," whispered Aylward, 
 
 " And fifty," said Nigel. 
 
 " By Saint John of Beverley ! " cried the merchant. 
 " I came hither from the North Country, and they are said 
 to be shrewd at a deal in those parts ; but I had rather 
 bargain with a synagogue fuU of Jews than with you, for 
 ell your gentle ways. WUl you indeed take no less than 
 a hundred and fifty ? Alas ! you pluck from me my 
 profits of a month. It is a fell morning's work for me. I 
 would I had never seen you ! " With groans and lamen- 
 tations he paid the gold pieces across the counter, and 
 Nigel, hardly able to credit his own good fortune, gathered 
 them into the leather saddle-bag. 
 
 A moment later with flushed face he was in the street 
 and pouring out his thanks to Aylward. 
 
HOW NIGEL WENT MARKETING 89 
 
 "Alas, my fair lord! the man has robbed us now," 
 feaid the archer. " We could have had another twenty had 
 we stood fast." 
 
 " How know you that, good Aylward ? " 
 
 "By his eyes. Squire Loring. I wot I have little 
 store of reading where the parchment of a book or the 
 pricking of a blazon is concerned, but I can read men's 
 eyes, and I never doubted that he would give what he has 
 given." 
 
 The two travellers had dinner at the monk's hospitium, 
 Nigel at the high table and Aylward among the common- 
 alty. Then again they roamed the high street on business 
 intent. Nigel bought taffeta for hangings, wine, preserves, 
 fruit, damask table-linen, and many other articles of need. 
 At last he halted before the armourer's shop at the castle- 
 yard, staring at the fine suits of plate, the engraved pec- 
 torals, the plumed helmets, the cunningly jointed gorgets, 
 as a child at a sweet-shop. 
 
 " Well, Squire Loring," said Wat the armourer, looking 
 sidewise from the furnace where he was tempering a sword- 
 blade, " what can I sell you this morning ? I swear to you 
 by Tubal Cain, the father of all workers in metal, that you 
 might go from end to end of Cheapside and never see a 
 better suit than that which hangs from yonder hook ! " 
 
 " And the price, armourer ? " 
 
 " To any one else, two hundred and fifty rose nobles. 
 To you two hundred." 
 
 " And why cheaper to me, good fellow ? " 
 
 " Because I fitted your father also for the wars, and a 
 finer suit never went out of my shop. I warrant that it 
 turned many an edge before he laid it aside. We worked 
 in mail in those days, and I had as soon have a well-made 
 thick-meshed mail as any plates ; but a young knight will 
 be in the fashion like any dame of the court, and so it 
 must be plate now, even though the price be trebled." 
 
 " Your rede is that the mail is as good ? " 
 
go SIR NIGEL 
 
 " I am weU sure of it." 
 
 "Hearken then, armourer! I cannot at this moment 
 buy a suit of plate, and yet I sorely need steel harness on 
 account of a small deed which it is in my mind to do. 
 Now I have at my home at Tilford that very suit of mail 
 of which you speak, with which my father first rode to the 
 wars. Could you not so alter it that it should guard my 
 limbs also ? " 
 
 The armourer looked at Nigel's small upright figure 
 and burst out laughing. 
 
 " You jest, Squire Loring ! The suit was made for one 
 who was far above the common stature of man." 
 
 " Nay, I jest not. If it will but carry me through one 
 spear-running it will have served its purpose." 
 
 The armourer leaned back on his anvil and pondered, 
 while Nigel stared anxiously at his sooty face. 
 
 Eight gladly would I lend you a suit of plate for this 
 one venture. Squire Loring, but I know well that if you 
 should be overthrown your harness becomes prize to the 
 victor. I am a poor man with many children, and I dare 
 not risk the loss of it. But as to what you say of the old 
 suit of mail, is it indeed in good condition ? " 
 
 " Most excellent, save only at the neck, which is much 
 frayed." 
 
 " To shorten the limbs is easy. It is but to cut out a 
 length of the mail and then loop up the links. But to 
 shorten the body — nay, that is beyond the armoxirer's art." 
 
 "It was my last hope. Nay, good armourer, if you 
 have indeed served and loved my gallant father, then I 
 beg you by his memory that you will help me now." 
 
 The armourer threw down his heavy hammer with a 
 crash upon the floor. 
 
 "It is not only that I loved your father, Squire 
 Loring, but it is that I have seen you, half armed as you 
 were, ride against the best of them at the Castle tilt-yard. 
 Last Martinmas my heart bled for you when I saw how 
 
HOW NIGEL WENT MARKETING 91 
 
 sorry was your harness, and yet you held your own against 
 the stout Sir Oliver with his Milan suit. When go you to 
 Tilford ? " 
 
 " Even now." 
 
 " Heh, Jenkin, fetch out the cob ! " cried the worthy 
 Wat. " May my right hand lose its cunning if I do not send 
 you into battle in your father's suit ! To-morrow I must 
 be back in my booth, but to-day I give to you without fee 
 and for the sake of the good-will which I bear to your 
 house. I will ride with you to Tilford, and before night 
 you shall see what Wat can do." 
 
 So it came about that there was a busy evening at the 
 old Tilford Manor-house, where the Lady Ermyntrude 
 planned and cut and hung the curtains for the haU, and 
 stocked her cupboards with the good things which Nigel 
 had brought from Guildford. 
 
 Meanwhile the squire and the armourer sat with their 
 heads touching and the old suit of mail with its gorget of 
 overlapping plates laid out across their knees. Again and 
 again old Wat shrugged his shoulders, as one who has 
 been asked to do more than can be demanded from mortal 
 man. At last, at a suggestion from the squire, he leaned 
 back in his chair and laughed long and loudly in his bushy 
 beard, while the Lady Ermyntrude glared her black dis- 
 pleasure at such plebeian merriment. Then taking his 
 fine chisel and his hammer from his pouch of tools, the 
 armourer, still chuckling at his own thoughts, began to 
 drive a hole through the centre of the steel tunic. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 HOW THE KING HAWKED ON CEOOKSBUEY HEATH 
 
 The king and his attendants had shaken off the crowd 
 who had followed them from Guildford along the Pilgrim's 
 .Way, and now, the mounted archers having beaten off the 
 more persistent of the spectators, they rode at their ease 
 in a long, straggling, glittering train over the dark un- 
 dulating plain of heather, 
 
 ' In the van was the king himself, for his hawks were 
 with him and he had some hope of sport, Edward at that 
 time was a well-grown, vigorous man in the very prime of 
 his years, a keen sportsman, an ardent gallant and a 
 chivalrous soldier. He was a scholar too, speaking Latin, 
 ■ Trench, German, Spanish, and even a little English. 
 
 So much had long been patent to the world, but only 
 of recent years had he shown other and more formidable 
 characteristics : a restless ambition which coveted his 
 neighbour's throne, and a wise foresight in matters of 
 commerce, which engaged him now in transplanting Flemish 
 weavers and sowing the seeds of what for many years was 
 the staple trade of England. Each of these varied qualities 
 might have been read upon his face. The brow, shaded 
 by a crimson cap of maintenance, was broad and lofty. 
 The large brown eyes were ardent and bold. His chin 
 was clean-shaven, and the close-cropped dark moustache 
 did not conceal the strong mouth, firm, proud, and kindly, 
 but capable of setting tight in merciless ferocity. His 
 complexion was tanned to copper by a life spent in field 
 sports or in war, and he rode his magnificent black horse 
 
 92 
 
THE KING'S HAWKING 93 
 
 carelessly and easily, as one who has grown up in the 
 saddle. His own colour was black also, for his active, 
 sinewy figure was set off by close-fitting velvet of that 
 hue, broken only by a belt of gold, and by a golden border 
 of open pods of the broom-plant. 
 
 With his high and noble bearing, his simple yet rich 
 attire and his splendid mount, he looked every inch a king. 
 The picture of gallant man on gallant horse was completed 
 by the noble Falcon of the Isles which fluttered along 
 some twelve feet above his head, " waiting od," as it was 
 termed, for any quarry which might arise. The second 
 bird of the cast was borne upon the gauntleted wrist of 
 Eaoul the chief falconer in the rear. 
 
 At the right side of the monarch and a little behind 
 him rode a youth some twenty years of age, tall, slim, and 
 dark, with noble aquiline features and keen penetrating 
 eyes which sparkled with vivacity and affection as he 
 answered the remarks of the king. He was clad in deep 
 crimson diapered with gold, and the trappings of his white 
 palfrey were of a magnificence which proclaimed the rank 
 of its rider. On his face, still free from moustache or 
 beard, there sat a certain gravity and majesty of expression 
 which showed that, young as he was, great affairs had been 
 in his keeping, and that his thoughts and interests were 
 those of the statesman and the warrior. That great day 
 when, little more than a schoolboy, he had led the van of 
 the victorious army which had crushed the power of 
 France at Crecy had left this stamp upon his features; 
 but stern as they were they had not assumed that tinge of 
 fierceness which in after years was to make " The Black 
 Prince " a name of terror on the marches of France. Not 
 yet had the first shadow of fell disease come to poison his 
 nature ere it struck at his life, as he rode that spring day, 
 light and debonair, upon the heath of Crooksbury. 
 
 On the left of the king, and so near to him that great 
 intimacy was implied, rode a man about his own age, with 
 
94 SIR NIGEL 
 
 the broad face, the projecting jaw, and the flattish nose 
 which are often the outward indications of a pugnacious 
 nature. His complexion was crimson, his large blue eyes 
 somewhat prominent, and his whole appearance full- 
 blooded and choleric. He was short, but massively built, 
 and evidently possessed of immense strength. His voice, 
 however, when he spoke was gentle and lisping, while his 
 manner was quiet and courteous. Unlike the king or 
 the prince, he was clad in light armour and carried a 
 sword by his side and a mace at his saddle-bow, for he 
 was acting as captain of the king's guard, and a dozen 
 other knights in steel followed in the escort. No hardier 
 soldier could Edward have at his side, if, as was always 
 possible in those lawless times, sudden danger were to 
 threaten, for this was the famous knight of Hainault, now 
 naturalized as an Englishman, Sir Walter Manny, who 
 bore as high a reputation for chivalrous valour and for 
 gallant temerity as Chandos himself. 
 
 Behind the knights, who were forbidden to scatter and 
 must always follow the king's person, there was a body 
 of twenty or thirty hobelers or mounted bowmen, together 
 with several squires, unarmed themselves but leading 
 spare horses upon -which the heavier part of their knights' 
 equipment was carried. A straggling tail of falconers, 
 harbingers, varlets, body-servants and huntsmen holding 
 hounds in leash completed the long and many-coloured 
 train which rose and dij)ped on the low undulations of 
 the moor. 
 
 Many weighty things were on the mind of Edward the 
 king. There was truce for the moment with France, but 
 it was a truce broken by many small deeds of arms, raids, 
 surprises, and ambushes upon either side, and it was 
 certain that it would soon dissolve again into open war. 
 Money must be raised, and it was no light matter to raise 
 it, now that the Commons had once already voted the 
 tenth lamb and the tenth sheaf. Besides, the Black 
 
THE KING'S HAWKING 95 
 
 Death had ruined the country, the arable land was all 
 turned to pasture, the labourer, laughing at statutes, 
 would not work under fourpence a day, and all society 
 was chaos. In addition, the Scotch were growling over 
 the border, there was the perennial trouble in half- 
 conquered Ireland, and his allies abroad in Flanders and 
 in Brabant were clamouring for the arrears of their 
 subsidies. 
 
 All this was enough to make even a victorious monarch 
 full of care ; but now Edward had thrown it all to the 
 winds and was as light-hearted as a boy upon a holiday. 
 No thought had he for the dunning of Florentine bankers 
 or the vexatious conditions of those busybodies at West- 
 minster. He was out with his hawks, and his thoughts 
 and his talk should be of nothing else. The varlets beat 
 the heather and bushes as they passed, and whooped 
 loudly as the birds flew out. 
 
 " A magpie ! A magpie ! " cried the falconer. 
 
 " Nay, nay, it is not worthy of your talons, my brown- 
 eyed queen," said the king, looking up at the great bird 
 which flapped from side to side above his head, waiting 
 for the whistle which should give her the signal. " The 
 tercels, falconer — a cast of tercels ! Quick, man, quick ! 
 Ha ! the rascal makes for wood ! He puts in ! Well 
 flown, brave peregrine ! He makes his point. Drive 
 him out to thy comrade. Serve him, varlets ! Beat the 
 bushes ! He breaks ! He breaks ! Nay, come away 
 then ! You will see master magpie no more." 
 
 The bird had indeed, with the cunning of its race, 
 flapped its way through brushwood and bushes to the 
 thicker woods beyond, so that neither the hawk amid the 
 cover nor its partner above nor the clamorous beaters 
 could harm it. The king laughed at the mischance and 
 rode on. Continually birds of various sorts were flushed, 
 and each was pursued by the appropriate hawk, the snipe 
 by the tercel, the partridge by the goshawk, even the lark 
 
96 SIR NIGEL 
 
 by the little merlin. But the king soon tired of this 
 petty sport and went slowly on his way, still with the 
 magnificent silent attendant flapping above his head. 
 
 "Is she not a noble bird, fair son?" he asked, glancing 
 up as her shadow fell upon him. 
 
 " She is indeed, sire. Surely no finer ever came from 
 the isles of the north." 
 
 " Perhaps not, and yet I have had a hawk from Barbary 
 as good a footer and a swifter flyer. An Eastern bird in 
 yarak has no peer." 
 
 " I had one once from the Holy Land," said de Manny. 
 " It was fierce and keen and swift as the Saracens them- 
 selves. They say of old Saladin that in his day his breed 
 of birds, of hounds, and of horses had no equal on earth." 
 
 " I trust, dear father, that the day may come when we 
 shall lay our hands on all three," said the Prince, looking 
 with shining eyes upon the king. " Is the Holy Land to 
 lie for ever in the grasp of these unbelieving savages, or 
 the Holy Temple to be defiled by their foul presence ? 
 Ah ! my dear and most sweet lord, give to me a thousand 
 lances with ten thousand bowmen like those I led at 
 Crecy, and I swear to you by God's soul that within a 
 year I will have done homage to you for the Kingdom of 
 Jerusalem ! " 
 
 The king laughed as he turned to Walter Manny. 
 " Boys wiU still be boys," said he. 
 
 " The French do not count me such ! " cried the young 
 prince, flushing with anger. 
 
 " Nay, fair son, there is no one sets you at a higher 
 rate than your father. But you have the nimble mind and 
 quick fancy of youth, turning over from the thing that is 
 half done to a further task beyond. How would we fare 
 in Brittany and Normandy while my young paladin, with 
 his lances and his bowmen, was besieging Ascalon or 
 battering at Jerusalem 1 " 
 
 " Heaven would help in Heaven's work." 
 
THE KING'S HAWKING 97 
 
 " From what I have heard of the past," said the king, 
 dryly, " I cannot see that Heaven has counted for much 
 as an ally in these wars of the East. I speak with rever- 
 ence, and yet it is but sooth to say that Eichard of the 
 Lion Heart, or Louis of Prance, might have found the 
 smallest earthly principality of greater service to him than 
 all the celestial hosts. How say you to that, my lord 
 bishop?" 
 
 A stout churchman, who had ridden behind the king 
 on a solid, bay cob, well suited to his weight and dignity, 
 jogged up to the monarch's elbow. 
 
 " How say you, sire ? I was watching the goshawk 
 on the partridge, and heard you not." 
 
 " Had I said that I would add two manors to the see 
 of Chichester, I warrant that you would have heard me, 
 my lord bishop." 
 
 "Nay, fair lord, test the matter by saying so," cried 
 the jovial bishop. 
 
 The king laughed aloud. "A fair counter, your 
 reverence. By the rood! you broke your lance that 
 passage. But the question I debated was this : How is it 
 that since the Crusades have manifestly been fought in 
 God's quarrel, we Christians have had so little comfort or 
 support in fighting them ? After all our efforts and the 
 loss of more men than could be counted, we are at last 
 driven from the country, and even the military orders, 
 which were formed only for that one purpose, can scarce 
 hold a footing in the islands of the Greek sea. There is 
 not one seaport nor one fortress in Palestine over which the 
 flag of the Cross still waves. "Where, then, was our ally ? " 
 
 " Nay, sire, you open a great debate which extends far 
 beyond this question of the Holy Land, though that may, 
 indeed, be chosen as a fair example. It is the question of 
 aU sin, of all suffering, of all injustice — why it should 
 pass without the rain of fire and the lightnings of Sinai.. 
 The wisdom of God is beyond our understanding." 
 
 H 
 
98 SIR NIGEL 
 
 The king shrugged his shoulders. " This is an easy 
 answer, my lord bishop. You are a prince of the Church; 
 It would fare iU with an earthly prince who could give no 
 better answer to the affairs which concerned his realm." 
 
 " There are other considerations which might be urged, 
 most gracious sire. It is true that the Crusades were a 
 holy enterprise which might well expect the immediate 
 blessing of God; but the Crusaders — is it certain that 
 they deserved such a blessing ? Have I not heard that 
 their camp was the most dissolute ever seen ? " 
 
 " Camps are camps all the world over, and you cannot 
 in a moment change a bowman into a saint. But the 
 holy Louis was a crusader after your own heart. Yet his 
 men perished at Mansurah, and he himself at Tunis." 
 
 "Bethink you also that this world is but the ante- 
 chamber of the next," said the prelate. " By suffering and 
 tribulation the soul is cleansed, and the true victor may 
 be he who, by the patient endurance of misfortune, merits 
 the happiness to come." 
 
 " If that be the true meaning of the Church's blessing, 
 then I hope that it wUl be long before it rests upon our 
 banners in France," said the king. " But methinks that 
 when one is out with a brave horse and a good hawk, one 
 might find some other subject than theology. Back to the 
 birds, bishop, or Eaoul, the falconer, will come to interrupt 
 thee in thy cathedral." 
 
 Straightway the conversation came back to the mystery 
 of the woods and the mystery of the rivers, to the dark- 
 eyed hawks and the yellow-eyed, to hawks of the lure and 
 hawks of the fist. The bishop was as steeped in the lore 
 of falconry as the king, and the others smiled as the two 
 wrangled hard over disputed and technical questions : if 
 an eyas trained in the mews can ever emulate the passage 
 hawk taken wild, or how long the young hawks should be 
 placed at hack, and how long weathered before they ar^ 
 fully reclaimed. 
 
THE KING'S HAWKING 99 
 
 Monarch and prelate were still deep in this learned 
 discussion, the bishop speaking with a freedom and assur-' 
 ance which he would never have dared to use in affairs of 
 Church and state, for in all ages there is no such leveler 
 as sport. Suddenly, however, the prince, whose keen eyes 
 had swept from time to time over the great blue heaven,' 
 uttered a peculiar call and reined up his palfrey, pointing 
 at the same time into the air. 
 
 " A heron ! " he cried. " A heron on passage ! " 
 
 To gain the full sport of hawking, a heron must not be 
 put up from its feeding-ground, where it is heavy with its 
 meal, and has no time to get its pace on before it is 
 pounced upon by the more active hawk, but it must be 
 aloft, travelling from point to point, probably from the 
 fish-stream to the heronry. Thus, to catch the bird on 
 passage was the prelude of all good sport. The object to 
 which the prince had pointed was but a black dot in the 
 southern sky, but his strained eyes had not deceived him,' 
 and both bishop and king agreed that it was indeed a 
 heron, which grew larger every instant as it flew in their 
 direction. I 
 
 " Whistle him off, sire ! Whistle off the gerfalcon ! " 
 cried the bishop. 
 
 " Nay, nay, he is overfar. She would fly at check." 
 
 " Now, sire, now ! " cried the prince, as the great bird, 
 with the breeze behind him, came sweeping down the sky. 
 
 The king gave the shrUl whistle, and the well-trained 
 hawk raked out to the right and to the left to make sure 
 which quarry she was to follow. Then, spying the heron, 
 she shot up in a swift, ascending ciurve to meet him. , 
 
 " Well flown, Margot ! Good bird ! " cried the king, 
 clapping his hands to encourage the hawk, while the 
 falconers broke into the shrill whoop peculiar to the sport. 
 
 Going on her curve, the hawk would soon have crossed 
 the path of the heron ; but the latter, seeing the danger in 
 his front, and confident in his own great strength of wing 
 
lOO SIR NIGEL 
 
 and lightness of body, proceeded to mount higher in the 
 air, flying in such small rings that, to the spectators, it 
 almost seemed as if the bird was going perpendicularly 
 upward. 
 
 " He takes the air ! " cried the king. " But strong as 
 he flies, he cannot outfly Margot. Bishop, I lay you ten 
 gold pieces to one that the heron is mine." 
 
 " I cover your wager, sire," said the bishop. " I may 
 not take gold so won, and yet I warrant that there is an 
 altar-cloth somewhere in need of repairs." 
 
 " You have good store of altar-cloths, bishop, if all the 
 gold I have seen you win at tables goes to the mending of 
 them," said the king. " Ah ! by the rood, rascal, rascal ! 
 See how she flies at check ! " 
 
 The quick eyes of the bishop had perceived a drift of 
 rooks which on their evening flight to the rookery were 
 passing along the very line which divided the hawk from 
 the heron. A rook is a hard temptation for a hawk to 
 resist. In an instant the inconstant bird had forgotten all 
 about the great heron above her, and was circling over the 
 rooks, flying westward with them as she singled out the 
 plumpest for her stoop. 
 
 " There is yet time, sire ! Shall I cast off her mate ? " 
 cried the falconer. 
 
 " Or shall I show you, sire, how a peregrine may win 
 where a gerfalcon fails ? " said the bishop. " Ten golden 
 pieces to one upon my bird." 
 
 " Done with you, bishop ! " cried the king, his brow 
 dark with vexation. " By the rood ! if you were as learned 
 in the fathers as you are in hawks, you would win to the 
 throne of Saint Peter ! Cast off your peregrine, and make 
 your boasting good." 
 
 Smaller than the royal gerfalcon, the bishop's bird was- 
 none the less a swift and beautiful creature. From her 
 perch upon his wrist she had watched with fierce, keen 
 eyes the birds in the heaven, mantling herself from time 
 
THE KING'S HAWKING loi 
 
 to time in her eagerness. Now, when the button was 
 undone, and the leash uncast, the peregrine dashed off 
 with a whir of her sharp-pointed wings, whizzing round 
 in a great ascending circle which mounted swiftly upward, 
 growing ever smaller as she approached that lofty point 
 where, a mere speck in the sky, the heron sought escape 
 from its enemies. Still higher and higher the two birds 
 mounted, while the horsemen, their faces upturned, strained 
 their eyes in their efforts to follow them. 
 
 " She rings ! She still rings ! " cried the bishop. " She 
 is above him ! She has gained her pitch." 
 
 " Nay, nay, she is far below," said the king. 
 
 "By my soul, my lord bishop is right!" cried the 
 prince. " I believe she is above. See ! See ! She swoops ! " 
 
 " She binds ! She binds ! " cried a dozen voices as the 
 two dots blended suddenly into one. 
 
 There could be no doubt that they were falling rapidly. 
 Already they grew larger to the eye. Presently the heron 
 disengaged himself and flapped heavily away, the worse 
 for that deadly embrace, while the peregrine, shaking her 
 plumage, ringed once more so as to get high abov^ the 
 quarry and deal it a second and more fatal blow. The 
 bishop smiled, for nothing, as it seemed, could hinder his 
 victory. 
 
 "Thy gold pieces shall be weU spent, sire," said he. 
 " What is lost to the Church is gained by the loser." 
 
 But a most unlooked-for chance deprived the bishop's 
 altar-cloth of its costly mending. The king's gerfalcon 
 having struck down a rook, and finding the sport but tame, 
 bethought herself suddenly of that noble heron, which she 
 still perceived fluttering over Crooksbury Heath. How 
 could she have been so weak as to allow these silly, 
 chattering rooks to entice her away from that lordly bird ? 
 Even now it was not too late to atone for her mistake. In 
 a great spiral she shot upward until she was over the 
 heron. But wh^t was this ? Every fibre of her, from her 
 
102 SIR NIGEL 
 
 crest to her deck feathers, quivered with jealousy and rage 
 at the sight of this creature, a mere peregrine, who had 
 dared to come between a royal gerfalcon and her quarry. 
 With one sweep of her great wings she shot up until she 
 was above her rival. The next instant 
 
 " They crab ! They crab ! " cried the king, with a roar 
 of laughter, following them with his eyes as they hurtled 
 down through the air. 
 
 1 " Mend thy own altar-cloths, bishop. Not a groat shall 
 you have from me this journey. Pull them apart, falconer, 
 lest they do each other an injury. And now, masters, let 
 us on, for the sun sinks toward the west." 
 
 The two hawks, which had come to the ground iuter- 
 locked with clutching talons and ruffled plumes, were torn 
 apart and brought back bleeding and panting to their 
 perches, while the heron, after its perilous adventure, 
 flapped its- way heavily onward to settle safely in the 
 heronry of Waverley. The cortege, who had scattered in 
 the excitement of the chase, came together again, and the 
 journey was once more resumed. 
 
 A horseman who had been riding toward them across 
 the moor now quickened his pace and closed swiftly upon 
 them. As he came nearer, the king and the prince cried 
 out joyously and waved their hands in greeting. 
 
 " It is good John Chandos ! " cried the king. " By the 
 rood, John, I have missed your merry songs this week or 
 more ! Glad I am to see that you have your citole slung 
 to your back. Whence come you, then ? " 
 
 " I come from Tilford, sire, in the hope that I should 
 meet your majesty." 
 
 " It was well thought of. Come, ride here between the 
 prince and me, and we wiU believe that we are back in 
 France with our war harness on our backs once more. 
 What is your news. Master John ? " 
 
 Chandos's quaint face quivered with suppressed amuse- 
 ment and his one eye twinkled like a star. 
 
THE KING'S HAWKING 103 
 
 " Have you had sport, my liege ? " 
 
 " Poor sport, John. We flew two hawks on the same 
 heron. They crabbed, and the bird got free. But why do 
 you smile so ? " 
 
 "Because I hope to show you better sport ere you 
 come to Tilford." 
 
 " For the hawk ? For the hound ? " 
 
 "A nobler sport than either." 
 
 " Is this a riddle, John ? What mean you ? " 
 
 "Nay, to tell all would be to spoil aU. I say again 
 that there is rare sport betwixt here and Tilford, and I beg 
 you, dear lord, to mend your pace that we make the most 
 of the daylight." 
 
 Thus adjured, the king set spurs to his horse, and the 
 whole cavalcade cantered over the heath in the direction 
 which Chandos showed. Presently as they came over a 
 slope they saw beneath them a winding river with an old 
 high-backed bridge across it. On the farther side was 
 a village-green with a fringe of cottages and one dark 
 manor-house upon the side of the hill. 
 
 " This is Tilford," said Chandos. " Yonder is the house 
 of the Lorings." 
 
 The king's expectations had been aroused and his face 
 showed his disappointment. 
 
 "Is this the sport that you have promised us. Sir 
 John ? How can you make good your words ? " 
 
 " I will make them good, my Uege." 
 
 " Where, then, is the sport ? " 
 
 On the high crown of the bridge a rider in armour was 
 seated, lance in hand, upon a great yellow steed, Chandos 
 touched the king's arm and pointed, 
 
 " That is the sport," said he. 
 
^CHAPTER IX 
 
 HOW NIGEL HELD THE BEIDGE AT TILFOED 
 
 The king looked at the motionless figure, at the little 
 crowd of hushed expectant rustics beyond the bridge, and 
 finally at the face of Chandos, which shone with amusement. 
 
 " What is this, John 1 " he asked. 
 
 " You remember Sir Eustace Loring, sire ? " 
 
 " Indeed I could never forget him nor the manner of 
 his death." 
 
 " He was a knight-errant in his day." 
 
 " That indeed he was — none better have I known." 
 
 " So is his son Nigel, as fierce a young war-hawk as ever 
 yearned to use beak and claw ; but held fast in the mews 
 up to now. This is his trial flight. There he stands at 
 the bridge-head, as was the wont in our father's time, 
 ready to measure himself against all comers." 
 
 Of all Englishmen there was no greater knight-errant 
 than the king himself, and none so steeped in every quaint 
 usage of chivalry ; so that the situation was after his own 
 heart. 
 
 " He is not yet a knight ? " 
 
 " No, sire, only a squire." 
 
 " Then he must bear himself bravely this day if he is 
 to make good what he has done. Is it fitting that a young 
 untried squire should venture to couch his lance against 
 the best in England ? " 
 
 "He hath given me his cartel and challenge," said 
 Chandos, drawing a paper from his tunic. " Have I your 
 permission, sire, to issue it ? " 
 
 104 
 
HOW NIGEL HELD THE BRIDGE 105 
 
 " Surely, John, we have no cavalier more versed in the 
 laws of chivalry than yourself. You know this young 
 man, and you are aware how far he is worthy of the high 
 honour which he asks. Let us hear his defiance." 
 
 The knights and squires of the escort, most of whom 
 were veterans of the French war, had been gazing with 
 interest and some surprise at the steel-clad figure in front 
 of them. Now at a call from Sir Walter Manny they 
 assembled round the spot where the king and Chandos 
 had halted. Chandos cleared his throat and read from 
 his paper — 
 
 "'A i<ms seigneurs, chevaliers et escuyers,' so it is 
 headed, gentlemen. It is a message from the good Squire 
 Nigel Loring of Tilford, son of Sir Eustace Loriag, of 
 honourable memory. Squire Loring awaits you in arms, 
 gentlemen, yonder upon the crown of the old bridge. 
 Thus says he : ' For the great desire that I, a most humble 
 and imworthy squire, entertain, that I may come to the 
 knowledge of the noble gentlemen who ride with my royal 
 master, I now wait on the Bridge of the Way in the hope 
 that some of them may condescend to do some small deed 
 of arms upon me, or that I may deliver them from any 
 vow which they may have taken. This I say out of no 
 esteem for myself, but solely that I may witness the noble 
 bearing of these famous cavaliers and admire their skill 
 in the handling of arms. Therefore, with the help of 
 Saint George, I will hold the bridge with sharpened lances 
 against any or all who may deign to present themselves 
 while daylight lasts.' " 
 
 " What say you to this, gentlemen ? " asked the king, 
 looking round with laughing eyes. 
 
 " Truly it is issued in very good form," said the prince. 
 " Neither Claricieux nor Eed Dragon nor any herald that 
 ever wore tabard could better it. Did he draw it of his 
 own hand ? " 
 
 " He hath a grim old grandmother who is one of the 
 
io6 SIR NIGEL 
 
 ancient breed," said Chandos. "I doubt not that the 
 Dame Ermyntnide hath drawn a challenge or two before 
 now. But hark ye, sire, I would have a word in your 
 ear — and yours too, most noble prince." i 
 
 Leading them aside, Chandos whispered some explana- 
 tions, which ended by them all three bursting into a shout 
 of laughter. 
 
 " By the rood ! no honourable gentleman should be 
 reduced to such straits," said the king. " It behoves me 
 to look to it. But how now, gentlemen ? This worthy 
 cavalier still waits his answer." 
 
 The soldiers had all been buzzing together ; but now 
 Walter Manny turned to the king with the result of their 
 counsel. 
 
 " If it please your majesty," said he, " we are of opinion 
 that this sq[uire hath exceeded all bounds in desiring to 
 break a spear with a belted knight ere he has given his 
 proofs. We do him sufficient honour if a squire ride 
 against him, and with your consent I have chosen my 
 own body-squire, John Widdicombe, to clear the path for 
 us across the bridge." 
 
 " What you say, Walter, is right and fair," said the 
 king. " Master Chandos, you will tell our champion 
 yonder what hath been arranged. You will advise him 
 also that it is our royal will that this contest be not 
 fought upon the bridge, since it is very clear that it must 
 end in one or both going over into the river, but that he 
 advance to the end of the bridge and fight upon the plain. 
 You will tell him also that a blunted lance is sufficient 
 for such an encounter, but that a hand-stroke or two 
 with sword or mace may well be exchanged, if both riders 
 should keep their saddles. A blast upon Eaoul's horn 
 shall be the signal to close." 
 
 Such ventures as these where an aspirant for fame 
 would wait for days at a cross-road, a ford, or a bridge, 
 until some worthy antagonist should ride that way, were 
 
HOW NIGEL HELD THE BRIDGE 107 
 
 very common in the old days of adventurous knight 
 errantry, and were still familiar to the minds of all men, 
 because the stories of the romancers and the songs of 
 the trouveres were fuU of such incidents. Their actual 
 occurrence, however, had become rare. There was the 
 more curiosity, not unmixed with amusement, in the 
 thoughts of the courtiers as they watched Chandos ride 
 down to the bridge and commented upon the somewhat 
 singular figure of the challenger. His build was strange, 
 and so also was his figure, for the limbs were short for so 
 tall a man. His head also was sunk forward as if he were 
 lost in thought or overcome with deep dejection. 
 
 "This is surely the Cavalier of the Heavy Heart," 
 said Manny. " What trouble has he, that he should hang 
 his head ? " 
 
 "Perchance he hath a weak neck," said the king. 
 
 " At least he hath no weak voice," the prince remarked, 
 as Nigel's answer to Chandos came to their ears. " By our 
 lady, he booms like a bittern." 
 
 As Chandos rode back again to the king, Nigel ex- 
 changed the old ash spear which had been his father's 
 for one of the blunted tournament lances which he took 
 from the hands of a stout archer in attendance. He then 
 rode down to the end of the bridge where a hundred-yard 
 stretch of greensward lay in front of him. At the same 
 moment the squire of Sir Walter Manny, who had been 
 hastily armed by his comrades, spurred forward and took 
 up his position. 
 
 The king raised his hand ; there was a clang from the 
 falconer's horn, and the two riders, with a thrust of their 
 heels and a shake of their bridles, dashed furiously at each 
 other. In the centre the green strip of marshy meadow- 
 land, with the water squirting from the galloping hoofs, 
 and the two crouching men, gleaming bright in the evening 
 sun ; on one side the half circle of motionless horsemen, 
 some in steel, some in velvet, silent and attentive, dogs, 
 
io8 SIR NIGEL 
 
 hawks, and horses, all turned to stone ; on the other the 
 old peaked bridge, the blue lazy river, the group of open- 
 mouthed rustics, and the dark old manor-house with one 
 grim face which peered from the upper window. 
 
 A good man was John Widdicombe, but he had met a 
 better that day. Before that yellow whirlwind of a horse 
 and that rider who was welded and riveted to his saddle 
 his knees could not hold their grip. Nigel and Pommers 
 were one flying missile, with all their weight and strength 
 and energy centered on the steady end of the lance. Had 
 Widdicombe been struck by a thunderbolt he could not 
 have flown faster or farther from his saddle. Two full 
 somersaults did he make, his plates clanging like cymbals, 
 ere he lay flat upon his back. 
 
 For a moment the king looked grave at that prodigious 
 fall. Then smUing once more as "Widdicombe staggered 
 to his feet, he clapped his hands loudly in applause. 
 " A fair course and fairly run ! " he cried. " The five 
 scarlet roses bear themselves in peace even as I have 
 seen them in war. How now, my good Walter ? Have 
 you another squire, or wiU you clear a path for us 
 yourself ? " 
 
 Manny's choleric face had turned darker as he observed 
 the mischance of his representative. He beckoned now to 
 a tall knight, whose gaunt and savage face looked out from 
 his open bassinet as an eagle might from a cage of steel. 
 
 " Sir Hubert," said he, " I bear in mind the day when 
 you overbore the Frenchman at Caen. WiU you not be 
 our champion now ? " 
 
 " When I fought the Frenchman, Walter, it was with 
 naked weapons," said the knight, sternly. " I am a soldier 
 and I love a soldier's work, but I care not for these tilt- 
 yard tricks which were invented for nothing but to tickle 
 the fancies of foolish women." 
 
 " Oh, most ungallant speech ! " cried the king. " Had 
 my good consort heard you she would have arraigned you 
 
■ had widdioombe been struck by a thcsderbult, he cutjld not have 
 flow:n' fastee oe fakthee from his saddle." 
 
HOW NIGEL HELD THE BRIDGE 109 
 
 to appear at a Court of Love with a jury of virgins to 
 answer for your sins. But I pray you to take a tilting 
 spear, good Sir Hubert ! " 
 
 " I had as soon take a peacock's feather, my fair lord ; 
 but I will do it, if you ask me. Here, page, hand me one 
 of those sticks, and let me see what I can do." 
 
 But Sir Hubert de Burgh was not destined to test 
 either his skill or his luck. The great bay horse which 
 he rode was as unused to this warlike play as was its 
 master, and had none of its master's stoutness of heart ; 
 so that when it saw the levelled lance, the gleaming figure 
 and the frenzied yellow horse rushing down upon it, it 
 swerved, turned and galloped furiously down the river- 
 bank. Amid roars of laughter from the rustics on the 
 one side and from the courtiers on the other, Sir Hubert 
 was seen tugging vainly at his bridle, and bounding 
 onward, clearing gorse-bushes and heather clumps, until 
 he was but a shimmering, quivering gleam upon the dark 
 hillside. Nigel, who had pulled Pommers on to his very 
 haunches at the instant that his opponent turned, saluted 
 with his lance and trotted back to the bridge-head, where 
 he awaited his next assailant. 
 
 "The ladies would say that a judgment hath fallen 
 upon our good Sir Hubert for his impious words," said 
 the king. 
 
 " Let us hope that his charger may be broken in ere he 
 venture to ride out between two armies," remarked the 
 prince. " They might mistake the hardness of his horse's 
 mouth for a softness of the rider's heart. See where he 
 rides, stUl clearing every bush upon his path." 
 
 "By the rood!" said the king, "if the bold Hubert 
 has not increased his repute as a j ouster he has gained 
 great honour as a horseman. But the bridge is still 
 closed, Walter. How say you now? Is this young 
 squire never to be unhorsed, or is your king himself to 
 lay lance in rest ere the way can be cleared? By the 
 
no SIR NIGEL 
 
 head of Saint Thomas ! I am in the very mood to run a 
 course with this gentle youth." 
 
 " Nay, nay, sire, too much honour hath abeady been 
 done him ! " said Manny, looking angrUy at the motion- 
 less horseman. " That this untried boy should be able to 
 say that in one evening he has unhorsed my squire, and 
 seen the back of one of the bravest knights in England, is 
 surely enough to turn his foolish head. Fetch me a spear, 
 Eobert ! I will see what I can make of him." 
 
 The famous knight took the spear when it was brought 
 to him as a master-workman takes a tool. He balanced 
 it, shook it once or twice in the air, ran his eyes down it 
 for a flaw in the wood, and then finally, having made sure 
 of its poise and weight, laid it carefully in rest under his 
 arm. Then, gathering up his bridle so as to have his horse 
 under perfect command, and covering himself with the 
 shield, which was slung round his neck, he rode out to do 
 battle. 
 
 Now, Nigel, young and inexperienced, all Nature's aid 
 will not help you against the mixed craft and strength of 
 such a warrior. The day wiU come when neither Manny 
 nor even Chandos could sweep you from your saddle j but 
 now, even had you some less cumbrous armour, your 
 chance were small. Your downfall is near ; but as you 
 see the famous black chevrons on a golden ground, your 
 gallant heart, which never knew fear, is only filled with 
 joy and amazement at the honour done you. Your down- 
 fall is near, and yet in your wildest dreams you would 
 never guess how strange your downfall is to be. 
 
 Again, with a dull thunder of hoofs, the horses gallop 
 over the soft water-meadow. Again, with a clash of metal, 
 the two riders meet. It is Nigel now, taken clean in the 
 face of his helmet with the blunted spear, who flies back- 
 ward off his horse and falls clanging on the grass. 
 
 But, good heavens ! what is this ? Manny has thrown 
 up hia hands in horror, and, the lance has dropped from 
 
HOW NIGEL HELD THE BRIDGE in 
 
 his nerveless fingers. From all sides, with cries of dismay, 
 with oaths and shouts and ejaculations to the saints, the 
 horsemen ride wUdly in. Was ever so dreadful, so sudden, 
 so complete, an end to a gentle passage at arms ? Surely 
 their eyes, must be at fault ? Some wizard's trick has been 
 played upon them to deceive their senses. But no, it was 
 only too clear. There on the greensward lay the trunk 
 of the stricken cavalier, and there, a good dozen yards 
 beyond, lay his helmeted head. 
 
 " By the Virgin ! " cried Manny, wildly, as he jumped 
 from his horse, " I- would give my last gold piece that the 
 work of this evening should be undone I How came it ? 
 What does it mean ? Hither, my lord bishop, for surely 
 it smacks of witchcraft and the Devil," 
 
 With a white face the bishop had sprung down beside 
 the prostrate body, pushing through the knot of horrified 
 knights and squires. 
 
 " I fear that the last offices of the Holy Church come 
 too late," said he, in a quivering voice. " Most unfortunate 
 young man ! How sudden an end ! In medio vitoe, as 
 the Holy Book has it — one moment in the pride of his 
 youth, the next his head torn from his body. Now God 
 and his saints have mercy upon me and guard me from 
 evil." 
 
 The last prayer was shot out of the bishop with an 
 energy and earnestness unusual in his orisons. It was 
 caused by the sudden outcry of one of the squires, who, 
 having lifted the helmet from the ground, cast it down 
 again with a scream of horror. 
 
 " It is empty ! " he cried, " It weighs as light as a 
 feather." 
 
 " Tore God, it is true ! " cried Manny, laying his hand 
 on it. " There is no one in it. With what have I fought, 
 father bishop ? Is it of this world or of the next ? " 
 
 The bishop had clambered on his horse the better to 
 consider the point. 
 
112 SIR NIGEL 
 
 "If the foul fiend is abroad," said he, "my place is 
 over yonder by the king's side. Certes, that sulphur- 
 coloured horse hath a very devilish look, I could have 
 sworn that I saw both smoke and flame from its nostrils. 
 The beast is fit to bear a suit of armour which rides and 
 fights, and yet hath no man within it." 
 
 "Nay, not too fast, father bishop," said one of the 
 knights. " It may be all that you say and yet come from 
 a human workshop. "When I made a campaign in South 
 Germany I have seen at Nuremberg a cunning figure, 
 devised by an armourer, which could both ride and wield 
 a sword. If this be such a one " 
 
 " I thank you all for your very gentle courtesy," said 
 a booming voice from the figure upon the ground. 
 
 At the words even the valiant Manny sprang into his 
 saddle. Some rode madly away from the horrid trunk. 
 A few of the boldest lingered. 
 
 " Most of all," said the voice, " would I thank the most 
 noble knight. Sir Walter Manny, that he should deign to 
 lay aside his greatness and condescend to do a deed of 
 arms upon so humble a squire." 
 
 " Tore God ! " said Manny, "if this be the Devil, then 
 the Devil hath a very courtly tongue. I will have him 
 out of his armour, if he blast me ! " 
 
 So saying, he sprang once more from his horse and 
 plunging his hand down the slit in the collapsed gorget, 
 he closed it tightly upon a fistful of Nigel's yellow curls. 
 The groan that came forth was enough to convince him that 
 it was indeed a man who lurked within. At the same 
 time his eyes fell upon the hole in the mail corselet which 
 had served the sqiiire as a visor, and he burst into deep- 
 chested mirth. The king, the prince, and Chandos, who 
 had watched the scene from a distance, too much amused 
 by it to explain or interfere, rode up weary with laughter, 
 now that all was discovered. 
 
 " Let him out ! " said the king, with his ha,nd to hi^ 
 
HOW NIGEL HELD THE BRIDGE 113 
 
 "I pray you to unlace him and let him out! I 
 have shared in many a spear-running, but never have I 
 been nearer falling from my horse than as I watched this 
 one. I feared the fall had struck him senseless, since he 
 lay so stm." 
 
 Nigel had indeed lain with all the breath shaken from 
 his body, and as he was aware that his helmet had been 
 carried off, he had not understood either the alarm or the 
 amusement that he had caused. Now, freed from the great 
 hauberk in which he had been shut like a pea in a pod, 
 he stood blinking in the light, blushing deeply with shame 
 that the shifts to which his poverty had reduced him should 
 be exposed to all these laughing courtiers. It was the 
 king who brought him comfort, 
 
 "You have shown that you can use your father's 
 weapons," said he, " and you have proved also that you 
 are the worthy bearer of his name and his arms, for you 
 have within you that spirit for which he was famous. But 
 I wot that neither he nor you would suffer a train of 
 hungry men to starve before your door ; so lead on, I pray 
 you, and if the meat be as good as this grace before it, then 
 it will be a feast indeed." 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 HOW THE KING GREETED HIS SENESCHAL OF CAXAIS. 
 
 It would have fared ill with the good name of Tilford 
 Manor-house and with the housekeeping of the aged Dame 
 Ermyntrude had the king's whole retinue, with his outer 
 and inner marshal, his justiciar, his chamberlain, and his 
 guard, all gathered under the one roof. But by the fore- 
 sight and the gentle management of Chandos this calamity 
 was avoided, so that soma were quartered at the great 
 Abbey and others passed on to enjoy the hospitality of Sir 
 Eoger FitzAlan at Farnham Castle. Only the king him- 
 self, the prince, Manny, Chandos, Sir Hubert de Burgh, 
 the bishop, and two or three more remained behind as the 
 guests of the Lorings. 
 
 But small as was the party, and humble the surround- 
 ings, the king in no way relaxed that love of ceremony, of 
 elaborate form and of brilliant colouring which was one 
 of his characteristics. The sumpter-mules were unpacked, 
 squires ran hither and thither, baths smoked in the bed- 
 chambers, silks and satins were unfolded, gold chains 
 gleamed and clinked, so that when, at last, to the long 
 blast of two court trumpeters, the company took their seats 
 at the board, it was the brightest, fairest scene which those 
 old black rafters had ever spanned. 
 
 The great influx of foreign knights who had come in 
 their splendour from all parts of Christendom to take part 
 in the opening of the Bound Tower of Windsor six years 
 before, and to try their luck and their skill at the tourna- 
 ment connected with it, had deeply modified the English 
 
 114 
 
THE SENESCHAL OF CALAIS 115 
 
 fashions of dress. The old tunic, over- tunic, and eyclas 
 were too sad and simple for the new fashions, so now 
 strange and brilliant cote-hardies, pourpoints, courtepies, 
 paltocks, hanselines, and many other wondrous garments, 
 party-coloured or diapered, with looped, embroidered or 
 escalloped edges, flamed and glittered round the king. He 
 himself, in black velvet and gold, formed a dark rich 
 centre to the finery aroimd him. On his right sat the 
 prince, on his left the bishop, while Dame Ermyntrude 
 marshaled the forces of the household outside, alert and 
 watchful, pouring in her dishes and her flagons at the right 
 moment, rallying her tired servants, encouraging the van, 
 hurrying the rear, hasteniog up her reserves, the tapping 
 of her oak stick heard wherever the pressure was the 
 greatest. 
 
 Behind the king, clad in his best, but looking drab and 
 sorry amid the brilliant costumes round him, Nigel him- 
 self, regardless of an aching body and a twisted knee, 
 waited upon his royal guests, who threw many a merry 
 jest at him over their shoulders as they stUl chuckled at 
 the adventure of the bridge. 
 
 " By the rood ! " said King Edward, leaning back, with 
 a chicken-bone held daintily between the courtesy fingers 
 of his left hand, " the play is too good for this country 
 stage. You must to Windsor with me, Nigel, and bring 
 with you this great suit of harness in which you lurk. 
 There you shall hold the lists with your eyes in your 
 midriff, and unless some one cleave you to the waist I see 
 not how any harm can befall you. Never have I seen so 
 small a nut in so great a shell." 
 
 " The prince, looking back with laughing eyes, saw by 
 Nigel's flushed and embarrassed face that his poverty 
 hung heavily upon him. 
 
 "Nay," said he kindly, "such a workman is surely 
 worthy of better tools." 
 
 "And it is for his master to see that he has them," 
 
ii6 SIR NIGEL 
 
 added the king. " The court armourer will look to it that 
 the next time your helmet is carried away, Nigel, your 
 head shall be inside it." 
 
 Nigel, red to the roots of his flaxen hair, stammered 
 out some words of thanks. 
 
 John Chandos, however, had a fresh suggestion, and 
 he cocked a roguish eye as he made it — 
 
 " Surely, my liege, your bounty is little needed in this 
 case. It is the ancient law of arms that if two cavaliers 
 start to joust, and one either by maladdress or misadven- 
 ture fail to meet the shock, then his arms become the 
 property of him who still holds the lists. This being so, 
 methinks, Sir Hubert de Burgh, that the fine hauberk of 
 Milan and the hehnet of Bordeaux steel in which you 
 rode to Tilford should remain with our young host as 
 some small remembrance of your visit." 
 
 The suggestion raised a general chorus of approval and 
 laughter, in which all joined, save only Sir Hubert him- 
 self, who, flushed with anger, fixed his baleful eyes upon 
 Chandos's mischievous and smiling face. 
 
 " I said that I did not play that foolish game, and I 
 know nothing of its laws," said he ; " but you know well, 
 John, that if you would have a bout with sharpened spear 
 or sword, where two ride to the ground, and only one 
 away from it, you have not far to go to find it." 
 
 " Nay, nay, would you ride to the ground ? Surely you 
 had best walk, Hubert," said Chandos. " On your feet I 
 know well that I should not see your back as we have seen 
 it to-day. Say what you will, your horse has played you 
 false, and I claim your suit of harness for Nigel Loring." 
 
 " Your tongue is overlong, John, and I am weary of 
 its endless clack ! " said Sir Hubert, his yellow moustache 
 bristUng from a scarlet face. " If you claim my harness, 
 do you yourself come and take it. If there is a moon 
 in the sky you may try this very night when the board is 
 cleared," 
 
THE SENESCHAL OF CALAIS it; 
 
 " Nay, fair sirs," cried the king, smiling from one to 
 the other, " this matter must be followed no further. Do 
 you fill a bumper of Gascony, John, and you also, Hubert. 
 Now pledge each other, I pray you, as good and loyal 
 comrades who would scorn to fight save in your king's 
 quarrel. We can spare neither of you while there is so 
 much work for brave hearts over the sea. As to this 
 matter of the harness, John Chandos speaks truly where 
 it concerns a joust in the lists, but we hold that such a 
 law is scarce binding in this, which was but a wayside 
 passage and a gentle trial of arms. On the other hand, 
 in the case of your squire. Master Manny, there can be 
 no doubt that his suit is forfeit." 
 
 "It is a grievous hearing for him, my liege," said 
 Walter Manny ; " for he is a poor man, and hath been at 
 sore pains to fit himself for the wars. Yet what you say 
 shall be done, fair sire. So, if you wiU come to me in the 
 morning, Squire Loring, John Widdicombe's suit will be 
 handed over to you." 
 
 " Then, with the king's leave, I will hand it back to 
 him," said Nigel, troubled and stammering ; " for indeed 
 I had rather never ride to the wars than take from a brave 
 man his only suit of plate." 
 
 " There spoke your father's spirit ! " cried the king. 
 
 "By the rood! Nigel, I like you full well. Let the 
 
 matter bide in my hands. But I marvel much that Sir 
 
 . Aymery the Lombard hath not come to us yet from 
 
 Windsor." 
 
 From the moment of his arrival at Tilford, again and 
 again King Edward had asked most eagerly whether Sir 
 Aymery had come, and whether there was any news of 
 him, so that the courtiers glanced at each other in wonder. 
 For Aymery was known to all of them as a famous mer- 
 cenary of Italy, lately appointed Governor of Calais, and 
 this sudden and urgent summons from the king might 
 well mean some renewal of the war with France, which 
 
Ii8 SIR NIGEL 
 
 ■waa the dearest wish of every soldier. Twice the king 
 had stopped his meal and sat with sidelong head, his wine- 
 cup in his hand, listening attentively when some sound 
 like the clatter of hoofs was heard from outside ; but the 
 third time there could be no mistake. The tramp and 
 jingle of the horses broke loud upon the ear, and ended 
 in hoarse voices calling out of the darkness, which were 
 answered by the archers posted as sentries without the 
 door. 
 
 " Some traveller has indeed arrived, my liege," said 
 Nigel. " What is your royal will ? " 
 
 " It can be but Aymery," the king answered, " for it 
 was only to him that I left the message that he should 
 follow me hither. Bid him come in, I pray you, and 
 make him very welcome at your board." 
 
 Nigel cast open the door, plucking a torch from its 
 bracket as he did so. Half a dozen men-at-arms sat on 
 their horses outside, but one had dismounted, a short, 
 squat, swarthy man with a rat face and quick, restless 
 brown eyes, which peered eagerly past Nigel into the red 
 glare of the well-lit hall. 
 
 " I am Sir Aymery of Pavia," he whispered. " For 
 God's sake, tell me ! is the king within ? " 
 
 " He is at table, fair sir, and he bids you to enter." 
 
 " One moment, young man, one moment, and a secret 
 word iu your ear. Wot you why it is that the king has 
 sent for me ? " 
 
 Nigel read terror in the dark cunning eyes which 
 glanced in sidelong fashion into his. 
 
 " Nay, I know not." 
 
 " I would I knew — I would I was sure ere I sought his 
 presence." 
 
 "You have but to cross the threshold, fair sir, and 
 doubtless you will learn from the king's own lips." 
 
 Sir Aymery seemed to gather himself as one who braces 
 for a spring into ice-cold water. Then he crossed with a 
 
THE SENESCHAL OF CALAIS 119 
 
 quick stride from the darkness into the light. The king 
 stood up and held out his hand, with a smile upon his long 
 handsome face, and yet it seemed to the Italian that it 
 was the lips which smiled but not the eyes. 
 
 " Welcome ! " cried Edward. " Welcome to our worthy 
 and faithful Seneschal of Calais ! Come, sit here before 
 me at the board, for I have sent for you that I may hear 
 your news from over the sea, and thank you for the care 
 that you have taken of that which is aa dear to me as wife 
 or child. Set a place for Sir Aymery there, and give him 
 food and drink, for he has ridden fast and far in our 
 service to-day." 
 
 Throughout the long feast which the skiU of the Lady 
 Ermyntrude had arranged, Edward chatted lightly with the 
 Italian as well as with the barons near him. Finally, when 
 the last dish was removed and the gravy-soaked rounds of 
 coarse bread which served as plates had been cast to the 
 dogs, the wine-flagons were passed round, and old Weather- 
 cote the minstrel entered timidly with his harp in the 
 hope that he might be allowed to play before the king's 
 majesty. But Edward had other sport afoot. 
 
 " I pray you, Mgel, to send out the servants so that we 
 may be alone. I would have two men-at-arms at every 
 door lest we be disturbed in our debate, for it is a matter 
 of privacy. And now, Sir Aymery, these noble lords as 
 well as I, your master, would fain hear from your own lips 
 how all goes forward in France." 
 
 The Italian's face was calm, but he looked restlessly 
 from one to another along the line of his listeners. 
 
 " So far as I know, my liege, all is quiet on the French 
 marches," said he. 
 
 " You have not heard, then, that they have mustered 
 or gathered to a head with the intention of breaking the 
 truce and making some attempt upon our dominions ? " 
 
 " Nay, sire, I have heard nothing of it." 
 
 " You set my mind much at ease, Aymery," said the 
 
120 SIR NIGEL 
 
 king ; " for if nothing has come to your ears, then surely 
 it cannot be. It was said that the wild Knight de 
 Chargny had come down to St. Omer with his eyes upon 
 my precious jewel and his mailed hands ready to grasp it." 
 
 " Nay, sire, let him tome. He will find the jewel safe 
 in its strong box, with a goodly guard over it." 
 
 " You are the guard over my jewel, Aymery." 
 
 " Yes, sire, I am the guard." 
 
 " And you are a faithful guard and one whom I can 
 trust, are you not ? You would not barter away that 
 which is so dear to me when I have chosen you out of all 
 my army to hold it for me ? " 
 
 "Nay, sire, what reasons can there be for such 
 questions ? They touch my honour very nearly. You 
 know that I would part with Calais only when I parted 
 with my soul." 
 
 " Then you know nothing of de Chargny's attempt ? " 
 
 "Nothing, sire." 
 
 " Liar and villain ! " yelled the king, springing to his 
 feet and dashing his fist upon the table until the glasses 
 rattled again. " Seize him, archers ! Seize him tliis 
 instant ! Stand close by either elbow, lest he do himself a 
 mischief ! Now, do you dare to tell me to my face, you 
 perjured Lombard, that you know nothing of de Chargny 
 and his plans ? " 
 
 " As God is my witness, I know nothing of him ! " 
 
 The man's lips were white, and he spoke in a thin, 
 sighing, reedy voice, his eyes wincing away from the fell 
 gaze of the angiy king. 
 
 Edward laughed bitterly, and drew a paper from his 
 breast. 
 
 " You are the judges in this case, you, my fair son, and 
 you, Chandos, and you, Manny, and you, Sir Hubert, and 
 you_ also, my lord bishop. By my sovereign power I 
 make you a court that you may deal justice upon this man, 
 for by God's eyes I will not stir from this room until I 
 
THE SENESCHAL OF CALAIS 121 
 
 liave sifted the matter to the bottom. And first I would 
 read you this letter. It is superscribed to Sir Aymery of 
 Pavia, nommi Le Lombard, Chateau de Calais. Is not 
 that your name and style, you rogue ? " 
 
 "It is my name, sire; but no such letter has come 
 to me." 
 
 " Else had your villainy never been disclosed. It is 
 signed ' Isadore de Chargny.* What says my enemy de 
 Chargny to my trusted servant ? Listen ! ' We could not 
 come with the last moon, for we have not gathered 
 sufficient strength, nor have we been able to collect the 
 twenty thousand crowns which are your price. But with 
 the next turn of the moon in the darkest hour, we will 
 come, and you will be paid your money at the small 
 postern gate with the rowan bush beside it.' Well, rogue, 
 what say you now ? " 
 
 " It is a forgery ! " gasped the Italian. 
 
 " I pray you that you will let me see it, sire," said 
 Chandos. " De Chargny was my prisoner, and so many 
 letters passed ere his ransom was paid that his script is 
 well-known to me. Yes, yes, I will swear that this is 
 indeed his. If my salvation were at stake I could swear it." 
 
 " If it were indeed written by de Chargny it was to 
 dishonour me," cried Sir Aymery. 
 
 " Nay, nay ! " said the young prince. " We all know 
 de Chargny and have fought against him. Many faults 
 he has, a boaster and a brawler, but a braver man and one 
 of greater heart and higher of enterprise does not ride 
 beneath the lilies of France. Such a man would never 
 stoop to write a letter for the sake of putting dishonour 
 upon one of knightly rank. I, for one, will never believe it." 
 
 A gruff murmur from the others showed that they were 
 of one mind with the prince. The light of the torches 
 from the walls beat upon the line of stern faces at the high 
 table. They had sat like flint, and the Italian shrank 
 from their inexorable eyes. He looked swiftly round, but 
 
122 SIR NIGEL 
 
 armed men choked every entrance. The shadow of death 
 had fallen athwart his soul. 
 
 " This letter," said the king, " was given by de Chargny 
 to one Dom Beauvais, a priest of St. Omer, to carry into 
 Calais. The said priest, smelling a reward, brought it to 
 one who is my faithful servant, and so it came to me. 
 Straightway I sent for this man that he should come to 
 me. Meanwhile the priest has returned so that de 
 Chargny may think that his message is indeed delivered." 
 
 "I know nothing of it," said the Italian, doggedly, 
 licking his dry lips. 
 
 A dark flush mounted to the king's forehead, and his 
 eyes were gorged with his wrath. 
 
 " No more of this, for God's dignity ! " he cried. " Had 
 we this fellow at the Tower, a few turns of the rack would 
 tear a confession from his craven soul. But why should 
 we need his word for his own guilt ? You have seen, my 
 lords, you have heard ? How say you, fair son ? Is the 
 man guilty ? " 
 
 " Sire, he is guilty." 
 
 "And you, John? And you, Walter? And you, 
 Hubert ? And you, my lord bishop ? You are all of 
 one mind, then. He is guilty of the betrayal of his trust. 
 And the punishment ? " 
 
 " It can only be death," said the prince, and each in 
 turn the others nodded their agreement. 
 
 " Aymery of Pavia, you have heard your doom," said 
 Edward, leaning his chin upon his hand and glooming at 
 the cowering Italian. " Step forward, you archer at the 
 door — you with the black beard. Draw your sword! 
 Nay, you white-faced rogue, I would not dishonour this 
 roof-tree by your blood. It is your heels, not your head, 
 that we want. Hack off these golden spurs of knighthood 
 with your sword, archer ! 'Twas I who gave them, and 1 
 who take them back. Ha ! they fly across the hall, and 
 with them every bond betwixt you and the worshipfil 
 
THE SENESCHAL OF CALAIS 123 
 
 order whose sign and badge they are ! Now lead him out 
 on the heath afar from the house where his carrion can 
 best lie, and hew his scheming head from his body as a 
 warning to all such traitors ! " 
 
 The Italian, who had slipped from his chair to his knees, 
 uttered a cry of despair, as an archer seized him by either 
 shoulder. Writhing out of their grip, he threw himself 
 upon the floor and clutched at the king's feet. 
 
 " Spare me, my most dread lord, spare me, I beseech 
 you! In the name of Christ's passion, I implore your 
 grace and pardon ! Bethink you, my good and dear lord, 
 how many years I have served under your banners and how 
 many services I have rendered. Was it not I who found 
 the ford upon the Seine two days before the great battle ? 
 Was it not I also who marshalled the attack at the in- 
 taking of Calais ? I have a wife and four children in Italy, 
 great king, and it was the thought of them which led me 
 to fall from my duty, for this money would have allowed 
 me to leave the wars and to see them once again. Mercy, 
 my liege, mercy, I implore ! " 
 
 The English are a rough race, but not a cruel one. 
 The king sat with a face of doom ; but the others looked 
 askance and fidgeted in their seats. 
 
 " Indeed, my fair Uege," said Chandos, " I pray you 
 that you wUl abate somewhat of your anger." 
 
 Edward shook his head curtly. " Be silent, John. It 
 shall be as I have said." 
 
 " I pray you, my dear and honoured liege, not to act 
 with overmuch haste in the matter," said Manny. " Bind 
 him and hold him until the morning, for other counsels 
 may prevail." 
 
 " Nay, I have spoken. Lead him out ! " 
 
 But the trembling man clung to the king's knees in 
 such a fashion that the archers could not disengage his 
 convulsive grip. 
 
 "Listen to me a moment, I implore you! Give me 
 
124 SIR NIGEL 
 
 but one minute to plead with you, and then do what you 
 will." 
 
 The king leaned back in his chair. " Speak and have 
 done," said he. 
 
 " You must spare me, my noble liege. For your own 
 sake I say that you must spare me, for I can set you in 
 the way of such a knightly adventure as will gladden your 
 heart. Bethink you, sire, that this de Chargny and his 
 comrades know nothing of their plans having gone awry. 
 If I do but send them a message they wiU surely come to 
 the postern gate. Then, if we have placed our bushment 
 with skill, we shall have such a capture and such a ransom 
 as will fill your coffers. He and his comrades should be 
 worth a good hundred thousand crowns. " 
 
 Edward spurned the Italian away from him with his 
 foot until he sprawled among the rushes, but even as he 
 lay there like a wounded snake his dark eyes never left 
 the king's face. 
 
 " You double traitor ! You would sell Calais to de 
 Chargny, and then in turn you would sell de Chargny to 
 me. How dare you suppose that I or any noble knight 
 had such a huckster's soul as to think only of ransoms 
 where honour is to be won ? Could I or any true man be 
 so caitiff and so thi-aU ? You have sealed your own doom. 
 Lead him out ! " 
 
 " One instant, I pray you, my fair and most sweet lord," 
 cried the prince. " Assuage your wrath yet a little while, 
 for this man's rede deserves, perhaps, more thought than 
 we have given it. He has turned your noble soul sick with 
 his talk of ransoms ; but look at it, I pray you, from the 
 side of honour, and where could we find such hope of wor- 
 shipfully winning worship ? I pray you to let me put my 
 body in this adventure, for it is one from which, if rightly 
 handled, much advancement is to be gained." 
 
 Edward looked with sparkling eyes at the noble youth 
 at his side. 
 
THE SENESCHAL OF CALAIS 125 
 
 " Never was hound more keen on the track of a stricken 
 hart than you on the hope of honour, fair son," said he. 
 " How do you conceive the matter in your mind ? " 
 
 " De Chargny and his men will be such as are worth 
 going far to meet, for he wUl have the pick of France under 
 his banner that night. If we did as this man says and 
 awaited him with the same number of lances, then I cannot 
 think that there is any spot in Christendom where one 
 would rather be than in Calais that night." 
 
 " By the rood, fair son, you are right ! " cried the king, 
 his face shining with the thought. " Now, which of you, 
 John Chandos or Walter Manny, wiU take the thing in 
 charge ? " He looked mischievously from one to the other, 
 like a master who dangles a bone between two fierce old 
 hounds. All they had to say was in their burning, longing 
 eyes. " Nay, John, you must not take it amiss ; but it is 
 Walter's turn, and he shall have it." 
 
 " Shall we not all go under your banner, sire, or that of 
 the prince ? " 
 
 " Nay, it is not fitting that the royal banners of England 
 should be advanced in so small an adventure. And yet, 
 if you have space in your ranks for two more cavahers, 
 both the prince and I would ride with you that night." 
 
 The young man stooped and kissed his father's hand. 
 
 " Take this man in your charge, Walter, and do with 
 him as you wUl. Guard well, lest he betray us once again. 
 Take him from my sight, for his breath poisons the room. 
 And now, Nigel, if that worthy greybeard of thine would 
 fain twang his harp or sing to us — but what in God's 
 name-;^ould you have ? " 
 
 He had turned, to find his young host upon his knee 
 and his flaxen head bent in entreaty. 
 
 " What is it, man ? What do you crave ? " 
 
 "A boon, fair liege ! " 
 
 "Well, well, am I to have no peace to-night, with 
 a traitor kneeling to me in front, and a true man on his 
 
126 SIR NIGEL 
 
 knees beliind ? Out with it, Nigel. What would you 
 have ? " 
 
 " To come with you to Calais." 
 
 " By the rood ! your request is fair enough, seeing that 
 our plot is hatched beneath your very roof. How say you, 
 Walter? Will you take him, armour and all?" asked 
 King Edward. 
 
 " Say rather will you take me ? " said Chandos. " We 
 are two rivals in honour, Walter, but I am very sure that 
 you would not hold me back." 
 
 " Nay, John, I will be proud to have the best lance in 
 Christendom beneath my banner." 
 
 " And I to follow so knightly a leader. But Nigel 
 Loring is my squire, and so he comes with us also." 
 
 " Then that is settled," said the king, " and now there 
 is no need for hurry, since there can be no move until the 
 moon has changed. So I pray you to pass the flagon once 
 again, and to drink with me to the good knights of France. 
 May they be of great heart and high of enterprise when 
 we all meet once more within the castle wall of Calais ! " 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 IN THE HALL OF THE KNIGHT OF DUPPLIN 
 
 The king had come and had gone, Tilford Manor-house 
 stood once more dark and silent, but joy and contentment 
 reigned mthin its walls. In one night every trouble had 
 fallen away like some dark curtain which had shut out the 
 sun. A princely sum of money had come from the king's 
 treasurer, given in such fashion that there could be no 
 refusal. With a bag of gold pieces at his saddle-bow, 
 Nigel rode once more into Guildford, and not a beggar on 
 the way who had not cause to bless his name. 
 
 There he had gone first to the goldsmith and had 
 bought back cup and salver and bracelet, mourning with 
 the merchant over the evil chance that gold and gold-work 
 had for certaia reasons which only those in the trade could 
 fully understand gone up in value during the last week, 
 so that already fifty gold pieces had to be paid more than 
 the price which Nigel had received. In vain the faithful 
 Aylward fretted and fumed and muttered a prayer that 
 the day would come when he might feather a shaft in the 
 merchant's portly paunch. The money had to be paid. 
 
 Thence Nigel hurried to Wat the armourer's, and there 
 he bought that very suit for which he had yearned so short 
 a time before. Then and there he tried it on in the booth, 
 Wat and his boy walking round him with spanner and 
 wrench, fixing bolts and twisting rivets. 
 
 " How is that, my fair sir ? " cried the armourer, as he 
 drew the bassinet over the head and fastened it to the 
 camail which extended to the shoulders. "I swear by 
 
 127 
 
128 SIR NIGEL 
 
 Tubal Cain that it fits you as the sheU fits the crab ! A 
 finer suit never came from Italy or Spain." 
 
 Nigel stood in front of a burnished shield which served 
 as a mirror, and he turned this way and that, preening 
 himself like a little shining bird. His smooth breastplate, 
 his wondrous joints with their deft protection by the disks 
 at knee and elbow and shoulder, the beautifully flexible 
 gauntlets and sollerets, the shirt of mail and the close- 
 fitting greave-plates were all things of joy and of beauty 
 in his eyes. He sprang about the shop to show his light- 
 ness, and then, running out, he placed his hand on the 
 pommel and vaulted into Pommers' saddle, while Wat and 
 his boy applauded in the doorway. 
 
 Then, springing off and running into the shop again, he 
 clashed down upon his knees before the image of the Virgin 
 upon the smithy wall. There from his heart he prayed that 
 no shadow or stain should come upon his soul or his honour 
 while these arms encased his body, and that he might be 
 strengthened to use them for noble and godly ends. A 
 strange turn this to a religion of peace, and yet for many 
 a century the sword and the faith had upheld each other, 
 and in a darkened world the best ideal of the soldier had 
 turned in some dim groping fashion toward the light. 
 " Benedictus dominus deus mens qui docet manus meas ad 
 Prcelium et digitos meos ad bellum!" There spoke the 
 soul of the knightly soldier. 
 
 So the armour was trussed upon the armourer's mule 
 and went back with them to Tilford, where Nigel put it 
 on once more for the pleasure of the Lady Ermyntrude, 
 who clapped her skinny hands and shed tears of mingled 
 pain and joy — pain that she should lose him, joy that he 
 should go so bravely to the wars. As to her own future, 
 it had been made easy for her, since it was arranged that 
 a steward should look to the Tilford estate while she had 
 at her disposal a suite of rooms in royal Windsor, where, 
 with other venerable dames of her own age and standing, 
 
& 
 
 THE KNIGHT OF DUPPLIN 129 
 
 she could spend the twilight of her days discussing long- 
 forgotten scandals and whispering sad things about the 
 grandfathers and grandmothers of the young courtiers all 
 around them. There Nigel might leave her with an easy 
 naind when he turned his face to France. 
 
 But there was one more visit to be paid, and one more 
 farewell to be spoken ere Nigel could leave the moorlands 
 where he had dwelt so long. That evening he donned his 
 brightest tunic, dark purple velvet of Genoa, with trimming 
 of miniver, his hat with the snow-white feather curling 
 round the front, and his belt of embossed silver round his 
 loins. Mounted on lordly Pommers, with his hawk upon 
 wrist and his sword by his side, never did fairer young 
 gallant or one more modest in mind set forth upon such an 
 errand. It was but the old Knight of Dupplin to whom he 
 would say farewell ; but the Knight of Dupplin had two 
 daughters, Edith and Mary, and Edith was the fairest maid 
 in all the heather-country. 
 
 Sir John Buttesthom, the Knight of Dupplin, was so 
 called because he had been present at that strange battle, 
 some eighteen years before, when the full power of Scotland 
 had been for a moment beaten to the ground by a handful 
 of adventurers and mercenaries, marching under the banner 
 of no nation, but fighting in their own private quarrel. 
 Their exploit fills no pages of history, for it is to the 
 interest of no nation to record it, and yet the rumour and 
 fame of the great fight bulked large in those times, for it 
 was on that day when the flower of Scotland was left dead 
 upon the field, that the world first understood that a new 
 force had arisen in war, and that the English archer, with 
 his robust courage and his skill with the weapon which 
 he had wielded from his boyhood, was a power with which 
 even the mailed chivalry of Europe had seriously to reckon. 
 
 Sir John after his return from Scotland had become 
 the king's own head huntsman, famous through all England 
 for his knowledge of venery, until at last, getting 
 
 K 
 
I30 SIR NIGEL 
 
 overheavy for his horses, he had settled in modest comfort 
 into the old house of Cosford upon the eastern slope of the 
 Hindhead hilL Here, as his face grew redder, and his 
 beard more white, he spent the evening of his days amid 
 hawks and hounds, a flagon of spiced wine ever at his 
 elbow, and his swollen foot perched upon a stool before 
 him. There it was that many an old comrade broke his 
 journey as he passed down the rude road which led from 
 London to Portsmouth, and thither also came the young 
 gallants of the country to hear the stout knight's tales of 
 old wars, or to learn from him that lore of the forest and 
 the chase which none could teach so well as he. 
 
 But sooth to say, whatever the old knight might think, 
 it was not merely his old tales and older wine which drew 
 the young men to Cosford, but rather the fair face of his 
 younger daughter, or the strong soul and wise counsel of 
 the elder. Never had two more different branches sprung 
 from the same trimk. Both were tall and of a queenly 
 graceful figure. But there all resemblance began and 
 ended. 
 
 Edith was yeHow as the ripe corn, blue-eyed, winning, 
 mischievous, with a chattering tongue, a merry laugh, and 
 a smile which a dozen of young gallants, Nigel of Tilford 
 at their head, could share equally among them. Like a 
 young kitten she played with all the things that she found 
 in life, and some there were who thought that already the 
 claws could be felt amid the patting of her velvet touch. 
 
 Mary was dark as night, grave-featured, plain-visaged, 
 with steady bro^vn eyes looking bravely at the world from 
 under a strong black arch of brows. None could call her 
 beautiful, and when her fair sister cast her arm round her 
 and placed her cheek against hers, as was her wont when 
 company was there, the fairness of the one and the plain- 
 ness of the other leaped visibly to the eyes of all, each the 
 clearer for that hard contrast. And yet, here and there, 
 there was one who, looking at her strange, strong face, and 
 
THE KNIGHT OF DUPPLIN 131 
 
 at the passing gleams far down in her dark eyes, felt that 
 this silent woman, with her proud bearing and her queenly 
 grace, had in her something of strength, of reserve, and of 
 mystery which was more to them than all the dainty glitter 
 of her sister. 
 
 Such were the ladies of Cosford toward whom Nigel 
 Loring rode that night with doublet of Genoan velvet and 
 the new white feather in his cap. 
 
 He had ridden over Thursley Eidge past that old stone 
 where in days gone by at the place of Thor the wild Saxons 
 worshipped their war-god. Nigel looked at it with a wary 
 eye and spurred Pommers onward as he passed it, for still 
 it was said that wild fires danced round it on the moonless 
 nights, and they who had ears for such things could hear 
 the scream and sob of those whose lives had been ripped 
 from them that the fiend might be honoured. Thor's Stone, 
 Thor's Jumps, Thor's Punch-bowl — the whole countryside 
 was one grim monument to the God of Battles, though the 
 pious monks had changed his uncouth name for that of 
 the Devil his father, so that it was the Devil's Jumps and 
 the Devil's Punch-bowl of which they spoke. Nigel glanced 
 back at the old gray boulder, and he felt for an instant a 
 shudder pass through his stout heart. Was it the chill of 
 the evening air, or was it that some inner voice had 
 whispered to him of the day when he also might lie bound 
 on such a rock and have such a bloodstained pagan crew 
 howling around him ? 
 
 An instant later the rock and his vague fear and all 
 things else had passed from his mind, for there, down the 
 yellow aandypath, the setting sun gleaming on her golden 
 hair, her lithe figure bending and swaying with every 
 heave of the cantering horse, was none other than the 
 same fair Edith, whose face had come so often between 
 him and his sleep. His blood rushed hot to his face at 
 the sight, for fearless of all else, his spirit was attracted 
 and yet dauiited by the delicate mystery of woman. To 
 
132 SIR NIGEL 
 
 his pure and knightly soul not Edith alone, but every 
 woman, sat high and aloof, enthroned and exalted, with a 
 thousand mystic excellencies and virtues which raised her 
 far above the rude world of man. There was joy in con- 
 tact with them ; and yet there was fear, fear lest his own 
 unworthiness, his untrained tongue or rougher ways should 
 in some way break rudely upon this delicate and tender 
 thing. Such was his thought as the white horse cantered 
 toward him ; but a moment later his vague doubts were 
 set at rest by the frank voice of the young girl, who waved 
 her whip in merry greeting. 
 
 " Hail and well met, Nigel ! " she cried. " Whither 
 away this evening ? Sure I am that it is not to see your 
 friends of Cosford, for when did you ever don so brave a 
 doublet for us ? Come, Nigel, her name, that I may hate 
 her for ever ! " 
 
 " Nay, Edith," said the young squire, laughing back 
 at the laughing girl. " I was indeed coming to Cosford." 
 
 " Then we shall ride back together, for I will go no 
 farther. How think you that I am looking ? " 
 
 Nigel's answer was in his eyes as he glanced at the 
 fair flushed face, the golden hair, the sparkling eyes, and 
 the daintily graceful figure set off in a scarlet-and-black 
 riding-dress. 
 
 " You are as fair as ever, Edith." 
 
 " Oh cold of speech ! Surely you were bred for the 
 cloisters and not for a lady's bower, Nigel. Had I asked 
 such a question from young Sir George Brocas or the 
 Squire of Eernhurst, he would have raved from here to 
 Cosford. They are both more to my taste than you are, 
 Nigel." 
 
 " It is the worse for me, Edith," said Nigel, ruefully. 
 
 " Nay, but you must not lose heart." 
 
 " Have I not already lost it ? " said he. 
 
 " That is better," she cried, laughing. " You can be 
 quick enough when you choose, Master Malapert. But 
 
THE KNIGHT OF DUPPLIN 133 
 
 you are more fit to speak of high and weary niatters with 
 my sister Mary. She will have none of the prattle and 
 courtesy of Sir George, and yet I love them well. But 
 tell me, Nigel, why do you come to Cosford to-night ? " 
 
 " To bid you farewell." 
 
 " Me alone ? " 
 
 " Nay, Edith, you and your sister Mary and the good 
 knight, your father." 
 
 " Sir George would have said that he had come for me 
 alone. Indeed you are but a poor courtier beside him. 
 But is it true, Nigel, that you go to France ? " 
 
 "Yes, Edith." 
 
 " It was so rumoured after the king had been to Tilford. 
 The story goes that the king goes to France and you in 
 his train. Is that true ? " 
 
 " Yes, Edith, it is true." 
 
 " Tell me, then, to what part you go, and when ? " 
 
 " That, alas ! I may not say." 
 
 " Oh, in sooth ! " She tossed her fair head and rode 
 onward in silence, with compressed lips and angry eyes. 
 
 Nigel glanced at her in surprise and dismay. " Surely, 
 Edith," said he, at last, " you have overmuch regard for my 
 honour that you should wish me to break the word that I 
 have given ? " 
 
 " Your honour belongs to you, and my likings belong 
 to me," said she. " You hold fast to the one, and I will 
 do the same by the other." 
 
 They rode in silence through Thursley village. Then 
 a thought came to her mind, and in an instant her anger 
 was forgotten and she was hot on a new scent. 
 
 "What would you do if I were injured, Nigel? I 
 have heard my father say that, small as you are, there is 
 no man in these parts could stand against you. Would 
 you be my champion if I suffered wrong ? " 
 
 " Surely I or any man of gentle blood would be the 
 champion of any woman who had suffered wrong." 
 
134 SIR NIGEL 
 
 " You or any and I or any — what sort of speech, is 
 that ? Is it a compliment, think you, to be mixed with a 
 drove in that fashion ? My question was of you and me. 
 If I were wronged would you be my man ? " 
 
 " Try me and see, Edith ! " 
 
 " Then I will do so, Nigel. Either Sir George Brocas 
 or the Squire of Eernhurst would gladly do what I ask, 
 and yet I am of a mind, Nigel, to turn to you." 
 
 " I pray you to tell me what it is." 
 
 " You know Paul de la Eosse of ShaKord ? " 
 
 " You mean the small man with the twisted back ? " 
 
 " He is no smaller than yourself, Nigel, and as to his 
 back there are many folk that I know who would be glad 
 to have his face." 
 
 "Nay, I am no judge of that, and I spoke out of no 
 discourtesy. What of the man ? " 
 
 " He has flouted me, Nigel, and I would have revenge." 
 
 " What — on that poor twisted creature ? " 
 
 " I tell you that he has flouted me ! " 
 
 " But how ? " 
 
 "I should have thought that a true cavalier would 
 have flown to my aid, withouten all these questions. But 
 I will tell you, since I needs must. Know then that he 
 was one of those who came around me and professed to be 
 my own. Then, merely because he thought that there 
 were others who were as dear to me as himself he left me, 
 and now he pays court to Maude Twynham, the little 
 freckle-faced hussy in his village." 
 
 " But how has this hurt you, since he was no man of 
 thine?" 
 
 " He was one of my men, was he not ? And he has 
 made game of me to his wench. He has told her things 
 about me. He has made me foolish in her eyes. Yes, 
 yes, I can read it in her saffron face and in her watery 
 gaze when we meet at the church door on Sundays. She 
 smiles — ^yes, smiles at me ! Nigel, go to him ! Do not 
 
THE KNIGHT OF DUPPLIN 13S 
 
 slay him, nor even wound him, but lay his face open with 
 thy riding-whip, and then come back to me and tell me 
 how I can serve you." 
 
 Nigel's face was haggard with the strife within, for 
 desire ran hot in every vein, and yet reason shrank with 
 horror. 
 
 " By Saint Paul ! Edith," he cried, " I see no honour 
 nor advancement of any sort in this thing which you have 
 asked me to do. Is it for me to strike one who is no 
 better than a cripple ? For my manhood I could not do 
 such a deed, and I pray you, dear lady, that you will set 
 me some other task." 
 
 Her eyes flashed at him in contempt. " And you are 
 a man-at-arms ! " she cried, laughing in bitter scorn. 
 " You are afraid of a little man who can scarce walk. 
 Yes, yes, say what you will, I shall ever believe that you 
 have heard of his skill at fence, and of his great spirit, 
 and that your heart has failed you ! You are right, Nigel. 
 He is indeed a perilous man. Had you done what I 
 asked he would have slain you, and so you have shown 
 your wisdom." 
 
 Nigel flushed and winced under the words, but he said 
 no more, for his mind was fighting hard within him, 
 striving to keep that high image of woman which seemed 
 for a moment to totter on the edge of a fall. Together in 
 silence, side by side, the little man and the stately woman, 
 the yellow charger and the white jennet, passed up the 
 sandy winding track with the gorse and the bracken head- 
 high on either side. Soon a path branched off through a 
 gateway marked with the boar-heads of the Buttesthorns, 
 and there was the low widespread house heavily timbered, 
 loud with the barking of dogs. The ruddy knight limped 
 forth with outstretched hand and roaring voice — 
 
 " What how, Nigel ! Good welcome and all hail ! 1 
 had thought that you had given over poor friends like us, 
 now that the king had made so much of you. The horses 
 
136 SIR NIGEL 
 
 valets, or my crutch will be across you ! Hush, Lydiard ! 
 Down, Pelamon ! I can scarce hear my voice for your 
 yelping. Mary, a cup of wine for young Squire Loring ! " 
 
 She stood framed in the doorway, taU, mystic, silent, 
 with strange, wistful face and deep soul shining in her 
 dark questioning eyes. Nigel kissed the hand that she 
 held out, and all his faith in woman and his reverence 
 came back to him as he looked at her. Her sister had 
 slipped behind her, and her fair elfish face smiled her 
 forgiveness of Nigel over Mary's shoulder. 
 
 The Knight of Dupplin leaned his weight upon the 
 young man's arm and limped his way across the great 
 high-roofed hall to his capacious oaken chair. 
 
 " Come, come, the stool, Edith ! " he cried. "As God 
 is my help, that girl's mind swarms with gallants as a 
 granary with rats. WeU, Nigel, I hear strange tales of 
 your spear-running at Tilford and of the visit of the king. 
 How seemed he? And my old friend Chandos — ^many 
 happy hours in the woodlands have we had together — and 
 Manny too, he was ever a bold and a hard rider — what 
 news of them all ? " 
 
 Nigel told the old knight all that had occurred, 
 saying little of his own success and much of his own 
 failure, yet the eyes of the dark woman burned the brighter 
 as she sat at her tapestry and listened. 
 
 Sir John followed the story with a running fire of 
 oaths, prayers, thumps with his great fist, and flourishes of 
 his crutch. 
 
 " Well, weU, lad, you could scarce expect to hold your 
 saddle against Manny, and you have carried yourself well. 
 We are proud of you, Nigel, for you are our own man, 
 reared in the heather-country. But indeed I take shame 
 that you are not more skilled in the mystery of the woods, 
 seeing that I have had the teaching of you, and that no 
 one in broad England is my master at the craft. I pray 
 you to fill your cup again whilst I make use of the Httle 
 time that is left to us." 
 
THE KNIGHT OF DUPPLIN tsf 
 
 And straightway the old knight began a long and weary 
 lecture upon the times of grace and when each beast and 
 bird was seasonable, with many anecdotes, illustrations, 
 warnings and exceptions, drawn from his own great ex- 
 perience. He spoke also of the several ranks and grades 
 of the chase : how the hare, hart, and boar must ever take 
 precedence over the buck, the doe, the fox, the marten 
 and the roe, even as a knight banneret does over a knight, 
 while these in turn are of a higher class to the badger, 
 the wildcat, or the otter, who are but the common populace 
 of the world of beasts. Of blood-stains also he spoke — 
 how the skilled hunter may see at a glance if blood be 
 dark and frothy, which means a mortal hurt, or thin and 
 clear, which means that the arrow has struck a bone. 
 
 " By such signs," said he, "you will surely know whether 
 to lay on the hounds and cast down the blinks which 
 hinder the stricken deer in its flight. But above all I 
 pray you, Nigel, to have a care in the use of the terms of 
 the craft, lest you should make some blunder at table, so 
 that those who are wiser may have the laugh of you, and 
 we who love you may be shamed." 
 
 "Nay, Sir John," said Nigel. "I think that after 
 your teaching I can hold my place with the others." 
 
 The old knight shook his white head doubtfully. 
 " There is so much to be learned that there is no one who 
 can be said to know it all," said he. " For example, Nigel, 
 it is sooth that for every collection of beasts of the forest, 
 and for every gathering of birds of the air, there is their (iwn 
 private name so that none may be confused with another." 
 
 " I know it, fair sir." 
 
 "Tou know it, Nigel, but you do not know each 
 separate name, else are you a wiser man than I had 
 thought you. In truth none can say that they know all, 
 though I have myself pricked off eighty and six for a wager 
 at court, ajid it is said that the chief huntsman of the 
 Duke of Burgundy has counted over a hundred — but it is 
 
13$ SIR NIGEL 
 
 in my mind that he may have found them as he went, for 
 there was none to say him nay. Answer me now, lad, how 
 would you say if you saw ten badgers together in the forest ? " 
 
 " A cete of badgers, fair sir." 
 
 " Good, Nigel — good, by my faith ! And if you walk 
 in Woolmer Forest and see a swarm of foxes, how would 
 you call it ? " 
 
 " A skulk of foxes." 
 
 " And if they be lions ? " 
 
 " Nay, fair sir, I am not like to meet several lions in 
 Woolmer Forest." 
 
 " Ay, lad, but there are other forests besides Woolmer, 
 and other lands besides England, and who can tell how far 
 afield such a knight errant as Nigel of Tilford may go, 
 v/hen he sees worship to be won ? We will say that you 
 were in the deserts of Nubia, and that afterward at the 
 court of the great Sultan you wished to say that you had 
 seen several lions, which is the first beast of the chase, 
 being the king of all animals. How then would you say it ? " 
 
 Nigel scratched his head. " Surely, fair sir, I would 
 be content to say that I had seen a number of lions, if indeed 
 I could say aught after so wondrous an adventure." 
 
 " Nay, Nigel, a huntsman would have said that he had 
 seen a pride of lions, and so proved that he knew the 
 language of the chase. Now, had it been boars instead of 
 lions ? " 
 
 " One says a singular of boars." 
 
 " And if they be swine ? " 
 
 " Surely it is a herd of swine." 
 
 " Nay, nay, lad, it is indeed sad to see how little you 
 know. Your hands, Nigel, were always better than your 
 head. No man of gentle birth would speak of a herd of 
 swine ; that is the peasant speech. If you drive them it 
 is a herd. If you hunt them it is other. What call you, 
 them, then, Edith ? " 
 
 " Nay, I know not," said the girl, listlessly. A crumpled 
 
THE KNIGHT OF DUPPLIN 139 
 
 note brought in by a varlet was clinched in her right hand 
 and her blue eyes looked afar into the deep shadows of 
 the roof. 
 
 " But you can tell us, Mary ? " 
 
 " Surely, sweet sir, one talks of a sounder of swine." 
 
 The old Knight laughed exultantly. " Here is a pupil 
 who never brings me shame ! " he cried. " Be it lore of 
 chivalry or heraldry or woodcraft or what you will, I can 
 always turn to Mary. Many a man can she put to the blush." 
 
 " Myself among them," said Nigel. 
 
 " Ah, lad, you are a Solomon to some of them. Hark 
 ye! only last week that jack-fool, the young Lord of 
 Brocas, was here talking of having seen a covey of pheasants 
 in the wood. One such speech would have been the ruin 
 of a young squire at the court. How would you have 
 said it, Nigel ? " 
 
 " Surely, fair sir, it should be a nye of pheasants." 
 
 " Good, Nigel — a nye of pheasants, even as it is a gaggle 
 of geese or a badling of ducks, a fall of woodcock or a 
 wisp of snipe. But a covey of pheasants ! What sort of 
 talk is that ? I made him sit even where you are sitting, 
 Nigel, and I saw the bottom of two pots of Ehenish ere 
 I let him up. Even then I fear that he had no great profit 
 from his lesson, for he was casting his foolish eyes at Edith 
 when he should have been turning his ears to her father. 
 But where is the wench ? " 
 
 " She hath gone forth, father." 
 
 "She ever doth go forth when there is a chance of 
 learning aught that is useful indoors. But supper will 
 soon be ready, and there is a boar's ham fresh from the 
 forest with which I would ask your help, Nigel, and a 
 side of venison from the king's own chase. The tineman 
 and verderers have not forgotten me yet, and my larder is 
 ever full. Blow three moots on the horn, Mary, that the 
 varlets may set the table, for the growing shadow and my 
 loosening belt warn me that it is time." 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 HOW NIGEL FOUGHT THE TWISTED MAN OF SHALFORD 
 
 In the days of which you read all classes, save perhaps 
 the very poor, fared better in meat and in drink than they 
 have ever done since. The country was covered with 
 woodlands — there were seventy separate forests in England 
 alone, some of them covering half a shire. Within these 
 forests the great beasts of the chase were strictly preserved, 
 but the smaller game, the hares, the rabbits, the birds, 
 which swarmed round the coverts, found their way readily 
 into the poor man's pot. Ale was very cheap, and cheaper 
 still was the mead which every peasant could make for 
 himself out of the wild honey in the tree trunks. There 
 were many tea-like drinks also, which were brewed by the 
 poor at no expense : mallow tea, tansy tea, and others the 
 secret of which has passed. 
 
 Amid the richer classes there was rude profusion, great 
 joints ever on the sideboard, huge pies, beasts of the field 
 and beasts of the chase, with ale and rough French or 
 Ehenish wines to wash them down. But the very rich 
 had attained to a high pitch of luxury in their food, and 
 cookery was a science in which the ornamentation of the 
 dish was almost as important as the dressing of the food. 
 It was gilded, it was silvered, it was painted, it was 
 surrounded with flame. From the boar and the peacock 
 down to such strange food as the porpoise and the hedge- 
 hog, every dish had its own setting and its own sauce, 
 very strange and very complex, with flavourings of dates, 
 currants, cloves, vinegar, sugar and honey, of cinnamon, 
 
 140 
 
THE TWISTED MAN OF SHALFORD 141 
 
 ground ginger, sandalwood, saffron, brawn and pines. It 
 was the Norman tradition to eat in moderation, but to 
 have a great profusion of the best and of the most delicate 
 from which to choose. From them came this complex 
 cookery, so unlike the rude and often gluttonous simplicity 
 of the old Teutonic stock. 
 
 Sir John Buttesthorn was of that middle class who 
 fared in the old fashion, and his great oak supper- table 
 groaned beneath the generous pasties, the mighty joints 
 and the great flagons. Below were the household, above 
 on a raised dais the family table, with places ever ready 
 for those frequent guests who dropped in from the high 
 road outside. Such a one had just come, an old priest, 
 journeying from the Abbey of Chertsey to the Priory of 
 Saint John at Midhurst. He passed often that way, and 
 never without breaking his journey at the hospitable board 
 of Cosford. 
 
 " Welcome again, good Father Athanasius ! " cried the 
 burly knight. " Come sit here on my right and give me 
 the news of the countryside, for there is never a scandal 
 but the priests are the first to know it." 
 
 The priest, a kindly, quiet man, glanced at an empty 
 place upon the farther side of his host. 
 
 " Mistress Edith ? " said he. 
 
 " Ay, ay, where is the hussy ? " cried her father, im- 
 patiently. "Mary, I beg you to have the horn blown 
 again, that she may know that the supper is on the table. 
 What can the little owlet do abroad at this hour of the 
 night ? " 
 
 There was trouble in the priest's gentle eyes as he 
 touched the knight upon the sleeve. "I have seen 
 Mistress Edith within this hour," said he. "I fear that 
 she wiU hear no horn that you may blow, for she must be 
 at Milford ere now." 
 
 " At Milford ? What does she there 1 " 
 
 "I pray you, good Sir John, to abate your voice 
 
142 SIR NIGEL 
 
 somewhat, for indeed this matter is for our private discourse, 
 since it touches the honour of a lady." 
 
 " Her honour ? " Sir John's ruddy face had turned 
 redder still, as he stared at the troubled features of the 
 priest. " Her honour, say you — the honour of my daughter ? 
 Make good those words, or never set your foot over the 
 threshold of Cosford again ! " 
 
 " I trust that I have done no wrong, Sir John,' but 
 indeed I must say what I have seen, else would I be a 
 false friend and an unworthy priest." 
 
 " Haste, man, haste ! What in the Devil's name have 
 you seen ? " 
 
 "Know you a little man, partly misshapen, named 
 Paul de la Fosse ? " 
 
 " I know him well. He is a man of noble family and 
 coat-armour, being the younger brother of Sir Eustace de 
 la Fosse of Shalford. Time was when I had thought that 
 I might call him son, for there was never a day that he 
 did not pass with my girls, but I fear that his crooked 
 back sped him ill in his wooing." 
 
 " Alas, Sir John ! It is his mind that is more crooked 
 than his back. He is a perilous man with women, for 
 the Devil hath given him such a tongue and such an eye 
 that he charms them even as the basilisk. Marriage may 
 be in their mind, but never in his, so that I could count a 
 dozen and more whom he has led to their undoing. It is 
 his pride and his boast over the whole countryside." 
 
 " Well, well, and what is this to me or mine ? " 
 
 " Even now. Sir John, as I rode my mule up the road 
 I met this man speeding toward his home. A woman 
 rode by his side, and though her face was hooded I heard 
 her laugh as she passed me. That laugh I have heard 
 before, and it was under this very roof, from the lips of 
 Mistress Edith." 
 
 The knight's knife dropped from his hand. But the 
 debate had been such that Qeithei" Mary nor Nigel could 
 
THE TWISTED MAN OF SHALFORD 143 
 
 fail to have heard it. Mid the rough laughter and clatter 
 of voices from below the little group at the high table had 
 a privacy of their own. 
 
 "Fear not, father," said the girl — "indeed, the good 
 Father Athanasius hath fallen into error, and Edith will 
 be with us anon. I have. heard her speak of this man 
 many times of late, and always with bitter words." 
 
 " It is true, sir," cried Nigel, eagerly. " It was only 
 this very evening as we rode over Thursley Moor that 
 Mistress Edith told me that she counted him not a fly, and 
 that she would be glad if he were beaten for his evil deeds." 
 
 But the wise priest shook his silvery locks. "Nay, 
 there is ever danger when a woman speaks like that. Hot 
 hate is twin brother to hot love. Why should she speak 
 so if there were not some bond between them ? " 
 
 " And yet," said Nigel, " what can have changed her 
 thoughts in three short hours ? She was here in the hall 
 with us since I came. By Saint Paul, I will not believe it ! " 
 
 Mary's face darkened. "I call to mind," said she, 
 " that a note was brought her by Hannekin the stable 
 varlet when you were talking to us, fair sir, of the terms 
 of the chase. She read it and went forth." 
 
 Sir John sprang to his feet, but sank into his chair 
 again with a groan. 
 
 " Would that I were dead," he cried, " ere I saw dis- 
 honour come upon my house, and am so tied with this 
 accursed foot that I can neither examine if it be true, nor 
 yet avenge it ! If my son Oliver were here, then all would 
 be well. Send me this stable varlet that I may question 
 him." 
 
 " I pray you, fair and honoured sir," said Nigel, " that 
 you will take me for your son this night, that I may 
 handle this matter in the way which seems best. On 
 jeopardy of my honour I will do all that a man may." 
 
 " Nigel, I thank you. There is no man in Christendom 
 to whom I would sooner turn." 
 
144 SIR NIGEL 
 
 " But I would learn your mind in one matter, fair sir. 
 This man, Paul de la Fosse, owns broad acres, as I under- 
 stand, and comes of noble blood. There is no reason, if things 
 be as we fear, that he should not marry your daughter ? " 
 
 " Nay, she could not wish for better." 
 
 " It is well. And first I would question this Hannekin ; 
 but it shall be done in such a fashion that none shall 
 know, for indeed it is not a matter for the gossip of 
 servants. But if you will show me the man. Mistress 
 Mary, I will take him out to tend my own horse, and so I 
 shall learn all that he has to tell." 
 
 Nigel was absent for some time, and when he returned 
 the shadow upon his face brought little hope to the anxious 
 hearts at the high table. 
 
 " I have locked him in the stable-loft, lest he talk too 
 much," said he, " for my questions must have shown him 
 whence the wind blew. It was indeed from this man that 
 the note came, and he had brought with him a spare horse 
 for the lady." 
 
 The old Knight groaned, and his face sank upon his 
 hands. 
 
 "Nay, father, they watch you!" whispered Mary. 
 " For the honour of our house let us keep a bold face to 
 all." Then, raising her young clear voice, so that it 
 sounded through the room : " If you ride eastward, Nigel, 
 I would fain go with you, that my sister may not come 
 back alone." 
 
 " We will ride together, Mary," said Nigel, rising ; then, 
 in a lower voice : " But we cannot go alone, and if we 
 take a servant all is known. I pray you to stay at home 
 and leave the matter with me." 
 
 " Nay, Nigel, she may sorely need a woman's aid, and 
 what woman should it be save her own sister ? I can take 
 my tire-woman with us." 
 
 " Nay, I shall ride with you myself if your impatience 
 can keep within the powers of my mule," said the old priest. 
 
THE TWISTED MAN OF SHALFORD 145 
 
 " But it is not your road, father ? " 
 
 " The only road of a true priest is that which leads to 
 the good of others. Come, my children, and we wiU go 
 together." 
 
 And so it was that stout Sir John Buttesthorn, the 
 aged Knight of Dupplin, was left alone at his own high 
 table, pretending to eat, pretending to drink, fidgeting in 
 his seat, trying hard to seem unconcerned with his mind 
 and body in a fever, while below him his varlets and 
 handmaids laughed and jested, clattering their cups and 
 clearing their trenchers, all unconscious of the dark shadow 
 which threw its gloom over the lonely man upon the dais 
 above. 
 
 Meantime the Lady Mary upon the white jennet which 
 her sister had ridden on the same evening, Nigel on his 
 war-horse, and the priest on the mule, clattered down the 
 rude winding road which led to London. The country 
 on either side was a wilderness of heather moors and of 
 morasses from which came the strange crying of night- 
 fowl. A half-moon shone in the sky between the rifts of 
 hurrying clouds. The lady rode in silence, absorbed in the 
 thought of the task before them, the danger and the shame. 
 
 Nigel chatted in a low tone with the priest. From 
 him he learned more of the evil name of this man whom 
 they followed. His house at Shalford was a den of 
 profligacy and vice. No woman could cross that threshold 
 and depart unstained. In some strange fashion, inexplic- 
 able and yet common, the man, with all his evil soul and 
 his twisted body, had yet some strange fascination for 
 women, some mastery over them which compelled them 
 to his will. Again and again he had brought ruin to a 
 household, again and again his adroit tongue and his 
 cunning wit had in some fashion saved him from the 
 punishment of his deeds. His family was great in the 
 county, and his kinsmen held favour ■vrith the king, so 
 
 L 
 
146 SIR NIGEL 
 
 that his neighbours feared to push things too far against 
 him. Such was the man, malignant and ravenous, who 
 had stooped like some foul night-hawk, and borne away 
 to his evil nest the golden beauty of Cosford. Nigel said 
 little as he listened, but he raised his hunting-dagger to 
 his tightened lips, and thrice he kissed the cross of its 
 handle. 
 
 They had passed over the moors, and through the 
 village of Milford and the little township of Godalming, 
 until their path turned southward over the Pease marsh, 
 and crossed the meadows of Shalford. There on the dark 
 hillside glowed the red points of light which marked the 
 windows of the house which they sought. A sombre, 
 arched avenue of oak trees led up to it, and then they 
 were in the moon-silvered clearing in front. 
 
 From the shadow of the arched door there sprang two 
 rough serving -men, bearded and gruff, great cudgels in 
 their hands, to ask them who they were and what their 
 errand. The Lady Mary had slipped from her horse, and 
 was advancing to the door, but they rudely barred her 
 way. 
 
 "Nay, nay, our master needs no more!" cried one 
 with a hoarse laugh. " Stand back, mistress, whoever you 
 be! The house is shut, and our lord sees no guests 
 to-night." 
 
 " Fellow," said Nigel, speaking low and clear, " stand 
 back from us ! Our errand is with your master." 
 
 "Bethink you, my children," cried the old priest, 
 " would it not be best, perchance, that I go in to him, and 
 see whether the voice of the Church may not soften this 
 hard heart ? I fear bloodshed if you enter." 
 
 "Nay, father, I pray you to stay here for the nonce," 
 said Nigel. "And you, Mary, do you bide with the good 
 priest, for we know not what may be within." 
 
 Again he turned to the door, and again the two men 
 barred his passage. 
 
THE TWISTED MAN OF SHALFORD 147 
 
 *' Stand back, I say, back for your lives ! " said Nigel. 
 "By Saint Paul! I should think it shame to soil my 
 sword with such as you, but my soul is set, and no man 
 shall bar my path this night." 
 
 The men shrank from the deadly menace of that gentle 
 voice. 
 
 " Hold ! " said one of them, peering through the dark- 
 ness, " is it not Squire Loring of Tilford ? " 
 
 " That is indeed my name." 
 
 " Had you spoken it, I for one would not have stopped 
 your way. Put down your staff, Wat, for this is no 
 stranger, but the Squire of Tilford." 
 
 " As well for him," grumbled the other, lowering his 
 cudgel with an inward prayer of thanksgiving. " Had it 
 been otherwise I should have had blood upon my soul 
 to-night. But our master said nothing of neighbours 
 when he ordered us to hold the door. I wUl enter and 
 ask him what is his will." 
 
 But already Nigel was past them, and had pushed 
 open the outer door. Swift as he was, the Lady Mary 
 was at his very heels, and the two passed together into 
 the hall beyond. 
 
 • It was a great room, draped and curtained with black 
 shadows, with one vivid circle of light in -the centre, 
 where two oil lamps shone upon a small table. A meal 
 was laid upon the table, but only two were seated at it, 
 and there were no servants in the room. At the near end 
 was Edith, her golden hair loose and streaming down over 
 the scarlet and black of her riding-dress. 
 
 At the farther end the light beat strongly upon the 
 harsh face and the -high-drawn misshapen shoulders of 
 the lord of the house. A tangle of black hair surmounted 
 a high, rounded forehead, the forehead of a thinker, with 
 two deep-set, cold, grey eyes twinkling sharply from under 
 tufted brows. His nose was curved and sharp, like the 
 beak of some cruel bird, but below the whole of his 
 
148 SIR NIGEL 
 
 cleanshaven, powerful face was marred by the loose, slabbing 
 mouth and the round folds of the heavy chin. His knife 
 in one hand and a half-gnawed bone in the other, he 
 looked fiercely up, like some beast disturbed in his den, aa 
 the two intruders broke in upon his hall, 
 
 Nigel stopped midway between the door and the table. 
 His eyes and those of Paul de la Fosse were riveted upon 
 each other. But Mary, with her woman's soul flooded 
 over with love and pity, had rushed forward and cast her 
 arms round her younger sister. Edith had sprung up from 
 her chair, and with averted face tried ^ to push the other 
 away from her. 
 
 " Edith, Edith ! By the virgin, I implore you to come 
 back with us, and to leave this wicked man ! " cried Mary. 
 " Dear sister, you would not break our father's heart, nor 
 bring his gray head in dishonour to the grave! Come 
 back ! Edith, come back and all is well." 
 
 But Edith pushed her away, and her fair cheeks were 
 flushed with her anger. 
 
 " What right have you over me, Mary, you who are 
 but two years older, that you should follow me over the 
 countryside as though I were a runagate villein and you 
 my mistress ? Do you yourself go back, and leave me to 
 do that which seems best in my own eyes." " 
 
 But Mary still held her in her arms, and still strove 
 to soften the hard and angry heart. 
 
 " Our mother is dead, Edith. I thank God that she 
 died ere she saw you under this roof ! But I stand for her, 
 as I have done all my life, since I am indeed your elder. 
 It is with her voice that I beg and pray you that you will 
 not trust this man further, and that you will come back 
 ere it be too late ! " 
 
 Edith writhed from her grasp, and stood flushed and 
 defiant, with gleaming, angry eyes fixed upon her sister. 
 
 " You may speak evil of him now," said she, " but there 
 was a time when Paul de la Fosse came to Cosford, and 
 
THE TWISTED MAN OF SHALFORD 149 
 
 who so gentle and soft-spoken to him then as wise, grave, 
 sister Mary? But he has learned to love another; so 
 now he is the wicked man, and it is shame to be seen 
 under his roof! From what I see of my good, pious 
 sister and her cavalier, it is sin for another to ride at 
 night with a man at your side, but it comes easy enough 
 to you. Look at your own eye, good sister, ere you would 
 take the speck from that of another." 
 
 Mary stood irresolute and greatly troubled, holding 
 down her pride and her anger, but uncertain how best to 
 deal with this strong, wayward spirit. 
 
 " It is not a time for bitter words, dear sister," said 
 she, and again she laid her hand upon her sister's sleeve. 
 "AU that you say may be true. There was, indeed, a 
 time when this man was friend to us both, and I know 
 even as you do the power which he may have to win a 
 woman's heart. But I know him now, and you do not. 
 I know the evil that he has wrought, the dishonour that 
 he has brought, the perjury that lies upon his soul, the 
 confidence betrayed, the promise unfulfilled — all this I 
 know. Am I to see my own sister caught in the same 
 weU-used trap? Has it shut upon you, child? Am I, 
 indeed, already too late ? For God's sake, tell me, Edith, 
 that it is not so ! " 
 
 Edith plucked her sleeve from her sister, and made 
 two swift steps to the head of the table. Paul de la Fosse 
 still sat silent with his eyes upon Nigel. Edith laid her 
 hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 " This is the man I love, and the only man that I have 
 ever loved. This is my husband," said she. 
 
 At the word Mary gave a cry of joy. 
 
 "And is it so?" she cried. "Nay, then aU is in 
 honour, and God will see to the rest. If you are man and 
 wife before the altar, then, indeed, why should I, or any 
 other, stand between you ? Tell me that it is indeed so, and 
 I return this moment to make your father a happy man." 
 
ISO SIR NIGEL 
 
 Edith pouted like a naughty child. " We are man and 
 wife in the eyes of God. Soon also we shall be wedded 
 before all the world. We do but wait until next Monday, 
 when Paul's brother, who is a priest at Saint Albans, wiU 
 come to wed us. Already a messenger has sped for him, 
 and he will come, will he not, dear love ? " ■■ 
 
 " He wiU come," said the master of Shalford, still with 
 his eyes fixed upon the sUent Nigel. 
 
 " It is a lie ; he wOl not come," said a voice from the 
 door. 
 
 It was the old priest, who had followed the others aa 
 far as the threshold. 
 
 " He will not come," he repeated, as he advanced into 
 the room. " Daughter, my daughter, hearken to the words 
 of one who is indeed old enough to be your earthly father. 
 This lie has served before. He has ruined others before 
 you with it. The man has no brother at Saint Albans, I 
 know his brothers well, and there is no priest among them. 
 Before Monday, when it is all too late, you will have found 
 the truth as others have done before you. Trust him not, 
 but come with us ! " 
 
 Paul de la Fosse looked up at her with a quick smile 
 and patted the hand upon his shoulder. 
 
 " Do you speak to them, Edith," said he. 
 
 Her eyes flashed with scorn as she surveyed them each 
 in turn, the woman, the youth, and the priest. 
 
 " I have but one word to say to them," said she. " It 
 is that they go hence and trouble us no more. Am I not 
 a free woman ? Have I not said that this is the only man 
 I ever loved ? I have loved him long. He did not know 
 it, and in despair he turned to another. Now he knows all, 
 and never again can doubt come between us. Therefore 
 I wiU stay here at Shalford and come to Cosford no more 
 save upon the arm of my husband. Am I so weak that I 
 would believe the tales you tell against him ? Is it hard 
 for a jealous woman and a wandering priest to agree upon 
 
THE TWISTED MAN OF SHALFORD 151 
 
 a lie? No, no, Mary, you can go hence and take your 
 cavalier and your priest with you, for here I stay, true to 
 my love and safe in my trust upon his honour ! " 
 
 " Well spoken, on my faith, my golden bird ! " said the 
 little master of Shalford. " Let me add my own word to 
 that which has been said. You would not grant me any 
 virtue in your unkindly speech, good Lady Mary, and yet 
 you must needs confess that at least I have good store of 
 patience, since I have not set my dogs upon your friends 
 who have come between me and my ease. But even to 
 the most virtuous there comes at last a time when poor 
 human frailty may prevail, and so I pray you to remove 
 both yourself, your priest, and your valiant knight errant, 
 lest perhaps there be more haste and less dignity when 
 at last you do take your leave. Sit down, my fair love, 
 and let us turn once more to our supper." He motioned 
 her to her chair, and he filled her wine-cup as well as 
 his own. 
 
 Mgel had said no word since he had entered the room, 
 but his look had never lost its set purpose, nor had his 
 brooding eyes ever wandered from the sneering face of the 
 deformed master of Shalford. NoW he turned with swift 
 decision to Mary and to the priest. 
 
 " That is over," said he, in a low voice. " You have 
 done all that you could, and now it is for me to play my 
 part as well as I am able. I pray you, Mary, and you, 
 good father, that you wiU await me outside." 
 
 " Nay, Nigel, if there is danger " 
 
 " It is easier for me, Mary, if you are not there. I pray 
 you to go. I can speak to this man more at my ease." 
 
 She looked at him with questioning eyes and then 
 obeyed. 
 
 Nigel plucked at the priest's gown. "I pray you, 
 father, have you your book of offices with you ? " 
 
 " Surely, Nigel, it is ever in my breast." 
 
 " Have it ready, father ! " 
 
IS2 SIR NIGEL 
 
 " For what, my son ? " 
 
 "There are two places you may mark: there is the 
 service of marriage, and there is the prayer for the dying. 
 Go with her, father, and be ready at my call." 
 
 He closed the door behind them and was alone with 
 this ill-matched couple. They both turned in their chaks 
 to look at him, Edith with a defiant face, the man with 
 a bitter smile upon his lips and malignant hatred in 
 his eyes. 
 
 "What," said he, "the knight errant still lingers? 
 Have we not heard of his thirst for glory ? What new 
 venture does he see that he should tarry here ? " 
 
 Nigel walked to the table. "There is no glory and 
 little venture," said he ; " but I have come for a purpose 
 and I must do it. I learn from your own lips, Edith, that 
 you will not leave this man." 
 
 " If you have ears you have heard it." 
 
 " You are, as you have said, a free woman, and who 
 can gainsay you ? But I have known you, Edith, since 
 we played as boy and girl on the heather-hills together. 
 I wiU save you from this man's cunning and from your 
 own foolish weakness." 
 
 " What would you do ? " 
 
 " There is a priest without. He will marry you How. 
 I will see you married ere I leave this hall." 
 
 " Or else ? " sneered the man. 
 
 " Or else you never leave this hall alive. Nay, call not 
 for your servants or your dogs ! By Saint Paul ! I swear 
 to you that this matter lies between us three, and that if 
 any fourth comes at your call, you, at least, shall never 
 live to see what comes of it ! Speak then, Paul of Shalford ! 
 Will you wed this woman now, or wiU you not ? " 
 
 Edith was on her feet with outstretched arms between 
 them. 
 
 "Stand back, Nigel! He is small and weak. You 
 would not do him a hurt ! Did you not say so lihis Very 
 
THE TWISTED MAN OP SHALFORD tJJ 
 
 day ? For God's sake, Nigel, do not look at him so ! There 
 is death in your eyes." 
 
 " A snake may be small and weak, Edith, yet every 
 honest man would place his heel upon it. Do you stand 
 back yourself, for my purpose is set." 
 
 " Paul ! " She turned her eyes to the pale, sneering 
 face. "Bethink you, Paul! Why should you not do 
 what he asks ? What matter to you whether it be now 
 or on Monday ? I pray you, dear Paul, for my sake let 
 him have his way! Your brother can read the service 
 again if it so please him. Let us wed now, Paul, and then 
 all is well." 
 
 He had risen from his chair, and he dashed aside her 
 appealing hands. 
 
 " You foolish woman," he snarled, " and you, my saviour 
 of fair damsels, who are so bold against a cripple, you have 
 both to learn that if my body be weak, there is the soul of 
 my breed within it ! To marry because a boasting, ranting, 
 country squire would have me do so — no, by the soul of 
 God, I will die first ! On Monday I wiU marry, and no 
 day sooner, so let that be your answer." 
 
 " It is the answer that I wished," said Nigel, "for indeed 
 I see no happiness in this marriage, and the other may well 
 be the better way. Stand aside, Edith ! " He gently forced 
 her to one side and drew his sword. 
 
 De la Fosse cried aloud at the sight. " I have no sWord. 
 You would not murder me ? " said he, leaning back with 
 haggard face and burning eyes against his chair. The 
 bright steel shone in the lamp-light, Edith shrank back, 
 her hand over her face. 
 
 " Take this sword ! " said Nigel, and he turned the hilt 
 to the cripple. " Now ! " he added, as he drew his hunting- 
 knife. " Kill me if you can, Paul de la Fosse, for as God 
 is my help I will do as much for you ! " 
 
 The woman, half swooning and yet spellbound and 
 fascinated, looked on at that strange combat, For a moment 
 
IS4 SIR NIGEL 
 
 the cripple stood with an air of doubt, the sword grasped 
 in his nerveless fingers. Then, as he saw the tiny blade in 
 Nigel's hand, the greatness of the advantage came home to 
 him, and a cruel smile tightened his loose lips. Slowly, 
 step by step he advanced, his chin sunk upon his chest, his 
 eyes glaring from under the thick tangle of his brows like 
 fires through the brushwood. Nigel waited for him, his left 
 hand forward, his knife down by his hip, his face grave, 
 still, and watchful. 
 
 Nearer and nearer yet, with stealthy step, and then 
 with a bound and a cry of hatred and rage, Paul de la Fosse 
 had sped his blow. It was well judged and well swung, 
 but point would have been wiser than edge against that 
 supple body and those active feet. Quick as a flash, Nigel 
 had sprung inside the sweep of the blade, taking a flesh 
 wound on his left forearm, as he pressed it under the hilt. 
 The next instant the cripple was on the ground and Nigel's 
 dagger was at his throat. . 
 
 " You dog ! " he whispered. " I have you at my mercy ! 
 Quick ere I strike, and for the last time ! Will you marry 
 or no ? " 
 
 The crash of the fall and the sharp point upon his 
 throat had cowed the man's spirit. He looked up with a 
 white face, and the sweat gleamed upon his forehead. 
 There was terror in his eyes. 
 
 " Nay, take your knife from me 1 " he cried. " I cannot 
 die like a calf in the shambles." 
 
 " Will you marry ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes ; I will wed her ! After all, she is a good 
 wench, and I might do worse. Let me upj I tell you. I 
 will marry her ! What more would you have ? " 
 
 Nigel stood above him with his foot upon the misshapen 
 body. He had picked up his sword, and the point rested 
 upon the cripple's breast. 
 
 " Nay, you wiU bide where you are ! If you are to 
 live — and my conscience cries loud against it— at least 
 
"A STKANGE SIGHT IT WAS THAT MET THEM NOW IN THE CIKCLE OF LIGHT." 
 
THE TWISTED MAN OF SHALFORD 155 
 
 your wedding will be such as your sins have deserved. 
 Lie there, like the crushed worm that you are ! " Then he 
 raised his voice, " Father Athanasius ! " he cried. " What 
 ho 1 Father Athanasius ! " 
 
 The old priest ran to the cry, and so did the Lady Mary. 
 A strange sight it was that met them now in the circle of 
 light, the frightened girl, haK-unconscious against the table, 
 the prostrate cripple, and Nigel with foot and sword upon 
 his body. 
 
 "Your book, father!" cried Nigel. "I know not if 
 what we do is good or iU ; but we must wed them, for 
 there is no way out." 
 
 But the girl by the table had given a great cry, and she 
 was clinging and sobbing with her arms round her sister's 
 neck. 
 
 " Oh, Mary, I thank the Virgin that you have come ! 
 I thank the Virgin that it is not too late ! What did he 
 say? He said that he was a de la Fosse, and that he 
 would not be married at the sword-point. My heart went 
 out to him when he said it. But I, am I not a Buttesthorn, 
 and shall it be said that I would marry a man who could 
 be led to the altar with a knife at his throat ? No, no ; I 
 see him as he is ! I know him now, the mean spirit, the 
 lying tongue! Can I not read in his eyes that he has 
 indeed deceived me, that he would have left me as you say 
 that he has left others ? Take me home, Mary, my sister, 
 for you have plucked me back this night from the very 
 mouth of HeU!" 
 
 And so it was that the master of ShaKord, livid and 
 brooding, was left with his wine at his lonely table, while 
 the golden beauty of Cosford, hot with shame and anger, 
 her fair face wet with tears, passed out safe from the house 
 of infamy into the great calm and peace of the starry night. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 HOW THE COMRADES JOURNEYED DOWN THE OLD, OLD ROAD 
 
 And now the season of the moonless nights was drawing 
 nigh and the king's design was ripe. Very secretly his 
 preparations were made. Already the garrison of Calais, 
 which consisted of five hundred archers and two hundred 
 men-at-arms, could, if forewarned, resist any attack made 
 upon it. But it was the king's design not merely to resist 
 the attack, hut to capture the attackers. Above all it was 
 his wish to find the occasion for one of those adventurous 
 passages of arms which had made his name famous 
 throughout Christendom as the very pattern and leader of 
 knight-errant chivalry. 
 
 But the affair wanted careful handling. The arrival of 
 any reinforcements, or even the crossing of any famous 
 soldier, would have alarmed the French, and warned them 
 that their plot had been discovered. Therefore it was in 
 twos and threes in the creyers and provision ships which 
 were continually passing from shore to shore that the 
 chosen warriors and their squires were brought to Calais, 
 There they were passed at night through the water-gate 
 into the castle where they could lie hidden, unknown to 
 the townsfolk, until the hour for action had come. 
 
 Nigel had received word from Chandos to join him at 
 " The Sign of the Broom-Pod " in Winchelsea. Three days 
 beforehand he and Aylward rode from Tilford all armed 
 and ready for the wars. Nigel was in hunting-costume, 
 blithe and gay, with his precious armour and his small 
 baggage trussed upon the back of a spare horse which 
 
 156 
 
THE OLD, OLD ROAD 157 
 
 Aylward led by tlie bridle. The archer had himself a good 
 black mare, heavy and slow, but strong enough to be fit to 
 carry his powerful frame. In his brigandine of chain mail 
 and his steel cap, with straight strong sword by his side, 
 his yellow long-bow jutting over his shoulder, and his 
 quiver of arrows supported by a scarlet baldric, he was 
 such a warrior as any knight might well be proud to have 
 in his train. All TUford trailed behind them, as they rode 
 slowly over the long slope of heath land which skirts the 
 flank of Crooksbury Hill. 
 
 At the summit of the rise Mgel reined in Pommers and 
 looked back at the little village behind him. There was 
 the old dark manor-house, with one bent figure leaning 
 upon a stick and gazing dimly after him from beside the 
 door. He looked at the high-pitched roof, the timbered 
 walls, the long trail of swirling blue smoke which rose 
 from the single chimney, and the group of downcast old 
 servants who lingered at the gate — John the cook. Weather- 
 cote the minstrel, and Eed Swire the broken soldier. Over 
 the river amid the trees he could see the grim, gray tower 
 of Waverley, and even as he looked, the iron bell, which 
 had so often seemed to be the hoarse threatening cry of an 
 enemy, clanged out its call to prayer. Nigel doffed his 
 velvet cap and prayed also — prayed that peace might 
 remain at home, and good warfare, in which honour and 
 fame should await him, might still be found abroad. Then, 
 waving his hand to the people, he turned his horse's head 
 and rode slowly eastward. A moment later Aylward 
 broke from the group of archers and laughing girls who 
 clung to his bridle and his stirrup straps, and rode on, 
 blowing kisses over his shoulder. So at last the two 
 comrades, gentle and simple, were fairly started on their 
 venture. 
 
 There are two seasons of colour in those parts: the 
 yellow, when the countryside is flaming with the gorse- 
 blossoms, and the crimson, when all the long slopes are 
 
IS8 SIR NIGEL 
 
 smouldering with the heather. So it was now. Nigel 
 looked hack from time to time, as he rode along the narrow 
 track where the ferns and the ling brushed his feet on 
 either side, and as he looked it seemed to him that, wander 
 where he might, he would never see a fairer scene than 
 that of his own home. Far to the westward, glowing in 
 the morning light, rolled billow after .billow of ruddy 
 heather land, until they merged into the dark shadows of 
 Woolmer Forest and the pale clear green of the Butser 
 chalk downs. Never in his life had Nigel wandered far 
 beyond these liruits, and the woodlands, the down, and the 
 heather were dear to his soul. It gave him a pang in his 
 heart now as he turned his face away from them ; but if 
 home lay to the westward, out there to the east and south 
 was the great world of adventure, the noble stage where 
 each of his kinsmen in turn had played his manly part and 
 left a proud name behind. 
 
 How often ho had longed for this day ! And now it had 
 come with no shadow cast behind it. Dame Ermyntrude 
 was under the king's protection. The old servants had 
 their future assured. The strife with the monks of 
 Waverley had been assuaged. He had a noble horse 
 under him, the best of weapons, and a stout follower at 
 his back. Above all he was bound on a gallant errand 
 with the bravest knight in England as his leader. All 
 these thoughts surged together in his miad, and he whistled 
 and sang, as he rode, out of the joy of his heart, while 
 Pommers sidled and curveted in sympathy with the mood 
 of his master. Presently, glancing back, he saw from 
 Aylward's downcast eyes and puckered brow that the 
 archer was clouded with trouble. He reined his horse to 
 let him come abreast of him. 
 
 "How now, Aylward ? " said he, " Surely of all men 
 in England you and I should be the most blithe this 
 morning, since we ride forward with all hopes of honour- 
 able advancement. By Saint Paul! ere we see these 
 
THE OLD, OLD ROAD IS9 
 
 heather hills once more we shall either ■worshipfuUy win 
 worship, or we shall venture our persons in the attempt. 
 These be glad thoughts, and why should you be down- 
 cast ? " 
 
 Aylward shrugged his broad shoulders, and a wry 
 smile dawned upon his rugged face. 
 
 " I am indeed as limp as a wetted bowstring," said he. 
 " It is the nature of a man that he should be sad when he 
 leaves the woman he loves." 
 
 " In truth, yes ! " cried Nigel, and in a flash the dark 
 eyes of Mary Buttesthorn rose before him, and he heard 
 her low, sweet, earnest voice as he had heard it that night 
 when they brought her frailer sister back from Shalford 
 Manor, a voice which made all that was best and noblest 
 in a man thrill within his soul. " Yet, bethink you, 
 archer, that what a woman loves in man is not his gross 
 body, but rather his soul, his honour, his fame, the deeds 
 with which he has made his life beautiful. Therefore you 
 are winning love as well as glory when you turn to the 
 wars." 
 
 " It may be so," said Aylward ; " but indeed it goes to 
 my heart to see the pretty dears weep, and I would fain 
 weep as well to keep them company. When Mary — or 
 was it Dolly ? — nay, it was Martha, the red-headed girl 
 from the Mill — when she held tight to my baldric it was 
 like snapping my heart-string to pluck myself loose." 
 
 "You speak of one name and then of another," said 
 Nigel. " How is she called, then, this maid whom you 
 love ? " 
 
 Aylward pushed back his steel cap and scratched his 
 bristling head with some embarrassment. 
 
 " Her name," said he, " is Mary Dolly Martha Susan 
 Jane Cicely Theodosia Agnes Johanna Kate." 
 
 Nigel laughed as Aylward rolled out this prodigious 
 title. 
 
 " I had no right to take you to the wars," said he ; " for 
 
i6o SIR NIGEL 
 
 by Saint Paul ! it is very clear that I have widowed half 
 the parish. But I saw your aged father the franklin. 
 Bethink you of the joy that will fiU his heart when he 
 hears that you have done some small deed in France, and 
 60 won honour in the eyes of all." 
 
 " I fear that honour will not help him to pay his 
 arrears of rent to the sacrist of "Waverley," said Aylward. 
 " Out he will go on the roadside, honour and all, if he does 
 not find ten nobles by next Epiphany, But if I could 
 win a ransom or be at the storming of a rich city, then 
 indeed the old man would be proud of me. ' Thy sword 
 must help my spade, Samkin,' said he as he kissed me 
 good-bye. Ah ! it would indeed be a happy day for him 
 and for all if I could ride back with a saddle-bag full of 
 gold pieces, and please God, I shall dip my hand in some- 
 body's pocket before I see Crooksbury Hill once more ! " 
 
 Nigel shook his head, for indeed it seemed hopeless to 
 try to bridge the gulf between them. Already they had 
 made such good progress along the bridle-path through 
 the heather that the little hill of Saint Catharine and the 
 ancient shrine upon its summit loomed up before them. 
 Here they crossed the road from the south to London, and 
 at the crossing two wayfarers were waiting who waved 
 their hands in greeting, the one a tall, slender, dark 
 woman upon a white jennet, the other a very thick and 
 red-faced old man, whose weight seemed to curve the back 
 of the stout gray cob which he bestrode. 
 
 " What how, Nigel ! " he cried. " Mary has told me 
 that you make a start this morning, and we have waited 
 here this hour and more on the chance of seeing you pass. 
 Come, lad, and have a last stoup of English ale, for many 
 a time amid the sour French wines you will long for the 
 white foam under your nose, and the good homely twang 
 of it." 
 
 Nigel had to decline the draught, for it meant riding 
 ijito Guildford town, a njile out of his course, but very 
 
THE OLD, OLD ROAD i6i 
 
 gladly he agreed with Mary that they should climb the 
 path to the old shrine and offer a last orison together. 
 The knight and Aylward waited below with the horses ; 
 and so it came about that Nigel and Mary found them- 
 selves alone under the solemn old Gothic arches, in front 
 of the dark shadowed recess in which gleamed the golden 
 reliquary of the saint. In silence they knelt side by side 
 in prayer, and then came forth once more oiit of the 
 gloom and the shadow into the fresh sunlit summer 
 morning. They stopped ere they descended the path, 
 and looked to right and left at the fair meadows and the 
 blue Wey curling down the valley. 
 
 " What have you prayed for, Nigel ? " said she. 
 
 " I have prayed that God and His saints wiU hold my 
 spirit high and will send me back from France in such a 
 fashion that I may dare to come to you and to claim you 
 for my own." 
 
 " Bethink you weU what it is that you say, Nigel," 
 said she. " What you are to me only my own heart can 
 tell ; but I would never set eyes upon your face again 
 rather than abate by one inch that height of honour and 
 worshipful achievement to which you may attain." 
 
 " Nay, my dear and most sweet lady, how should you 
 abate it, since it is the thought of you which will nerve 
 my arm and uphold my heart ? " 
 
 "Think once more, my fair lord, and hold yourself 
 bound by no word which you have said. Let it be as the 
 breeze which blows past our faces and is heard of no more. 
 Your soul yearns for honour. To that has it ever turned. 
 Is there room in it for love also ? or is it possible that 
 both shall live at their highest in one mind ? Do you 
 not call to mind that Galahad and other great knights of 
 old have put women out of their lives that they might 
 ever give their whole soul and strength to the winning of 
 honour ? May it not be that I shall be a drag upon you, 
 that your heart may shrink from some honourable task. 
 
l62 SIR NIGEL 
 
 lest it should bring risk and pain to me? Think well 
 before you answer, my fair lord, for indeed my very heart 
 would break if it should ever happen that through love 
 of me your high hopes and great promise should miss 
 fulfilment." 
 
 Nigel looked at her with sparkling eyes. The soul 
 which shone through her dark face had transformed it for 
 the moment into a beauty, more lofty and more rare than 
 that of her shallow sister. He bowed before the majesty 
 of the woman, and pressed his lips to her hand. 
 
 " You are like a star upon my path which guides me 
 on the upward way," said he. " Our souls are set together 
 upon the finding of honour, and how shall we hold each 
 other back when our purpose is the same ? " 
 
 She shook her proud head. " So it seems to you now, 
 fair lord, but it may be otherwise as the years pass. How 
 shall you prove that I am indeed a help and not a hind- 
 rance ? " 
 
 " I will prove it by my deeds, fair and dear lady," said 
 Nigel. " Here at the shrine of the holy Catharine, on 
 this, the Feast of Saint Margaret, I take my oath that I 
 will do three deeds in your honour as a proof of my high 
 love before I set eyes upon your face again, and these 
 three deeds shall stand as a proof to you that if I love 
 you dearly, still I wiU not let the thought of you stand 
 betwixt me and honourable achievement ! " 
 
 Her face shone with her love and her pride, " I also 
 make my oath," said she, " and I do it in the name of the 
 holy Catharine whose shrine is hard by. I swear that I 
 will hold myself for you untU these three deeds be done 
 and we meet once more; also that if— which may dear 
 Christ forfend ! — ^you fall in doing them then I shall take 
 the veil in Shalford nunnery and look upon no man's face 
 again ! Give me your hand, Nigel." 
 
 She had taken a little bangle of gold filigree work from 
 her arm and fastened it upon his suobwnt wrist, reading 
 
THE OLD, OLD ROAD 163 
 
 aloud to him the engraved motto in old French : " Fais ce 
 que dois, adviegne que jpourra — c'est commande au chevalier." 
 Then for one moment they fell into each other's arms and 
 with kiss upon kiss, a loving man and a tender woman,' 
 they swore their troth to each other. But the old knight 
 was calling impatiently from below, and together they 
 hurried down the winding path to where the horses waited 
 under the sandy bluff. 
 
 As far as the Shalford crossing Sir John rode by 
 Nigel's arm, and many were the last injunctions which he 
 gave him concerning woodcraft, and great his anxiety lest 
 he confuse a spay with a brocket, or either with a hind. 
 At last, when they came to the reedy edge of the Wey, the 
 old knight and his daughter reined up their horses. Nigel 
 looked back at them ere he entered the dark Chantry 
 woods, and saw them stni gazing after him and waving 
 their hands. Then the path wound among the trees and 
 they were lost to sight ; but long afterwards when a 
 clearing exposed once more the Shalford meadows Nigel 
 saw that the old man upon the gray cob was riding slowly 
 toward Saint Catharine's HiU, but that the girl was still 
 where he had seen her last, leaning forward in her saddle 
 and straining her eyes to pierce the dark forest which 
 screened her lover from her view. It was but a fleeting 
 glance through a break in the foliage, and yet in after 
 days of stress and toil in far distant lands it was that one 
 little picture — the green meadow, the reeds, the slow 
 blue winding river, and the eager bending graceful figure 
 upon the white horse — which was the clearest and 
 the dearest image of that England which he had left 
 behind him. 
 
 But if Nigel's friends had learned that this was the 
 morning of his leaving, his enemies too were on the alert. 
 The two comrades had just emerged from the Chantry 
 woods and were beginning the ascent of that curving path 
 which leads upward to the old Chapel of the Martyr, 
 
i64 SIR NIGEL 
 
 when, with a hiss like an angry snake a long white arrow 
 streaked under Pommers and struck quivering in the 
 grassy turf. A second whizzed past Nigel's ear, as he 
 tried to turn, but Aylward struck the great war-horse a 
 sharp blow over the haunches, and it had galloped some 
 hundreds of yards before its rider could pull it up. 
 Aylward followed as hard as he could ride, bending low 
 over his horse's neck, while arrows whizzed all around 
 him. 
 
 " By Saint Paul ! " said Nigel, tugging at his bridle 
 and white with anger, " they shall not chase me across the 
 country as though I were a frighted doe. Archer, how 
 dare you to lash my horse when I would have turned and 
 ridden in upon them ? " 
 
 " It is well that I did so," said Aylward, " or by these 
 ten finger-bones ! our journey would have begun and ended 
 on the same day. As I glanced round I saw a dozen of 
 them at the least amongst the brushwood. See now how 
 the light glimmers upon their steel caps yonder in the 
 bracken under the great beech-tree. Nay, I pray you, my 
 fair lord, do not ride forward. What chance has a man in 
 the open against all these who lie at their ease in the 
 underwood ? If you wUl not think of yom-self, then con- 
 sider your horse, which would have a cloth-yard shaft 
 feathered in its hide ere it could reach the wood." 
 
 Nigel chafed in impotent anger. " Am I to be shot at 
 like a popinjay at a fair, by any reaver or outlaw that 
 seeks a mark for his bow ? " he cried. " By Saint Paul ! 
 Aylward, I will put on my harness and go further into 
 the matter. Help me to untruss, I pray you ! " 
 
 " Nay, my fair lord, I wiU not help you to your own 
 downfall. It is a match with cogged dice betwixt a horse- 
 man on the moor and archers amid the forest. But these 
 men are no outlaws, or they would not dare to draw their 
 bows within a league of the sheriff of Guildford." 
 
 " Indeed, Aylward, I think that you speak truth," said 
 
THE OLD, OLD ROAD 165 
 
 Nigel. " It may be that these are the men of Paul de la 
 Fosse of Shalford, whom I have given little cause to love 
 me. Ah ! there is indeed the very man himself." 
 
 They sat their horses with their backs to the long slope 
 which leads up to the old chapel on the hill. In front of 
 them was the dark ragged edge of the wood, with a sharp 
 twinkle of steel here and there in its shadows which spoke 
 of these lurking foes. But now there was a long moot upon 
 a horn, and at once a score of russet-clad bowmen ran for- 
 ward from amid the trees, spreading out into a scattered 
 line and closing swiftly in upon the travellers. In the 
 midst of them, upon a great gray horse, sat a small mis- 
 shapen man, waving and cheering as one sets hounds on a' 
 badger, turning his head this way and that as he whooped 
 and pointed, urging his bowmen onward up the slope. 
 
 " Draw them on, my fair lord ! Draw them on until 
 we have them out on the down ! " cried Aylward, his eyes 
 shining with joy. " Five hundred paces more, and then 
 we may be on terms with them. Nay, linger not, but keep 
 them always just clear of arrow-shot until our turn has 
 come." 
 
 Nigel shook and trembled with eagerness, as with his 
 hand on his sword-hilt he looked at the line of eager 
 hurrying men. But it flashed through his mind what 
 Chandos had said of the cool head which is better for the 
 warrior than the hot heart. Aylward's words were true 
 and wise. He turned Pommers' head therefore, and amid 
 a cry of derision from behind them the comrades trotted 
 over the down. The bowmen broke into a run, while 
 their leader screamed and waved more madly than before. 
 Aylward cast many a glance at them over his shoulder. 
 
 " Yet a little farther ! Yet a little farther still ! " he 
 muttered. " The wind is toward them and the fools have 
 forgot that I can overshoot them by fifty paces. Now, my 
 good lord, I pray you for one instant to hold the horses, 
 for my weapon is of more avail this day than thine can be. 
 
i66 SIR NIGEL 
 
 They may make sorry cheer ere they gain the shelter of 
 the wood once more." 
 
 He had sprung from his horse, and with a downward 
 wrench of his arm and a push with his knee he slipped 
 the string into the upper nock of his nodghty war-bow. 
 Then in a flash he notched his shaft and drew it to the 
 pile, his keen blue eyes glowing fiercely behind it from 
 under his knotted brows. With thick legs planted sturdily 
 apart, his body laid to the bow, his left arm motionless as 
 wood, his right bunched into a double curve of swelling 
 muscles as he stretched the white well-waxed string, he 
 looked so keen and fierce a fighter that the advancing line 
 stopped for an instant at the sight of him. Two or three 
 loosed off their arrows, but the shafts flew heavily against 
 the head wind, and snaked along the hard turf some score 
 of paces short of the mark. One only, a short bandy- 
 legged man, whose squat figure spoke of enormous muscular 
 strength, ran swiftly in and then drew so strong a bow that 
 the arrow quivered in the ground at Aylward's very feet. 
 
 "It is Black Will of Lynchmere," said the bowman. 
 " Many a match have I shot with him, and I know well 
 that no other man on the Surrey marches could have sped 
 such a shaft. I trust that you are houseled and shriven, 
 WiU, for I have known you so long that I would not have 
 your damnation upon my soul." 
 
 He raised his bow as he spoke, and the string twanged 
 with a rich, deep musical note. Aylward leaned upon his 
 bow-stave as he keenly watched the long swift flight of his 
 shaft, sldnning smoothly down the wind. 
 
 " On him, on him ! No, over him, by my hilt ! " he 
 cried. " There is more wind than I had thought. Nay, 
 nay, friend, now that I have the length of you, you can 
 scarce hope to loose again." 
 
 Black Will had notched an arrow and was raising his 
 bow when Aylward's second shaft passed through the 
 shoulder of his drawing arm. With a shout of anger 
 
THE OLD, OLD ROAD 167 
 
 and pain he dropped his weapon, and dancing in his fury 
 he shook his fist and roared curses at his rival. 
 
 " I could slay him ; but I will not, for good bowmen 
 are not so common," said Aylward. "And now, fair sir, 
 we must on, for they are spreading round on either side, 
 and if once they get behind us, then indeed our journey 
 has come to a sudden end. But ere we go I would send a 
 shaft through yonder horseman who leads them on." 
 
 " Nay, Aylward, I pray you to leave him," said Nigel. 
 " Villain as he is, he is none the less a gentleman of coat- 
 armour, and should die by some other weapon than 
 thine." 
 
 "As you will," said Aylward, with a clouded brow. " I 
 have been told that in the late wars many a French prince 
 and baron has not been too proud to take his death- wound 
 from an English yeoman's shaft, and that nobles of England 
 have been glad enough to stand by and see it done." 
 
 Nigel shook his head sadly. "It is sooth you say, 
 archer, and indeed it is no new thing, for that good knight 
 Eichard of the Lion Heart met his end in such a lowly 
 fashion, and so also did Harold the Saxon. But this is a 
 private matter, and I would not have you draw your bow 
 against him. Neither can I ride at him myself, for he is 
 weak in body, though dangerous in spirit. Therefore, we 
 will go upon our way, since there is neither profit nor 
 honour to be gained, nor any hope of advancement." 
 
 Aylward, having unstrung his bow, had remounted his 
 horse during this conversation, and the two rode swiftly 
 past the little squat Chapel of the Martyr and over the 
 brow of the hill. From the summit they looked back. 
 The injured archer lay upon the ground, with several of 
 his comrades gathered in a knot around him. Others ran 
 aimlessly up the hill, but were already far behind. The 
 leader sat motionless upon his horse, and as he saw them 
 look back he raised his hand and shrieked his curses at 
 them. An instant later the curve of the ground had hid 
 
l68 SIR NIGEL 
 
 them from view. So, amid love and hate, Nigel bade 
 adieu to the home of his youth. 
 
 And now the comrades were journeying upon that old, 
 old road which runs across the south of England and yet 
 never turns toward London, for the good reason that the 
 place was a poor hamlet when first the road was laid. From 
 Winchester, the Saxon capital, to Canterbury, the holy city 
 of Kent, ran that ancient highway, and on from Canterbury 
 to the narrow straits where, on a clear day, the farther shore 
 can be seen. Along this track as far back as history can 
 trace the metals of the west have been carried, and passed 
 the pack-horses bearing the goods which Gaul sent in 
 exchange. Older than the Christian faith, and older than 
 the Eomans, is the old road. North and south are the woods 
 and the marshes, so that only on the high dry turf of the 
 chalk land could a clear track be found. The Pilgrim's 
 Way, it stiU. is called ; but the pilgrims were the last who 
 ever trod it, for it was already of immemorial age before 
 the death of Thomas a Becket gave a new reason why folk 
 should journey to the scene of his murder. 
 
 From the hill of Weston Wood the travellers could see 
 the long white band which dipped and curved and rose over 
 the green downland, its course marked even in the hollows 
 by the line of the old yew-trees which flanked it. Neither 
 Nigel nor Aylward had wandered far from their own 
 country, and now they rode with light hearts and eager 
 eyes taking note of all the varied pictures of nature and of 
 man which passed before them. To their left was a hilly 
 country, a land of rolling heaths and woods, broken here 
 and there into open spaces round the occasional fai-mhouse 
 of a franklin. Hackhurst Down, Dunley HiU, and Ean- 
 more Common swelled and sank, each merging into the 
 other. But on the right, after passing the village of Shere 
 and the old church of Gomshall, the whole south country 
 lay like a map at their feet. There was the huge wood of 
 the Weald, one unbroken forest of oak-trees stretching 
 
THE OLD, OLD ROAD 169 
 
 away to the South Downs, which rose olive-green against 
 the deep blue sky. Under this great canopy of trees 
 strange folk lived and evil deeds were done. In its re- 
 cesses were wild tribes, little changed from their heathen 
 ancestors, who danced round the altar of Thor, and well 
 was it for the peaceful traveller that he could tread the 
 high open road of the chalk land with no need to wander 
 into so dangerous a tract, where soft clay, tangled forest, 
 and wild men all barred his progress. 
 
 But apart from the rolling country upon the left and 
 the great forest-hidden plain upon the right, there was 
 much upon the road itself to engage the attention of the 
 wayfarers. It was crowded with people. As far as their 
 eyes could carry they could see the black dots scattered 
 thickly upon the thin white band, sometimes single, some- 
 times several abreast, sometimes in moving crowds, where 
 a drove of pilgrims held together for mutual protection, or 
 a nobleman showed his greatness by the number of retainers 
 who trailed at his heels. At that time the main roads were 
 very crowded, for there were many wandering people in 
 the land. Of all sorts and kinds, they passed in an un- 
 broken stream before the eyes of Nigel and of Aylward, 
 alike only in the fact that one and all were powdered from 
 their hair to their shoes with the grey dust of the chalk. 
 
 There were monks journeying from one cell to another, 
 Benedictines with their black gowns looped up to show 
 their white skirts. Carthusians in white, and pied Cis- 
 tercians. Friars also of the three wandering orders — 
 Dominicans in black, Carmelites in white, and Franciscans 
 in gray. There was no love lost between the cloistered 
 monks and the free friars, each looking on the other as a 
 rival who took from him the oblations of the faithful ; so 
 they passed on the high road as cat passes dog, with eyes 
 askance and angry faces. 
 
 Then, besides the men of the Chm-ch, there were the men 
 of trade, the merchant in dusty broadcloth and Flandera 
 
I/O SIR NIGEL 
 
 hat, riding at the head of his line of pack-horses. He 
 carried Cornish tin, West-country wool, or Sussex iron if 
 he traded eastward, or if his head should be turned west- 
 ward then he bore with him the velvets of Genoa, the 
 ware of Venice, the wine of France, or the armour of Italy 
 and Spain. Pilgrims were everywhere, poor people for the 
 most part, plodding wearily along with trailing feet and 
 bowed heads, thick staves in their hands and bundles over 
 their shoulders. Here and there on a gaily caparisoned 
 palfrey, or in the greater luxury of a horse-litter, some 
 West-country lady might be seen making her easy way to 
 the shrine of Saint Thomas. 
 
 Besides all these a constant stream of strange vagabonds 
 drifted along the road ; minstrels who wandered from fair 
 to fair, a foul and pestilent crew ; jugglers and acrobats, 
 quack doctors and tooth-drawers, students and beggars, 
 free workmen in search of better wages, and escaped bonds- 
 men who would welcome any wages at all. Such was the 
 throng which set the old road smoking in a haze of white 
 dust from Winchester to the narrow sea. 
 
 But of all the wayfarers those which interested Nigel 
 most were the soldiers. Several times they passed little 
 knots of archers or men-at-arms, veterans from France, 
 who had received their discharge and were now making 
 their way to their southland homes. They were half 
 drunk all of them, for the wayfarers treated them to beer 
 at the frequent inns and ale-stakes which lined the road, 
 so that they cheered and sang lustily as they passed. 
 They roared rude pleasantries at Aylward, who turned in 
 his saddle and shouted his opinion of them until they were 
 out of hearing. 
 
 Once, late in the afternoon, they overtook a body of a 
 hundred archers all marching together with two knights 
 riding at their head. They were passing from Guildford 
 Castle to Eeigate Castle, where they were in garrison. 
 Nigel rode with the knights for some distance, and 'hinted 
 
THE OLD, OLD ROAD 171 
 
 that if either was in search of honourable advancement, or 
 wished to do some small deed, or to relieve himself of any 
 vow, it might be possible to find some means of achieving 
 it. They were both, however, grave and elderly men, intent 
 upon their business and with no mind for fond wayside ad- 
 ventures, so Nigel quickened his pace and left them behind. 
 
 They had left Boxhill and Headley Heath upon the left, 
 and the towers of Eeigate were rising amid the trees in 
 front of them when they overtook a large, cheery, red-faced 
 man, with a forked beard, riding upon a good horse and 
 exchanging a nod or a merry word with all who passed him. 
 With him they rode nearly as far as Bletchingley, and 
 Nigel laughed much to hear him talk ; but always under 
 the raillery there was much earnestness and much wisdom 
 in all his words. He rode at his ease about the country, 
 he said, having sufficient money to keep him from want 
 and to furnish him for the road. He could speak all the 
 three languages of England, the north, the middle, and the 
 south, so that he was at home with the people of every shire 
 and could hear their troubles and their joys. In all parts 
 in town and in country there was unrest, he said ; for the 
 poor folk were weary of their masters both of the Church 
 and State, and soon there would be such doings in England 
 as had never been seen before. 
 
 But above all this man was earnest against the Church : 
 its enormous wealth, its possession of nearly one-third of 
 the whole land of the country, its insatiable greed for more 
 at the very time when it claimed to be poor and lowly. 
 The monks and friars, too, he lashed with his tongue : their 
 roguish ways, their laziness, and their cunning. He showed 
 how their wealth and that of the haughty lord must always 
 be founded upon the toil of poor humble Peter the Plow- 
 man, who worked and strove in rain and cold out in the 
 fields, the butt and laughiug-stock of every one, and still 
 bearing up the whole world upon his weary shoulders. He 
 had set it all out in a fair jparable ; so now as he rode he 
 
172 SIR NIGEL 
 
 repeated some of the verses, chanting them and marking 
 time with his forefinger, while Nigel and Aylward on either 
 side of him with their heads inclined inward listened 
 with the same attention but with very different feelings — 
 Nigel shocked at such an attack upon authority, and 
 Aylward chuckling as he heard the sentiments of his class 
 so shrewdly expressed. At last the stranger halted his 
 horse outside the " Five Angels " at Gatton. 
 
 " It is a good inn, and I know the ale of old," said he. 
 "When I had finished that 'Dream of Piers the Plow- 
 man,' which I have recited to you, the last verses were 
 thus: 
 
 " • Now have I brought my little booke to an ends 
 
 God's blessing be on him who a drinke will me sende '— 
 
 I pray you come in with me and share it." 
 
 " Nay," said Nigel, " we must on our way, for we have 
 far to go. But give me your name, my friend, for indeed 
 we have passed a merry hour listening to your words." 
 
 " Have a care ! " the stranger answered, shaking his 
 head. " You and your class will not spend a merry hour 
 when these words are turned into deeds, and Peter the 
 Plowman grows weary of swinking in the fields and takes 
 up his bow and his staff in order to set this land in order." 
 
 " By Saint Paul ! I expect that we shall bring Peter 
 to reason, and also those who have put such evil thoughts 
 into his head," said Nigel. " So once more I ask your 
 name, that I may know it if ever I chance to hear that 
 you have been hanged ? " 
 
 The stranger laughed good-humouredly. "You can 
 call me Thomas Lackland," said he. " I should be Thomas 
 Lack-brain if I were indeed to give my true name, since a 
 good many robbers, some in black gowns and some in 
 steel, would be glad to help me upward in the way you 
 speak of. So good-day to you, squire, and to you also, 
 archer; and may you find your way back with whole 
 bones from the wars ! " 
 
THE OLD, OLD ROAD 173 
 
 That night the comrades slept in Godstone Priory, and 
 early next morning they were well upon their road down 
 the Pilgrims' Way, At Titsey it was said that a band of 
 villains were out in Westerham Wood and had murdered 
 three men the day before ; so that Nigel had high hopes of 
 an encounter ; but the brigands showed no sign, though 
 the travellers went out of their way to ride their horses 
 along the edges of the forest. Farther on they found 
 traces of their work, for the path ran along the hillside at 
 the base of a chalk quarry, and there in the cutting a man 
 was lying dead. From his twisted limbs and shattered 
 frame it was easy to see that he had been thrown over 
 from above, while his pockets turned outward showed the 
 reason for his murder. The comrades rode past without 
 too close a survey, for dead men were no very uncommon 
 objects on the king's highway, and if sheriff or bailiff 
 should chance upon you near the body you might find 
 yourself caught in the meshes of the law. 
 
 Near Sevenoaks their road turned out of the old 
 Canterbury way and pointed south toward the coast, 
 leaving the chalk lands and coming down into the clay of 
 the Weald. It was a wretched, rutted mule-track running 
 through thick forests with occasional clearings in which 
 lay the small Kentish villages, where rude shock-headed 
 peasants with smocks and galligaskins stared with bold, 
 greedy eyes at the travellers. Once on the right they 
 caught a distant view of the Towers of Penshurst, and 
 once they heard the deep tolling of the bells of Bayham 
 Abbey, but for the rest of their day's journey savage 
 peasants and squalid cottages were all that met their eyes, 
 with endless droves of pigs who fed upon the litter of 
 acorns. The throng of travellers who crowded the old 
 road were all gone, and only here and there did they meet 
 or overtake some occasional merchant or messenger bound 
 for Battle Abbey, Pevensey Castle or the towns of the 
 south. 
 
174 SIR NIGEL 
 
 That night they slept in a sordid inn, overrun with rats 
 and -with fleas, one mile south of the hamlet of Mayfield. 
 Aylward scratched vigorously and cursed with fervour. 
 Nigel lay without movement or sound. To the man who 
 had learned the old rule of chivalry there were no small 
 ills in life. It was beneath the dignity of his soul to 
 stoop to observe them. Cold and heat, hunger and thirst, 
 such things did not exist for the gentleman. The armour 
 of his soul was so complete that it was proof not only 
 against the great ills of life but even against the small 
 ones; so the flea-bitten Nigel lay grimly stUl while 
 Aylward writhed upon his couch. 
 
 They were now but a short distance from their destina- 
 tion ; but they had hardly started on their journey through 
 the forest next morning, when an adventure befell them 
 which filled Nigel with the wildest hopes. 
 
 Along the narrow winding path between the great oak- 
 trees there rode a dark, sallow man ia a scarlet tabard who 
 blew so loudly upon a silver trumpet that they heard the 
 clanging call long before they set eyes on him. Slowly he 
 advanced, pulling up every fifty paces to make the forest 
 ring with another warlike blast. The comrades rode 
 forward to meet him. 
 
 " I pray you," said Nigel, " to teU me who you are and 
 why you blow upon this trumpet." 
 
 The fellow shook his head, so Nigel repeated the 
 question in French, the common language of chivalry, 
 spoken at that age by every gentleman in Western Europe. 
 
 The man put his lips to the trumpet and blew another 
 long note before he answered. 
 
 "I am Gaston de Castrier," said he, "the humble 
 squire of the most worthy and valiant knight Eaoul de 
 Tubiers, de Pestels, de Grimsard, de Mersac, de Leoy, de 
 Bastanac, who also writes himself Lord of Pons. It is his 
 order that I ride always a mile in front of him to prepare 
 aU to receive him, and he desires me to blow upon a 
 
THE OLD, OLD ROAD 175 
 
 trumpet not out of vainglory, but out of greatness of 
 spirit, so that none may be ignorant of his coming should- 
 they desire to encounter him." 
 
 Nigel sprang from his horse with a cry of joy, and 
 began to unbutton his doublet. 
 
 " Quick, Aylward, quick ! " he said. " He comes, a 
 knight errant comes ! Was there ever such a chance of 
 worshipfully winning worship ? Untruss the harness 
 whilst I loose my clothes ! Good sir, I beg you to warn 
 your noble and valiant master that a poor squire of 
 England would implore him to take notice of him and to 
 do some small deed upon him as he passes." 
 
 But already the Lord of Pons had come in sight. He 
 was a huge man upon an enormous horse, so that together 
 they seemed to fill up the whole long dark archway under 
 the oaks. He was clad in full armour of a brazen hue, 
 with only his face exposed, and of this face there was little 
 visible. save a pair of arrogant eyes and a great black 
 beard, which flowed through the open visor and down Over 
 his breastplate. To the crest of his helmet was tied a 
 small brown glove, nodding and swinging above him. He 
 bore a. long lance with a red square banner at the end, 
 charged with a black boar's head, and the same symbol 
 was engraved upon his shield. Slowly he rode through 
 the forest, ponderous, menacing, with dull thudding of his 
 charger's hoofs and constant clank of metal, while always 
 in front of him came the distant peal of the silver trumpet 
 calling all men to admit his majesty and to clear his path 
 ere they be cleared from it. 
 
 Never in his dreams had so perfect a vision come to 
 cheer Nigel's heart, and as he struggled with his clothes, 
 glancing up contiaually at this wondrous traveller, he 
 pattered forth prayers of thanksgiving to the good Saint 
 Paul who had shown such loving-kindness to his unworthy 
 servant and thrown him in the path of so excellent and 
 debonair a gentleman. > 
 
176 SIR NIGEL 
 
 But alas ! how often at the last instant the cup isi 
 dashed from the lips ! This joyful chance was destined to 
 change suddenly to unexpected and grotesque disaster — 
 disaster so strange and so complete that through all his 
 life Nigel flushed crimson when he thought of it. He was 
 busily stripping his hunting-costume, and with feverish 
 haste he had doffed boots, hat, hose, doublet and cloalc, so 
 that nothing remained save a pink jupon and pair of silken 
 drawers. At the same time Aylward was hastily un- 
 buckling the load with the intention of handing his 
 master his armour piece by piece, when the squire gave 
 one last challenging peal from his silver trumpet into the 
 very ear of the spare horse. 
 
 In an instant it had taken to its heels, the precious 
 armour upon its back, and thundered away down the road 
 which they had traversed. Aylward jumped upon his 
 mare, drove his prick spurs into her sides, and galloped 
 after the runaway as hard as he could ride. Thus it came 
 about that in an instant Nigel was shorn of all his little 
 dignity, had lost his two horses, his attendant, and his 
 outfit, and found himself a lonely and unarmed man stand- 
 ing in his shirt and drawers upon the pathway down which 
 the burly figure of the Lord of Pons was slowly advancing. 
 
 The knight errant, whose mind had been filled by the 
 thought of the maiden whom he had left behind at St. 
 Jean — the same whose glove dangled from his helmet — 
 had observed nothing that had occurred. Hence, all that 
 met his eyes was a noble yellow horse, which was tethered 
 by the track, and a small young man, who appeared to be 
 a lunatic, since he had undressed hastily in the heart of 
 the forest, and stood now with an eager anxious face clad 
 in his underlinen amid the scattered debris of his garments. 
 Of such a person the high Lord of Pons could take no 
 notice, and so he pursued his inexorable way, his arrogant 
 eyes looking out into the distance and his thoughts set 
 intently upon the maiden of St. Jean. He was dimly aware 
 
THE OLD, OLD ROAD 177 
 
 that the little crazy man in the undershirt ran a long way 
 beside him in his stockings, begging, imploring, and arguing. 
 
 "Just one hour, most fair sir, just one hour at the 
 longest, and a poor squire of England shall ever hold him- 
 self your debtor ! Do but condescend to rein your horse 
 until my harness comes back to me ! Will you not stoop 
 to show me some small deed of arms ? I implore you, fair 
 sir, to spare me a little of your time and a handstroke or 
 two ere you go upon your way ! " 
 
 Lord de Pons motioned impatiently with his gauntleted 
 hand, as one might brush away an importunate fly, but 
 when at last Nigel became desperate in his clamour he 
 thrust his spurs into his great war-horse, and, clashing like 
 a pair of cymbals, he thundered off through the forest. So 
 he rode upon his majestic way, until two days later he was 
 slain by Lord Eeginald Cobham in a field near Weybridge, 
 
 When after a long chase Aylward secured the spare 
 horse and brought it back, he found his master seated upon 
 a fallen tree, his face buried in his hands and his mind 
 clouded with humiliation and grief. Nothing was said, 
 for the matter was beyond words, and so in moody silence 
 they rode upon their way. 
 
 But soon they came upon a scene which drew Nigel's 
 thoughts away from his bitter trouble, for in front of them 
 there rose the towers of a great building with a small gray 
 sloping village around it, and they learned from a passing 
 hind that this was the hamlet and Abbey of Battle. 
 Together they drew rein upon the low ridge and looked 
 down into that vaUey of death from which even now the 
 reek of blood seems to rise. Down beside that sinister 
 lake and amid those scattered bushes sprinkled over the 
 naked flank of the long ridge was fought that long-drawn 
 struggle between two most noble foes with broad England 
 as the prize of victory. Here, up and down the low hill, 
 hour by hour the grim struggle had waxed and waned, 
 until the Saxon army had died where it stood, king, court. 
 
178 SIR NIGEL 
 
 house-carl, and fjnrdsman, each in their ranks even as they 
 had fought. And now, after all the stress and toil, the 
 tyranny, the savage revolt, the fierce suppression, God 
 had made His purpose complete, for here were Nigel the 
 Norman and Aylward the Saxon with good-fellowship in 
 their hearts and a common respect in their minds, with 
 the same hanner and the same cause, riding forth to do 
 battle for their old mother England. 
 
 And now the long ride drew to an end. In front of 
 them was the blue sea, flecked with the white sails of 
 ships. Once more the road passed upward from the heavy- 
 wooded plain to the springy turf of the chalk downs. Far 
 to the right rose the grim fortalice of Pevensey, squat and 
 powerful, like one great block of rugged stone, the parapet 
 twinkling with steel caps and crowned by the royal banner 
 of England. A flat expanse of reeded marshland lay before 
 them, out of which rose a single wooded hill, crowned with 
 towers, with a bristle of masts rising out of the green plain 
 some distance to the south of it. Nigel looked at it with 
 his hand shading his eyes, and then urged Pommers to a 
 trbt. The town was Winchelsea, and there amid that 
 cluster of houses on the hiU the gallant Chandos must be 
 awaiting him. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 HOW NIGEL CHASED THE KED FERRET 
 
 They passed a ferry, wound upward by a curving path, 
 arid then, having satisfied a guard of men-at-arms, were 
 admitted through the frowning arch of the Pipewell Gate. 
 There waiting for them, in the middle of the main street, 
 the sun gleaming upon his lemon-coloured heard, and 
 puckering his single eye, stood Chandos himself, his legs 
 apart, his hands behind his back, and a welcoming smUe 
 upon his quaint high-nosed face. Behiad him a crowd of 
 Uttle boys were gazing with reverent eyes at the famous 
 soldier. 
 
 " Welcome, Nigel ! " said he, " and you also, good 
 archer ! I chanced to be walking on the city wall, and I 
 thought from the colour of your horse that it was indeed 
 you upon the Udimore Eoad. How have you fared, young 
 squire errant ? Have you held bridges or rescued damsels 
 or slain oppressors on your way from Tilford ? " 
 
 " Nay, my fair lord, I have accomplished nothing; but I 
 once had hopes " Nigel flushed at the remembrance. 
 
 " I wQl give you more than hopes, Nigel. I wiU put 
 you where you can dip both arms to the elbow into danger 
 and honour, where peril will sleep with you at night and 
 rise with you in the morning, and the very air you breathe 
 be laden with it. Are you ready for that, young sir ? " 
 
 " I can but pray, fair lord, that my spirit wUl rise to it." 
 
 Chandos smiled his approval and laid his thin brown 
 hand on the youth's shoulder. 
 
 " Good ! " said he. " It is the mute hound which bites 
 179 
 
i8o SIR NIGEL 
 
 the hardest. The babbler is ever the hang-back. Bide 
 with me here, Nigel, and walk upon the ramparts. Archer, 
 do you lead the horses to the Sign of the Broom Pod in 
 the high street, and tell my varlets to see them aboard the 
 cog Thomas before nightfall. We sail at the second hour 
 after curfew. Come hither, Nigel, to the crest of the 
 comer turret, for from it I will show you what you have 
 never seen." 
 
 It was but a dim and distant white cloud upon the 
 blue water seen far off over the Dungeness Point, and yet 
 the sight of it flushed the young squire's cheeks and sent 
 the blood hot through his veins. It was the fringe of 
 Franco, that land of chivalry and glory, the stage where 
 name and fame were to be won. With burning eyes he 
 gazed across at it, his heart rejoicing to think that the 
 hour was at hand when he might tread that sacred soil. 
 Then his gaze crossed the immense stretch of the blue sea, 
 dotted over with the sails of fishing-boats, until it rested 
 upon the double harbour beneath packed with vessels of 
 every size and shape, from the pessoners and creyers which 
 plied up and down the coast to the great cogs and galleys 
 which were used either as war-ships or merchantmen as 
 the occasion served. One of them was at that instant 
 passing out to sea, a huge galleass, with trumpets blowing 
 and nakers banging, the flag of Saint George flaunting 
 over the broad purple sail, and the decks sparkling from 
 end to end with steel. Nigel gave a cry of pleasure at the 
 splendour of the sight. 
 
 " Aye, lad," said Chandos, " it is the Trinity of ^je, 
 the very ship on which I fought at Sluys. Her deck ran 
 blood from stem to stern that day. But turn your eyes 
 this way, I beg you, and tell me if you see aught strange 
 about this town." 
 
 Nigel looked down at the noble straight street, at the 
 Eoundel Tower, at the fine church of Saint Thomas, and 
 the other fair buildings of Winchelsea. 
 
HOW NIGEL CHASEr) THE feED FERRET iSt 
 
 " It is aU new," said he — " church, castle, houses, all 
 are new." 
 
 " You are right, fair son. My grandfather can call to 
 mind the time when only the conies lived upon this rock. 
 The town was down yonder by the sea, until one night 
 the waves rose upon it and not a house was left. See, 
 yonder is Eye, huddling also on a hill, the two towns like 
 poor sheep when the waters are out. But down there 
 under the blue water and below the Camber Sand lies the 
 true Winchelsea — tower, cathedral, walls and all, even as 
 my grandfather knew it, when the first Edward was young 
 upon the throne." 
 
 For an hour or more Chandos paced upon the ramparts 
 with his young squire at his elbow, and talked to him of 
 his duties and of the secrets and craft of warfare, Nigel 
 drinking in and storing in his memory every word from so 
 revered a teacher. Many a time in after life, in stress 
 and in danger, he strengthened himself by the memory of 
 that slow walk with the blue sea on one side and the fair 
 town on the other, when the wise soldier and noble-hearted 
 Icnight poured forth his precept and advice as the master- 
 workman to the apprentice. 
 
 "Perhaps, fair son," said he, "you are like so many 
 other lads who ride to the wars, and know so much already 
 that it is waste of breath to advise them ? " 
 
 " Nay, my fair lord, I know nothing save that I would 
 fain do my duty and either win honourable advancement 
 or die worshipful on the field." 
 
 " You are wise to be humble," said Chandos ; " for 
 indeed he who knows most of war knows best that there 
 is much to learn. As there is a mystery of the rivers and 
 a mystery of woodcraft, even so there is a mystery of war- 
 fare by which battles may be lost and gained; for all 
 nations are brave, and where the brave meets the brave, it 
 is he who is crafty and war-wise who will win the day. 
 The best hound will run at fault if he be ill laid on, and 
 
i82 SIR NIGEL 
 
 the best hawk \nll fly at check if he be badly loosed, and 
 even so the bravest army may go awry if it be ill handled. 
 There are not in Christendom better knights and squires 
 than those of the French, and yet we have had the better 
 of them, for in our Scottish wars and elsewhere we have 
 learned more of this same mystery of which I speak," 
 
 " And wherein lies our wisdom, honoured sir ? " asked 
 Nigel. " I also would fain be war-wise, and learn to fight 
 with my wits as well as with my sword." 
 
 Chandos shook his head and smiled. "It is in the 
 forest and on the down that you learn to fly the hawk 
 and loose the hound," said he. " So also it is in camp and 
 on the field that the mystery of war can be learned. There 
 only has every great captain come to be its master. To 
 start he must have a cool head, quick to think, soft as wax 
 before his purpose is formed, hard as steel when once he 
 sees it before him. Ever alert he must be, and cautious 
 also, but vrith judgment to turn his caution into rashness 
 where a large gain may be put against a small stake. An 
 eye for country also, for the trend of the rivers, the slope 
 of the hills, the cover of the woods, and the light green of 
 the bog-land." 
 
 Poor Nigel, who had trusted to his lance and to 
 Pommers to break his path to glory, stood aghast at this 
 list of needs. 
 
 "Alas ! " he cried. " How am I to gain all this ? — I, 
 who could scarce learn to read or write, though the good 
 Father Matthew broke a hazel stick a day across my 
 shoulders ? " 
 
 " You will gain it, fair son, where others have gained 
 it before you. You have that which is the first thing of 
 all, a heart of fire from which other colder hearts may 
 catch a spark. But you must have knowledge also of 
 that which warfare has taught us in olden times. We 
 know, par exerqple, that horsemen alone cannot hope to 
 win against good foot-soldiers. Has it not been tried at 
 
HOW NIGEL CHASED THE RED FERRET 183 
 
 Courtrai, at Stirling, and again under my own eyes at 
 Crecy, where the chivalry of France went down before our 
 bowmen ? " 
 
 Mgel stared at him with a perplexed brow. "Fair 
 sir, my heart grows heavy as I hear you. Do you then 
 say that our chivalry can make no head against archers, 
 billmen, and the like ? " 
 
 " Nay, Nigel, for it has also been very clearly shown 
 that the best foot-soldiers unsupported cannot hold their 
 own against the mailed horsemen." 
 
 " To whom, then, is the victory ? " asked Nigel. 
 
 " To him who can mix his horse and foot, using each 
 to strengthen the other. Apart they are weak. Together 
 they are strong. The archer who can weaken the enemy's 
 line, the horseman who can break it when it is weakened, 
 as was done at Falkirk and Dupplin, there is the secret of 
 our strength. Now, touching this same battle of Falkirk, 
 I pray you for one instant to give it your attention." 
 
 With his whip he began to trace a plan of the Scottish 
 battle upon the dust, and Nigel, with knitted brows, was 
 trying hard to muster his small stock of brains, and to 
 profit by the lecture, when their conversation was inter- 
 rupted by a strange, new arrival. 
 
 It was a very stout little man, wheezy and purple with 
 haste, who scudded down the rampart as if he were blown 
 by the wind, his grizzled hair flying, and his long black 
 gown floating behind him. He was clad in the dress of a 
 respectable citizen, a black jerkin trimmed with sable, a 
 black velvet beaver hat and a white feather. At the 
 sight of Chandos he gave a cry of joy, and quickened his 
 pace, so that when he did at last reach him he could only 
 stand gasping and waving his hands. 
 
 " Give yourself time, good Master "Wintersole, give 
 yourself time ! " said Chandos, in a soothing voice. 
 
 " The papers ! " gasped the little man. "Oh, my Lord 
 Chandos, the papers ! " 
 
i84 SIR NIG£L 
 
 " What of the papers, my worthy sir ? " 
 
 " I swear by our good patron Saint Leonard, it is no 
 fault of mine ! I had locked them in my coffer. But the 
 lock was forced and the coffer rifled." 
 
 A shadow of anger passed over the soldier's keen 
 face. 
 
 " How now, Master Mayor ? Pull your wits together, 
 and do not stand there babbling like a three-year child. 
 Do you say that some one hath taken the papers ? " 
 
 " It is sooth, fair sir ! Thrice I have been mayor of 
 the town, and fifteen years burgess and jurat, but never 
 once has any public matter gone awry through me. Only 
 last month there came an order from Windsor on a Tues- 
 day for a Friday banquet, a thousand soles, four thousand 
 plaice, two thousand mackerel, five hundred crabs, a thou- 
 sand lobsters, five thousand whiting " 
 
 " I doubt not. Master Mayor, that you are an excellent 
 fishmonger; but the matter concerns the papers I gave 
 into your keeping. Where are they ? " 
 
 " Taken, fair sir — gone ! " 
 
 " And who hath dared to take them ? " 
 
 " Alas ! I know not. It was but for as long as you 
 would say an angelus that I left the chamber, and when I 
 came back there was the coffer, broken and empty, upon 
 my table." 
 
 " Do you suspect no one ? " 
 
 " There was a varlet who hath Come with the last few 
 days into my employ. He is not to be found, and I have 
 sent horsemen along both the Udimore Eoad and that to 
 Eye, that they may seize him. By the help of Saint 
 Leonard they can scarce miss him, for one can teU him a 
 bow-shot off by his hair." 
 
 " Is it red ? " asked Chandos, eagerly. " Is it fox-red, 
 and the man a small man pocked with sun spots, and very 
 quick in his movements ? " 
 
 " It is the man himseK." 
 
HOW NIGEL CHASED THE JlED FERRET i8s 
 
 Chandos shook his clinched hand with annoyance, and 
 then set off swiftly down the street. 
 
 " It is Peter the Red Ferret once more ! " said he. " I 
 knew him of old in Trance, where he has done us more 
 harm than a company of men-at-arms. He speaks English 
 as he speaks French, and he is of such daring and cunning 
 that nothing is secret from him. In all France there is 
 no more dangerous man, for though he is a gentleman of 
 blood and coat armour, he takes the part of a spy, because 
 it hath the more danger and therefore the more honour." 
 
 " But, my fair lord," cried the mayor, as he hurried 
 along, keeping pace with the long strides of the soldier, 
 "I knew that you warned me to take all care of the 
 papers ; but surely there was no matter of great import in 
 it ? It was but to say what stores were to be sent after 
 you to Calais ? " 
 
 " Is that not everything ? " cried Chandos, impatiently. 
 " Can you not see, oh foolish Master Wintersole, that the 
 French suspect we are about to make some attempt, and 
 that they have sent Peter the Red Ferret, as they have 
 sent him many times before, to get tidings of whither we 
 are bound? Now that he knows that the stores are for 
 Calais, then the French near Calais will take his warning, 
 and so the king's whole plan came to nothing." 
 
 "Then he will fly by water. We can stop him yet. 
 He has not an hour's start." 
 
 " It may be that a boat awaits him at Rye or Hythe ; 
 but it is more like that he has all ready to depart from 
 here. Ah, see yonder ! I'll warrant that the Red Ferret 
 is on board ! " 
 
 Chandos had halted in front of his inn, and now he 
 pointed down to the outer harbour, which lay two miles 
 off across the green plain. It was connected by a long 
 winding canal with the inner dock at the base of the hUl, 
 upon which the town was buUt. Between the two horns 
 formed by the short curving piers a small schooner was 
 
i86 SIR NIGEL 
 
 running out to sea, dipping and rising before a sharp 
 soutlierly breeze. i 
 
 " It is no Winchelsea boat," said the mayor. " She is 
 longer and broader in the beam than ours." 
 
 "Horses! bring horses!" cried Chandos. "Come, 
 Nigel, let us go further into the matter." 
 
 A busy crowd of varlets, archers, and men-at-arms 
 swarmed round the gateway of the Sign of the Broom 
 Pod, singing, shouting, and jostling in rough good-fellow- 
 ship. The sight of the tall thin figure of Chandos brought 
 order among them, and a few minutes later the horses 
 were ready and saddled. A breakneck ride down a steep 
 declivity, and then a gallop of two miles over the sedgy 
 plain carried them to the outer harbour. A dozen vessels 
 were lying there,' ready to start for Bordeaux or EocheUe, 
 and the quay was thick with sailors, labourers, and towns- 
 men, and heaped with wine-barrels and wool-packs. 
 
 "-Who is warden here ? " asked Chandos, springing from 
 his horse. 
 
 < " Badding ! Where is Cock Badding ? Badding is 
 warden ! " shouted the crowd. 
 
 A moment later a short swarthy man, bull-necked and 
 deep-chested, pushed through the people. He was clad in 
 rough russet wool with a scarlet cloth tied round his black 
 curly head. His sleeves were rolled up to his shoulders, 
 and his brown arms, all stained with grease and tar, were 
 like two thick gnarled branches from an oaken stump. 
 His savage brown face was fierce and frowning, and was 
 split from chin to temple with the long white wale of an 
 ill-healed wound, 
 
 " How now, gentles, will you never wait your turn ? " 
 he rumbled, in a deep angry voice. " Can you not see 
 that we are warping the Bose of Guienne into midstream 
 for the ebb-tide ? Is this a time to break in upon us ? 
 Your goods will go aboard in due season, I promise' you ; 
 so ride back into the town and find such pleasure as you 
 
HOW NIGEL CHASED THE RED FERRET 187 
 
 may, while I and my mates do our work without let or 
 hindrance." 
 
 "It is the gentle Chandos!" cried some one in the 
 crowd. " It is the good Sir John." 
 
 The rough harhour-master changed his gruffness to 
 smiles in an instant. 
 
 "Nay, Sir John, what would you? I pray you to 
 hold me excused if I was short of speech, hut we port- 
 wardens are sore plagued with foolish young lordlings, who 
 get betwixt us and our work and blame us because we do 
 not turn an ebb-tide into a flood, or a south wind into a 
 north. I pray you to tell me how I can serve you." 
 
 "That boat!" said Chandos, pointing to the already 
 distant sail rising and falKng on the waves. "What 
 is it?" 
 
 : Cock Badding shaded his keen eyes with his strong 
 brown hand. 
 
 "She has but just gone out," said he. "She is La 
 Pucellc, a smaU Mdne-sloop from Gascony, home-bound and 
 laden with barrel-staves." 
 
 " I pray you did any man join her at the very last ? " 
 
 " Nay, I know not. I saw no one." 
 
 " But I know," cried a seaman in the crowd. " I was 
 standing at the wharf-side and was nigh knocked into the 
 water by a little red-headed fellow, who breathed as though 
 he had run from the town. Ere I had time to give him a 
 cuff he had jumped aboard, the ropes were cast off, and 
 her nose was seaward." 
 
 In a few words Chandos made all clear to Badding, 
 the crowd pressing eagerly round. 
 
 " Ay, ay • " cried a seaman, " the good Sir John is right. 
 See how she points. It is Picardy and not Gascony that 
 she will fetch this journey in spite of her wine-staves." 
 
 " Then we must lay her aboard ! " cried Cock Badding, 
 " Come, lads, here is my own Marie Rose ready to cast off. 
 Who's for a trip with a fight at the end of it ? *' 
 
i88 SIR NIGEL 
 
 There was a rush for the boat; but the stout little 
 seaman picked his men. " Go back, Jerry ! Your heart 
 is good, but you are overfat for the work. You, Luke, 
 and you, Thomas, and the two Deedes, and William of 
 Sandgate. You will work the boat. And now we need a 
 few men of their hands. Do you come, little sir ? " 
 
 "I pray you, my dear lord, to let me go!" cried 
 Nigel. 
 
 " Yes, Nigel, you can go, and I will bring your gear 
 over to Calais this night." 
 
 " I win join you there, fair sir, and with the help of 
 Saint Paul I will bring this Eed Ferret with me." 
 
 " Aboard, aboard ! Time passes ! " cried Badding, im- 
 patiently, while already his seamen were hauling on the 
 line and raising the mainsail. "Now then, sirrah! who 
 are you?" 
 
 It was Aylward, who had followed Nigel, and was 
 pushing his way aboard. 
 
 " Where my master goes I go also," cried Aylward, 
 " so stand clear, master-shipman, or you may come by a 
 hurt." 
 
 " By Saint Leonard ! archer," said Cock Badding, " had 
 I more time I would give you a lesson ere I leave land. 
 Stand back and give place to others 1 " 
 
 "Nay, stand back and give place to me!" cried 
 Aylward, and seizing Badding round the waist he slung 
 him into the dock. 
 
 There was a cry of anger from the crowd, for Badding 
 was the hero of all the Cinque Ports and had never yet 
 met his match in manhood. The epitaph stUl lingers in. 
 which it was said that he " could never rest until he had 
 foughten his fill." When, therefore, swimming like a duck, 
 he reached a rope and pulled himself hand over hand up 
 to the quay, all stood aghast to see what fell fate would 
 befall this bold stranger. But Badding laughed loudly, 
 dashing the salt water from his eyes and hair. 
 
HOW NIGEL CHASED THE RED FERRET 189 
 
 "You have fairly won your place, archer," said he. 
 " You are the very man for our work. Where is Black 
 Simon of Norwich ? " 
 
 A tall dark young man with a long, stern, lean face 
 came forward. " I am with you, Cock," said he, " and I 
 thank you for my place." 
 
 "You can come, Hugh Baddlesmere, and you, Hal 
 Masters, and you, Dicon of Eye. That is enough. Now 
 off, in God's name, or it will he night ere we can come up 
 with them ! " 
 
 Already the head-saUs and the mainsail had been raised, 
 while a hundred willing hands poled her off from the 
 wharf. Now the wind caught her; heeling over, and 
 quivering with eagerness like an unleashed hound she 
 flew through the opening and out into the channel. She 
 was a famous little schooner, the Marie Bose of Winchelsea, 
 and under her daring owner Cock Badding, half trader 
 and haK pirate, had brought back into port many a rich 
 cargo taken in mid-channel, and paid for in blood rather 
 than money. Small as she was, her great speed and the 
 fierce character of her master had made her a name of 
 terror along the French coast, and many a bulky East- 
 lander or Fleming as he passed the narrow seas had 
 scanned the distant Kentish shore, fearing lest that ill- 
 omened purple sail with a gold Christopher upon it should 
 shoot out suddenly from the dim gray cliffs. Now she 
 was clear of the land, with the wind on her larboard 
 quarter, every inch of canvas set, and her high sharp bows 
 smothered in foam, as she dug through the waves. 
 
 Cock Badding trod the deck with head erect and jaunty 
 bearing, glancing up at the swelling sails and then ahead 
 at the little tilted white triangle, which stood out clear 
 and hard against the bright blue sky. Behind was the 
 lowland of the Camber marshes, with the bluffs of Eye 
 and Winchelsea, and the line of cliffs behind them. On 
 the larboard bow rose the great white walls of Folkestous 
 
190 SIR NIGEL 
 
 and of Dover, and far on the distant sky-line the gray 
 shimmer of those French cliffs for which the fugitives 
 were making. 
 
 " By Saint Paul ! " cried Nigel, looking with eager eyes 
 over the tossing waters, " it seems to me, Master Badding, 
 that already we draw in upon them." 
 
 The master measured the distance with his keen steady 
 gaze, and then looked up at the sinking sun. " We have 
 stiU four hours of daylight," said he ; " but if we do not 
 lay her aboard ere darkness falls she will save herself, for 
 the nights are as black as a wolfs mouth, and if she alter 
 her course I know not how we may follow her." 
 
 " Unless, indeed, you might guess to which port she 
 was bound and reach it before her." 
 
 " Well thought of, little master ! " cried Badding. " If 
 the news be for the Trench outside Calais, then Amble- 
 teuse would be nearest to Saint Omer. But my sweeting 
 sails three paces to that lubber's two, and if the wind 
 holds we shall have time and to spare. How now, archer ? 
 You do not seem so eager as when you made your way 
 aboard this boat by slinging me into the sea." 
 
 Aylward sat on the upturned keel of a skiff which lay 
 upon the deck. He groaned sadly and held his green face 
 between his two hands. 
 
 " I would gladly sling you into the sea once more, 
 master-shipman," said he, " if by so doing I could get off 
 this most accursed vessel of thine. Or if you would wish 
 to have your turn, then I would thank you if you would 
 lend me a hand over the side, for indeed I am but a 
 useless weight upon your deck. Little did I think that 
 Samkin Aylward could be turned into a weakling by an 
 hour of salt water. Alas the day that ever my foot 
 wandered from the good red heather of Crooksbury ! " 
 
 Cock Badding laughed loud and long. " Nay, take it 
 not to heart, archer," he cried ; " for better men than you 
 or I have groaned upon this deck. The prince himself 
 
HOW NIGEL CHASED THE RED FERRET 191 
 
 with ten of his chosen knights crossed with me once, 
 and eleven sadder faces I never saw. Yet within a month 
 they had shown at Crecy that they were no weaklings, as 
 you will do also, I dare swear, when the time comes. 
 Keep that thick head of thine down upon the planks, and 
 all will be well anon. But we raise her, we raise her with 
 every blast of the wind ! " 
 
 It was indeed evident, even to the inexperienced eyes 
 of Nigel, that the Marie Bose was closing in swiftly upon 
 the stranger. She was a heavy, bluff-bowed, broad-sterned 
 vessel which laboured clumsily through the seas. The 
 swift, fierce little Winclielsea boat swooping and hissing 
 through the waters behind her was like some keen hawk 
 whizzing down wind at the back of a flapping hea^'y-bodied 
 duck. Half an hour before Za Fucelle had been a distant 
 patch of canvas. Now they could see the black hull, and 
 soon the cut of her sails and the lines of her bulwarks. 
 There were at least a dozen men upon her deck, and the 
 twinkle of weapons from among them showed that they 
 were preparing to resist. Cock Badding began to muster 
 his own forces. 
 
 He had a crew of seven rough, hardy mariners, who 
 had been at his back in many a skirmish. They were 
 armed with short swords, but Cock Badding carried a 
 weapon peculiar to himself, a twenty-pound blacksmith's 
 hammer, the memory of which, as "Badding's cracker," 
 still lingers in the Cinque Ports. Then there were the 
 eager Nigel, the melancholy Aylward, Black Simon, who 
 was a tried swordsman, and three archers, Baddlesmere, 
 Masters, and Dicon of Eye, all veterans of the French 
 War. The numbers in the two vessels might be about 
 equal ; but Badliing as he glanced at the bold harsh faces 
 which looked to him for orders had little fear for the 
 result. 
 
 Glancing round, however, he saw something which 
 was more dangerous to his plans than the resistance of 
 
192 SIR NIGEL 
 
 the enemy. The wind, which had become more fitful and 
 feebler, now fell suddenly away, until the sails hung limp 
 and straight above them. A belt of calm lay along the 
 horizon, and the waves around had smoothed down into a 
 long oily swell on which the two little vessels rose and 
 feU. The great boom of the Marie Rose rattled and jarred 
 with every lurch, and the high thin prow pointed skyward 
 one instant and seaward the next in a way that drew 
 fresh groans from the unhappy Aylward. In vain Cock 
 Badding pulled on his sheets and tried hard to husband 
 every little wandering gust which ruffled for an instant 
 the sleek rollers. The French master was as adroit a 
 sailor, and his boom swung round also as each breath of 
 wind came up from astern. 
 
 At last even these fitful puffs died finally away, and a 
 cloudless sky overhung a glassy sea. The sun was almost 
 upon the horizon behind Dungeness Point, and the whole 
 western heaven was bright with the glory of the sunset, 
 which blended sea and sky in one blaze of ruddy light, 
 Like rollers of molten gold, the long swell heaved up 
 Channel from the great ocean beyond. In the midst of 
 the immense beauty and peace of nature the two little 
 dark specks with the white sail and the purple rose and 
 fell, so small upon the vast shining bosom of the waters, 
 and yet so charged with all the unrest and the passion of 
 life. 
 
 The experienced eye of the seaman told him that it 
 was hopeless to expect a breeze before nightfall. He 
 looked across at the Frenchman, which lay less than a 
 quarter of a mile ahead, and shook his gnarled fist at the 
 line of heads which could be seen looking back over her 
 stern. One of them waved a white kerchief in derision, 
 and Cock Badding swore a bitter oath at the sight. 
 
 " By Saint Leonard of Winchelsea," he cried, " I will 
 rub my side up against her yet ! Out with the skiff, lads, 
 and two of you to the oars, Make fast the line to th? 
 
HOW NIGEL CHASED THE RED FERRET 193 
 
 mast, Will. Do you go in the boat, Hugh, and I'll make 
 the second. Now, if we bend our backs to it we may have 
 them yet ere night cover them." 
 
 The little skiff was swiftly lowered over the side and 
 the slack end of the cable fastened to the after thwart. 
 Cock Badding and his comrades pulled as if they would 
 snap their oars, and the little vessel began slowly to lurch 
 forward over the rollers. But the next moment a larger 
 skiff had splashed over the side of the Frenchman, and no 
 less than four seamen were hard at work under her bows. 
 If the Marie Rose advanced a yard the Frenchman was 
 going two. Again Cock Badding raved and shook his fist. 
 He clambered aboard, his face wet with sweat and dark 
 with anger. 
 
 " Curse them ! they have had the best of us ! " he cried. 
 " I can do no more. Sir John has lost his papers, for 
 indeed now that night is at hand I can see no way in 
 which we can gain them." 
 
 Nigel had leaned against the bulwark during these 
 events, watching with keen attention the doings of the 
 sailors, and praying alternately to Saint Paul, Saint 
 George, and Saint Thomas for a slant of wind which 
 would put them alongside their enemy. He was silent ; 
 but his hot heart was simmering within him. His spirit 
 had risen even above the discomfort of the sea, and his 
 mind was too absorbed in his mission to have a thought 
 for that which had laid Aylward flat upon the deck. He 
 had never doubted that Cock Badding in one way or 
 another would accomplish his end, but when he heard his 
 speech of despair he bounded off the bulwark and stood 
 before the seaman with his face flushed and all his soul 
 afire. 
 
 " By Saint Paul ! master-shipman," he cried, " we 
 should never hold up our heads in honour if we did not 
 go further into the matter ! Let us do some small deed 
 this night upon the water, or let us never see land again, 
 
 
 
194 SIR NIGEL 
 
 for indeed we could not wish fairer prospect of winning 
 honourable advancement." 
 
 " With your leave, little master, you speak like a 
 fool," said the gruff seaman. " You and all your kind are 
 as children when once the blue water is beneath you. 
 Can you not see that there is no wind, and that the 
 lYenchman can warp her as swiftly as we ? What then 
 would you do ? " 
 
 Nigel pointed to the boat which towed astern. " Let 
 us venture forth in her," said he, " and let us take this 
 ship or die worshipful in the attempt." 
 
 His bold and fiery words found their echo in the brave 
 rough hearts around him. There was a deep-chested shout 
 from both archers and seamen. Even Aylward sat up, 
 with a wan smile upon his green face. 
 
 But Cock Badding shook his head. ''I have never 
 met the man who could lead where I would not follow," 
 said he ; " but by Saint Leonard ! this is a mad business, 
 and I should be a fool if I were to risk my men and my 
 ship. Bethink you, little master, that the skiff can hold 
 only five, though you load her to the water's edge. If 
 there is a man yonder, there are fourteen, and you have to 
 climb their side from the boat. What chance would you 
 have ? Your boat stove and you in the water — there is 
 the end of it. No man of mine goes on such a fool's 
 errand, and so I swear ! " 
 
 " Then, Master Badding, I must crave the loan of your 
 skiff, for ^by Saint Paul ! the good Lord Chandos' papers 
 are not to be so lightly lost. If no one else wiU come, 
 then I wHl go alone." 
 
 The shipman smiled at the words ; but the smile died 
 away from his lips when Nigel, with features set like ivory 
 and eyes as hard as steel, pulled on the rope so as to bring 
 the skiff under the counter. It was very clear that he 
 would do even as he said. At the same time Aylward 
 raised his bulky form from the deck, leaned for a moment 
 
HOW NIGEL CHASED THE RED FERRET 195 
 
 against the bulwarks; and then tottered aft to his master's 
 side. 
 
 " Here is one that -will go with you," said he, " or he 
 would never dare show his face to the girls of Tilford 
 again. Come, archers, let us leave these salt herrings in 
 their pickle tub and try our luck out on the water." 
 
 The three archers at once ranged themselves on the 
 same side as their comrade. They were bronzed, bearded 
 men, short in stature, as were most Englishmen of that 
 day, but hardy, strong, and skilled with their weapons. 
 Each drew his string from its waterproof case and bent 
 the huge arc of his war-bow as he fitted it into the 
 nocks. 
 
 " Now, master, we are at your back," said they, as they 
 pulled and tightened their sword-belts. 
 
 But already Cock Badding had been carried away by 
 the hot lust of battle, and had thrown aside every fear and 
 doubt which had clouded him. To see a fight and not to 
 be in it was more than he could bear. 
 
 "Nay, have it your own way ! " he cried, " and may 
 Saint Leonard help us, for a madder venture I have never 
 seen ! And yet it may be worth the trial. But if it be 
 done let me have the handling of it, little master, for you 
 know no more of a boat than I do of a war-horse. The 
 skiff can bear five and not a man more. Now, who will 
 come ? " 
 
 They had all caught fire, and there was not one who 
 would be left out. 
 
 Badding picked up his hammer, " I will come myself," 
 said he, " and you also, little master, since it is your hob 
 head that has planned it. Then there is Black Simon, the 
 best sword of the Cinque Ports. Two archers can pull on 
 the oars, and it may be that they can pick off two or three 
 of these Frenchmen before we close with them. Hugh 
 Baddlesmere, and you, Dicon of Eye — into the boat with 
 you!" 
 
196 SIR NIGEL 
 
 " What ? " cried Aylward. " Am I to be left behind ? 
 I, who am the squire's own man ? Ill fare the bowman 
 who comes betwixt me and yonder boat ! " 
 
 " Nay, Aylward," said his master, " I order that you 
 stay, for indeed you are a sick man," 
 
 "But now that the waves have sunk I am myself 
 again. Nay, fair sir, I pray that you will not leave me 
 behind." 
 
 " You must needs take the space of a better man ; for 
 what do you know of the handling of a boat," said Badding, 
 shortly. " No more fool's talk, I pray you, for the night 
 will soon fall. Stand aside ! " 
 
 Aylward looked hard at the French boat. "I could 
 swim ten times up and down Frensham pond," said he, 
 " and it will be strange if 1 cannot go as far as that. By 
 these finger-bones, Samkin Aylward may be there as soon 
 as you ! " 
 
 The little boat with its five occupants pushed off from 
 the side of the schooner, and dipping and rising, made its 
 slow way toward the Frenchman. Badding and one archer 
 had single oars, the second archer was in the prow, while 
 Black Simon and Nigel huddled into the stem with the 
 water lapping and hissing at their very elbows. A shout 
 of defiance rose from the Frenchman, and they stood in a 
 line along the side of their vessel shaking their fists and 
 waving their weapons. Already the sun was level with 
 Dungeness, and the gray of evening was blurring sky and 
 water into one dim haze. A great silence hung over the 
 broad expanse of nature, and no sound broke it save the 
 dip and splash of the oars and the slow deep surge of 
 the boat upon the swell. Behind them their comi-ades 
 of the Marie Rose stood motionless and silent, watching 
 their progress with eager eyes. 
 
 They were near enough now to have a good look at the 
 Frenchmen. One was a big swarthy man with a long 
 black beard. He had a red cap and an axe over his 
 
HOW NIGEL CHASED THE RED FERRET 197 
 
 shoulder. There were ten other hardy-looking fellows, 
 all of them well armed, and there were three who seemed 
 to be boys. 
 
 "Shall we try a shaft upon them?" asked Hugh 
 Baddlesmere. " They are well within our bowshot." 
 
 " Only one of you can shoot at a time, for you have no 
 footing," said Badding. " With one foot in the prow and 
 one over the thwart you will get your stance. Do what 
 you may, and then we will close in upon them." 
 
 The archer balanced himself in the rolling boat with 
 the deftness of a man who has been trained upon the sea, 
 for he was born and bred in the Cinque Ports. Carefully 
 he nocked his arrow, strongly he drew it, steadily he loosed 
 it, but the boat swooped at the instant, and it buried itself 
 in the waves. The second passed over the little ship, 
 and the third stuck in her black side. Then in quick 
 succession — so quick that two shafts were often in the air 
 at the same instant — ^he discharged a dozen arrows, most 
 of which just cleared the bulwarks and dropped upon the 
 deck. There was a cry on the Frenchman, and the heads 
 vanished from the side. 
 
 " Enough ! " cried Badding. •' One is down, and it 
 may be two. Close in, close in, in God's name, before 
 they rally ! " 
 
 He and the other bent to their oars ; but at the same 
 instant there was a sharp zip in the air and a hard clear 
 sound like a stone striking a wall. Baddlesmere clapped 
 his hand to his head, groaned and fell forward out of 
 the boat, leaving a swirl of blood upon the surface. A 
 moment later the same fierce hiss ended in a loud 
 wooden crash, and a short, thick crossbow-bolt was buried 
 deep in the boat. 
 
 " Close in, close in ! " roared Badding, tugging at his 
 oar. " Saint George for England ! Saint Leonard for 
 Winchelsea ! Close in ! " 
 
 But again that fatal crossbow twanged. Dicon of Eye 
 
igS SIR NIGEL 
 
 fell back with a shaft through his shoulder. " God help 
 me, I can no more ! " said he. 
 
 Badding seized the oar from his hand ; but it was only 
 to sweep the boat's head round and puU her back to the 
 Marie Rose. The attack had failed. 
 
 " What now, master-shipman ? " cried Nigel. " What 
 has befallen to stop us ? Surely the matter does not end 
 here?" 
 
 " Two down out of five," said Badding, " and twelve at 
 the least against us. The odds are too long, little master. 
 Let us at least go back, fill up once more, and raise a man- 
 telet against the bolts, for they have an arbalest which 
 shoots both straight and hard. But what we do we must 
 do quickly, for the darkness falls apace." 
 
 Their repulse had been hailed by wild yells of delight 
 from the Frenchmen, who danced with joy and waved 
 their weapons madly over their heads. But before their 
 rejoicings had finished they saw the little boat creeping 
 out once more from the shadow of the Marie Rose, a great 
 wooden screen in her bows to protect her from the arrows. 
 Without a pause she came straight and fast for her enemy. 
 The wounded archer had been put on board, and Aylward 
 would have had his place had Nigel been able to see him 
 upon the deck. The third archer, Hal Masters, had sprung 
 in, and one of the seamen, Wat Finnis of Hythe. With 
 their hearts hardened to conquer or to die, the five ran 
 alongside the Frenchman and sprang upon her deck. At 
 the same instant a great iron weight crashed through the 
 bottom of their skiff, and their feet had hardly left her 
 before she was gone. There was no hope and no escape 
 save victory. 
 
 The crossbowman stood under the mast, his terrible 
 weapon at his shoulder, the steel string stretched taut, the 
 heavy bolt shining upon the nut. One life at least he 
 would claim out of this little band. Just for one instant 
 too long did he dwell upon Ms aim, shifting from the 
 
HOW NIGEL CHASED THE RED FERRET 199 
 
 seaman to Cock Badding, whose formidable appearance 
 showed him to be the better prize. In that second of 
 time Hal Master's string twanged and his long arrow 
 sped through the arbalester's throat. He dropped on the 
 deck, with blood pouring from his mouth. 
 
 A moment later Nigel's sword and Badding's hammer 
 had each claimed a victim and driven back the rush of 
 assailants. The five were safe upon the deck, but it was 
 hard for them to keep a footing there. The French sea- 
 men, Bretons and Normans, were stout, powerful fellows, 
 armed with axes and swords, fierce fighters and brave men. 
 They swarmed round the little band, attacking them 
 from all sides. Black Simon feUed the black-bearded 
 French captain, and at the same instant was cut over 
 the head and lay with his scalp open upon the deck. 
 The seaman Wat of Hythe was killed by a crashing blow 
 from an axe. Nigel was struck down, but was up again 
 like a flash, and drove his sword through the man who 
 had felled him. 
 
 But Badding, Masters the archer, and he had been 
 hustled back to the bulwark and were barely holding theic 
 own from minute to minute against the fierce crowd who 
 assailed them, when an arrow coming apparently from the 
 sea struck the foremost Frenchman to the heart. A 
 moment later a boat dashed up alongside and four more 
 men from the Marie Base scrambled on to the blood- 
 stained deck. With one fierce rush the remaining French- 
 men were struck down or were seized by their assailants. 
 Nine prostrate men upon the deck showed how fierce had 
 been the attack, how desperate the resistance. 
 
 Badding leaned panting upon his blood-clotted hammer. 
 " By Saint Leonard ! " he cried. " I thought that this little 
 master had been the death of us all. God wot you were 
 but just in time, and how you came I know not. This 
 archer has had a hand in it, by the look of him." 
 
 Aylward, still pale from his sea-sickness and dripping 
 
200 SIR NIGEL 
 
 from head to foot with water, had been the first man in 
 the rescue party. 
 
 Nigel looked at him in amazement. " I sought you 
 aboard the ship, Aylward, but I could not lay eyes on 
 you," said he. 
 
 " It was because I was in the water, fair sir, and by 
 my hilt ! it suits my stomach better than being on it," he 
 answered. " When you first set forth I swam behind you, 
 for I saw that the Frenchman's boat hung by a rope, and 
 I thought that while you kept him in play I might gain 
 it. I had reached it when you were driven back, so I hid 
 behind it in the water and said my prayers as I have not 
 said them for many a day. Then you came again, and no 
 one had an eye for me, so I clambered into it, cut the rope, 
 took the oars which I found there, and brought her back 
 for more men." 
 
 "By Saint Paul! you have acted very wisely and 
 well," said Nigel, " and I think that of all of us it is you 
 who have won most honour this day. But of all these 
 men dead and alive I see none who resembles that Bed 
 Ferret whom my Lord Chandos has described and who has 
 worked such despite upon us in the past. It would indeed 
 be an evil chance if he has, in spite of all our pains, made 
 his way to France in some other boat." 
 
 " That we shall soon find out," said Badding. " Come 
 with me, and we will search the ship from truck to keel 
 ere he escapes us." 
 
 There was a scuttle at the base of the mast which led 
 down into the body of the vessel, and the Englishmen were 
 approaching this when a strange sight brought them to a 
 stand. A round brazen head had appeared in the square 
 dark opening. An instant afterward a pair of shining 
 shoulders followed. Then slowly the whole figure of a 
 man in complete plate-armour emerged on the deck. In 
 his gauntleted hand he carried a heavy steel mace. With 
 this uplifted he moved towards his enemies, silent save 
 
THEN SLOWLY THE WHOLE FIGURE OF A MAN IN COJirLETE PLATE-AEMOUR 
 EMERGED ON THE DECK." 
 
HOW NIGEL CHASED THE RED FERRET 2ol 
 
 for the ponderous clank of his footfall. It was an in- 
 human, machine-like figure, menacing and terrible, devoid 
 of all expression, slow-moving, inexorable, and awesome. 
 
 A sudden wave of terror passed over the English 
 seamen. One of them tried to pass and get behind the 
 brazen man, but he was pinned against the side by a quick 
 movement and his brains dashed out by a smashing blow 
 from the heavy mace. Wild panic seized the others, and 
 they rushed back to the boat. Aylwai-d strung an arrow, 
 but his bowstring was damp and the shaft rang loudly 
 upon the shining breastplate and glanced off into the sea. 
 Masters struck the brazen head with a sword, but the 
 blade snapped without injuring the helmet, and an instant 
 later the bowman was stretched senseless on the deck. 
 The seamen shrank from this terrible silent creature and 
 huddled in the stern, all the fight gone out of them. 
 
 Again he raised his mace and was advancing on the 
 helpless crowd where the brave were encumbered and 
 hampered by the weaklings, when Nigel shook himself 
 clear and bounded forward into the open, his sword in his 
 hand and a smile of welcome upon his lips. 
 
 The sun had set, and one long pink gash across the 
 western Channel was closing swiftly into the dull grays of 
 early night. Above, a few stars began to faintly twinkle ; 
 yet the twilight was still bright enough for an observer to 
 see every detail of the scene ; the Marie Base, dipping and 
 rising on the long rollers astern ; the broad French boat 
 with its white deck blotched with blood and littered with 
 bodies; the group of men in the stern, some trying to 
 advance and some seeking to escape — aU a confused, 
 disorderly, straggling rabble. 
 
 Then between them and the mast the two figures : the 
 armed shining man of metal, with hand upraised, watchful, 
 silent, motionless, and Nigel, bareheaded and crouching, 
 with quick foot, eager eyes, and fearless, happy face, mov- 
 ing this way and that, in and out, his sword flashing like 
 
202 SIR NIGEL 
 
 a gleam of light as he sought at all points for some opening 
 in the brazen shell before him. 
 
 It was clear to the man in armour that if he could but 
 pen his antagonist in a corner he would beat him down 
 without faU. But it was not to be done. The unhampered 
 man had the advantage of speed. With a few quick steps 
 he could always glide to either side and escape the clumsy 
 rush. Aylward and Badding had sprung out to Mgel's 
 assistance ; but he shouted to them to stand back, with 
 such authority and anger in his voice that their weapons 
 dropped to their sides. With staring eyes and set features 
 they stood watching that unequal fight. 
 
 Once it seemed that all was over with the squire, for 
 in springing back from his enemy he tripped over one of 
 the bodies which strewed the deck and fell flat upon his 
 back, but with a swift wriggle he escaped the heavy blow 
 which thundered down upon him, and springing to his feet 
 he bit deeply into the Frenchman's helmet with a sweeping 
 cut in return. Again the mace fell, and this time Nigel 
 had not quite cleared himself. His sword was beaten 
 down and the blow fell partly upon his left shoulder. He 
 staggered, and once more the iron club whirled upward to 
 dash him to the ground. 
 
 Quick as a flash it passed through his mind that he 
 coTild not leap beyond its reach. But he might get within 
 it. In an instant he had dropped his sword, and springing 
 in he had seized the brazen man round the waist. The 
 mace was shortened and the handle jobbed down once 
 upon the bare flaxen head. Then, with a sonorous dang, 
 and a yell of delight from the spectators, Nigel, with one 
 mighty wrench, tore his enemy from the deck and hurled 
 him down upon his back. His own head was whirling 
 and he felt that his senses were slipping away, but already 
 his hunting-knife was out and pointing through the slit in 
 the brazen helmet. 
 
 " Give yourself up, fair sir ! " said he. 
 
HOW NIGEL CHASED THE RED FERRET 203 
 
 " Never to fishermen and to archers ! I am a gentleman 
 of coat-armour. Kill me ! " 
 
 " I also am a gentleman of coat-armour. I promise 
 you quarter." 
 
 " Then, sir, I surrender myself to you." 
 
 The dagger tinkled down upon the deck. Seamen and 
 archers ran forward, to find Nigel half senseless upon his 
 face. They drew him off, and a few deft blows struck off 
 the helmet of his enemy. A head, sharp-featured, freckled 
 and foxy-red, disclosed itself beneath it. Nigel raised 
 himself on his elbow for an instant. 
 
 " You are the Eed Ferret ? " said he. 
 
 " So my enemies call me," said the Frenchman, with 
 a smile. " I rejoice, sir, that I have fallen to so valiant 
 and honourable a gentleman." 
 
 " I thank you, fair sir," said Nigel, feebly. " I also 
 rejoice that I have encountered so debonair a person, and I 
 shall ever bear in mind the pleasure which I have had 
 from our meeting." 
 
 So saying ho laid his bleeding head upon his enemy's 
 brazen front and sank into a dead faint. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 HOW THE EED FERRET CAME TO COSFOED 
 
 The old chronicler in his " Gestes du Sieur Nigel " has 
 bewailed his broken narrative, which rose from the fact 
 that out of thirty-one years of warfare no less than seven 
 were spent by his hero at one time or another in the 
 recovery from his wounds or from those illnesses which 
 arose from privation and fatigue. Here at the very thres- 
 hold of his career, on the eve of a great enterprise, this 
 very fate befell him. 
 
 Stretched upon a couch in a low-roofed and ill-furnished 
 chamber, which looks down from under the machicolated 
 corner turret upon the inner court of the Castle of Calais, 
 he lay half-unconscious and impotent, while great deeds 
 were doing under his window. Wounded in three places, 
 and with his head splintered by the sharp pommel of the 
 Ferret's mace, he hovered between life and death, his 
 shattered body drawing him downward, his youthful spirit 
 plucking him up. 
 
 As in some strange dream he was aware of that deed 
 of arms within the courtyard below. Dimly it came back 
 to his memory afterwards, the sudden startled shout, the 
 crash of metal, the slamming of great gates, the roar of 
 many voices, the clang, clang, clang, as of fifty lusty 
 smiths upon their anvils, and then at last the dwindling 
 of the hubbub, the low groans and sudden shrill cries 
 to the saints, the measured murmur of many voices, the 
 heavy clanking of armoured feet. 
 
 Sometime in that fell struggle he must have drawn his 
 204 
 
t> 
 
 HOW RED FERRET CAME TO COSFORD 20? 
 
 weakened body as far as the narrow window, and hanging 
 to the iron bars have looked down on the wild scene 
 beneath him. In the red glare of torches held from 
 windows and from roof he saw the rush and swirl of men 
 below, the ruddy light showing back from glowing brass 
 and gleaming steel. As a wild vision it came to him 
 afterwards, the beauty and the splendour, the flying 
 lambrequins, the jeweled crests, the blazonry and richness 
 of surcoat and of shield, where sable and gules, argent and 
 vair, in every pattern of saltire, bend or chevron, glowed 
 beneath him like a drift of many-coloured blossoms, tossing, 
 sinking, stooping into shadow, springing into light. There 
 glared the blood-red gules of Chandos, and he saw the tall 
 figure of his master, a thunderbolt of war, raging in the 
 van. There too were the three black chevrons on the 
 golden shield which marked the noble Manny. That 
 strong swordsman must surely be the royal Edward 
 himself, since only he and the black-armoured swift-footed 
 youth at his side were marked by no symbol of heraldry. 
 
 " Manny ! Manny ! George for England ! " rose the 
 deep-throated bay, and ever the gallant counter-cry : " A 
 Chargny ! A Chargny ! Saint Denis for France ! " thun- 
 dered amid the clash and thudding of the battle. 
 
 Such was the vague whirling memory still lingering in 
 Nigel's mind when at last the mists cleared away from it 
 and he found himself weak but clear on the low couch in 
 the corner tuiTct. Beside him, crushing lavender between 
 his rough fingers and strewing it over floor and sheets, 
 was Aylward the archer. His longbow leaned at the foot 
 of the bed, and his steel cap was balanced on the top of it, 
 while he himself, sitting in his shirt-sleeves, fanned off 
 the flies and scattered the fragrant herbs over his helpless 
 master. 
 
 " By my hilt ! " he cried, with a sudden shout, every 
 tooth in his head gleaming with joy, " I thank the Virgin 
 a.nd all the saints for this blessed sight ! I had not dared 
 
2o6 SIR NIGEL 
 
 to go back to Tilford had I lost you. Three weeks have 
 you Iain there and babbled like a babe, but now I see in 
 your eyes that you are your own man again." 
 
 "I have indeed had some small hurt," said Nigel, 
 feebly ; " but it is shame and sorrow that I should lie 
 here if there is work for my hands. Whither go you, 
 archer ? " 
 
 " To tell the good Sir John that you are mending." 
 
 " Nay, bide with me a little longer, Aylward. I can 
 call to mind all that has passed. There was a bickering 
 of small boats, was there not, and I chanced upon a most 
 worthy person and exchanged handstrokes with him ? 
 He was my prisoner, was he not ? " 
 
 " He was, fair sir." 
 
 " And where is he now ? " 
 
 " Below in the castle." 
 
 A smile stole over Nigel's pale face. " I know what 
 I will do with him," said he. 
 
 " I pray you to rest, fair sir," said Aylward, anxiously. 
 " The king's own leech saw you this morning, and he said 
 that if the bandage was torn from your head you would 
 surely die." 
 
 "Nay, good archer, I will not move. But tell me 
 what befell upon the boat ? " 
 
 " There is little to tell, fair sir. Had this Ferret not 
 been his own squire and taken so long a time to don his 
 harness it is likely that they would have had the better of 
 us. He did not reach the battle tiU his comrades were 
 on their backs. Him we took to the Marie, Bose, because 
 he was your man. The others were of no worth, so we 
 threw them into the sea." 
 
 " The quick and the dead ? " 
 
 " Every man of them." 
 
 " It was an evil deed." 
 
 Aylward shrugged his shoulders. "I tried to save 
 one boy," said he ; " but Cock Badding would not have it, 
 
HOW RED FERRET CAME TO COSFORD 207 
 
 and he had Black Simon and the others at his hack. ' It 
 is the custom of the Narrow Seas/ said they : ' To-day for 
 them ; to-morrow for us.' Then they tore him from his 
 hold and cast him screaming over the side. By my hilt ! 
 I have no love for the sea and its customs, so I care not 
 if I never set foot on it again when it has once borne me 
 back to England." 
 
 " If ay, there are great happenings upon the sea, and 
 many worthy people to be found upon ships," said Nigel. 
 " In all parts, if one goes far enough upon the water, one 
 would find those whom it would be joy to meet. If one 
 crosses over the Narrow Sea, as we have done, we come on 
 the French who are so needful to us ; for how else would 
 we win worship ? Or if you go south, then in time one 
 may hope to come to the land of the unbelievers, where 
 there is fine skirmishing and much honour for him who 
 will venture his person. Bethink you, archer, how fair a 
 life it must be when one can ride forth in search of 
 advancement with some hope of finding many debonair 
 cavaliers upon the same quest, and then if one be over- 
 borne one has died for the faith, and the gates of heaven 
 are open before you. So also the sea to the north is a 
 help to him who seeks honour, for it leads to the country 
 of the Eastlanders and to those parts where the heathen 
 still dwell who turn their faces from the blessed Gospel. 
 There also a man might find some small deeds to do, and 
 by Saint Paul ! Aylward, if the French hold the truce and 
 the good Sir John permits us, I would fain go down into 
 those parts. The sea is a good friend to the cavalier, for 
 it takes him where he may fulfil his vows." 
 
 Aylward shook his head, for his memories were too 
 recent ; but he said nothing, because at this instant the 
 door opened and Chandos entered. With joy in his face 
 he stepped forward to the couch and took Nigel's hand in 
 his. Then he whispered a word in Aylward's ear, who 
 hurried from the room. 
 
2o8 SIR NIGEL 
 
 " Pardicu ! this is a good sight," said the knight. " I 
 trust that you will soon be on your feet again." 
 
 " I crave your pardon, my honoured lord, that I have 
 been absent from your side," said Nigel. 
 
 " In truth my heart was sore for you, Nigel ; for you 
 have missed such a night as comes seldom in any man's 
 life. All went even as we had planned. The postern 
 gate was opened, and a party made their way in ; but we 
 awaited them, and all were taken or slain. But the 
 greater part of the French bad remained without upon the 
 plain of NieuUet, so we took horse and went out against 
 them. When we drew near them they were surprised, 
 but they made good cheer among themselves, calling out 
 to each other : ' If we fly we lose all. It is better to fight 
 on, in the hopes that the day may be ours.' This was 
 heard by our people in the van, who cried out to them : 
 ' By Saint George ! you speak truth. Evil befall him 
 who thinks of flying ! ' So they held their ground like 
 worthy people for the space of an hour, and there were 
 many there whom it is always good to meet: Sir Geoffrey 
 himself, and Sir Pepin de Werre, with Sir John de Landas, 
 old Ballieul of the Yellow Tooth, and his brother Hector 
 the Leopard. But above all Sir Eustace de Eibeaumont 
 was at great pains to meet us worthily, and he was at 
 handstrokes with the king for a long time. Then, when 
 we had slain or taken them, all the prisoners were brought 
 to a feast which was ready for them, and the knights of 
 England waited upon them at the table and made good 
 cheer with them. And all this, Nigel, we owe to 
 you." 
 
 The squire flushed with pleasure at the words. " Nay, 
 most honoured lord, it was but a small thing which I have 
 been able to do. But I thank God and our Lady that I 
 have done some service, since it has pleased you to take 
 
 me with you to the wars. Should it chance " 
 
 But the words were cut short upon Nigel's lips, and he 
 
HOW RED FERRET CAME TO COSFORD 209 
 
 lay back with amazed eyes staring from his pallid face. 
 The door of his little chamber had opened, and who was 
 this, the tall, stately man with the noble presence, the high 
 forehead, the long, handsome face, the dark, brooding eyes 
 — who but the noble Edward of England ? 
 
 " Ha, my little cock of Tilford Bridge, I still bear you 
 in mind," said he. " Eight glad I was to hear that you 
 had found your wits again, and I trust that I have not 
 helped to make you take leave of them once more." 
 
 Nigel's stare of astonishment had brought a smile to 
 the king's lips. Now the squire stammered forth some 
 halting words of gratitude at the honour done to him. 
 
 " Nay, not a word," said the king. " But in sooth it 
 is a joy to my heart to see the son of my old comrade 
 Eustace Loring carrying himself so bravely. Had this 
 boat got before us with news of our comiug, then all our 
 labour had been in vain, and no Frenchman ventured to 
 Calais that night. But, above all, I thank you for that 
 you have delivered into my hands one whom I had vowed 
 to punish in that he has caused us more scathe by fouler 
 means than any living man. Twice have I sworn that 
 Peter the Eed Ferret shall hang, for all Ms noble blood 
 and coat-armour, if ever he should fall into my hands. Now 
 at last his time has come ; but I would not put him to 
 death until you, who had taken him, could be there to see 
 it done. Nay, thank me not, for I could do no less, seeing 
 that it is to you that I owe him." 
 
 But it was not thanks which Nigel was trying to 
 utter. It was hard to frame his words, and yet they must 
 be said. 
 
 " Sire," he murmured, " it ill becomes me to cross your 
 royal will " 
 
 The dark Plantagenet wrath gathered upon the king's 
 high brow and gloomed in his fierce, deep-set eyes. 
 
 " By God's dignity ! no man has ever crossed it yet and 
 lived unscathed, How now, young sir, what mean such 
 
 P 
 
210 SIR NIGEL 
 
 words, to which we are little wont ? Have a care, for this 
 is no light thing which you venture." 
 
 " Sire," said Nigel, " in all matters in which I am a free 
 man I am ever your faithful liege, but some things there 
 are which may not be done." 
 
 " How ? " cried the king. " In spite of my will ? " 
 
 " In spite of your will, sire," said Nigel, sitting up on 
 his couch, with white face and blazing eyes. 
 
 " By the Virgin ! " the angry king thundered, " we are 
 come to a pretty pass ! You have been held too long at 
 home, young man. The overstabled horse wUl kick. The 
 unweathered hawk wUl fly at check. See to it, Master 
 ~ Chandos ! He is thine to break, and I hold you to it that 
 you break him. And what is it that Edward of England 
 " may not do, Master Loring ? " 
 
 Nigel faced the king with a face as grim as his own. 
 " You may not put to death the Eed Eerret." 
 
 " Parclieu ! And why ? " 
 
 " Because he is not thine to slay, sire. Because he is 
 mine. Because I promised him his hfe, and it is not for 
 you, king though you be, to constrain a man of gentle blood 
 to break his plighted word and lose his honour." 
 
 Chandos laid his soothing hand upon his squire's 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Excuse him, sire ; he is weak from his wounds," said 
 he. " Perhaps we have stayed over-long, for the leech has 
 ordered repose." 
 
 But the angry king was not easily to be appeased. " I 
 am not wont tq be so browbeat," said he, hotly. " This is 
 your squire, Master John. How comes it that you can 
 stand there and listen to his pert talk, and say no word to 
 chide him ? Is this how you guide your household ? Have 
 you not taught him that every promise given is subject to 
 the king's consent, and that with him only lie the springs 
 of life and death ? If he is sick, you, at least, are hale. 
 Why stand you there in silence ? " 
 
HOW RED FERRET CAME TO COSFORD 211 
 
 " My liege," said Chandos, gravely, " I have served you 
 for over a score of years, and have shed my blood through 
 as many wounds in your cause, so that you should not take 
 my words amiss. But, indeed, I shoxild feel myself to be no 
 true man if I did not tell you that my Squire Nigel, though 
 perchance he has spoken more bluntly than becomes him, 
 is none the less right in this matter, and that you are wrong. 
 For bethink you, sire " 
 
 " Enough ! " cried the king, more furious than ever. 
 " Like master, like man, and I might have known why it 
 is that this saucy squire dares to bandy words with his 
 sovereign lord. He does but give out what he hath taken 
 in. John, John, you grow overbold. But this I tell you, 
 and you also, young man, that as God is my help, ere the 
 sun has set this night the Bed Ferret will hang as a warning 
 to all spies and traitors from the highest tower of Calais, 
 that every ship upon the Narrow Seas, and every man for 
 ten miles round may see him as he swings and know how 
 heavy is the hand of the English king. Do you bear it in 
 mind, lest you also may feel its weight ! " With a glare 
 like an angry lion he walked from the room, and the iron- 
 clamped door clanged loudly behind him. 
 
 Chandos and Nigel looked ruefully at each other. Then 
 the knight patted his squire upon his bandaged head. 
 
 " You have carried yourself right well, Nigel. I could 
 not wish for better. Fear not. All will be well." 
 
 " My fair and honoured lord," cried Nigel, "I am heavy 
 at heart, for indeed I could do no other, and yet I have 
 brought trouble upon you." 
 
 "Nay, the clouds will soon pass. If he does indeed 
 slay this Frenchman, you have done aU that lay within 
 your power, and your mind may rest easy." 
 
 " I pray that it will rest easy in Paradise," said Nigel ; 
 " for at the hour that I hear that I am dishonoured and my 
 prisOTier slain, I tear this bandage from my head and so end 
 all things. I will not live when once my word is broken," 
 
212 SIR NIGEL 
 
 " Nay, fair son, you take this thing too heavily," said 
 Chandos, with a grave face. " When a man has done all 
 he may there remains no dishonour ; but the kiag hath a 
 kind heart for all his hot head, and it may be that if I see 
 him I will prevail upon him. Bethink you how he swore 
 to hang the six burghers of this very town, and yet he 
 pardoned them. So keep a high heart, fair son, and I will 
 come with good news ere evening." 
 
 For three hours, as the sinking sun traced the shadow 
 higher and ever higher upon the chamber wall, Nigel tossed 
 feverishly upon his couch, his ears straining for the footfall 
 of Aylward or of Chandos, bringing news of the fate of the 
 prisoner. At last the door flew open, and there before him 
 stood the one man whom he least expected, and yet would 
 most gladly have seen. It was the Eed Ferret himself, 
 free and joyous. 
 
 With swift furtive steps he was across the room and 
 on his knees beside the couch, kissing the pendent hand. 
 
 " You have saved me, most noble sir ! " he cried. " The 
 gallows was fixed and the rope slung, when the good Lord 
 Chandos told the king that you would die by your own 
 hand if I were slain. ' Curse this mule-headed squire ! ' 
 he cried. ' In God's name let him have his prisoner, and 
 let him do what he will with him so long as he troubles 
 me no more ! ' So here I have come, fair sir, to ask you 
 what I shall do." 
 
 "I pray you to sit beside me and be at your ease," 
 said Nigel. " In a few words I will tell you what I would 
 have you do. Your armour I will keep that I may have 
 some remembrance of my good fortune in meeting so 
 valiant a gentleman. We are of a size, and I make little 
 doubt that I can wear it. Of ransom I would ask a 
 thousand crowns." 
 
 "Nay, nay!" cried the Ferret. "It would be a sad 
 thing if a man of my position was worth less than five 
 thousand," 
 
HOW RED FERRET CAME TO COSFORD 213 
 
 , " A tiiolisand will suffice, fair sir, to pay my charges 
 for the war. You will not again play the spy, nor do us 
 harm until the truce is broken." 
 
 " That I will swear." 
 
 " And lastly there is a journey that you shall make." 
 
 The Frenchman's face lengthened. " Where you order 
 I must go," said he ; " but I pray you that it is not to the 
 Holy Land." 
 
 " Nay," said Nigel ; " but it is to a land which is holy 
 to me. You will make your way back to Southampton." 
 
 "I know it well. I helped to burn it down some 
 years ago." 
 
 " I rede you to say nothing of that matter when you 
 get there. You will then journey as though to London 
 until you come to a fair town named Guildford." 
 
 " I have heard of it. The king hath a hunt there." 
 
 " The same. You will then ask' for a house named Cos- 
 ford, two leagues from the town on the side of a long hill." 
 
 " I will bear it in mind." 
 
 "At Cosford you wiU see a good knight named Sir 
 John Buttesthorn, and you will ask to have speech with 
 his daughter, the Lady Mary." 
 
 " I will do so ; and what shall I say to the Lady Mary, 
 who lives at Cosford on the slope of a long lull two leagues 
 from the fair town of Guildford ? " 
 
 "Say only that I sent my greeting, and that Saint 
 Catharine has been my friend — only that and nothing 
 more. And now leave me, I pray you, for my head is 
 weary and I would fain have sleep." 
 
 Thus it came about that a month later on the eve of 
 the Feast of Saint Matthew, the Lady Mary, as she walked 
 from Cosford gates, met with a strange hprseman, richly 
 clad, a serving-man behind him, looking shrewdly about 
 him with quick blue eyes, which twinkled from a red and 
 freckled face. At sight of her he doffed his hat and reined 
 his horse. 
 
214 SIR NIGEL 
 
 " This house should be Cosford," said he, " Are you by 
 chance the Lady Mary who dwells there ? " 
 
 The lady bowed her proud dark head. 
 
 " Then," said he, " Squii-e Nigel Loring sends you greet- 
 ing and tells you that Saint Catharine has been his friend." 
 Then, turning to his servant, he cried : " Heh, Kaoul, our 
 task is done! Your master is a free man once more. 
 Come, lad, come, the nearest port to France! Hola! 
 Hola! Hola! And so without a word more the two, 
 master and man, set spurs to their horses and galloped 
 like madmen down the long slope of Hindhead, until as 
 she looked after them they were but two dark dots iu the 
 distance, waist high in the ling and the bracken. 
 
 She turned back to the house, a smile upon her face. 
 Nigel had sent her greeting. A Frenchman had brought 
 it. His bringing it had made him a free man. And Saint 
 Catharine had been Nigel's friend. It was at her shrine 
 that he had sworn that three deeds should be done ere he 
 should set eyes upon her again. In the privacy of her 
 room the Lady Mary sank upon her prie-dieu and poured 
 forth the thanks of her heart to the Virgin that one deed 
 was accomplished ; but even as she did so her joy was 
 overcast by the thought of those two others which lay 
 before him. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 HOW THE king's COURT FEASTED IN CALAIS CASTLE 
 
 It was a bright sunshiny morning when Nigel found 
 himself at last able to leave his turret chamber and to 
 walk upon the rampart of the castle. There was a brisk 
 northern wind, heavy and wet with the salt of the sea, and 
 he felt, as he turned his face to it, fresh life and strength 
 smrging in his blood and bracing his limbs. He took his 
 hand from Aylward's supporting arm and stood with his 
 cap off, leaning on the rampart and breathing in the cool 
 strong air. Far off upon the distant sky-line, half hidden 
 by the heave of the waves, was the low white fringe of 
 cliffs which skirted England. Between him and them lay 
 the broad blue Channel, seamed and flecked with flashing 
 foam, for a sharp sea was running and the few ships in 
 sight were labouring heavily. Nigel's eyes traversed the 
 wide-spread view, rejoicing in the change from the grey 
 wall of his cramped chamber. FiaaUy they settled upon 
 a strange object at his very feet. 
 
 It was a long trumpet-shaped engine of leather and 
 iron bolted into a rude wooden stand and fitted with 
 wheels. Beside it lay a heap of metal slugs and lumps 
 of stone. The end of the machine was raised and pointed 
 over the battlement. Behind it stood an iron box which 
 Nigel opened. It was fiUed with a black coarse powder, 
 like gritty charcoal. 
 
 " By Saint Paul ! " said he, passing his hands over the 
 engine, "I have heard men talk of these things, but never 
 
2i6 SIR NIGEL 
 
 before have I seen one. It is none other than one of those 
 wondrous new-made bombards." 
 
 " In sooth it is even as you say," Aylward answered, 
 looking at it with contempt and dislike in his face. " I 
 have seen them here upon the ramparts, and have also 
 exchanged a buffet or two with him who had charge of 
 them. He was jack-fool enough to think that with 
 this leather pipe he could outshoot the best archer in 
 Christendom. I lent him a cuff on the ear that laid him 
 across his foolish engine." 
 
 " It is a fearsome thing," said Nigel, who had stooped 
 to examine it. " We live in strange times when such 
 things can be made. It is loosed by fire, is it not, which 
 springs from the black dust ? " 
 
 " By my hilt ! fair sir, I know not. And yet I call to 
 mind that ere we fell out this foolish bombardman did say 
 something of the matter. The fire-dust is within and so 
 also is the ball. Then you take more dust from this iron 
 box and place it in the hole at the farther end — so. It is 
 now ready. I have never seen one fired, but I wot that 
 this one could be fired now." 
 
 " It makes a strange sound, archer, does it not ? " said 
 Nigel, wistfully. 
 
 " So I have heard, fair sir — even as the bow twangs, 
 so it also has a sound when you loose it," 
 
 " There is no one to hear, since we are alone upon the 
 rampart, nor can it do scathe since it points to sea. I 
 pray you to loose it and I will listen to the sound." He 
 bent over the bombard with an attentive ear, while 
 Aylward, stooping his earnest brown face over the touch- 
 hole, scraped away diligently with a flint and steel. A 
 moment later both he and Nigel were seated some distance 
 off upon the ground, while amid the roar of the discharge 
 and the thick cloud of smoke they had a vision of the long 
 black snake-Uke engine shooting back upon the recoil. 
 For a mimite or more they were struck motionless with 
 
HOW THE KING'S COURT FEASTED 217 
 
 astonishment, while the reverberations died away and the 
 smoke-wreaths curled slowly up to the blue heavens. 
 
 " Good lack ! " cried Nigel at last, picking himself up 
 and looking round him. " Good lack, and Heaven be my 
 aid ! I thank the Virgin that all stands as it did before. 
 I thought that the castle had fallen." 
 
 "Such a bull's bellow I have never heard," cried 
 Aylward, rubbrag his injured limbs. " One could hear 
 it from Frensham Pond to Guildford Castle. I would not 
 touch one again — not for a hide of the best land in 
 Puttenham ! " 
 
 " It may fare iU with your own hide, archer, if you do," 
 said an angry voice behind them. Ghandos had stepped 
 from the open door of the corner turret and stood looking 
 at them with a harsh gaze. Presently, as the matter was 
 made clear to him, his face relaxed into a smile. 
 
 "Hasten to the warden, archer, and tell him how it 
 befell. You will have the castle and the town in arms. 
 I know not what the king may think of so sudden an 
 alarm. And you, Nigel, how in the name of the saints 
 came you to play the child like this ? " 
 
 " I knew not its power, fair lord." 
 
 " By my soul, Nigel, I think that none of us know its 
 power. I can see the day when all that we delight in, 
 the splendour and glory of war, may all go down before 
 that which beats through the plate of steel as easily as the 
 leathern jacket. I have bestrode my war-horse in my 
 armour and have looked down at the sooty, smoky bom- 
 bardman beside me, and I have thought that perhaps I 
 was the last of the old and he the first of the new ; that 
 there would come a time when he and his engines would 
 sweep you and me and the rest of us from the field." 
 
 " But not yet, I trust, honoured sir ? " 
 
 " No, not yet, Nigel. You are still in time to win your 
 spurs even as your fathers did. How is your strength ? " 
 
 " I am ready for any task, my good and honoured lord." 
 
2i8 SIR NIGEL 
 
 " It is well, for work awaits us — good work, pressing 
 work, work of peril and of honour. Your eyes shine and 
 your face flushes, Nigel. I live my own youth over again 
 as I look at you. Know then that though there is truce 
 with the French here, there is not truce in Brittany, where 
 the houses of Blois and of Montfort still struggle for the 
 dukedom. Half Brittany fights for one, and half for the 
 other. The French have taken up the cause of Blois, and 
 we of Montfort, and it is such a war that many a great 
 leader, such as Sir Walter Manny, has first earned his 
 name there. Of late the war has gone against us, and the 
 bloody hands of the Eohans, of Gap-tooth Beaumanoir, of 
 Oliver the Flesher and others, have been heavy upon our 
 people. The last tidings have been of disaster, and the 
 king's soul is dark with wrath for that his friend and 
 comrade Gilles de St. Pol has been done to death in the 
 Castle of La Brohiniere. He will send succours to the 
 country, and we go at their head. How like you that, 
 Nigel ? " 
 
 " My honoured lord, what could I ask for better ? " 
 
 " Then have your harness ready, for we start within the 
 week. Our path by land is blocked by the French, and 
 we go by sea. This night the king gives a banquet ere he 
 returns to England, and your place is behind my chair. 
 Be in my chamber that you may help me to dress, and so 
 we will to the hall together." 
 
 With satin and with samite, with velvet and with fur, 
 the noble Chandos was dressed for the King's feast, and 
 Nigel too had donned his best silk jupon, faced with the 
 five scarlet roses, that he might wait upon him. In the 
 great hall of Calais Castle the tables were set, a high table 
 for the lords, a second one for the less distinguished 
 knights, and a third at which the scLuires might feast when 
 their masters were seated. 
 
 Never had Nigel in his simple life at TiKord pictured 
 a scene of such pomp and wondrous luxury. The grim 
 
HOW THE KING'S COURT FEASTED 219 
 
 gi-ay walls were covered from ceiling to floor with priceless 
 tapestry of Arras, where hart, hounds and huntsmen circled 
 the great hall with one long living image of the chase. 
 Over the principal table drooped a line of banners, and 
 beneath them rows of emblazoned shields upon the wall 
 carried the arms of the high noblemen who sat beneath. 
 The red light of cressets and of torches burned upon the 
 badges of the great captains of England, The lions and 
 lilies shone over the high dorseret chair in the centre, and 
 the same august device marked with the cadency label 
 indicated the seat of the prince, while glowing to right 
 and to left were the long lines of noble insignia, honoured 
 in peace and terrible in war. There shone the gold and 
 sable of Manny, the engrailed cross of Suflblk, the red 
 chevron of Stafford, the scarlet and gold of Audley, the 
 blue lion rampant of the Percies, the silver swallows of 
 Arundel, the red roebuck of the Montacutes, the star of 
 the de Veres, the silver scallops of Eussell, the purple 
 lion of de Lacy, and the black crosses of Clinton. 
 
 A friendly squire at Nigel's elbow whispered the names 
 of the famous warriors beneath. 
 
 " You are young Loring of Tilford, the squire of Chandos, 
 are you not 1 " said he. " My name is Delves, and I come 
 from Doddington in Cheshire. I am the squire of Sir 
 James Audley, yonder round-backed man with the dark 
 face and close-cropped beard, who hath the Saracen head 
 as a crest above him," 
 
 " I have heard of him as a man of great valour," said 
 Nigel, gazing at him with interest. 
 
 " Indeed, you may well say so, Master Loring. He is 
 the bravest knight in England, and in Christendom also, 
 as I believe. No man hath done such deeds of valour." 
 
 Nigel looked at his new acquaintance with hope in his 
 eyes. , 
 
 "You Speak as it becomes you to spesik when you 
 uphold your own master," said he. " For the same reason, 
 
220 SIR NIGEL 
 
 Master Delves, and in no spirit of ill-will to you, it 
 behoves me to tell you that he is not to be compared in 
 name or fame with the noble knight on whom I wait. 
 Should you hold otherwise, then surely we can debate the 
 matter in whatever way or time may please you best." 
 
 Delves smiled good-humouredly. " ITay, be not so hot," 
 said he. " Had you upheld any other knight, save perhaps 
 Sir Walter Manny, I had taken you at your word, and 
 your master or mine would have had place for a new 
 squire. But indeed it is only truth that no knight is 
 second to Chandos, nor would I draw my sword to lower 
 his pride of place. Ha, Sir James' cup is low ! I must 
 see to it ! " He darted off, a flagon of Gascony in his 
 hand. "The king hath had good news to-night," he 
 continued when he returned. " I have not seen him in so 
 merry a mind since the night when we took the French- 
 men and he laid his pearl chaplet upon the head of 
 de Eibeaumont. See how he laughs, and the Prince also. 
 That laugh bodes some one little good, or I am the more 
 mistaken. Have a care ! Sir John's plate is empty." 
 
 It was Nigel's turn to dart away; but ever in the 
 intervals he returned to the corner whence he could look 
 down the hall and listen to the words of the older squire. 
 Delves was a short, thick-set man past middle age, weather- 
 beaten and scarred, with a rough manner and bearing 
 which showed that he was more at his ease in a tent than 
 a hall. But ten years of service had taught him much, 
 and Nigel listened eagerly to his talk. 
 
 "Indeed the king hath some good tidings," he con- 
 tinued. " See now, he has whispered it to Chandos and 
 to Manny. Manny spreads it on to Sir Eeginald Cobham, 
 and he to Robert KnoUes, each smiling like the devil over 
 a friar." 
 
 " Which is Su- Eobert Knolles ? " asked Nigel, with 
 interest. " I have heard much of him and his deeds." 
 
 " He is the tall hard-faced man in yeUow silk, he with 
 
HOW THE KING'S COURT FEASTED 221 
 
 the hairless cheeks and the split lip. He is little older 
 than yourself, and his father was a cobbler in Chester, yet 
 he has already won the golden spurs. See how he dabs 
 his great hand in the dish and hands forth the gobbets. 
 He is more used to a camp-kettle than a silver plate. 
 The big man with the black beard is Sir Bartholomew 
 Berghersh, whose brother is the Abbot of Beaulieu. Haste, 
 haste ! for the boar's head is come and the plates to be 
 cleaned." 
 
 The table manners of our ancestors at this period would 
 have furnished to the modern eye the strangest mixture of 
 luxury and of barbarism. Forks were still unknown, and 
 the courtesy fingers, the index and the middle of the left 
 hand, took their place. To use any others was accounted 
 the worst of manners. A crowd of dogs lay among the 
 rushes growling at each other and quarrelling over the 
 gnawed bones which were thrown to them by the feasters. 
 A slice of coarse bread served usually as a plate, but the 
 king's own high table was provided with silver platters, 
 which were wiped by the squire or page after each course. 
 On the other hand, the table-linen was costly, and the 
 courses, served with a pomp and dignity now unknown, 
 comprised such a variety of dishes and such complex 
 marvels of cookery as no modern banquet could show. 
 Besides all our domestic animals and every kind of game, 
 such strange delicacies as hedgehogs, bustards, porpoises, 
 squirrels, bitterns, and cranes lent variety to the feast. 
 
 Each new course, heralded by a flourish of silver 
 trumpets, was borne in by liveried servants walking two 
 and two, with rubicund marshals strutting in front and 
 behind, bearing white wands in their hands, not only as 
 badges of their office, but also as weapons with which to 
 repel any impertinent inroad upon the dishes in the journey 
 from the kitchen to the hall. Boars' heads, enarmed and 
 endored with gilt tusks and flaming mouths, were followed 
 by wondrous pasties moulded to the shape of ships, castlea 
 
222 SIR NIGEL 
 
 and other devices, with sugar seamen or soldiers who lost 
 their own bodies in their fruitless defence against the 
 hungry attack. Finally came the great nef, a silver 
 vessel upon wheels laden with fruit and sweetmeats which 
 rolled with its luscious cargo down the line of guests. 
 Flagons of Gascony, of Ehine wine, of Canary and of 
 EocheUe were held in readiness by the attendants; but 
 the age, though luxurious, was not drunken, and the 
 sober habits of the Norman had happily prevailed over 
 the license of those Saxon banquets, where no guest might 
 walk from the table without a slur upon his host. Honour 
 and hardihood go ill with a shaking hand or a blurred eye. 
 
 While wine, fruit, and spices were handed round the 
 high tables the squires had been served in turn at the 
 farther end of the hall. Meanwhile round the king there 
 had gathered a group of statesmen and soldiers, talking 
 eagerly among themselves. The Earl of Stafford, the Earl 
 of Warwick, the Earl of Arundel, Lord Beauchamp and 
 Lord Neville were assembled at the back of his chair, with 
 Lord Percy and Lord Mowbray at either side. The little 
 group blazed with golden chains and jeweled chaplets, 
 flame-coloured paltocks and purple tunics. 
 
 Of a sudden the king said something over his shoulder 
 to Sir William de Pakyngton the herald, who advanced 
 and stood by the royal chair. He was a tall and noble- 
 featured man, with long grizzled beard which rippled down 
 to the gold-linked belt girdling his many-coloured tabard. 
 On his head he had placed the heraldic barret-cap which 
 bespoke his dignity, and he slowly raised his white wand 
 high in the air, while a great hush fell upon the hall. 
 
 "My lords of England," said he, "knight bannerets, 
 knights, squires, and all others here present of gentle 
 birth and coat-armour, know that your dread and sovereign 
 lord, Edward, King of England and of France, bids me 
 give you- greeting and commands you to come hither that 
 he may have speech with you." 
 
HOW THE KING'S COURT FEASTED 223 
 
 In an instant the tables M'ere deserted and the whole 
 company had clustered in front of the king's chair. Those 
 ■who had sat on either side of him crowded inward, so that 
 his tall dark figure upreared itself amid the dense circle of 
 his guests. 
 
 With a flush upon his olive cheeks and with pride 
 smouldering in his dark eyes, he looked round him at the 
 eager faces of the men who had been his comrades from 
 Sluys and Cadsand to Crecy and Calais. They caught fire 
 from that warlike gleam in his masterful gaze, and a 
 sudden wild, fierce shout pealed up to the vaulted ceiling, 
 a soldierly thanks for what was passed and a promise for 
 what was to come. The king's teeth gleamed in a quick 
 smile, and his large white hand played with the jeweled 
 dagger in his belt. 
 
 " By the splendour of God ! " said he, in a loud clear 
 voice, " I have little doubt that you will rejoice with me 
 this night, for such tidings have come to my ears as may 
 well bring joy to every one of you. You know well that 
 our ships have suffered great scathe from the Spaniards, 
 who for many years have slain without grace or ruth all 
 of my people who have fallen into their cruel hands. Of 
 late they have sent their ships into Flanders, and thirty 
 great cogs and galleys lie now at Sluys well-filled with 
 archers and men-at-arms and ready in all ways for battle. 
 I have it to-day from a sure hand that, having taken their 
 merchandise aboard, these ships will sail upon the next 
 Sunday, and will make their way through our Narrow 
 Sea. We have for a great time been long-suffering to 
 these people, for which they have done us many contraries 
 and despites, growing ever more arrogant as we grow more 
 patient. It is in my mind therefore that we hie us to- 
 morrow to Winchelsea, where we have twenty ships, and 
 make ready to sally out upon them as they pass. May 
 God and Saint George defend the right ! " 
 
 A second shout, far louder and fiercer than the first, 
 
224 SIR NIGEL 
 
 came like a thunderclap after the king's words. It was 
 the bay of a fierce pack to their trusted huntsman. 
 
 Edward laughed again as he looked round at the gleam- 
 ing eyes, the waving arms, and the flushed joyful faces of 
 his liegemen. 
 
 " Who hath fought against these Spaniards ? " he asked. 
 " Is there any one here who can tell us what manner of 
 men they be ? " 
 
 A dozen hands went up into the air; but the king 
 turned to the Earl of Suffolk at his elbow. 
 
 " You have fought them, Thomas ? " said he. 
 
 " Yes, sire, I was in the great sea-fight eight years ago 
 at the Island of Guernsey, when Lord Lewis of Spain held 
 the sea against the Earl of Pembroke." 
 
 " How found you them, Thomas ? " 
 
 " Very excellent people, sire, and no man could ask for 
 better. On every ship they have a hundred crossbowmen 
 of Genoa, the best in the world, and their spearmen also are 
 very hardy men. They would throw great cantles of iron from 
 the tops of the masts, and many of our people met their 
 death through it. If we can bar their way in the Narrow 
 Sea, then there wiU be much hope of honour for all of us." 
 
 "Your words are very welcome, Thomas," said the 
 king, " and I make no doubt that they will show them- 
 selves to be very worthy of what we prepare for them. 
 To you I give a ship, that you may have the handling of 
 it. You also, my dear son, shall have a ship, that evermore 
 honour may be thine." 
 
 " I thank you, my fair and sweet father," said the prince, 
 with joy flushing his handsome boyish face. 
 
 " The leading ship shall be mine. But you shall have 
 one, "Walter Manny, and you, Stafford, and you, Arundel, 
 and you, Audley, and you, Sir Thomas Holland, and you, 
 Brocas, and you, Berkeley, and you, Eeginald. The rest 
 shall be awarded at Winchelsea, whither we sail to-morrow, 
 Nay, John, why do you pluck so at my sleeve ? " 
 
HOW THE KING'S COURT FEASTED 225 
 
 Chandos was leaning forward, with an anxious face. 
 " Surely, my honoured lord, I have not served you so long 
 and so faithfully that you should forget me now. Is there, 
 then, no ship for me ? " 
 
 The king smiled, but shook his head. "Nay, John, 
 have I not given you two hundred archers and a iiundred 
 men-at-arms to take with you into Brittany? I trust 
 that your ships will be lying in Saint Malo Bay ere the 
 Spaniards are abreast of Winchelsea. What more would 
 you have, old war-dog? Wouldst be in two battles at 
 once ? " 
 
 " I would be at your side, my liege, when the lion 
 banner is in the wind once more. I have ever been there. 
 Why should you cast me now ? I ask little, dear lord — a 
 galley, a balinger, even a pinnace, so that I may only be 
 there." 
 
 " Nay, John, you shall come. I cannot find it in my 
 heart to say you nay. I will find you place in my own 
 ship, that you may indeed be by my side." 
 
 Chandos stooped and kissed the King's hand. "My 
 Squire ? " he asked. 
 
 The king's brows knotted into a frown. "Nay, let 
 him go to Brittany with the others," said he, harshly. " I 
 wonder, John, that you should bring back to my memory 
 this youth whose pertness is too fresh that I should forget 
 it. But some one must go to Brittany in your stead, 
 for the matter presses and our people are hard put to it 
 to hold their own." He cast his eyes over the assembly, 
 and they rested upon the stern features of Sir Eobert 
 Knolles, 
 
 " Sir Eobert," he said, " though you are young in years 
 you are already old in war, and I have heard that you are 
 as prudent in council as you are valiant in the field. To 
 you I commit the charge of this venture to Brittany in 
 place of Sir John Chandos, who will follow thither when 
 our work has been done upon the waters. Three! ships 
 
226 SIR NIGEL 
 
 lie in Calais port and three hundred men are ready to 
 your hand. Sir John -will teU you what our mind is in 
 the matter. And now, my Mends and good comrades, 
 you will haste you each to his own quarters, and you will 
 make swiftly such preparations as are needful, for, as God 
 is my aid, I will sail with you to Winchelsea to-morrow ! " 
 Beckoning to Chandos, Manny and a few of his chosen 
 leaders, the king led them away to an inner chamber, 
 where they might discuss the plans for the future. At 
 the same time the assembly broke up, the knights in 
 silence and dignity, the squires in mirth and noise, but all 
 joyful at heart for the thought of the great days which lay 
 before them. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE SPANIARDS ON THE SEA 
 
 Morning had not yet dawned when Nigel was in the 
 chamber of Chandos preparing him for his departure and 
 listening to the last cheery words of advice and direction 
 from his noble master. That same morning, before the sun 
 was halfway up the heaven, the king's great nef Philippa, 
 bearing within it the most of those present at his banquet 
 the night before, set its huge sail, adorned with the lions 
 and the lilies, and turned its brazen beak for England. 
 Behind it went five smaller cogs crammed with squires, 
 archers, and men-at-arms. i 
 
 Nigel and his companions lined the ramparts of the 
 castle and waved their caps as the bluff, burly vessels, 
 with drums beating and trumpets clanging, a hundred 
 knightly pennons streaming from their decks and the red 
 cross of England over all, rolled slowly out to the open 
 sea. ' Then, when they had watched them until they were 
 hull down, they turned, with hearts heavy, at being left 
 behind, to make ready for their own more distant venture. 
 
 It took them four days of hard work ere their prepara- 
 tions were complete, for many were the needs of a small 
 force sailing to a strange country. Three ships had been 
 left to them — the cog Thomas of Eomney, the Grace Dieu 
 of Hythe, and the Basilisk of Southampton, into each of 
 which one hundred men were stowed, besides the thirty 
 seamen who formed the crew. In the hold were forty 
 horses, among them Pommers, much wearied by his long 
 idleness, and homesick for the slopes of Surrey, where his 
 
 227 
 
228 SIR NIGEL 
 
 great limbs might find the work he craved. Then the 
 food and the water, the bow-staves and the sheaves of 
 arrows, the horseshoes, the nails, the hammers, the knives, 
 the axes, the ropes, the vats of hay, the green fodder, and 
 a score of other things, were packed aboard. Always by 
 the side of the ships stood the stern young knight Sir 
 Eobert, checking, testing, watching, and controlling, saying 
 little, for he was a man of few words, but with his eyes, 
 his hands, and if need be his heavy dog-whip, wherever 
 they were wanted. 
 
 The seamen of the Basilisk, being from a free port, had 
 the old feud against the men of the Cinque Ports, who 
 were looked upon by the other mariners of England as 
 .being unduly favoured by the king. A ship of the West 
 Country could scarce meet with one from the Narrow Seas 
 without blood flowing. Hence sprang sudden broils on 
 the quay side, when with yell and blow the Thomases and 
 , Grace Dieus, Saint Leonard on their lips and murder in 
 their hearts, would fall upon the Basilishs. Then amid 
 the whirl of cudgels and the clash of knives would spring 
 the tiger figure of the young leader, lashing mercilessly to 
 right and left like a tamer among his wolves, until he had 
 beaten them howling back to their work. Upon the 
 morning of the fourth day all was ready, and the ropes 
 being cast off, the three little ships were warped down the 
 harbour by their own pinnaces untO. they were swallowed 
 up in the swirling folds of a Channel mist. 
 
 Though small in numbers, it was no mean force which 
 Edward had despatched to succour the hard-pressed 
 English garrisons in Brittany. There was scarce a man 
 among them who was not an old soldier, and their leaders 
 were men of note in council and in war. Knolles flew his 
 flag of the black raven aboard the Basilisk. With him 
 were Nigel and his own squire, John Hawthorn. Of his 
 hundred men, forty were Yorkshire dalesmen and forty 
 were men of Lincoln, all noted archers, with old Wat of 
 
THE SPANIARDS ON THE SEA 22g 
 
 Carlisle, a grizzled veteran of border warfare, to lead 
 them. 
 
 Already Aylward by his skill and strength had won his 
 way to an under-of&cership among them, and shared with' 
 Long Ned Widdington, a huge north countryman, the 
 reputation of coming next to famous Wat Carlisle in all 
 that makes an archer. The men-at-arms, too, were war-; 
 hardened soldiers, with Black Simon of Norwich, the same 
 who had sailed from Winchelsea, to lead them. With his 
 heart filled with hatred for the French who had slain all 
 who were dear to him, he followed like a bloodhound over 
 land and sea to any spot where he might glut his vengeance. 
 Such also were the men who sailed in the other ships — 
 Cheshire men from the Welsh borders in the cog Thomas, 
 and Cumberland men, used to Scottish warfare, in the 
 Grace Dieu. 
 
 Sir James Astley hung his shield of cinquefoil ermine 
 over the quarter of the Thomas. Lord Thomas Percy, a 
 cadet of Alnwick, famous already for the high spirit of 
 that house which for ages was the bar upon the landward 
 gate of England, showed his blue lion rampant as leader 
 of the Grace Dieu. Such was the goodly company Saint 
 Malo bound, who warped from Calais harbour to plunge 
 into the thick reek of a Channel mist. 
 
 A slight breeze blew from the eastward, and the high- 
 ended, round-bodied craft rolled slowly down the Channel. 
 The mist rose a little at times, so that they had sight of 
 each other dipping and rising upon a sleek, oily sea, but 
 again it would sink down, settling over the top, shrouding 
 the great yard, and finally frothing over the deck until 
 even the water alongside had vanished from their view and 
 they were afloat on a little raft in an ocean of vapour. A 
 thin cold rain was falling, and the archers were crowded 
 under the shelter of the overhanging poop and forecastle 
 where some spent the hours at dice, some in sleep, and 
 many in trimming their arrows or polishing their weapons. 
 
230 SIR NIGEL 
 
 At the farther end, seated on a barrel as a throne oi 
 honour, with trays and boxes of feathers around him, waa 
 Bartholomew the bowyer and fletcher, a fat, bald-headed 
 man, whose task it was to see that every man's tackle was as 
 it should be, and who had the privilege of selling such extras 
 as they might need. A group of archers with their staves 
 and quivers filed before him with complaints or requests, 
 whUe half a dozen of the seniors gathered at his back and 
 listened with grinning faces to his comments and rebukes. 
 
 " Canst not string it ? " he was saying to a young bow- 
 man. " Then surely the string is overshort or the stave 
 overlong. It could not by chance be the fault of thy own 
 baby arms more fit to draw on thy hosen than to dress a 
 warbow. Thou lazy lurdan, thus is it strung!" He 
 seized the stave by the centre in his right hand, leaned 
 the end on the inside of his right foot, and then, pulling 
 the upper nock down with the left hand, slid the eye 
 of the string easily into, place. "Now I pray thee to 
 unstring it agaiu," handing it to the bowman. 
 
 The youth, with an effort, did so ; but he was too slow 
 in disengaging his fingers, and the string sliding down with 
 a snap from the upper nock caught and pinched them 
 sorely against the stave. A roar of laughter, like the'clap 
 of a wave, swept down the deck as the luckless bowman 
 danced and wrung his hand, 
 
 "Serve thee well right, thou redeless fool!" growled 
 the old bowyer. " So fine a bow is wasted in such hands. 
 How now, Samkin ? I can teach you little of your trade, 
 I trow. Here is a bow dressed as it should be ; but it 
 would, as you say, be the better for a white band to mark 
 the true nocking point in the centre of this red wrapping 
 of silk. Leave it and I wUl tend to it anon. And you, 
 Wat ? A iresh head on yonder stele ? Lord, that a man 
 should carry four trades under one hat, and be bowyer, 
 fletcher, stringer, and head-maker ! Four men's work for 
 old Bartholomew and one man's pay ! " 
 
THE SPANIARDS ON THE SEA 231 
 
 " Nay, say no more about that," growled an old wizened 
 bowman, with a brown parchment skin and little beady 
 eyes. " It is better in these days to mend a bow than to 
 bend one. You who never looked a Frenchman in the 
 face are pricked off for ninepence a day, and I who have 
 fought five stricken fields, can earn but fourpence." 
 
 " It is in my mind, John of Tuxford, that you have 
 looked in the face more pots of mead than Frenchmen," 
 said the old bowyer. "I am swinking from dawn to 
 night, while you are guzzling in an ale-stake. How now, 
 youngster ? Overbowed ? Put your bow in the tiller. It 
 draws at sixty pounds — not a pennyweight too much for 
 a man of your inches. Lay more body to it, lad, and it wiU 
 come to you. If your bow be not stiff, how can you hope 
 for a twenty-score flight ? Feathers ? Ay, plenly, and of 
 the best. Here are peacock at a groat each. Surely a 
 dandy archer like you, Tom Beverley, with gold earrings 
 in your ears, would have no feathering but peacocks ? " 
 
 " So the shaft fly straight, I care not of the feather," 
 said the bowman, a tall young Yorkshireman, counting out 
 pennies on the palm of his homy hand. 
 
 " Gray goose-feathers are but a farthing. These on the 
 left are a half-penny, for they are of the wild-goose, and 
 the second feather of a fenny goose is worth more than the 
 pinion of a tame one. These in the brass tray are dropped 
 feathers, and a dropped feather is better than a plucked 
 one. Buy a score of these, lad, and cut them saddle- 
 backed or swine-backed, the one for a dead shaft and the 
 other for a smooth flyer, and no man in the company will 
 swing a better-fletched quiver over his shoulder. 
 
 It chanced that the opinion of the bowyer on this and 
 other points differed from that of Long Ned of Widding- 
 ton, a surly straw-bearded Yorkshireman, who had listened 
 with a sneering face to his counsel. Now he broke in 
 suddenly upon the bowyer's talk. 
 
 " You would do better to sell bows than to try to teach 
 
232 SIR NIGEL 
 
 others how to use them," said he ; " for indeed, Bartholo- 
 inew, that head of thine has no more sense within it than 
 it has hairs without. If you had drawn string for as many 
 months as I have years you would know that a straight- 
 cut feather flies smoother than a swine-backed, and pity it 
 is that these young bowmen have none to teach them 
 better ! " 
 
 This attack upon his professional knowledge touched 
 the old bowyer on the raw. His fat face became suffused 
 with blood and his eyes glared with fury as he turned upon 
 the archer. 
 
 " You seven-foot barrel of lies ! " he cried. " All- 
 hallows be my aid, and I will teach you to open your 
 slabbing mouth against me ! Pluck forth your sword and 
 stand out on yonder deck, that we may see who is the man 
 of us twain. May I never twirl a shaft over my thumb- 
 nail if I do not put Bartholomew's mark upon your thick 
 head!" 
 
 A score of rough voices joined at once in the quarrel, 
 some upholding the bowyer and others taking the part of 
 the North Countryman. A red-headed Dalesman snatched 
 up a sword, but was felled by a blow from the fist of his 
 neighbour. Instantly, with a buzz like a swarm of angry 
 hornets, the bowmen were out on the deck ; but ere a blow 
 was struck KnoUes was among them with granite face and 
 eyes of fire. 
 
 " Stand apart, I say ! I will warrant you enough 
 fighting to cool your blood ere you see England once more. 
 Loring, Hawthorn, cut any man down who raises his hand. 
 Have you aught to say, you fox-haired rascal ? " He thrust 
 his face within two inches of that of the red man who had 
 first seized his sword. The fellow shrank back, cowed, 
 from his fierce eyes. " Now stint your noise, all of you, 
 and stretch your long ears. Trumpeter, blow once more ! " 
 
 A bugle call had been sounded every quarter of an 
 hour, so as to keep in touch with the other two vessels, who 
 
THE SPANIARDS ON THE SEA 233 
 
 were invisible in the fog. Now the high clear note rang 
 out once more, the call of a fierce sea-creature'to its mates, 
 but no answer came back from the thick wall which pent 
 them in. Again and again they called, and again and 
 again with bated breath they waited for an answer. 
 
 " Where is the shipman ? " asked Knolles. "What is 
 your name, fellow? Do you dare call yourself master- 
 mariner ? " 
 
 "My name is Nat Dennis, fair sir," said the grey- 
 bearded old seaman. "It is thirty years since first I 
 showed my cartel and blew trumpet for a crew at the 
 water-gate of Southampton. If any man may call himself 
 master-mariner, it is surely I." 
 
 " Where are our two ships ? " 
 
 " Nay, sir, who can say in this fog ? " 
 
 " Fellow, it was your place to hold them together." 
 
 " I have but the eyes God gave me, fair sir, and they 
 cannot see through a cloud." 
 
 " Had it been fair, I who am a soldier, could have kept 
 them in company. Since it was foul, we looked to you, 
 who are called a mariner, to do so. You have not done 
 it. You have lost two of my ships ere the venture is 
 begun." 
 
 " Nay, fair sir, I pray you to consider " 
 
 " Enough words ! " said KnoUes, sternly. " Words will 
 not give me back my two hundred men. Unless I find 
 them before I come to Saint Malo, I swear by Saint 
 WiKrid of Eipon that it wiU be an evil day for you! 
 Enough ! Go forth, and do what you may ! " 
 
 For five hours, with a light breeze behind them, they 
 lurched through the heavy fog, the cold rain still matting 
 their beards and shining on their faces. Sometimes they 
 could see a circle of tossing water for a bow-shot or so in 
 each direction, and then the wreaths would crawl in upon 
 them once more and bank them thickly round. They had 
 long ceased to blow the trumpet for their missing comrades. 
 
234 SIR NIGEL 
 
 but had hopes when clear weather came to find them still 
 in sight. By the shipman's reckoning they were now 
 about midway between the two shores. 
 
 Nigel was leaning against the bulwarks, his thoughts 
 away in the dingle at Cosford and out on the heather-clad 
 slopes of Hindhead, when something struck his ear. It was 
 a thin clear clang of metal, pealing out high above the dull 
 murmur of the sea, the creak of the boom, and the flap of 
 the sail. He listened, and again it was borne to his ear. 
 
 " Hark, my lord ! " said he to Sir Eobert. " Is there 
 not a sound in the fog 1 " 
 
 They both listened together with sidelong heads. Then 
 it rang clearly forth once more, but this time in another 
 direction. It had been on the bow; now it was on the 
 quarter. Again it sounded, and again. Now it had moved 
 to the other bow; now back to the quarter again; now it 
 was near ; and now so far that it was but a faint tinkle on 
 the ear. By this time every man on board, seamen, 
 archers, and men-at-arms, were crowding the sides of the 
 vessel. All round them there were noises in the darkness, 
 and yet the wall of fog lay wet against their very faces. 
 And the noises were such as were strange to their ears, 
 always the same high musical clashing. 
 
 The old shipman shook his head and crossed himself. 
 " In thirty years upon the waters I have never heard the 
 like," said he. "The Devil is ever loose in a fog. Well 
 is he named the Prince of Darkness." 
 
 A wave of panic passed over the vessel, and these 
 rough and hardy men, who feared no mortal foe, shook 
 with terror at the shadows of their own minds. They 
 stared into the cloud with blanched faces and fixed eyes, 
 as though each instant some fearsome shape might break 
 in upon them. And as they stared there came a gust of 
 wind. For a moment the fog-bank rose and a circle of 
 ocean lay before them. 
 
 It was covered with vessels. On all sides they lay 
 
THE SPANIARDS ON THE SEA 235 
 
 thick upon its surface. They were huge caracks, high- 
 ended and portly, with red sides and bulwarks carved and 
 crusted with gold. Each had one great sail set, and was 
 driving down channel on the same course as the Basilish. 
 Their decks were thick with men, and from their high 
 poops came the weird clashing which filled the air. For 
 one moment they lay there, this wondrous fleet, surging 
 slowly forward, framed in gray vapour. The next the 
 clouds closed in and they had vanished from view. There 
 was a long hush, and then a buzz of excited voices. 
 
 " The Spaniards ! " cried a dozen bowmen and sailors. 
 
 " I should have known it," said the shipman. " I call 
 to mind on the Biscay coast how they would clash their 
 cymbals after the fashion of the heathen Moor with whom 
 they fight ; but what would you have me do, fair sir ? If 
 the fog rises we are all dead men." 
 
 " There were thirty ships at the least," said Knolles, 
 with a moody brow. " If we have seen them I trow that 
 they have also seen us. They will lay us aboard." 
 
 " Nay, fair sir, it is in my mind that our ship is lighter 
 and faster than theirs. If the fog hold another hour we 
 should be through them." 
 
 " Stand to your arms ! " yelled KnoUes. " Stand to 
 your arms ! They are on us ! " 
 
 The Basilisk had indeed been spied from the Spanish 
 Admiral's ship before the fog closed down. With so light 
 a breeze, and such a fog, he could not hope to find her 
 under sail. But by an evil chance not a bowshot from 
 the great Spanish carack was a low galley, thin and swift, 
 with oars which could speed her against wind or tide. She 
 also had seen the Basilish, and it was to her that the 
 Spanish leader shouted his orders. For a few minutes she 
 hunted through the fog, and then sprang out of it like a lean 
 and stealthy beast upon its prey. It was the sight of the 
 long dark shadow gliding after them which had brought 
 that wild shout of alarm from the lips of the English 
 
236 SIR NIGEL 
 
 knight. In another instant the starboard oars of the 
 galley had been shipped, the sides of the two vessels grated 
 together, and a stream of swarthy, red-capped Spaniards 
 were swarming up the sides of the Basilisk and dropped 
 with yells of triumph upon her deck. 
 
 For a moment it seemed as if the vessel was captured 
 without a blow being struck, for the men of the English 
 ship had run wildly in all directions to look for their arms. 
 Scores of archers might be seen under the shadow of the 
 forecastle and the poop bending their bowstaves to string 
 them with the cords from their leathern cases. Others 
 were scrambling over saddles, barrels, and cases in wild 
 search of their quivers. Each as he came upon his arrows 
 pulled out a few to lend to his less fortunate comrades. 
 In mad haste the men-at-arms also were feeling and 
 grasping in the dark corners, picking up steel caps which 
 would not fit them, hurling them down on the deck, and 
 snatching eagerly at any swords or spears that came 
 their way. 
 
 The centre of the ship was held by the Spaniards, and 
 having slain all who stood before them, they were pressing 
 up to either end before they were made to understand that 
 it was no fat sheep but a most fierce old wolf which they 
 had taken by the ears. 
 
 If the lesson was late, it was the more thorough. 
 Attacked on both sides and hopelessly outnumbered, the 
 Spaniards, who had never doubted that this little craft was 
 a merchant-ship, were cut off to the last man. It was no 
 fight, but a butchery. In vain the survivors ran screaming 
 prayers to the saints and threw themselves down into the 
 galley alongside. It also had been riddled with arrows 
 from the poop of the Basilisk, and both the crew on the 
 deck and the galley-slaves in the outriggers at either side 
 lay dead in rows under the overwhelming shower from 
 above. From stem to rudder every foot of her was furred 
 with arrows. It was but a floating coffin piled with dead 
 
THE SPANIARDS ON THE SEA 237 
 
 and dying men, which wallowed in the waves behind them 
 as the JBtmlisk lurched onward and left her in the fog. 
 
 In their first rush on to the Basilisk, the Spaniards had 
 seized six of the crew and four unarmed archers. Their 
 throats had been cut and their bodies tossed overboard. 
 Now the Spaniards who littered the deck, wounded and 
 dead, were thrust over the side in the same fashion. One 
 ran down into the hold and had to be hunted and kUled 
 squealing under the blows like a rat in the darkness. 
 Within half an hour no sign was left of this grim meeting 
 in the fog save for the crimson splashes upon bulwarks 
 and deck. The archers, flushed and merry, were unstring- 
 ing their bows once more, for in spite of the water glue 
 the damp air took the strength from the cords. Some were 
 hunting about for arrows which might have stuck inboard, 
 and some tying up small injuries received in the scuffle. 
 But an anxious shadow still lingered upon the face of Sir 
 Eobert, and he peered fixedly about him through the fog. 
 
 "Go among the archers, Hawthorne," said he to his 
 squire. " Charge them on their lives to make no sound ! 
 You also, Loring. Go to the afterguard and say the same 
 to them. We are lost if one of these great ships should 
 spy us." 
 
 For an hour with bated breath they stole through the 
 fleet, still hearing the cymbals clashing all round them, for 
 in this way the Spaniards held themselves together. Once 
 the wild music came from above their very prow, and so 
 warned them to change their course. Once also a huge 
 vessel loomed for an instant upon their quarter, but they 
 turned two points away from her, and she blurred and 
 vanished. Soon the cjrmbals were but a distant tinkling, 
 and at last they died gradually away. 
 
 " It is none too soon," said the old shipman, pointing 
 to a yellowish tint in the haze above them. " See yonder ! 
 It is the sun which wins through. It will be here anon. 
 Ah ! said I not so ? " 
 
238 SIR NIGEL 
 
 A sickly sun, no larger and far dimmer than the moon, 
 had indeed shown its face, "with cloud-wreaths smoking 
 across it. As they looked up it waxed larger and brighter 
 before their eyes — a yellow halo spread round it, one ray 
 broke through, and then a funnel of golden light poured 
 down upon them, widening swiftly at the base. A minute 
 later they were saUing on a clear blue sea with an azure 
 cloud-flecked sky above their heads, and such a scene 
 beneath it as each of them would carry in his memory 
 while memory remained. 
 
 They were in mid-channel. The white and green 
 coasts of Picardy and of Kent lay clear upon either side 
 of them. The wide channel stretched in front, deepening 
 from the light blue beneath their prow to purple on the far 
 sky-line. Behind them was that thick bank of cloud from 
 which they had just burst. It lay like a gray wall from east 
 to west, and through it were breaking the high shadowy 
 forms of the ships of Spain. Four of them had already 
 emerged, their red bodies, gilded sides and painted sails 
 shining gloriously in the evening sun. Every instant a 
 fresh golden spot grew out of the fog, which blazed like 
 a star for an instant, and then surged forward to show 
 itself as the brazen beak of the great red vessel which bore 
 it. Looking back, the whole bank of cloud was broken by 
 the widespread line of noble ships which were bursting 
 through it. The Basilisk lay a mile or more in front 
 of them and two miles clear of their wing. Five miles 
 farther off, in the direction of the French coast, two other 
 small ships were ruiming down Channel. A cry of joy 
 from Eobert Kaolles and a hearty prayer of gratitude to 
 the saints from the old shipman hailed them as their 
 missing comrades, the cog Thomas and the Grace 
 Dieu. 
 
 But fair as was the view of their lost friends, and 
 wondrous the appearance of the Spanish ships, it was not 
 an those that the eyes of the men of the Basilisk were 
 
THE SPANIARDS ON THE SEA 239 
 
 chiefly bent, A greater sight lay before them — a sight 
 which brought them clustering to the forecastle with eager 
 eyes and pointing fingers. The English fleet was coming 
 forth from the "Winchelsea Coast. Already before the fog 
 lifted a fast galleass had brought the news down Channel 
 that the Spanish were on the sea, and the king's fleet was 
 under way. Now their long array of sails, gay with the 
 coats and colours of the towns which had furnished them, 
 lay bright against the Kentish coast from Dungeness Point 
 to Eye. Nine and twenty ships were there from South- 
 ampton, Shoreham, Winchelsea, Hastiugs, Eye, Hythe, 
 Eomney, Folkestone, Deal, Dover, and Sandwich. With 
 their great sails slued round to catch the wind they ran 
 out, while the Spanish, like the gallant foes that they 
 have ever been, turned their heads landward to meet 
 them. With flaunting banners and painted sails, blaring 
 trumpets and clashing cymbals, the two glittering fleets, 
 dipping and rising on the long Channel swell, drew slowly 
 together. 
 
 King Edward had been lying all day in his great ship 
 the Fhilijapa, a mile out from the Camber Sands, waiting 
 for the coming of the Spaniards. Above the huge sail 
 which bore the royal arms flew the red cross of England. 
 Along the bulwarks were shown the shields of forty 
 knights, the flower of English chivalry, and as many 
 pennons floated from the deck. The high ends of the ship 
 glittered with the weapons of the men-at-arms, and the 
 waist was cramiaed with the archers. From time to time 
 a crash of nakers and blare of trumpets burst from the 
 royal ship, and was answered by her great neighbours, 
 the Zion on which the Black Prince flew his flag, the 
 Christopher with the Earl of Suffolk, the Salle du Boi of 
 Eobert of Namur, and the Grace Marie of Sir Thomas 
 Holland. Farther off lay the White Swam,, bearing the 
 arms of Mowbray, the Palmer of Deal, flying the Black 
 Head of Audley, an^J the Kentish Man under the Lord 
 
240 SIR NIGEL 
 
 Beauchamp. The rest lay, anchored but ready, at the 
 mouth of Winchelsea Creek. 
 
 The king sat upon a keg in the fore part of his ship, 
 with little John of Eichmond, who was no more than a 
 school-boy, perched upon his knee. Edward was clad in 
 the black velvet jacket which was his favourite garb, and 
 wore a small brown beaver hat with a white plume at the 
 side. A rich cloak of fur turned up with miniver drooped 
 from his shoulders. Behind him were a score of his 
 knights, brilliant in silks and sarcenets, some seated on 
 an upturned boat and some swinging their legs from the 
 bulwark. 
 
 In front stood John Chandos in a party-coloured jupon, 
 one foot raised upon the anchor-stock, picking at the 
 strings of his guitar and singing a song which he had 
 learned at Marienburg when last he helped the Teutonic 
 knights against the heathen. The king, his knights, and 
 even the archers in the waist below them, laughed at the 
 merry lilt and joined lustily in the chorus, while the men 
 of the neighboTiring ships leaned over the side to hearken 
 to the deep chant rolling over the waters. 
 
 But there came a sudden interruption to the song. A 
 sharp, harsh shout came down from the lookout stationed 
 in the circular top at the end of the mast. 
 
 " I spy a sail — two sails ! " he cried. 
 
 John Bunce, the king's shipman, shaded his eyes and 
 stared at the long fog-bank which shrouded the northern 
 channel. Chandos, with his fingers over the strings of his 
 guitar, the king, the knights, all gazed in the same direc- 
 tion. Two smaU, dark shapes had burst forth, and then, 
 after some minutes, a third. 
 
 " Surely they are the Spaniards ? " said the king. 
 
 " Nay, sire," the seaman answered, " the Spaniards are 
 greater ships and are painted red. I know not what these 
 may be." 
 
 " But I could hazard a guess ! " cried Chandos,, 
 
THE SPANIARDS ON THE SEA 241 
 
 " Surely they are the three ships with my own men on 
 their way to Brittany." 
 
 " You have hit it, John," said the king. " But look, I 
 pray you ! What in the name of the Virgin is that ? " 
 
 Four brilliant stars of flashing light had shone out 
 from different points of the cloud-bank. The next instant 
 as many tall ships had swooped forth into the sunshine. 
 A fierce shout rang from the king's ship, and was taken 
 up all down the line, until the whole coast from Dimge- 
 ness to Winchelsea echoed the warlike greeting. The 
 king sprang up with a joyous face. 
 
 " The game is afoot, my friends ! " said he. " Dress, 
 John ! Dress, Walter ! Quick, all of you ! Squires, 
 bring the harness ! Let each tend to himself, for the time 
 is short." 
 
 A strange sight it was to see these forty nobles tearing 
 off their clothes, and littering the deck with velvets and 
 satins, while the squire of each, as busy as an ostler before 
 a race, stooped and pulled, and strained and riveted, 
 fastening the bassinets, the leg-pieces, the front and the 
 back plates, until the silken courtier had become the man 
 of steel. When their work was finished, there stood a 
 stern group of warriors where the light dandies had sung 
 and jested round Sir John's guitar. Below in orderly 
 silence the archers were mustering under their ofBcers, 
 and taking their allotted stations. A dozen had swarmed 
 up to their hazardous post in the little tower in the tops. 
 
 " Bring wine, Nicholas ! " cried the king. " Gentle- 
 men, ere you close your visors I pray you to take a last 
 rouse with me. You will be dry enough, I promise you, 
 before your lips are free once more. To what shall we 
 drink, John?" 
 
 " To the men of Spain," said Chandos, his shai-p face 
 peering like a gaunt bird through the gap in his helmet. 
 " May their hearts be stout and their spirits high this 
 day!" 
 
242 SIR NIGEL 
 
 "Well said, John!" cried the king; and the knights 
 laughed joyously as they drank. " Now, fair sirs, let each 
 to his post! I am warden here on the forecastle. Do 
 you, John, take charge of the afterguard. Walter, James, 
 William, Fitzallan, Goldesborough, Eeginald — you will 
 stay with me ! John, you may pick whom you will, and 
 the others will bide with the archers. Now, bear straight 
 at the centre, master shipman. Ere yonder sun sets we 
 will bring a red ship back as a gift to our ladies, or never 
 look upon a lady's face again." 
 
 The art of sailing into a wind had not yet been 
 invented, nor was there any fore-and-aft canvas, save for 
 small head sails with which a vessel could be turned. 
 Hence the English fleet had to take a long slant down 
 channel to meet their enemies ; but as the Spaniards 
 coming before the wind were equally anxious to engage 
 there was the less delay. With stately pomp and dignity 
 the two great fleets approached. 
 
 It chanced that one fine carack had outstripped its 
 consorts and came sweeping along, all red and gold, with 
 a fringe of twinkling steel, a good half-mile before the 
 fleet. Edward looked at her with a kindling eye, for 
 indeed she was a noble sight, with the blue water cream- 
 ing under her gilded prow. 
 
 " This is a most worthy and debonair vessel. Master 
 Bimce," said he, to the shipman beside him. " I would 
 fain have a tilt with her. I pray you to hold us straight 
 that we may boar her down." 
 
 " If I hold her straight, then one or other must sink, 
 and it may be both," the seaman answered. 
 
 " I doubt not that with the help of our lady we shall 
 do our part," said the king. " Hold her straight, master- 
 shipman, as I have told you." 
 
 Now the two vessels were within arrow flight, and the 
 bolts from the crossbowmen pattered upon the English 
 ship. These short, thick, devil's darts were everywhere 
 
THE SPANIARDS ON THE SEA 243 
 
 humming like great wasps through the air, crashing against 
 the bulwarks, beating upon the deck, ringing loudly on 
 the armour of the knights, or with a soft, mufifled thud 
 sinking to the socket in a victim. 
 
 The bowmen along either side of the Philippa had 
 stood motionless waiting for their orders, but now there 
 was a sharp shout from their leader, and every string 
 twanged together. The air was full of their harping, 
 together with the swish of the arrows, the long-drawn 
 keening of the bowmen, and the short, deep bark of the 
 under-officers. "Steady, steady! Loose steady! Shoot 
 wholly together I Twelve score paces ! Ten score ! Now 
 eight ! Shoot wholly together ! " Their gruff shouts 
 broke through the high shrill cry like the deep roar of a 
 wave through the howl of the wind. 
 
 As the two great ships hurtled together the Spaniard 
 turned away a few points so that the blow should be a 
 glancing one. None the less it was terrific. A dozen 
 men in the tops of the carack were balancing a huge stone 
 with the intention of dropping it over on the English 
 deck. With a scream of horror they saw the mast crack- 
 ing beneath them. Over it went, slowly at first, then 
 faster, until with a crash it came down on its side, sending 
 them flying like stones from a sling far out into the sea. 
 A swath of crushed- bodies lay across the deck where the 
 mast had fallen. But the English ship had not escaped 
 unscathed. Her mast held, it is true, but the mighty 
 shock not only stretched every man flat upon the deck, 
 but had shaken a score of those who lined her sides into 
 the sea. One bowman was hurled from the top, and his 
 body fell with a dreadful crash at the very side of the 
 prostrate king upon the forecastle. Many were thrown 
 down with broken arms and legs from the high castles at 
 either end into the waist of the ship. Worst of aU, the 
 seams had been opened by the crash, and the water was 
 gushing in at a dozen places. 
 
244 SIR NIGEL 
 
 But these were men of experience and discipline, men 
 who had already fought together by sea and by land, so 
 that each knew his place and his duty. Those who could 
 staggered to their feet, and helped up a score or more of 
 knights who were rolling and clashing in the scuppers, 
 unable to rise for the weight of their armour. The bowmen 
 formed up as before. The seamen ran to the gaping seams 
 with oakum and with tar. In ten minutes order had been 
 restored, and the Philippa, though shaken and weakened, 
 was ready for battle once more. The king was glaring 
 round him like a wounded boar. 
 
 " Grapple my ship with that," he cried, pointing to the 
 crippled Spaniard, " for I would have possession of her ! " 
 
 But already the breeze had carried them past it, and 
 a dozen Spanish ships were bearing down full upon them. 
 
 " We cannot win back to her, lest we show our flank 
 to these others," said the shipman. 
 
 " Let her go her way ! " cried the knights. " You shall 
 have better than her." 
 
 "By Saint George! you speak the truth," said the 
 king, "for she is ours when we have time to take her. 
 These also seem very worthy ships which are drawing up 
 to us, and I pray you, master-shipman, that you will have 
 a tnt with the nearest." 
 
 A great carack was within a bowshot of them and 
 crossing their bows. Bunce looked up at his mast, and he 
 saw that already it was shaken and drooping.. Another 
 blow and it would be over the side, and his ship a helpless 
 log upon the water. He jammed his helm round, there- 
 fore, and ran his ship alongside the Spaniard, throwing out 
 his hooks and iron chains as he did so. 
 
 They, no less eager, grappled the PMlippa both fore 
 and aft, and the two vessels, linked tightly together, 
 surged slowly over the long, blue rollers. Over their 
 bulwarks hung a cloud of men locked together in a 
 desperate struggle, sometimes surging forward on to the 
 
THE SPANIARDS ON THE SEA MS 
 
 deck of the Spaniard, sometimes recoiling back on to the 
 king's ship, reeling this way and that, with the swords 
 flickering like silver flames above them, while the long- 
 drawn cry of rage and agony swelled up like a wolf's 
 howl to the calm, blue heaven above them. 
 
 But now ship after ship' of the English had come up, 
 each throwing its iron over the nearest Spaniard and 
 striving to board her high red sides. Twenty ships were 
 drifting in furious single combat after the manner of the 
 Philippa, until the whole surface of the sea was covered 
 with a succession of these desperate duels. The dismasted 
 carack, which the king's ship had left behind it, had been 
 carried by the Earl of Suffolk's Christopher, and the water 
 was dotted with the heads of her crew. An English ship 
 had been sunk by a huge stone discharged from an engine, 
 and her men also were struggling in the waves, none 
 having leisure to lend them a hand. A second English 
 ship was caught between two of the Spanish vessels and 
 overwhelmed by a rush of boarders, so that not a man of 
 her was left alive. On the other hand, Mowbray and 
 Audley had each taken the caracks which were opposed 
 to them, and the battle in the centre, after swaying this 
 way and that, was turning now in favour of the Islanders. 
 
 The Black Prince, with the Lion, the Grace Marie, and 
 four other ships, had swept round to turn the Spanish 
 flank ; but the movement was seen, and the Spaniards had 
 ten ships with which to meet it, one of them their great 
 carack, the St. lago di Compostella. To this ship the 
 prince had attached his little cog, and strove desperately 
 to board her ; but her side was so high and the defence so 
 desperate that his men could never get beyond her bul- 
 warks, but were hurled down again and again with a 
 clang and clash to the deck beneath. Her side bristled 
 with crossbowmen, who shot straight down on to the 
 packed waist of the Lion, so that the dead lay there in 
 heaps. But the most dangerous of all was a swarthy. 
 
246 SIR NIGEL 
 
 black-bearded giant in the tops, who crouched so that 
 none could see him, but rising every now and then with 
 a huge lump of iron between his hands, hurled it down 
 with such force that nothing could stop it. Again and 
 again these ponderous bolts crashed through the deck and 
 hurtled down into the bottom of the ship, starting the 
 planks and shattering all that came in their way. 
 
 The prince, clad in the dark armour which gave him 
 his name, was directing the attack from the poop when the 
 shipman rushed wildly up to him with fear on his face. 
 
 " Sire ! " he cried. " The ship may not stand against 
 these blows. A few more will sink her! Already the 
 water floods inboard ! " 
 
 The prince looked up, and as he did so the shaggy 
 beard showed once more, and two brawny arms swept 
 downward. A great slug, whizzing down, beat a gaping 
 hole in the deck, and fell rending and riving into the 
 hold below. The master-mariner tore his grizzled hair. 
 
 " Another leak ! " he cried. " I pray to Saint Leonard 
 to bear us up this day ! Twenty of my shipmen are bail- 
 ing with buckets, but the water rises on them fast. The 
 vessel may not float another hour." 
 
 The prince had snatched a crossbow from one of his 
 attendants and levelled it at the Spaniard's tops. At the 
 very instant when the seaman stood erect with a fresh 
 bar in his hands, the bolt took him full in the face, and 
 his body fell forward over the parapet, hanging there head 
 downward. A howl of exultation burst from the iEnglish 
 at the sight, answered by a wild roar of anger from the 
 Spaniards. A seaman had run from the Lion's hold and 
 whispered in the ear of the shipman. He turned an ashen 
 face upon the prince. 
 
 " It is even as I say, sire. The ship is sinking beneath 
 our feet ! " he cried. 
 
 " The more need that we should gain another," said he. 
 " Sir Heniy Stokes, Sir Thomas Stourton, William, John 
 
THE SPANIARDS ON THE SEA 247 
 
 of Clifton, here lies our roadl Advance my banner, 
 Thomas de Mohun ! On, and the day is ours ! " 
 
 By a desperate scramble, a dozen men, the prince at 
 their head, gained a footing on the edge of the Spaniard's 
 deck. Some slashed furiously to clear a space, others 
 hung over, clutching the rail with one hand and pulling 
 up their comrades from below. Every instant that they 
 could hold their own their strength increased, till twenty 
 had become thirty, and thirty forty, when of a sudden the 
 newcomers, still reaching forth to their comrades below, 
 saw the deck beneath them reel and vanish in a swirling 
 sheet of foam. The prince's ship had foundered. 
 
 A yeU went up from the Spaniards as they turned 
 furiously upon the small band who had reached their deck. 
 Already the prince and his men had carried the poop, and 
 from that high station they beat back their swarming 
 enemies. But crossbow darts pelted and thudded among 
 their ranks, till a third of their number were stretched 
 upon the planks. Lined across the deck, they could hardly 
 keep an unbroken front to the leaping, smrging crowd who 
 pressed upon them. Another rush, or another after that, 
 must assuredly break them, for these dark men of Spain, 
 hardened by an endless struggle with the Moors, were 
 fierce and stubborn fighters. But hark to this sudden 
 roar upon the further side of them ! 
 
 " Saint George ! Saint George 1 A KnoUes to the 
 rescue ! " 
 
 A small craft had run alongside, and sixty men had 
 swarmed on the deck of the St. logo. Caught between 
 two fires, the Spaniards wavered and broka The fight 
 became a massacre. Down from the poop sprang the 
 Prince's men. Up from the waist rushed the newcomers. 
 There were five dreadful minutes of blows and screams 
 and prayers, with struggling figures clinging to the bul- 
 warks and sullen splashes into the water below. Then it 
 was over, and a Crowd of weary, overstrained men leaned 
 
248 SIR NIGEL 
 
 panting upon their weapons, or lay breathless and ex- 
 hausted upon the deck of the captured carack. 
 
 The prince had pulled up his visor and lowered his 
 beaver. He smiled proudly as he gazed around him and 
 wiped his streaming face. 
 
 " Where is the shipman ? " he asked. " Let him lead 
 us against another ship." 
 
 " JSTay, sire ; the shipman and all his men have sunk 
 in the Lion," said Thomas de Mohun, a young knight of 
 the west country, who carried the standard. " We have 
 lost our ship and the half of our following. I fear that 
 we can fight no more." 
 
 " It matters the less since the day is already ours," 
 said the prince, looking over the sea. " My noble father's 
 royal banner flies upon yonder Spaniard. Mowbray, 
 Audley, Suffolk, Beauchamp, Namur, Tracey, Stafford, 
 Arundel, each has his flag over a scarlet carack, even as 
 mine floats over this. See, yonder squadron is already far 
 beyond our reach. But surely we owe thanks to you who 
 came at so perilous a moment to our aid. Your face I 
 have seen, and your coat-armour also, young sir, though 
 I cannot lay my tongue to your name. Let me know it, 
 that I may thank you." 
 
 He had turned to Nigel, who stood flushed and joyous 
 at the head of the boarders from the Basilisk. 
 
 " I am but a squire, sire, and can claim no thanks, for 
 there is nothing that I have done. Here is our leader." 
 
 The prince's eyes fell upon the shield charged with the 
 Black Eaven and the stern young face of him who bore it. 
 
 " Sir Robert KnoUes," said he. " I had thought you 
 were on your way to Brittany." 
 
 " I was so, sire, when I had the fortune to see this 
 battle as I passed." 
 
 The prince laughed. " It would indeed be to ask too 
 much, Robert, that you should keep on your course when 
 much honour was to be gathered so close to you. But 
 
THE SPANIARDS ON THE SEA 249 
 
 now I pray you that you will come back with us to 
 Winchelsea, for well I know that my father would fain 
 thank you for what you have done this day." 
 
 But Eobert Knolles shook his head. " I have your 
 father's command, sire, and without his order I may not 
 go against it. Our people are hard-pressed in Brittany, 
 and it is not for me to linger on the way. I pray you, 
 sire, if you must needs mention me to the king, to crave 
 his pardon that I should have broken my journey thus." 
 
 " You are right, Eobert. God-speed you on your way ! 
 And I would that I were sailing under your banner, for 
 I see clearly that you will take your people where they 
 may worshipfully win worship. Perchance I also may be 
 in Brittany before the year is past." 
 
 The prince ttirned to the task of gathering his weary 
 people together, and the Basilisks passed over the side 
 once more and dropped down on to their own little ship. 
 They poled her off from the captured Spaniard, and set 
 their sail with their prow for the south. Far ahead of 
 them were their two consorts, beating toward them in the 
 hope of giving help, while down Channel were a score 
 of Spanish ships, with a few of the English vessels hang- 
 ing upon their skirts. The sun lay low on the water, and 
 its level beams glowed upon the scarlet and gold of 
 fourteen great caracks, each flying the cross of Saint 
 George, and towering high above the cluster of English 
 ships which, with brave waving of flags and blaring of 
 music, were moving slowly toward the Kentish coast. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 HOW BLACK SIMON CLAIMED FORFEIT FEOM THE 
 KING OP SAKK 
 
 Foe a day and a half the small fleet made good progress, 
 but on the second morning, after sighting Cape de la 
 Hague, there came a brisk land wind which blew them 
 out to sea. It grew into a squall with rain and fog so 
 that they were two more days beating back. Next morning 
 they found themselves in a dangerous rock-studded sea 
 with a small island upon their starboard quarter. It was 
 girdled with high granite cliffs of a reddish hue, and slopes 
 of bright green grassland lay above them. A second 
 smaller island lay beside it. Dennis the shipman shook 
 his head as he looked. 
 
 " That is Brechou," said he, " and the larger one is the 
 Island of Sark. If ever I be cast away, I pray the saints 
 that I may not be upon yonder coast ! " 
 
 Knolles gazed across at it. "You say well, master- 
 shipman," said he. " It does appear to be a rocky and 
 perilous spot." 
 
 " Nay, it is the rocky hearts of those who dwell upon 
 it that I had in my mind," the old sailor answered. " We 
 are well safe in three goodly vessels, but had we been here 
 in a small craft I make no doubt that they would have 
 already had their boats out against us." 
 
 " Who, then, are these people, and how do they Hve 
 upon so smaU and windswept an island ? " asked the 
 soldier. 
 
 " They do not live from the island, fair sir, but from 
 250 
 
HOW BLACK SIMON CLAIMED FORFEIT 251 
 
 what they can gather upon the sea around it. They are 
 broken folk from all countries, justice-fliers, prison- 
 breakers, reavers, escaped bondsmen, murderers and staff- 
 strikers who have made their way to this outland place 
 and hold it against all comers. There is one here who 
 could tell you of them and of their ways, for he was long 
 time prisoner amongst them." The seaman pointed to 
 Black Simon, the dark man from Norwich, who was 
 leaning against the side lost in moody thought and staring 
 with a brooding eye at the distant shore. 
 
 " How now, fellow ? " asked Knolles. " What is this 
 I hear ? Is it indeed sooth that you have been a captive 
 upon this island ? " 
 
 " It is true, fair sir. For eight months I have been 
 servant to the man whom they call their king. His name 
 is La Muette, and he comes from Jersey, nor is there 
 imder God's sky a man whom I have more desire to see." 
 
 " Has he, then, mishandled you ? " 
 
 Black Simon gave a wry smile and pulled off his 
 jerkin. His lean sinewy back was waled and puckered 
 with white scars. 
 
 "He has left his sign of hand upon me," said he. 
 " He swore that he would break me to his will, and thus 
 he tried to do it. But most I desire to see him because 
 he hath lost a wager to me and I would fain be paid." 
 
 " This is a strange saying," said Knolles. " What is 
 this wager, and why should he pay you 1 " 
 
 " It is but a small matter," Simon answered ; " but I 
 am a poor man and the payment would be welcome. 
 Should it have chanced that we stopped at this island 
 I should have craved your leave that I go ashore and ask 
 for that which I have fairly won." 
 
 Sir Eobert Knolles laughed. " This business tickleth 
 my fancy," said he. " As to stopping at the island, this 
 shipman tells me that we must needs wait a day and a 
 night, for that we have strained our planks. . But if you 
 
252 SIR NIGEL 
 
 should go ashore, how will you be sure that you will be 
 free to depart, or that you will see this king of whom you 
 speak ? " 
 
 Black Simon's dark face was shining with a fierce joy. 
 " Fair sir, I will ever be your debtor if you will let me 
 go. Concerning what you«ask, I know this island even as 
 I know the streets of Norwich, as you may well believe, 
 seeing that it is but a small place and I upon it for near 
 a year. Should I land after dark, I could win my way to 
 the king's house, and if he be not dead or distraught with 
 drink I could have speech with him alone, for I know his 
 ways and his hours and how he may be found. I would 
 ask only that Aylward the archer may go with me, that I 
 may have one friend at my side if things should chance to 
 go awry." 
 
 KnoUes thought awhile. " It is much that you ask," 
 said he, "for by God's truth I reckon that you and 
 this friend of yours are two of my men whom I would 
 be least ready to lose. I have seen you both at grips 
 with the Spaniards and I know you. But I trust you, 
 and if we must indeed stop at this accursed place, then 
 you may do as you will. If you have deceived me, or if 
 this is a trick by which you design to leave me, then God 
 be your friend when next we meet, for man will be of 
 small avail ! " 
 
 It proved that not only the seams had to be calked 
 but that the cog Thomas was out of fresh water. The 
 ships moored therefore near the Isle of Brechou, where 
 springs were to be found. There were no people upon 
 this little patch, but over on the farther island many 
 figures could be seen watching them, and the twinkle of 
 steel from among them showed that they were armed men. 
 One boat had ventured forth and taken a good look at 
 them, but had hurried back with the warning that they 
 were too strong to be touched. 
 
 Black Simon found Aylward seated under the poop 
 
HOW BLACK SIMON CLAIMED FORFEIT 253 
 
 with his back against Bartholomew the bowyer. He was 
 whistling merrily as he carved a girl's face upon the horn 
 of his bow. 
 
 "My friend," said Simon, "will you come ashore to- 
 night — ^for I have need of your help ? "_ 
 
 Aylward crowed lustily. " Will I come, Simon ? By 
 my hilt, I shall be right glad to put my foot on the good 
 brown earth once more. All my life I have trod it, and 
 yet I would never have learned its worth had I not 
 journeyed in these cursed ships. We will go on shore 
 together, Simon, and we will seek out the women, if there 
 be any there, for it seems a long year since I heard their 
 gentle voices, and my eyes are weary of such faces as 
 Bartholomew's or thine." 
 
 Simon's grim features relaxed into a smile. " The only 
 face that you will see ashore, Samkin, will bring you 
 small comfort/' said he, " and I warn you that this is no 
 easy errand, but one which may be neither sweet nor fair, 
 for if these people take us our end will be a cruel one." 
 
 " By my hilt," said Aylward, " I am with you, gossip, 
 wherever you may go ! Say no more, therefore, for I am 
 weary of living like a cony in a hole, and I shall be right 
 glad to stand by you in your venture." 
 
 That night, two hours after dark, a small boat put 
 forth from the Basilish. It contained Simon, Aylward, 
 and two seamen. The soldiers carried their swords, and 
 Black Simon bore a brown biscuit-bag over his shoulder. 
 Under his direction the rowers skirted the dangerous surf 
 which beat against the cliffs until they came to a spot 
 where an outlying reef formed a breakwater. Within was 
 a belt of calm water and a shallow cover with a sloping 
 beach. Here the boat was dragged up and the seamen 
 were ordered to wait, while Simon and Aylward started 
 on their errand. 
 
 With the assured air of a man who knows exactly 
 where he is and whither he is going, the man-at-arm§ 
 
254 SIR NIGEL 
 
 began to clamber up a narrow fern-lined cleft among the 
 rocks. It was no easy ascent in the darkness, but Simon 
 climbed on like an old dog hot upon a scent, and the 
 panting Aylward struggled after as best he might. At 
 last they were at the summit and the archer threw himself 
 down upon the grass. 
 
 " Nay, Simon, I have not enough breath to blow out a 
 candle," said he. " Stint your haste for a minute, since 
 we have a long night before us. Surely this man is a 
 friend indeed, if you hasten so to see him." 
 
 " Such a friend," Simon answered, " that I have often 
 dreamed of our next meeting. Now before that moon has 
 set it will have come." 
 
 " Had it been a wench I could have understood it," 
 said Aylward. " By these ten finger bones, if Mary of 
 the null or little Kate of Compton had waited me on the 
 brow of this cliff, I should have come up it and never 
 known it was there. But surely I see houses and hear 
 voices over yonder in the shadow ? " 
 
 " It is their town," whispered Simon. " There are a 
 hundred as bloody-minded cut-throats as are to be found 
 in Christendom beneath those roofs. Hark to that ! " 
 
 A fierce burst of laughter came out of the darkness, 
 followed by a long cry of pain. 
 
 " AU-haUows be with us ! " cried Aylward. " What is 
 that ? " 
 
 " As like as not some poor devil has fallen into their 
 clutches, even as I did. Come this way, Samkin, for there 
 is a peat-cutting where we may hide. Ay, here it is, but 
 deeper and broader than of old. Now, follow me close, for 
 if we keep within it we shaU find ourselves a stone cast 
 off the king's house." 
 
 Together they crept along the dark cutting. Suddenly 
 Simon seized Aylward by the shoulder and pushed him 
 into the shadow of the bank. Crouching in the darkness, 
 they heard footsteps and voices upon the farther side 
 
HOW BLACK SIMON CLAIMED FORFEIT 255 
 
 of the trench. Two men sauntered along it and stopped 
 almost at the very spot where the comrades were lying. 
 Aylward could see their dark figures outlined against the 
 starry sky. 
 
 " Why should you scold, Jacques," said one of them, 
 speaking a strange half-French, half-English lingo. " L& 
 diable t'emporte for a grumbling rascal. You won a woman 
 and I got nothing. What more would you have ? " 
 
 " You win have your chance off the next ship, mon 
 garfon, but mine is passed. A woman, it is true — an old 
 peasant out of the fields, with a face as yellow as a kite's 
 claw. But Gaston, who threw a nine against my eight, 
 got as fair a little Normandy lass as ever your eyes have 
 seen. • Curse the dice, I say ! And as to my woman, I will 
 isell her to you for a firkin of Gascony." 
 
 "I have no wine to spare, but I will give you a 
 keg of apples," said the other. "I had it out of the 
 Peter and Paul, the Falmouth boat that struck in Creux 
 Bay." 
 
 ' " Well, well, your apples may be the worse for keeping, 
 but so is old Marie, and we can cry quits on that. Come 
 round and drink a cup over the bargain." 
 
 They shuffled onward in the darkness. 
 
 " Heard you ever such villainy ? " cried Aylward, 
 breathing fierce and hard. " Did you hear them, Simon ? 
 A woman for a keg of apples ! And my heart's root is 
 sad for the other one, the girl of Normandy. Surely we 
 can land to-morrow and burn all these water-rats out of 
 their nest." 
 
 "Nay, Sir Eobert will not waste time or strength ere 
 he reach Brittany." 
 
 " Sure I am that if my little master Squire Loring had 
 the handling of it, every woman on this island would be 
 free ere another day had passed." 
 
 " I doubt it not," said Simon. " He is one who makes 
 an idol of woman, after the manner of those crazy knight 
 
256 SIR NIGEL 
 
 errants. But Sir Eobert is a true soldier and hath only 
 his purpose in view." 
 
 " Simon," said Aylward, " the light is not overgood 
 and the place is cramped for sword-play, but if you will 
 step out into the open I will teach you whether my master 
 is a true soldier or not." 
 
 " Tut, man ! you are as foolish yourself," said Simon. 
 " Here we are with our work in hand, and yet you must 
 needs fall out with me on our way to it. I say nothing 
 against your master save that he hath the way of his 
 fellows, who follow dreams and fancies. But Knolles 
 looks neither to right nor left, and walks forward to his 
 mark. Now, let us on, for the time passes." 
 
 " Simon, your words are neither good nor fair. When 
 we are back on shipboard we will speak further of this 
 matter. Now lead on, I pray you, and let us see some 
 more of this ten-devil island." 
 
 For half a mile Simon led the way until they came to 
 a large house which stood by itself. Peering at it from 
 the edge of the cutting, Aylward could see that it was 
 made from the wreckage of many vessels, for at each 
 corner a prow was thrust out. Lights blazed within, and 
 there came the sound of a strong voice singing a gay song 
 which was taken up by a dozen others in the chorus. 
 
 " All is well, lad ! " whispered Simon, in great delight. 
 " That is the voice of the king. It is the very song he 
 used to sing. ' Les deux files de, Pierre.' Tore God, my 
 back tingles at the very sound of it. Here we will wait 
 until his company take their leave." 
 
 Hour after hour they crouched in the peat-cutting, 
 listening to the noisy songs of the revelers within, some 
 French, some English, and all growing fouler and less 
 articulate as the night wore on. Once a quarrel broke 
 out and the clamour was like a cageful of wUd beasts 
 at feeding-time. Then a health was drunk and there was 
 much stamping and cheering, 
 
HOW BLACK SIMON CLAIMED FORFEIT 257 
 
 Only once was the long vigil broken. A woman came 
 forth from the house and walked up and down, with her 
 face sunk upon her breast. She was tall and slender, but 
 her features could not be seen for a wimple over her head. 
 Weary sadness could be read in her bowed back and 
 dragging steps. Once only they saw her throw her two 
 hands up to Heaven as one who is beyond human aid. 
 Then she passed slowly into the house again. A moment 
 later the door of the hall was flung open, and a shouting, 
 stumbling throng came crowding forth, with whoop and 
 yell, into the silent night. Linking arms and striking 
 up a chorus, they marched past the peat-cutting, their 
 voices dwindling slowly away as they made for their 
 homes. 
 
 " Now, Samkin, now ! " cried Simon, and jumping out 
 from the hiding-place, he made for the door. It had not 
 yet been fastened. The two comrades sprang inside. 
 Then Simon drew the bolts so that none might interrupt 
 them. 
 
 A long table littered with flagons and beakers lay 
 before them. It was lit up by a line of torches, which 
 flickered and smoked in their iron sconces. At the farther 
 end a solitary man was seated. His head rested upon 
 his two hands, as if he were befuddled with wine, but at 
 the harsh sound of the snapping bolts he raised his face 
 and looked angrily around him. It was a strange, power- 
 ful head, tawny and shaggy like a lion's, with a tangled 
 beard and a large, harsh face, bloated and blotched with 
 vice. He laughed as the newcomers entered, thinking 
 that two of his boon companions had returned to finish a 
 flagon. Then he stared hard, and he passed his hand over 
 his eyes like one who thinks he may be dreaming. 
 
 " M(yri IKeu ! " he cried. " Who are you, and whence 
 come you at this hour of the night ? Is this the way to 
 break into ovir royal presence ? " 
 
 Simon approached up one side of the table and Aylward 
 
258 SIR NIGEL 
 
 up the other. When they were close to the king, the man- 
 at-arms plucked a torch from its socket and held it to his 
 own face. The king staggered back with a cry, as he 
 gazed at that grim visage. 
 
 " Le diable noir ! " he cried. " Simon, the Englishman ! 
 What make you here ? " 
 
 Simon put his hand upon his shoulder. " Sit here ! " 
 said he, and he forced the king into his seat. " Do you sit 
 on the farther side of him, Aylward. We make a merry 
 group, do we not ? Often have I served at this table, but 
 never did I hope to drink at it. Fill your cup, Samkin, and 
 pass the flagon." 
 
 The king looked from one to the other with terror in 
 his bloodshot eyes. 
 
 " What would you do ? " he asked. " Are you mad, 
 that you should come here ? One shout and you are at 
 my mercy." 
 
 " Nay, my friend, I have lived too long in your house 
 not to know the ways of it. No man-servant ever slept 
 beneath your roof, for you feared lest your throat would 
 be cut in the night-time. You may shout 'and shout, if 
 it so please you. It chanced that I was passing on my 
 way from England in those ships which lie off La Brechou, 
 and I thought I would come in and have speech with 
 you." 
 
 " Indeed, Simon, I am right glad to see you," said the 
 king, cringing away from the fierce eyes of the soldier. 
 " We were good friends in the past, were we not, and I 
 cannot call to mind that I have ever done you injury. 
 When you made your way to England by swimming to the 
 Levantine there was none more glad in heart than I." 
 
 " If I cared to doff my doublet I could show you the 
 marks of wha,t your friendship has done for me in the past," 
 said Simon. " It is printed on my back as clearly as on 
 my memory. Why, you foul dog, there are the very rings 
 upon the wall to which my hands were fastened, and there 
 
HOW BLACK SIMON CLAIMED FORFEIT 259 
 
 the stains upon the boards on which my blood has dripped I 
 Is it not so, you king of butchers ? " 
 
 The pirate chief turned whiter still. " It may be that 
 Ufe here was somewhat rough, Simon, but if I have 
 wronged you in any way, I will surely make amends. 
 What do you ask ? " 
 
 " I ask only one thing, and I have come hither that I 
 may get it. It is that you pay me forfeit for that you 
 have lost your wager." 
 
 " My wager, Simon ! I call to mind no wager." 
 
 " But I will caU it to your mind, and then I will take 
 my payment. Often have you sworn that you would 
 break my courage. 'By my head!' you have cried to 
 me. ' You will crawl at my feet ! ' and again : ' I will 
 wager my head that I will tame you ! ' Yes, yes, a score 
 of times you have said so. In my heart, as I listened, I 
 have taken up your gage. And now, dog, you have lost, 
 and I am here to claim the forfeit." 
 
 His long heavy sword flew from its sheath. The king, 
 with a howl of despair, flung his arms round him, and 
 they rolled together under the table. There was a sound 
 like the worrying of dogs ending in a scream. Aylward 
 sat with a ghastly face, and his toes curled viith horror at 
 the sight, for he was still new to scenes of strife and his 
 blood was too cold for such a deed. When Simon rose he 
 tossed something into his bag and sheathed his bloody sword. 
 
 " Come, Samkin, our work is well done," said he. 
 
 "By my hilt, if I had known what it was I would 
 have been less ready to come with you," said the archer. 
 " Could you not have clapped a sword in his fist and let 
 him take his chance in the hall 1 " 
 
 " Nay, Samkin, if you had such memories as T, you 
 would have wished that he should die like a sheep arid not 
 like a man. What chance did he give me when he had 
 the power ? And why should I treat him better ? But, 
 Holy Virgia, what have we here ? " 
 
26o SIR NIGEL 
 
 At the farther end of the table a woman was standing. 
 An open door behind her showed that she had come from 
 the inner room of the house. By her tall figure the com- 
 rades knew that she was the same that they had already 
 seen. Her face had once been fair, but now was white 
 and haggard, with wild dark eyes full of a hopeless terror 
 and despair. Slowly she paced up the room, her gaze 
 fixed not upon the comrades, but upon the dreadful thing 
 beneath the table. Then, as she stooped and was sure, she 
 burst into loud laughter and clapped her hands. 
 
 " Who shall say there is no God ? " she cried. " Who 
 shall say that prayer is unavailing ? Great sir, brave sir, 
 let me kiss that conquering hand ! " 
 
 "Nay, nay, dame, stand back! Well, if you must 
 needs have one of them, take this which is the clean one." 
 
 " It is the other I crave — that which is red with his 
 blood! Oh! joj^ul night when my Ups have been wet 
 with it ! Now I can die in peace ! " 
 
 " We must go, Aylward," said Simon. " In another hour 
 the dawn will have broken. In daytime a rat could not 
 cross this island and pass unseen. Come, man, and at once ! " 
 
 But Aylward was at the woman's side. " Come with 
 us, fair dame," said he. " Surely we can, at least, take 
 you from this island, and no such change can be for the 
 worse." 
 
 " Nay," said she, " the saints in Heaven cannot help 
 me now until they take me to my rest. There is no place 
 for me in the world beyond, and all my friends were slain 
 on the day I was taken. Leave me, brave men, and let 
 me care for myself. Already it lightens in the east, and 
 black wiU be your fate if you are taken. Go, and may 
 the blessing of one who was once a holy nun go with you 
 and guard you from danger ! " 
 
 Sir Eobert Knolles was pacing the deck in the early 
 morning, when he heard the sound of oars, and there were 
 his two night-birds climbing up the side. 
 
HOW BLACK SIMON CLAIMED FORFEIT 261 
 
 " So, fellow," said he, " have you had speech with the 
 king of Sark ? " 
 
 "Fair sir, I have seen him." 
 
 "And he has paid his forfeit ? " 
 
 " He has paid it, sir ! " 
 
 KnoUes looked with curiosity at the bag which Simon 
 bore. 
 
 " What carry you there ? " he asked. 
 
 " The stake that he has lost." 
 
 " What was it, then ? A goblet ? A silver plate ? " 
 
 For answer Simon opened his bag and shook it out on 
 the deck. 
 
 Sir Eobert turned away with a whistle. " 'Fore God ! " 
 said he, " it is in my mind that I carry some hard men 
 with me to Brittany." 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 HOW A SQUIEE OF ENGLAND MET A SQUIRE OP FRANCE 
 
 Sir Egbert Knolles with his little fleet had sighted the 
 Breton coast near Cancale ; they had rounded the Point du 
 Grouin, and finally had sailed past the port of St. Malo 
 and down the long narrow estuary of the Ranee until 
 they were close to the old walled city of Dinan, which 
 was held by that Montfort faction whose cause the English 
 had espoused. Here the horses had been disembarked, the 
 stores were unloaded, and the whole force encamped out- 
 side the city, while the leaders waited for news as to the 
 present state of affairs, and where there was most hope 
 of honour and profit. 
 
 ', The whole of France was feeling the effects of that 
 war with England which had already lasted some ten 
 years, but no province was in so dreadful a condition as 
 this unhappy land of Brittany. In Normandy or Picardy 
 the inroads of the English were periodical with intervals 
 of rest between; but Brittany was torn asunder by con- 
 stant civil war apart from the grapple of the two great 
 combatants, so that there was no surcease of her sufferings. 
 The struggle had begun in 1341 through the rival claims 
 of Montfort and of Blois to the vacant dukedom. England 
 had taken the part of Montfort, France that of Blois. 
 Neither faction was strong enough to destroy the other, and 
 so after ten years of continual fighting, history recorded a 
 long ineffectual list of surprises and ambushes, of raids 
 and skirmishes, of towns taken and retaken, of alternate 
 victory and defeat, in which neither party could claim a 
 
 262 
 
A SQUIRE OF FRANCE 263 
 
 supremacy. It mattered nothing that Montfort and Blois 
 had both disappeared from the scene, the one dead and the 
 other taken by the English. Their wives caught up the 
 red swords which had dropped from the hands of their 
 lords, and the long struggle went on even more savagely 
 than before. 
 
 In the south and east the Blois faction held the country, 
 and Nantes the capital was garrisoned and occupied by a 
 strong French army. In the north and west the Montfort 
 party prevailed, for the island kingdom was at their back, 
 and always fresh sails broke the northern sky-Une bearing 
 adventurers from over the channel. 
 
 Between these two there lay a broad zone comprising 
 all the centre of the country which was a land of blood 
 and violence, where no law prevailed save that of the 
 sword. From end to end it was dotted with castles, some 
 held for one side, some for the other, and many mere 
 robber strongholds, the scenes of gross and monstrous 
 deeds, whose brute owners, knowing that they could never 
 be called to account, made war upon all mankind, and 
 wrung with rack and with flame the last shilling from all 
 who feU into their savage hands. The fields had long 
 been untilled. Commerce was dead. From Eennes in 
 the east to Hennebon in the west, and from Dinan in the 
 north to Nantes in the south, there was no spot where a 
 man's life or a woman's honour was safe. Such was the 
 land, fuU of darkness and blood, the saddest, blackest 
 spot in Christendom, into which KnoUes and his men 
 were now advancing. 
 
 But there was no sadness in the young heart of Nigel, 
 as he rode by the side of Knolles at the head of a clump 
 of spears, nor did it seem to him that Fate had led him 
 into an imduly arduous path. On the contrary, he blessed 
 the good fortune which had sent him into so delightful a 
 country, and it seemed to him as he listened to dreadful 
 stories of robber barons, and looked round at the black 
 
264 SIR NIGEL 
 
 scars of war which lay branded upon the fail' faces of 
 the hills, that no hero or romancer or trouveur had ever 
 journeyed through such a land of promise, with so fair a 
 chance of knightly venture and honourable advance- 
 ment. 
 
 The Eed Ferret was one deed toward his vow. Surely 
 a second, and perhaps a better, was to be found somewhere 
 upon this glorious country-side. He had borne himself as, 
 the others had in the sea-fight, and could not count it to 
 his credit where he had done no more than mere duty. 
 Something beyond this was needed for such a deed as 
 could be laid at the feet of the Lady Mary. But surely 
 it was to be found here in fermenting war-distracted 
 Brittany. Then with two done it would be strange if 
 he could not find occasion for that third one, which would 
 complete his service and set him free to look her in the 
 face once more. With the great yellow horse curveting 
 beneath him, his Guildford armour gleaming in the sun, 
 his sword clanking against his stirrup-iron, and his father's 
 tough ash-spear in his hand, he rode with a light heart and 
 a smiling face, looking eagerly to right and to left for any 
 chance which his good Fate might send. 
 
 The road from Dinan to Canines, along which the small 
 army was moving, rose and dipped over undulating ground, 
 with a bare marshy plain upon the left where the river 
 Eance ran down to the sea, while upon the right lay a 
 wooded country with a few wretched villages, so poor and 
 sordid that they had nothing with which to tempt the 
 spoiler. The peasants had left them at the first twinkle 
 of a steel cap, and lurked at the edges of the woods, ready 
 in an instant to dive into those secret recesses known only 
 to themselves. These creatures suffered sorely at the 
 hands of both parties, but when the chance came they 
 revenged their wrongs on either in a savage way which 
 brought fresh brutalities upon their heads. 
 
 The newcomers soon had a chance of seeing to what 
 
A SQUIRE OF FRANCE 26$ 
 
 lengths they would go, for in the roadway near to Caulnca 
 they came upon an English man-at-arms who had been 
 waylaid and slain by them. How they had overcome him 
 could not be told, but how they had slain him within his 
 armour was horribly apparent, for they had carried such a 
 rock as eight men could lift, and had dropped it upon him 
 as he lay, so that he was spread out in his shattered case 
 like a crab beneath a stone. Many a fist was shaken at 
 the distant woods and many a curse hurled at those who 
 haunted them, as the column of scowling soldiers passed 
 the murdered man whose badge of the Molene cross showed 
 him to have been a follower of that House of Bentley, 
 whose head. Sir Walter, was at that time leader of the 
 British forces in the country. 
 
 Sir Eobert KnoUes had served in Brittany before, and 
 he marshaled his men on the march with the skill and 
 caution of the veteran soldier, the man who leaves as little 
 as possible to chance, having too steadfast a mind to heed 
 the fool who may think him over cautious. He had re- 
 cruited a number of bowmen and men-at-arms at Dinan ; 
 so that his following was now close upon five hundred 
 men. In front under his own leadership were fifty 
 mounted lancers, fully armed and ready for any sudden 
 attack. Behind them on foot came the archers, and a 
 second body of mounted men closed up the rear. Out 
 upon either flank moved small bodies of cavalry, and a 
 dozen scouts, spread fanwise, probed every gorge and 
 dingle in front of the column. So for three days he 
 moved slowly down the Southern Eoad. 
 
 Sir Thomas Percy and Sir James Astley had ridden to 
 the head of the column, and Knolles conferred with them 
 as they marched concerning the plan of their campaign. 
 Percy and Astley were young and hot-headed, with wild 
 visions of dashing deeds and knight errantry, but Knolles, 
 with cold, clear brain and purpose of iron, held ever hia 
 object in view. 
 
266 SIR NIGEL 
 
 " By the holy Dunstan and all the saints of Lindis- 
 farne ! " cried the fiery borderer, " it goes to my heart to 
 ride forward when there are such honourable chances on 
 either side of us. Have I not heard that the French are 
 at Evran beyond the river, and is it not sooth that yonder 
 castle, the towers of which I see above the woods, is in 
 the hands of a traitor, who is false to his liege lord of 
 Montford. There is little profit to be gained upon this 
 road, for the folk seem to have no heart for war. Had we 
 ventured as far over the marches of Scotland as we now 
 are in Brittany, we should not have lacked some honourable 
 venture or chance of winning worship." 
 
 "You say truth, Thomas," cried Astley, a red-faced 
 and choleric young man. "It is weU certain that the 
 French wiU not come to us, and surely it is the more 
 needful that we go to them. In sooth, any soldier who 
 sees us would smile that we should creep for three days 
 along this road as though a thousand dangers lay before 
 us, when we have but poor broken peasants to deal 
 with." 
 
 But Eobert KnoUes shook his head. " We know not 
 what are in these woods, or behind these hills," said he, 
 " and when I know nothing it is my wont to prepare for 
 the worst which may befall. It is but prudence so to do." 
 
 " Your enemies might find some harsher name for it," 
 said Astley, with a sneer. " Nay, you need not think to 
 scare me by glaring at me. Sir Eobert, nor will your ill- 
 pleasure change my thoughts. I have faced fiercer eyes 
 than thine, and I have not feared." 
 
 "Your speech. Sir James, is neither courteous nor 
 good," said KnoUes, " and if I were a free man I would 
 cram your words down your throat with the point of my 
 dagger. But I am here to lead these men in profit and 
 honour, not to quarrel with every fool who has not the wit 
 to imderstand how soldiers should be led. Can you not 
 see that if I make attempts here and there, as you would 
 
A SQUIRE OF FRANCE 267 
 
 have me do, I shall have weakened my strength before I 
 come to that part where it can best be spent ? " 
 
 " And where is that ? " asked Percy. " 'Fore God, 
 Astley, it is in my mind that we ride with one who 
 knows more of war than you or I, and that we would be 
 wise to be guided by his rede. Tell us then what is in 
 your mind." 
 
 " Thirty miles from here," said KnoUes, " there is, as I 
 am told, a fortalice named Ploermel, and within it is one 
 Bambro, an Englishman, with a good garrison. No great 
 distance from him is the Castle of Josselin, where dwells 
 Robert of Beaumanoir with a great following of Bretons. 
 It is my intention that we should join Bambro, and so 
 be in such strength that we may throw ourselves upon 
 Josselin, and by taking it become the masters of all mid- 
 Brittany, and able to make head against the Frenchmen 
 in the south." 
 
 " Indeed I think that you can do no better," said Percy, 
 heartily, " and I swear to you on jeopardy of my soul that 
 I wlU stand by you in the matter! I doubt not that 
 when we come deep into their land they will draw together 
 and do what they may to make head against us ; but up 
 to now I swear by all the saints of Lindisfame that I 
 should have seen more war in a summer's day in Liddes- 
 dale or at the Forest of Jedburgh than any that Brittany 
 has shown us. But see, yonder horsemen are riding in. 
 They are our own hobbellers, are they not ? And who are 
 these who are lashed to^ their stirrups ? " 
 
 A small troop of mounted bowmen had ridden out of 
 an oak grove upon the left of the road. They trotted up 
 to where the three knights had halted. Two wretched 
 peasants whose wrists had been tied to their leathers 
 came leaping and straining beside the horses in their effort 
 not to be dragged off their feet. One was a tail, gaunt, 
 yellow-haired man, the other short and swarthy, but both 
 so crusted with dirt, so matted and tangled and ragged* 
 
268 SIR NIGEL 
 
 that they were more like beasts of the wood than human 
 beings. 
 
 " What is this ? " asked Knolles. "Have I not ordered 
 you to leave the countryfolk at peace ? " 
 
 The leader of the archers, old Wat of Carlisle, held up 
 a sword, a girdle and a dagger. " If it please you, fair 
 sir," said he, " I saw the glint of these, and I thought 
 them no fit tools for hands which were made for the spade 
 and the plough. But when we had ridden them down and 
 taken them, there was the Bentley cross upon each, and 
 we knew that they had belonged to yonder dead English- 
 man upon the road. Surely then, these are two of the 
 villains who have slain him, and it is right that we do 
 justice upon them." 
 
 Sure enough, upon sword, girdle and dagger shone the 
 silver Molene cross which had gleamed on the dead man's 
 armour. Knolles looked at them and then at the prisoners 
 with a face of stone. At the sight of those fell eyes they 
 had dropped with inarticulate howls upon their knees, 
 screaming out their protests in a tongue which none could 
 understand. 
 
 " We must have the roads safe for wandering English- 
 men," said Knolles. " These men must surely die. Hang 
 them to yonder tree." 
 
 He pointed to a live oak by the roadside, and rode 
 onward upon his way in converse with his fellow-knights. 
 But the old bowman had ridden after him, 
 
 " If it please you. Sir Eobert, the bowmen would fain 
 put these men to death in their own fashion," said he. 
 
 " So that they die, I care not how," Knolles answered 
 carelessly, and looked back no more. 
 
 Human life was cheap in those stem days, when the 
 foot-men of a stricken army or the crew of a captured 
 ship were slain without any question or thought of mercy 
 by the victors. War was a rude game, with death for the 
 stake, and the forfeit was always claimed on the one side 
 
A SQUIRE OF FRANCE 269 
 
 and paid on the other without doubt or hesitation. Only 
 the knight might be spared, since his ransom made him 
 Worth more alive than dead. To men trained in such a 
 school, with death for ever hanging over their own heads, 
 it may well be believed that the slaying of two peasant 
 murderers was a small matter. 
 
 And yet there was special reason why upon this 
 occasion the bowmen wished to keep the deed in their own 
 bands. Ever since their dispute aboard the Basilisk, there 
 had been ill-feeling between Bartholomew, the old bald- 
 lieaded bowyer, and long Ned "Widdington the dalesman, 
 which had ended in a conflict at Dinan, in which not only 
 they, but a dozen of their friends, had been laid upon the 
 cobble-stones. The dispute raged round their respective 
 knowledge and skill with the bow, and now some quick 
 wit among the soldiers had suggested a grim fashion in 
 which it should be put to the proof, once for all, which 
 could draw the surer shaft, 
 
 A thick wood lay two hundred paces from the road 
 upon which the archers stood. A stretch of smooth grassy 
 sward lay between. The two peasants were led out fifty 
 yards from the road, with their faces toward the wood. 
 There they stood, held on a leash, and casting many a 
 wondering, frightened glance over their shoulders at the 
 preparations which were being made behind them. 
 
 Old Bartholomew and the big Yorkshireman had 
 stepped out of the ranks and stood side by side, each with 
 his strung bow in his left hand and a single arrow in his 
 right. "Vf ith care they had drawn on and greased their 
 shooting-gloves and fastened their bracers. They plucked 
 and cast up a few blades of grass to measure the wind, 
 examined every small point of their tackle, turned their 
 sides to the mark, and widened their feet in a firmer stance. 
 From all sides came chaff and counsel from their comrades. 
 
 " A three-quarter wind, bowyer ! " cried one. " Aim 
 q, body's breadth to the right ! " 
 
2;o SIR NIGEL 
 
 "But not thy body's breadth, bowyer," laughed 
 another. " Else may you be overwide," 
 
 " Nay, this wind will scarce turn a well-drawn shaft," 
 said a third. " Shoot dead upon him and you wUl be clap 
 in the clout." 
 
 " Steady, Ned, for the good name of the dales," cried a 
 Yorkshiroman. " Loose easy and pluck not, or I am five 
 crowns the poorer man." 
 
 "A week's pay on Bartholomew!" shouted another. 
 " Now, old fat-pate, fail me not ! " 
 
 " Enough, enough ! Stint your talk ! " cried the old 
 bowman, Wat of Carlisle. " Were your shafts as quick as 
 your tongues there would be no facing you. Do you 
 shoot upon the little one, Bartholomew, and you, Ned^ 
 upon the other. Give them law until I cry the word, then 
 loose in your own fashion and at your own time. Are you 
 ready ! Hola, there, Hayward, Beddington, let them run ! " 
 
 The leashes were torn away, and the two men, stooping 
 their heads, ran madly for the shelter of the wood amid 
 such a howl from the archers as beaters may give when 
 the hare starts from its form. The two bowmen, each 
 with his arrow drawn to the pile, stood like russet statues, 
 menacing, motionless, their eager eyes fixed upon the 
 fugitives, their bow-staves rising slowly as the distance 
 between them lengthened. The Bretons were halfway to 
 the wood, and still Old Wat was silent. It may have 
 been mercy or it may have been mischief, but at least the 
 chase should have a fair chance of life. At six score 
 paces he turned his grizzled head at last. 
 
 " Loose ! " he cried. 
 
 At the word the Yorkshireman's bow-string twanged. 
 It was not for nothing that he had earned the name of 
 being one of the deadliest archers of the North, and had 
 twice borne away the silver arrow of Selby. Swift and 
 true flew the fatal shaft and buried itself to the feather in 
 the curved back of the long yellow-haired peasant. 
 
A SQUIRE OF FRANCE 2;i 
 
 Without a sound he fell upon his face and lay stone-dead 
 upon the grass, the one short white plume between his 
 dark shoulders to mark where Death had smote him. 
 
 The Yorkshireman threw his bowstave into the air and 
 danced in triumph, while his comrades roared their fierce 
 delight in a shout of applause, which changed suddenly 
 into a tempest of hooting and of laughter. 
 
 The smaller peasant, more cunning than his comrade, 
 had run more slowly, but with many a backward glance. 
 He had marked his companion's fate and had waited with 
 keen eyes until he saw the bowyer loose his string. At 
 the moment he had thrown himself flat upon the grass 
 and had heard the arrow scream above him, and seen it 
 quiver in the turf beyond. Instantly he had sprung to 
 his feet again, and amid wild whoops and halloos from the 
 bowmen had made for the shelter of the wood. Now he 
 had reached it, and ten score good spaces separated him 
 from the nearest of his persecutors. Surely they could 
 not reach him here. With the tangled brushwood behind 
 him he was as safe as a rabbit at the mouth of his burrow. 
 In the joy of Ms heart he must needs dance in derision 
 and snap his fingers at the foolish men who had let him 
 sHp. He threw back his head, howling at them like a 
 dog, and at the instant an arrow struck him full in the 
 throat and laid him dead among the bracken. There was 
 a hush of surprised silence and then a loud cheer burst 
 from the archers. 
 
 " By the rood of Beverley ! " cried old Wat, " I have 
 not seen a finer roving shaft this many a year. In my 
 own best day I could not have bettered it. Which of you 
 loosed it ? " 
 
 " It was Aylward of Tilford — Samkin Aylward," cried 
 a score of voices, and the bowman, flushed at his own 
 fame, was pushed to the front. 
 
 " Indeed I would that it had been at a nobler mark," 
 said he. " He might have gone free for me, but I could 
 
272 SIR NIGEL 
 
 not keep my fingers from the string when he turned to 
 jeer at us." 
 
 "I see well that you are indeed a master-bowman," 
 said old "Wat, " and it is comfort to my soul to think that 
 if I fall I leave such a man behind me to hold high the 
 credit of our craft. Now gather your shafts and on, for 
 Sir Eobert awaits us on the brow of the hill." 
 
 All day KnoUes and his men marched through the 
 same wild and deserted country, inhabited only by these 
 furtive creatures, hares to the strong and wolves to the 
 weak, who hovered in the shadows of the wood. Ever 
 and anon upon the tops of the hills they caught a glimpse 
 of horsemen who watched them from a distance and 
 vanished when approached. Sometimes bells rang an 
 alarm from villages among the hills, and twice they passed 
 castles which drew up their drawbridges at their approach, 
 and lined their walls with hooting soldiers as they passed. 
 The Englishmen gathered a few oxen and sheep from the 
 pastures of each, but Knolles had no mind to break his 
 strength upon stone walls, and so he went upon his way." 
 
 Once at St. Meen they passed a great nunnery, girt 
 with a high gray lichened wall, an oasis of peace in this 
 desert of war, the black-robed nims basking in the sun or 
 working in the gardens, with the strong gentle hand of 
 Holy Church shielding them ever from evil. The archers 
 doffed caps to them as they passed, for the boldest and 
 roughest dared not cross that line guarded by the dire ban 
 and blight which was fhe one only force in the whole 
 steel-ridden earth which could stand between the weakling 
 and the spoiler. 
 
 The little army halted at St. Meen and cooked its 
 midday meal. It had gathered into its ranks again and 
 was about to start, when KnoUes drew Nigel to one side. 
 
 " Nigel," said he, " it seems to me that I have seldom 
 set eyes upon a horse which hath more power and promise 
 of speed than this great beast of thine." 
 
A SQUIRE OF FRANCE 273 
 
 "It is indeed a noble steed, fair sir," said Nigel. 
 Between him and his young leader there had sprung up 
 great affection and respect since the day that they set foot 
 in the Basilisk. 
 
 " It will be the better if you stretch his limbs, for he 
 grows overheavy," said the knight. "Now, mark me,' 
 Nigel ! Yonder betwixt the ash-tree and the rock what 
 do you see on the side of the far hill ? " 
 
 " There is a white dot upon it. Surely it is a horse." 
 
 " I have marked it all morning, Nigel. This horseman 
 has kept ever upon our flank, spying upon us or waiting 
 to make some attempt upon us. Now I should be right 
 glad to have a prisoner, for it is my wish to know some- 
 thing of this countryside, and these peasants can speak 
 neither French nor English. I would have you linger 
 here in hiding when we go forward. This man will still 
 follow us. When he does so, yonder wood will lie betwixt 
 you and him. Do you ride round it and come upon him 
 from behind. There is broad plain upon his left, and 
 we will cut him off upon the right. If your horse be 
 indeed the swifter, then you cannot fail to take him." 
 
 Nigel had already sprung down and was tightening 
 Pommers' girth. 
 
 " Nay, there is no need of haste, for you cannot start 
 until we are two miles upon our way. And above all I 
 pray you, Nigel, none of your knight-errant ways. It is 
 this man that I want, him and the news that he can bring 
 me. Think little of your own advancement and much of 
 the needs of the army. When you get him, ride west- 
 wards upon the sun, and you cannot fail to find the road." 
 
 Nigel waited with Pommers under the shadow of the 
 nunnery wall, horse and man chafing with impatience, 
 while above them six round-eyed, innocent nun-faces 
 looked down on this strange and disturbing vision from 
 the outer world. At last the long column wound itself 
 out of sight round a curve of the rpad, and the white dot 
 
274 SIR NIGEL 
 
 was gone from the bare green flank of the hill, Nigel 
 bowed his steel head to the nuns, gave his bridle a shake, 
 and bounded off upon his welcome mission. The round- 
 eyed sisters saw yellow horse and twinkling man sweep 
 round the skirt of the wood, caught a last glimmer of him 
 through the tree-trunks, and paced slowly back to their 
 pruning and their planting, their minds filled with the 
 beauty and the terror of that outer world beyond the high 
 gray lichen -mottled wall. 
 
 Everything fell out even as KnoUes had planned. As 
 Nigel rounded the oak forest, there upon the farther side 
 of it, with only good greensward between, was the rider 
 upon the white horse. Already he was so near that Nigel 
 could see him clearly, a young cavalier, proud in his bear- 
 ing, clad in purple silk tunic with a red curling feather in 
 his low black cap. He wore no armour, but his sword 
 gleamed at his side. He rode easily and carelessly, as one 
 who cares for no man, and his eyes were for ever fixed 
 upon the English soldiers on the road. So intent was he 
 upon them that he gave.no thought to his own safety, and 
 it was only when the low thunder of the great horse's 
 hoofs, broke upon his ears that he turned in his saddle, 
 looked very coolly and steadily at Nigel, then gave his 
 own bridle a shake and darted off, swift ais a hawk, toward 
 the lulls upon the left. 
 
 Pommers had met his match that day. The white 
 horse, two parts Arab^ bore the lighter weight, since Nigel 
 was clad in full armour. For five miles over the open 
 neither gained a hundred yards upon the other. They had 
 topped the hill and flew down the farther side, the stranger 
 continually turning in his saddle to have a look at his 
 pursuer. There was no panic in his flight, but rather the 
 amused rivalry with which a good horseman who is proud 
 of his mount contends with one who has challenged him. 
 Below the hill was a marshy plain, studded with great 
 Druidic stones, some prostrate, some erect, some bearing 
 
A SQUIRE OF FRANCE 275 
 
 others across their tops like the huge doors of some vanished 
 biulding. A path ran through the marsh, with green rushes 
 as a danger signal on either side of it. Across this path many 
 of the huge stones were lying, but the white horse cleared 
 them in its stride, and Pommers followed close upon his 
 heels. Then came a mile of soft ground where the lighter 
 weight again drew to the front, but it ended in a dry up- 
 land, and once again Nigel gained. A sunken road crossed 
 it, but the white cleared it with a mighty spring, and again 
 the yellow followed. Two small hills lay before them 
 with a narrow gorge of deep bushes between. Nigel saw 
 the white horse bounding chest-deep amid the underwood. 
 
 Next instant its hind legs were high in the air, and the 
 rider had been shot from its back. A howl of triumph rose 
 from amid the bushes, and a dozen wild figures, armed with 
 club and with spear, rushed upon the prostrate man. 
 
 "A moi, Anglais, moil " cried a voice, and Nigel saw 
 the young rider stagger to his feet, strike round him with 
 his sword, and then fall once more before the rush of his 
 assailants. 
 
 There was a comradeship among men of gentle blood 
 and bearing which banded them together against all 
 ruffianly or unchivalrous attack. These rude fellows 
 were no soldiers. Their dress and arms, their uncouth 
 cries and wild assault, marked them as banditti — such men 
 as had slain the Englishman upon the road. Waiting in 
 narrow gorges with a hidden rope across the path, they 
 watched for the lonely horseman as a fowler waits by his 
 bird-trap, trusting that they could overthrow the steed 
 and then slay the rider ere he had recovered from his fall. 
 
 Such would have been the fate of the stranger, as of so 
 many cavaliers before him, had Nigel not chanced to be 
 close upon his heels. In an instant Pommers had burst 
 through the group who struck at the prostrate man, and in 
 another two of the robbers had fallen before Nigel's sword. 
 A spear rang on his breastplate, but one blow shore off its 
 
276 SIR NIGEL 
 
 head, and a second that of the man who held it. In vain 
 they thrust at the steel-girt man. His sword played round 
 them like lightning, and the fierce horse ramped and 
 swooped above them with pawing iron-shod hoofs and eyes 
 of fire. With cries and shrieks they flew off to right and 
 left amid the bushes, springing over boulders and darting 
 under branches where no horseman could follow them. 
 The foul crew had gone as swiftly and suddenly as it had 
 come, and save for four ragged figures littered among the 
 trampled bushes, no sign remained of their passing. 
 
 Nigel tethered Pommers to a thorn-bush and then 
 turned his attention to the injured man. The white horse 
 had regained his feet, and stood whinnying gently as he 
 looked down on his prostrate master. A heavy blow, half 
 broken by his sword, had beaten him down and left a great 
 raw bruise upon his forehead. But a stream gurgled through 
 the gorge, and a capful of water dashed over his face 
 brought the senses back to the injured man. He was a 
 mere stripling, with the delicate features of a woman, and 
 a pair of great violet-blue eyes, which looked up presently 
 with a puzzled stare into Nigel's face. 
 
 " Who are you ? " he asked. " Ah yes ! I call you to 
 mind. You are the young Englishman who chased me on 
 the great yellow horse. By our Lady of Kocamadour, whose 
 vernicle is round my neck! I could not have believed 
 that any horse could have kept at the heels of Charlemagne 
 so long. But I wiU. wager you a hundred crowns. English- 
 man, that I lead you over a five-mile course." 
 
 " Nay," said Nigel, " we wUl wait till you can back a 
 horse ere we talk of racing it. I am Nigel of Tilford, of 
 the family of Loring, a squire by rank, and the son of a 
 knight. How are you called, young sir ? " 
 
 " I also am a squire by rank and the son of a knight. 
 I am Eaoul de la Eoche Pierre de Bras, whose father writes 
 himself Lord of Grosbois, a free vavasor of the noble Coimt 
 of Toulouse, with the right of fossa and of furca, the high 
 
A SQUIRE OF FRANCE 277 
 
 justice, the middle and the low. He sat up and rubbed 
 his eyes. "Englishman, you have saved my life, as I 
 would have saved yours, had I seen such yelping dogs set 
 upon a man of blood and of coat-armour. But now I am 
 yours, and what is your sweet will ? " 
 
 " When you are fit to ride, you will come back with 
 me to my people." 
 
 " Alas ! I feared that you would say so. Had I taken 
 you, Nigel — that is your name, is it not? — had I taken 
 you, I would not have acted thus ? " 
 
 " How, then, would yoU have ordered things ? " asked 
 Nigel, much taken with the frank and debonair manner of 
 his captive. 
 
 "I would not have taken advantage of such a mis- 
 chance as has befallen me which has put me in your power. 
 I would give you a sword and beat you in fair fight, so 
 that I might send you to give greeting to my dear lady 
 and show her the deeds which I do for her fair sake." 
 
 "Indeed, your words are both good and fair," said 
 Nigel. "By Saint Paul ! I cannot call to mind that I 
 have ever met a man who bore himself better. But since 
 I am in my armour and you without, I see not how we 
 can debate the matter." 
 
 " Surely, gentle Nigel, you could doff your armour." 
 
 " Then have I only my underclothes." 
 
 " Nay, there shall be no unfairness there, for I also 
 will very gladly strip to my underclothes." 
 
 Nigel looked wistfully at the Frenchman ; but he shook 
 his head. "Alas! it may not be," said he. "The last 
 words that Sir Eobert said to me were that I was to bring 
 you to his side, for he would have speech with you. 
 Would that I could do what you ask, for I also have a fair 
 lady to whom I would fain send you. What use axe you 
 to me, Eaoul, since I have gained no honour in the taMng 
 of you ? How is it with you now ? " 
 
 The young Frenchman had risen to his feet, " Do not 
 
^78 SIR NIGEL 
 
 itake my sword," he said. "I am yours, rescue or no 
 rescue. I think now that I could mount my horse, though 
 indeed my head still rings like a cracked bell." 
 
 Nigel had lost all traces of his comrades; but he 
 remembered Sir Eobert's words that he should ride upon 
 the sun with the certainty that sooner or later he would 
 strike upon the road. As they jogged slowly along over 
 undulating hills, the Frenchman shook off his hurt, and the 
 two chatted merrily together. 
 
 " I had but just come from France," said he, " and I 
 had hoped to win honour in this country, for I have ever 
 heard that the English are very hardy men and excellent 
 people to fight with. My mules and my baggage are at 
 Evran ; but I rode forth to see what I could see, and I 
 chanced upon your army moving down the road, so I 
 coasted it in the hopes of some profit or adventure. Then 
 you came after me, and I would have given all the gold 
 goblets upon my father's table if I had my harness so that 
 I could have turned upon you. I have promised the 
 Countess Beatrice that I will seiid her an Englishman or 
 two to kiss her hands." 
 
 " One might perchance have a worse fate," said Nigel. 
 " Is this fair dame your betrothed ? " 
 
 "She is my love," answered the Frenchman. "We 
 are but waiting for the Count to be slain in the wars, and 
 then we mean to marry. And this lady of thine, Nigel ? 
 I would that I could see her." 
 
 " Perchance you shall, fair sir," said Nigel, " for all that 
 I have seen of you fills me with desire to go further with 
 you. It is in my mind that we might turn this thing to 
 profit and to honour, for when Sir Eobert has spoken with 
 you, I am free to do with you as I wUl." 
 
 " And what will you do, Nigel ? " 
 
 "We shall surely try some small deed upon each other, 
 so that either I shall see the Lady Beatrice, or you the 
 Lady Mary. Nay, thank me not, for like yourself, I have 
 
A SQUIRE OF FRANCE 279 
 
 come to this country in search of honour, and I know not 
 where I may better find it than at the end of your sword- 
 point. My good lord and master, Sir John Chandos, has 
 told me many times that never yet did he meet French 
 knight nor squire that he did not find great pleasure and 
 profit from their company, and now I very clearly see that 
 he has spoken the truth." 
 
 For an hour these two friends rode together, the French- 
 man pouring forth the praises of his lady, whose glove he 
 produced from one pocket, her garter from his vest, and 
 her shoe from his saddle-hag. She was blond, and when 
 he heard that Mary was dark, he would fain stop then 
 and there to fight the question of colour. He talked too 
 of his great chateau at Lauta, by the head waters of the 
 pleasant Garonne; of the hundred horses in the stables, 
 the seventy hounds in the kennels, the fifty hawks in the 
 mews. His English friend should come there when the 
 wars were over, and what golden days would be theirs ! 
 Nigel too, with his English coldness thawing before this 
 young sunbeam of the South, found himself talking of the 
 heather slopes of Surrey, of the forest of Woolmer, even of 
 the sacred chambers of Cosford. 
 
 But as they rode onward toward the sinking sun, their 
 thoughts far away in their distant homes, their horses 
 striding together, there came that which brought their minds 
 back in an instant to the perilous hillsides of Brittany. 
 
 It was the long blast of a trumpet blown from some- 
 where on the farther side of a ridge toward which they 
 were riding. A second long-drawn note from a distance 
 answered it. 
 
 " It is your camp," said the Frenchman. 
 
 "Nay," said Nigel; "we have pipes with us and a 
 naker or two, but I have heard no trumpet-call from our 
 ranks. It behoves us to take heed, for we know not what 
 may be before us. Eide this way, I pray you, that we 
 may look over and yet be ourselves unseen." 
 
280 SIR NIGEL 
 
 Some scattered boulders crowned the height, and from 
 behind them the two young squires could see the long 
 rocky valley beyond. Upon a knoU was a small square 
 building with a battlement roimd it. Some distance from 
 it towered a great dark castle, as massive as the rocks on 
 which it stood, with one strong keep at the corner, and four 
 long lines of machicolated walls. Above, a great banner 
 ilew proudly in the wind, with some device which glowed 
 red in the setting sun. Mgel shaded his eyes and stared 
 with wrinkled brow. 
 
 " It is not the arms of England, nor yet the lilies of 
 France, nor is it the ermine of Brittany," said he. " He 
 who holds this castle fights for his own hand, since his 
 own device flies above it. Surely it is a head gules on an 
 argent field." 
 
 " The bloody head on a silver tray ! " cried the French- 
 man. " Was I not warned against him ? This is not a 
 man, friend Mgel. It is a monster who wars upon English, 
 French, and aU Christendom. Have you not heard of the 
 butcher of La Brohiniere ? " 
 
 " Nay, I have not heard of him." 
 
 " His name is accursed in France. Have I not been 
 told also that he put to death this very year Giles de St. 
 Pol, a friend of the English King ? " 
 
 " Yes, in very truth it comes back to my mind now 
 that I heard something of this matter in Calais before we 
 started." 
 
 "Then there he dwells, and God guard you if ever 
 you pass under yonder portal, for no prisoner has ever 
 come. forth alive ! Since these wars began he hath been 
 a king to himself, and the plunder of eleven years lies in 
 yonder cellars. How can justice come to him, when no 
 man knows who owns the land? But when we have 
 packed you all back to your island, by the Blessed Mother 
 of God, we have a heavy debt to pay to the man who 
 dwells ia yonder pile 1 " 
 
A SQUIRE OF FRANCE sSr 
 
 But even as they watched, the trumpet-call burst forth 
 once more. It came not from the castle but from the 
 farther end of the valley. It was answered by a second 
 call from the walls. Then in a long, straggling line there 
 came a wild troop of marauders streaming homeward from 
 some foray. In the van, at the head of a body of spearmen, 
 rode a tall and burly man, clad in brazen armour, so that 
 he shone like a golden image in the slanting rays of the 
 sun. His helmet had been loosened from his gorget and 
 was held before him on his horse's neck. A great tangled 
 beard flowed over his breastplate, and his hair hung down 
 as far behind. A squire at his elbow bore high the banner 
 of the bleeding head. Behind the spearmen were a line 
 of heavily laden mules, and on either side of them a drove of 
 poor country folk, who were being herded into the castle. 
 Lastly came a second strong troop of mounted spearmen, 
 who conducted a score or more of prisoners who marched 
 together in a solid body. 
 
 Nigel stared at them, and then springing on his horse, 
 he urged it along the shelter of the ridge so as to reach 
 unseen a spot which was close to the castle gate. He 
 had scarce taken up his new position when the cavalcade 
 reached the drawbridge, and amid yells of welcome from 
 those upon the wall, filed in a thin line across it. Nigel 
 stared hard once more at the prisoners in the rear, and so 
 absorbed was he by the sight that he had passed the rocks 
 and was standing sheer upon the summit. 
 
 " By Saint Paul ! " he cried, " it must indeed be so. I 
 see their russet jackets. They are English archers ! " 
 
 As he spoke, the hindmost one, a strongly built, broad- 
 shouldered man, looked round and saw the gleaming figure 
 above him upon the hill, with open helmet, and the five 
 roses glowing upon his breast. With a sweep of his hands 
 he had thrust Ids guardians aside, and for a moment was 
 clear of the throng. 
 
 " Squire Loring ! Squire Loring 1 " he cried, " It is 
 
282 SIR NIGEL 
 
 I, Aylward the archer ! It is I, Samkin Aylward ! " T] 
 next minute a dozen hands had seized him, his cries we 
 muffled with a gag, and he was hurled, the last of t] 
 band, through the black and threatening archway of tl 
 gate. Then with a clang the two iron wings came t 
 gether, the portcullis swung upward, and captives ai 
 captors, robbers and booty, were aU swallowed up with: 
 the grim and silent fortress. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 HOW THE ENGLISH ATTEMPTED THE CASTLE OF 
 LA BEOHINlilEB 
 
 For some mimites Nigel remained motionless upon the 
 crest of tlie Ml, his heart like lead within him, and his 
 eyes fixed upon the huge gray walls which contained his 
 unhappy henchman. He was roused by a sympathetic 
 hand upon his shoulder, and the voice of his young 
 prisoner in his ear. 
 
 " Peste ! " said he. " They have some of your birds in 
 their cage, have they not ? What, then, my friend ? 
 Keep your heart high ! Is it not the chance of war, to-day 
 to them, to-morrow to thee, and death at last for us all ? 
 And yet I had rather they were in any hands than those 
 of Oliver the Butcher." 
 
 " By Saint Paul, we cannot 'suffer it ! " cried Nigel, dis- 
 tractedly. " This man has come with me from my owq 
 home. He has stood between me and death before now. 
 It goes to my very heart that he should caU upon me in 
 vain. I pray you, Eaoul, to use your wits, for mine are 
 aU curdled in my head. TeU me what I should do, and 
 how I may bring him help." 
 
 The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders. " As easy to 
 get a lamb unscathed out of a wolves' lair as a prisoner 
 safe from La Brohiniere. Nay, Nigel, whither do you go ? 
 Have you, indeed, taken leave of your wits ? " 
 
 The squire had spurred his horse down the hillside, 
 and never halted until he was within a bowshot of the 
 
 283 
 
284 SIR NIGEL 
 
 gate. The JPrench prisoner followed hard behind him 
 with a buzz of reproaches and expostulations. 
 
 " You are mad, Nigel ! " he cried. " What do you 
 hope to do, then ? Would you carry the castle with your 
 own hands ? Halt, man, halt, in the name of the Virgin ! " 
 
 But Nigel had no plan in his head, and only obeyed 
 the fevered impulse to do something to ease his thoughts. 
 He paced his horse up and down, waving his spear, and 
 shouting insults and challenges to the garrison. Over the 
 high wall a hundred jeering faces looked down upon him. 
 So rash and wild was his action that it seemed to those 
 within to mean some trap, so the drawbridge was stUl held 
 high, and none ventured forth to seize him. A few long- 
 range arrows pattered on the rocks, and then, with a deep, 
 booming sound, a huge stone, hurled from a mangonel, 
 sang over the head of the two squires, and crashed into 
 splinters among the boulders behind them. The French- 
 man seized Nigel's bridle, and forced him farther from the 
 gateway. 
 
 " By the dear Virgin ! " he cried, " I care not to have 
 those pebbles about my ears, yet I cannot go back alone, 
 so it is very clear, my crazy comrade, that you must come 
 also. Now we are beyond their reach! But see, my 
 friend Nigel, who are those who crown the height ? " 
 
 The sun had sunk behind the western ridge, but the 
 glowing sky was fringed at its lower edge by a score of 
 ruddy, twinkling points. A body of horsemen showed 
 hard and black upon the bare hill. Then they dipped 
 down the slope into the valley, while a band of footmen 
 followed behind. 
 
 " They are my people," cried Nigel, joyously. " Come, 
 my friend, hasten, that we may take counsel what we 
 shaU do." 
 
 Sir Eobert KnoUes rode a bowshot in front of his men, 
 and his brow was as black as night. Beside him, with 
 crestfallen face, his horse bleeding, his armour dinted and 
 
THE CASTLE OF LA BROHINIERE 285 
 
 soiled, was the hot-headed knight, Sir James Astley. A 
 fierce discussion raged between them. 
 
 " I have done my devoir as best I might," said Astley. 
 " Alone I had ten of them at my sword point. I know 
 not how I have lived to tell it." 
 
 " What is your devoir to me ? Where are my thirty 
 bowmen ? " cried Knolles, in bitter wrath. " Ten lie dead 
 upon the ground, and twenty are worse than dead in 
 yonder castle. And all because you must needs show all 
 men how bold you are, and ride into a bushment such as 
 a child could see. Alas for my own folly that ever I 
 should have trusted such a one as you with the handling 
 of men ! " 
 
 " By God, Sir Robert, you shall answer to me for those 
 words ! " cried Astley, with a choking voice. " Never has 
 a man dared to speak to me as you have done this day." 
 
 " As long as I hold the king's order I shall be master, 
 and by the Lord I will hang you, James, on a near tree if 
 I have further cause of oifence ! How now, Nigel ? I see 
 by yonder white horse that you, at least, have not failed 
 me. I will speak with you anon. Percy, bring up your 
 men, and let us gather round this castle, for, as I hope for 
 my soul's salvation, I will not leave it until I have my 
 archers, or the head of him who holds them." 
 
 That night the English lay thick round the fortress of 
 La Brohiniere, so that none might come forth from it. 
 But if none could come forth it was hard to see how any 
 could win their way in, for it was full of men, the walls 
 were high and strong, and a deep, dry ditch girt it round. 
 But the hatred and fear which its master had raised over 
 the whole countryside could now be plainly seen, for 
 during the night the brushwood men and the villagers 
 came in from all parts with offers of such help as they 
 could give for the intaking of the castle. Knolles set 
 them cutting bushes and tying them into faggots. When 
 ^lorning C8|,me he rode put before the wall, and he held 
 
286 SIR NIGEL 
 
 counsel with his knights and squires as to how he should 
 enter in. 
 
 " By noon," said he, " we shall have so many faggots 
 that we may make our way over the ditch. Then we will 
 beat in the gates and so win a footing." 
 
 The young Frenchman had come with Nigel to the 
 conference, and now, amid the silence which followed the 
 leader's proposal, he asked if he might be heard. He was 
 clad in the brazen armour which Nigel had taken from 
 the Bed Ferret. 
 
 "It may be that it is not for me to join in your 
 counsel," said he, "seeing that I am a prisoner and a 
 Frenchman. But this man is the enemy of all, and we of 
 France owe him a debt even as you do, since many a good 
 Frenchman has died in his cellars. For this reason I crave 
 to be heard." 
 
 " We wiU hear you," said Knolles. 
 
 " I have come from Evran yesterday," said he. " Sir 
 Henry Spinnefort, Sir Peter La Eoye, and many other 
 brave knights and squires lie there, with a good company 
 of men, aU of whom would very gladly join with you to 
 destroy this butcher and his castle, for it is well known 
 amongst us that his deeds are neither good nor fair. 
 There are also bombards which we could drag over the 
 hills, and so beat down this iron gate. If you so order it, 
 I will ride to Evran and bring my companions back with 
 me." 
 
 " Indeed, Robert," said Percy, " it is in my mind that 
 this Frenchman speaks very wisely and well." 
 
 " And when we have taken the castle — what then ? " 
 asked KnoUes. 
 
 " Then you could go upon your way, fair sir, and we 
 upon ours. Or if it please you better you could draw 
 together on yonder hill, and we on this one, so that the 
 valley lies between us. Then, if any cavalier wished to 
 advance himself, or to shed a vow and exalt his lady, an 
 
THE CASTLE OF LA BROHINIERE 28; 
 
 opening might be found for him. Surely it would be 
 shame if so many brave men drew together, and no small 
 deed were to come of it." 
 
 Nigel clasped his captive's hand to show his admiration 
 and esteem, but Knolles shook his head. 
 
 " Things are not ordered thus, save in the tales of the 
 minstrels," said he. " I have no wish that your people at 
 Evran should know our numbers or our plans. I am not 
 in this land for knight errantry, but I am here to make 
 head against the king's enemies. Has no one aught else 
 to say?" 
 
 Percy pointed to the small outlying fortalice upon the 
 knoll, on which also flew the flag of the bloody head. 
 
 " This smaller castle, Eobert, is of no great strength, 
 and cannot hold more than fifty men. It is built, as I 
 conceive it, that no one should seize the high ground, and 
 shoot down into the other. Why should we not turn all 
 our strength upon it, since it is the weaker of the 
 twain ? " 
 
 But again the young leader shook his head. " If I 
 should take it," said he, "I am still no nearer to my 
 desire, nor will it avail me in getting back my bowmen. 
 It may cost a score of men, and what profit shall I have 
 from it ? Had I bombards, I might place them on yonder 
 hill, but having none it is of little use to me." 
 
 " It may be," said Nigel, " that they have scant food 
 or water, and so must come forth to fight us." 
 
 " I have made inquiry of the peasants," KnoUes 
 answered, " and they are of one mind that there is a well 
 within the castle, and good store of food. Nay, gentle- 
 men, there is no way before us save to take it by arms, 
 and no spot where we can attempt it save through the 
 great gate. Soon we will have so many faggots that we 
 can cast them down into the ditch, and so win our way 
 across. I have ordered them to cut a pine-tree on the 
 hiU and shear the branches, so that we may beat down 
 
288 SIR NIGEL 
 
 the gate with it. But what is now amiss, and why do 
 they run forward to the castle ? " 
 
 A buzz had risen from the soldiers in the camp, and 
 they all crowded in one direction, rushing toward the 
 castle wall. The knights and squires rode after them, 
 and when in view of the main gate, the cause of the dis- 
 turbance lay before them. On the tower above the portal 
 three men were standing in the garb of English archers, 
 ropes round their necks and their hands bound behind 
 them. Their comrades surged below them with cries of 
 recognition and of pity. 
 
 " It is Ambrose ! " cried one. " Surely it is Ambrose 
 of Ingleton." 
 
 *' Yes, in truth, I see his yellow hair. And the other, 
 him with the beard, it is Lockwood of Skipton. Alas for 
 his wife who keeps the booth by the bridge-head of 
 Eibble ! I wot not who the third may be." 
 
 " It is little Johnny Alspaye, the youngest man in the 
 company," cried old Wat, with the tears running down 
 his cheeks. " 'Twas I who brought him from his home. 
 Alas ! alas ! Foul fare the day that ever I coaxed him 
 from his mother's side that he might perish in a far land." 
 
 There was a sudden flourish of a trumpet, and the 
 drawbridge felL Across it strode a portly man with a 
 faded herald's coat. He halted warily upon the farther 
 side, and his voice boomed like a drum. 
 
 ■" I would speak with your leader," he cried. 
 
 KnoUes rode forward. 
 
 " Have I your knightly word that I may advance un- 
 scathed with all courteous entreaty as befits a herald ? " 
 
 KnoUes nodded his head. 
 
 The man came slowly and pompously forward. " I am 
 the messenger and liege servant," said he, " of the high 
 baron, Oliver de St. Yvon, Lord of La Brohiniere. He bids 
 me to say that if you continue your journey and molest 
 him no further, he will engage upon his part to make no 
 
THE CASTLE OF LA BROHINIERE 289 
 
 further attack upon you. As to the men whom he holds, 
 he will enroll them in his own honourable service, for he 
 has need of longbowmen, and has heard much of their 
 skill. But if you constrain him or cause him further dis- 
 pleasure by remaining before his castle, he hereby gives 
 you warning that he will hang these three men over his 
 gateway, and every morning another three, until all have 
 been slain. This he has sworn upon the rood of Calvary, - 
 and as he has said so he will do upon jeopardy of his 
 soul." 
 
 Eobert KnoUes looked grimly at the messenger. " You 
 may thank the saints that you have had my promise," 
 said he, " else woTild I have stripped that lying tabard 
 from thy back and the skin beneath it from thy bones, 
 that thy master might have a fitting answer to his message. 
 Tell him that I hold him and all that are within his castle 
 as hostage for the lives of my men, and that should he 
 dare to do them scathe, he and every man that is with 
 him shall hang upon his battlements. Go, and go quickly, 
 lest my patience faiL" 
 
 There was that in KnoUes' cold gray eyes and in his 
 manner of speaking those last words which sent the portly 
 envoy back at a quicker gait than he had come. As he 
 vanished into the gloomy arch of the gateway, the draw- 
 bridge swung up with creak and rattle behind him. 
 
 A few minutes later a rough-bearded fellow stepped 
 out over the portal where the condemned archers stood, 
 and seizing the first by the shoulders he thrust him over 
 the wall. A cry burst from the man's lips, and a deep 
 groan from those of his comrades below, as he fell with 
 a jerk which sent him halfway up to the parapet again, 
 and then, after dancing like a child's toy, swung slowly 
 backward and forward with limp limbs and twisted neck. 
 
 The hangman turned and bowed in mock reverence to 
 the spectators beneath him. He had not yet learned in 
 a land of puny archers how sure and how strong is the 
 
 u 
 
290 SIR NIGEL 
 
 English bow. Half a dozen men, old Wat among them, 
 had run forward toward the wall. They were too late to 
 save their comrades, but at least their deaths were speedily 
 avenged. The man was in the act of pushing off the 
 second prisoner when an arrow crashed through his head, 
 and he fell stone dead upon the parapet. But even in 
 falling he had given the fatal thrust, and a second russet 
 figure swung beside the first against the dark backgroimd 
 of the castle wall. 
 
 There only remained the young lad, Johnny Alspaye, 
 who stood shaking with fear, an abyss below him, and the 
 voices of those who would hurl him over it behind. There 
 was a long pause before any one would come forth to dare 
 those deadly arrows. Then a fellow, crouching double, 
 ran forward from the shelter, keeping the young archer's 
 body as a shield between him and danger, 
 
 " Aside, Johri ! Aside ! " cried his comrades from 
 below. 
 
 The youth sprang as far as the rope would allow him, 
 and slipped it half over his face in the effort. Three 
 arrows flashed past his side, and two of them buried them- 
 selves in the body of the man behind. A howl of delight 
 burst from the spectators as he dropped first upon his 
 knees and then upon his face. A life for a Life was no 
 bad bargain. 
 
 But it was only a short respite which the skill of his 
 comrades had given to the yoimg archer. Over the parapet 
 there appeared a baH of brass, then a pair of great brazen 
 shoulders, and lastly the full figure of an armoured man. 
 He walked to the edge, and they heard his hoarse guffaw, 
 of laughter as the arrows clanged and clattered against his 
 impenetrable mail. He slapped his breastplate as he 
 jeered at them. Well he knew that at the distance no 
 dart ever sped by mortal hands could cleave through his 
 plates of metal. So he stood, the great burly Butcher of 
 La Brohiniere, with head uptossed, laughing insolently at 
 
THE CASTLE OF LA BROHINIERE 291 
 
 his foes. Then, with slow and ponderous tread, he walked 
 toward his boy victim, seized him by the ear, and dragged 
 him across so that the rope might be straight. Seeing 
 that the noose had slipped across the face, he tried to push 
 it down, but the mail glove hampering him, he pulled it 
 off, and grasped the rope above the lad's head with his 
 naked hand. 
 
 Quick as a flash old Wat's arrow had sped, and the 
 Butcher sprang back with a howl of pain, his hand 
 skewered by a cloth-yard shaft. As he shook it furiously 
 at his enemies a second grazed his knuckles. With a 
 brutal kick of his metal-shod feet he hurled young Alspaye 
 over the edge, looked down for a few moments at his 
 death agonies, and then walked slowly from the parapet, 
 nursing his dripping hand, the arrows stiU ringing loudly 
 upon his backpiece as he went. 
 
 The archers below, enraged at the death of their com- 
 rades, leaped and howled like a pack of ravening wolves, i 
 
 "By Saint Dunstan," said Percy, looking round at 
 their flushed faces, " if ever we are to carry it, now is the 
 taonient, for these men will not be stopped if hate can 
 take them forward." 
 
 " You are right, Thomas ! " cried KnoUes. " Gather to- 
 gether twenty men-at-arms, each with his shield to cover 
 him. Astley, do you place the bowmen so that no head 
 may show at window or parapet. Nigel, I pray you to 
 order the countryfolk forward with their fardels of faggots. 
 Let the others bring up the lopped pine-tree, which lies 
 yonder behind the horse-lines. Ten men-at-arms can bear 
 it on the right, and ten on the left, having shields over 
 their heads. The gate once down, let every man rush in. 
 And God help the better cause ! " - 
 
 Swiftly, and yet quietly, the dispositions were made, 
 for these were old soldiers whose daily trade was war. In 
 little groups the archers formed in front of each slit or 
 crevice in the walls, while others scanned the battlements 
 
292 SIR NIGEL 
 
 with wary eyea, and sped an arrow at every face whicK 
 gleamed for an instant above them. The garrison shot 
 forth a shower of crossbow bolts and an occasional stone 
 from their engine, but so deadly was the hail which 
 rained upon them that they had no time to dwell upon 
 their aim, and their discharges were wild and harmless. 
 Under cover of the shafts of the bowmen, a line of peasants 
 rail unscathed to the edge of the ditch, each hurling in 
 the bundle which he bore in his arms, and then hurrying 
 back for another one. In twenty minutes a broad path- 
 way of faggots lay level with the ground upon one side 
 and the gate upon the other. With the loss of two 
 peasants slain by bolts and one archer crushed by a stone, 
 the ditch had been filled up. All was ready for the 
 battering-ram. 
 
 With a shout, twenty picked men rushed forward with 
 the pine-tree under their arms, the heavy end turned 
 toward the gate. The arbalesters on the tower leaned 
 over and shot into the midst of them, but could not stop 
 their advance. Two dropped, but the others raising their 
 shields ran onward still shouting, crossed the bridge of 
 faggots, and came with a thundering crash against the 
 door. It splintered from base to arch, but kept its 
 place. 
 
 Swinging their mighty weapon, the storming party 
 thudded and crashed upon the gate, every blow loosening 
 and widening the cracks which rent it from end to end. 
 The three knights, with Nigel, the Frenchman Eaoul, and 
 the other sq[uires, stood beside the ram, cheering on the 
 men, and chanting to the rhythm of the swing with a loud 
 " Ha ! " at every blow. A great stone loosened from the 
 parapet roared through the air and struck Sir James 
 Astley and another of the attackers, but Nigel and the 
 Frenchman had taken their places in an instant, and the 
 ram thudded and smashed with greater energy than ever. 
 Another blow and another! the lower part was staving 
 
'SWINGING THEIR MIGHTY WEAPON, THE STORMING PARTY THUDDED AND 
 CRASHED UPON THE GATE." 
 
THE CASTLE OP LA BROHINIERE 293 
 
 inward, but the great central bar still held firm. Surely 
 another minute would beat it from its sockets. 
 
 But suddenly from above there came a great deluge of 
 liquid. A hogshead of it had been tilted from the battle- 
 ment until soldiers, bridge, and ram were equally drenched 
 in yellow slime. Knolles rubbed his gauntlet in it, held 
 it to his visor, and smeUed it. 
 
 " Back, back ! " he cried. " Back before it is too 
 late ! " 
 
 There was a small barred window above their heads at 
 the side of the gate. A ruddy glare shone through it, and 
 then a blazing torch was tossed down upon them. In a 
 moment the oil had caught and the whole place was a 
 sheet of flame. The fir-tree that they carried, the faggots 
 beneath them, their very weapons, were all in a blaze. 
 
 To right and left the men sprang down into the dry 
 ditch, rolling with screams upon the ground in their 
 endeavour to extinguish the flames. The knights and 
 squires protected by their armour strove hard, stamping 
 and slapping, to help those who had but leather jacks to 
 shield their bodies. From above a ceaseless shower of 
 darts and of stones were poured down upon them, while 
 on the other hand the archers, seeing the greatness of the 
 danger, ran up to the edge of the ditch, and shot fast and 
 true at every face which showed above the wall. 
 
 Scorched, wearied and bedraggled, the remains of the 
 storming party clambered out of the ditch as best they 
 could, clutching at the friendly hands held down to them, 
 and so limped their way back amid the taunts and howls 
 of their enemies. A long pile of smouldering cinders was 
 all that remained of their bridge, and on it lay Astley and 
 six other red-hot men glowing in their armour. 
 
 Knolles clinched his hands as he looked back at the 
 ruin that was wrought, and then surveyed the group of 
 men who stood or lay around him nursing their burned 
 limbs and scowling, up at the exultant figures who waved 
 
294 SIR NIGEL 
 
 on the castle wall. Badly scorched himself, the young 
 leader had no thought for his own injuries in the rage and 
 grief which racked his soul. 
 
 " We wiU build another bridge," he cried. " Set the 
 peasants binding faggots once more." 
 
 But a thought had flashed through Nigel's mind. " See, 
 fair sir," said he, " The nails of yonder door are red-hot 
 and the wood as white as ashes. Surely we can break 
 our way through it." 
 
 " By the Virgin, you speak truly ! " cried the French 
 squire. " If we can cross the ditch the gate will not stop 
 us. Come, Nigel, for our fair ladies' sakes, I will race 
 you who will reach it first, England or France." 
 
 Alas for all the wise words of the good Chandos ! Alas 
 for all the lessons in order and discipline learned from the 
 wary KnoUes. In an instant, forgetful of all things but 
 this noble challenge, Nigel was running at the top of his 
 speed for the burning gate. Close at his heels was the 
 Frenchman, blowing and gasping, as he rushed along in 
 his brazen armour. Behind came a stream of howling 
 archers and men-at-arms, like a flood which has broken 
 its dam. Down they slipped into the ditch, rushed across 
 it, and clambered on each other's backs up the opposite 
 side. Nigel, Eaoul, and two archers gained a foothold in 
 front of the burning gate at the same moment. With 
 blows and kicks they burst it to pieces, and dashed with 
 a yell of triumph through the dark archway beyond. For 
 a moment they thought with mad rapture that the castle 
 was carried. A dark tunnel lay before them, down which 
 they rushed. But alas ! at the farther end it was blocked 
 by a second gateway as strong as that which had been 
 burned. In vain they beat upon it with their swords and 
 axes. On each side the tunnel, was pierced with slits, and 
 the crossbow bolts discharged at only a few yards' distance 
 crashed through armour as if' it were cloth, and laid man 
 after man upon the stones. They raged and leaped before 
 
\. 
 
 THE CASTLE OF LA BROHINIERE 295 
 
 the great iron-clamped barrier, but the wall itself was as 
 easy to tear down. 
 
 It was bitter to draw back; but it was madness to 
 remain. Mgel looked round and saw that half his men 
 were down. At the same moment Eaoul sank with a 
 gasp at his feet, a bolt driven to its socket through the 
 links of the camail which guarded his neck. Some of the 
 archers, seeing that certain death awaited them, were 
 already running back to escape from the fatal passage. 
 
 "By Saint Paul!" cried Nigel, hotly. "Would you 
 leave our wounded where this butcher may lay his hands 
 upon them? Let the archers shoot inwards and hold 
 them back from the slits. Now let each man raise one of 
 our comrades, lest we leave our honour in the gate of this 
 castle." 
 
 With a mighty effort he had raised Eaoul upon his 
 shoulders and staggered with him to the edge of the ditch. 
 Several men were waiting below where the steep bank 
 shielded them from the arrows, and to them Nigel handed 
 down his wounded friend, and each archer in turn did the 
 same. Again and again Nigel went back, until no one 
 lay in the tunnel save seven who had died there. Thirteen 
 wounded were laid in the shelter of the ditch, and there 
 they must remain until night came to cover them. Mean- 
 while the bowmen on the farther side protected them from 
 attack, and also prevented the enemy from all attempts 
 to buUd up the outer gate. The gaping smoke-blackened 
 arch was all that they could show for a loss of thirty men, 
 but that at least KnoUes was determined to keep. 
 
 Burned and bruised, but unconscious of either pain or 
 fatigue for the turmoil of his spirit within him, Nigel 
 knelt by the Frenchman and loosened his helmet. The 
 girlish face of the young squire was white as chalk, and 
 the haze of death was gathering over his violet eyes, but 
 a faint smile played round his lips as he looked up at his 
 English comrade. 
 
M SIR NIGEL 
 
 " I shall never see Beatrice again," he whispered. " I 
 pray you, Nigel, that when there is a truce you will 
 journey as far as my father's chateau and tell him how 
 his son died. Young Gaston will rejoice, for to him come 
 the land and the coat, the war-cry and the profit. See 
 them, Nigel, and tell them that I was as forward as the 
 others." 
 
 "Indeed, Eaonl, no man could have carried himself 
 with more honour or won more worship than you have 
 done this defy. I will do your behest when the time 
 comes." 
 
 "Surely you are happy, Nigel," the dying squire 
 murmured, "for this day has given you one more deed 
 which you may lay at the feet of your lady-love." 
 
 " It might have been so had we carried the gate," 
 Nigel answered sadly ; " but, by Saint Paul ! I cannot 
 count it a deed where I have come back with my purpose 
 unfulfilled. But this is no time, Baoul, to talk of my 
 small affairs. If we take the castle, and I bear a good 
 part in it, then perchance all this may indeed avail." 
 
 The Frenchman sat up with that strange energy which 
 comes often as the harbinger of death. 
 
 "You will win your Lady Mary, Nigel, and your 
 great deeds will be not three but a score, so that in all 
 Christendom there shall be no man of blood and coat- 
 armour who has not heard your name and your fame. 
 This I teU you — I, Eaoul de la Eoche Pierre de Bras, 
 dying upon the field of honour. And now kiss me, sweet 
 friend, and lay me back, for the mists close round me and 
 I am gone ! " 
 
 With tender hands the squire lowered his comrade's 
 head, but even as he did so there came a choking rush of 
 blood, and the soul had passed. So died a gallant cavalier 
 of France, and Nigel, as he knelt in the ditch beside 
 him, prayed that his own end might be as noble and aa 
 debonair. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 HOW THE SECOND MESSENGER WENT TO OOSFOED 
 
 Under cover of night the wounded men were lifted from 
 the ditch and carried back, while pickets of archers were 
 advanced to the very gate so that none should rebuild it. 
 Nigel, sick at heart over his own failure, the death of his 
 prisoner, and his fears for Aylward, crept back into the 
 camp, but his cup was not yet full, for Knolles was waiting 
 for him with a tongue which cut like a whip-lash. Who 
 was he, a raw squire, that he should lead an attack without 
 orders ? See what his crazy knight errantry had brought 
 about. Twenty men had been destroyed by it and nothing 
 gained. Their blood was on his head. Chandos should 
 hear of his conduct. He should be sent back to England 
 when the castle had fallen. 
 
 Such were the bitter words of Knolles, the more bitter 
 because Nigel felt in his heart that he had indeed done 
 wrong, and that Chandos would have said the same, 
 though, perchance, in kinder words. He listened in silent 
 respect, as his duty was, and then, having saluted his 
 leader, he withdrew apart, threw himself down among the 
 bushes, and wept the hottest tears of his life, sobbing 
 bitterly, with his face between his hands. He had striven 
 hard, and yet everything had gone wrong with him. He 
 was bruised, burned, and aching from head to foot. Yet 
 so high is the spirit above the body that all was nothing 
 compared to the sorrow and shame which racked his soul. 
 
 But a little thing changed the current of his thoughts 
 and brought some peace to his mind. He had slipped o£f 
 
 297 
 
298 SIR NIGEL 
 
 his mail gauntlets, and as he did so his fingers lighted 
 upon the tiny bangle which Mary had fastened there when 
 they stood together upon St. Catharine's Hill on the Guild- 
 ford Eoad. He remembered the motto curiously worked 
 in filigree of gold. It ran : " Fais ce qiie dois, adviegne que 
 pourra — c'est commaiidi au chevalier." 
 
 The words rang in his weary brain. He had done 
 what seemed right, come what might. It had gone awry, 
 it is true ; but all things human may do that. If he had 
 carried the castle, he felt that KnoUes would have forgiven 
 and forgotten all else. If he had not carried it, it was no 
 fault of his. No man could have done more. If Mary 
 could see she would surely have approved. Dropping 
 into sleep, he saw her dark face, shiniag with pride and 
 with pity, stooping over him as he lay. She stretched out 
 her hand in. his dream and touched him on the shoulder. 
 He sprang up and rubbed his eyes, for fact had woven 
 itself into dream in the strange way that it does, and 
 some one was indeed leaning over him in the gloom, and 
 shaking bim from his slumbers. But the gentle voice 
 and soft touch of the Lady Mary had changed suddenly 
 to the harsh accents and rough grip of Black Simon, the 
 fierce Norfolk man-at-arms. 
 
 " Surely you are the Squire Loring," he said, peering 
 close to his face in the darkness. 
 
 "I am he. What then 1" 
 
 "I have searched through the camp for you, but when 
 I saw the great horse tethered near these bushes, I thought 
 you would be found hard by. I would have a word with 
 you." 
 
 " Speak on." 
 
 " This man Aylward the bowman was my friend, and 
 it is the nature that Gk)d has given me to love my friends 
 even as I hate my foes. He is also thy servant, and it haa 
 seemed. to me that you love him also." 
 
 " I have good cause so to do." 
 
THE SECOND MESSENGER 299 
 
 " Then you and I, Squire Loring, have more reason to 
 strive on his behalf than any of these others, who think 
 more of taking the castle than of saving those who are 
 captives within. Do you not see that such a man as this 
 robber lord would, when all else had failed him, most 
 surely cut the throats of his prisoners at the last instant 
 before the castle fell, knowing well that, come what 
 might, he would have short shrift himseK ? Is that not 
 certain ? " 
 
 " By Saint Paul ! I had not thought of it." 
 
 " I was with you, hammering at the inner gate," said 
 Simon, " and yet once when I thought that it was giving 
 way, I said in my heart, 'Good-bye, Samkin! I shall 
 never see you more.* This Baron has gall in his soul, even 
 as I have myself, and do you think that I would give up 
 my prisoners alive, if I were constrained so to do ? No, 
 no ; had we won our way this day, it would have been the 
 death-stroke for them all." 
 
 " It may be that you are right, Simon," said Nigel, 
 " and the thought of it should assuage our grief. But if 
 we cannot save them by taking the castle, then surely they 
 are lost indeed." 
 
 " It may be so, or it may not," Simon answered slowly. 
 "It is in my mind that if the castle were taken very 
 suddenly, and in such a fashion that they could not foresee 
 it, then perchance we might get the prisoners before they 
 could do them scathe." 
 
 Nigel bent forward eagerly, his hand on the soldier's 
 arm. 
 
 " You have some plan in your mind, Simon. Tell me 
 what it is." 
 
 " I had wished to tell Sir Eobert, but he is preparing 
 the assault for to-morrow, and will not be turned from his 
 purpose. I have indeed a plan, but whether it be good or 
 not I cannot say, until I have tried it. But first I will 
 tell you what put it into my thoughts. Know, then, thab 
 
300 SIR NIGEL 
 
 this morning when I was in yonder ditch I marked ofle of 
 their men upon the wall. He was a big man with a white 
 face, red hair, and a touch of Saint Anthony's fire upon 
 the cheek." 
 
 " But what has this to do with Aylward ? " 
 
 " I will show you. This evening, after the assault, I 
 chanced to walk with some of my fellows round yonder 
 small fort upon the knoll to see if we could spy a weak 
 spot in it. Some of them came to the wall to curse us; 
 and among them whom should I see but a big man with a 
 white face, red hair, and a touch of Anthony's fire upon 
 his cheek ! What make you of that, Squire Nigel ? " 
 
 "That this man had crossed from the castle to the 
 fort." 
 
 " In good sooth, it must indeed be so. There are not 
 two such ken-speckled men in the world. But if he crossed 
 from the castle to the fort, it was not above the ground, 
 for our own people were between." 
 
 " By Saint Paul ! I see your meaning ! " cried Nigel. 
 " It is in your mind that there is a passage under the earth' 
 from one to the other." 
 
 " I am well sure of it." 
 
 " Then if we should take the small fort we may pass 
 down this tunnel, and so carry the great castle also." 
 
 " Such a thing might happen," said Simon, " and yet 
 it is dangerous also, for surely those in the castle would 
 hear our assault upon the fort and so be warned to bar the 
 passage against us, and to slay the prisoners before we 
 could come." 
 
 " What, then, is your rede ? " 
 
 " Could we find where the tunnel lay, Squire Nigel, I 
 know not what is to prevent us from digging down upon 
 it and breaking into it so that both fort and castle are at 
 our mercy before either knows that we are there." 
 
 Nigel clapped his hands with joy. " 'Fore God ! " he 
 cried. " It is a most noble plan ! But alas ! Simon, I see 
 
THE SECOND MESSENGER 301 
 
 not how we can tell the course of this passage or where we 
 should dig." 
 
 "I have peasants yonder with spades," said Simon, 
 " There are two of my friends, Harding of Barnstable and 
 West-country John, who are waiting for us with their 
 gear. If you will come to lead us, Squire Nigel, we are 
 ready to venture our bodies in the attempt." 
 
 What would KnoUes say in case they failed? The 
 thought flashed through Nigel's mind, but another came 
 swiftly behind it. He would not venture further unless 
 he found hopes of success. And if he did venture further 
 he would put his life upon it. Giving that, he made 
 amends for all errors. And if, on the other hand, success 
 crowned their efforts, then KnoUes would forgive his 
 failure at the gateway, A minute later, every doubt 
 banished from his mind, he was making his way through 
 the darkness under the guidance of Black Simon. 
 
 Outside the camp the two other men-at-arms were 
 waiting for them, and the four advanced together. Presently 
 a little group of figures loomed up in the darkness. It 
 was a cloudy night, and a thin rain was falling, which 
 obscured both the castle and the fort; but a stone had 
 been placed by Simon in- the daytime which assured that 
 they were between the two. 
 
 " Is blind Andreas there ? " asked Simon. 
 
 " Yes, kind sir, I am here," said a voice. 
 
 " This man," said Simon, " was once rich and of good 
 repute, but he was beggared by this robber lord, who after' 
 wards put out his eyes so that he has lived for many years 
 in darkness at the charity of others," 
 
 " How can he help us in our enterprise if he be indeed 
 blind?" asked Nigel. 
 
 " It is for that very reason, fair lord, that he can be of 
 greater service than any other man," Simon answered; 
 " for it often happens that when a man has lost a sense 
 the good God will strengthen those that remain. Hence. 
 
302 SIR NIGEL 
 
 it is that Andreas has such ears that he can hear the sap 
 in the trees or the cheep of the mouse in its hurrow. He 
 has come to help us to find the tunneL" 
 
 " And I have found it," said the blind man, proudly. 
 " Here I have placed my staff upon the line of it. Twice 
 as I lay there with my ear to the ground I have heard 
 footsteps pass beneath me." 
 
 " I trust you make no mistake, old man," said NigeL 
 
 For answer the blind man raised his staff and smote 
 twice upon thie ground, once to the right and once to the 
 left. The one gave a dull thud, the other a hollow boom. 
 
 " Can you not hear that ? " he asked. " Will you ask 
 me now if I make a mistake ? " 
 
 " Indeed, we are much beholden to you ! " cried Nigel. 
 •' Let the peasants dig, then, and as silently as they may. 
 Do you keep your ear upon the ground, Andreas, so that 
 if any one pass beneath us we shall be warned." 
 
 So, amid the driving rain, the little group toiled in the 
 darkness. The blind man lay silent, flat upon his face, 
 and twice they heard his warning hiss and stopped their 
 work, while some one passed beneath. In an hour they 
 had dug down to a stone arch which was clearly the outer 
 Bide of the tunnel roof. Here was a sad obstacle, for it 
 might take long to loosen a stone, and if their work was 
 not done by the break of day then their enterprise was 
 indeed hopeless. They loosened the mortar with a dagger, 
 and at last dislodged one small stone which enabled them 
 to get at the others. Presently a dark hole blacker than 
 the night around them yawned at their feet, and their 
 swords could touch no bottom to it. They had opened 
 the tunnel. 
 
 "I would fain enter it first," said Nigel. "I pray you 
 to lower me down." They held him to the full length of 
 their arms, and then letting him drop they heard him land 
 safely beneath them. An instant later the blind man 
 started up with a low cry of alarm. 
 
THE SECOND MESSENGER 303 
 
 "I hear steps coining," said he. "They are far off, 
 but they draw nearer." 
 
 Simon thrust his head and neck down the hole» " Squire 
 Nigel," he whispered, " can you hear me ? " 
 
 " I can hear you, Simon." 
 
 " Andreas says that some one comes." 
 
 "Then cover over the hole," came the answer. " Quick, 
 I pray you, cover it over ! " 
 
 A mantle was stretched across it, so that no glimmer 
 of light should warn the newcomer. The fear was that 
 he might have heard the sound of Nigel's descent But 
 soon it was clear that he had not done so, for Andreas 
 announced that he was still advancing. Presently Nigel 
 could hear the distant thud of his feet. If he bore a 
 lantern all was lost. But no gleam of light appeared 
 in the black tunnel, and still the footsteps drew 
 nearer. 
 
 Nigel breathed a prayer of thanks to all his guardian 
 saints as he crouched close to the slimy wall and waited 
 breathless, his dagger in his hand. Nearer yet and nearer 
 came the steps. He could hear the stranger's coarse 
 breathing in the darkness. Then as he brushed past Nigel 
 boimded upon him with a tiger spring. There was one 
 gasp of astonishment,, and not a sound more, for the 
 squire's grip was on the man's throat and his body was 
 pinned motionless against the wall. 
 
 " Simon ! Simon t " cried Nigel, loudly. 
 
 The mantle was moved from the hole. 
 
 "Have you a cord? Or your belts linked together 
 may serve." 
 
 One of the peasants had a rope, and Nigel soon felt it 
 dangling against his hand. He listened and there was no 
 sound in the passage. For mi instant he released his 
 captive's throat. A torrent of prayers and entreaties came 
 forth. The man was shaking like a leaf in the wind. 
 Nigel pressed the poiat of his dagger against bis face and 
 
304 SIR NIGEL 
 
 dared him to open his lips. Then he slipped the rope 
 beneath his arms and tied it. 
 
 " Pull him up ! " he whispered, and for an instant the 
 gray glimmer above him was obscured. 
 
 " "We have him, fair sir," said Simon. 
 
 " Then drop ihe the rope and hold it fast." 
 
 A moment later. Nigel stood among the group of men 
 who had gathered round their captive. It was too dark 
 to see him, and they dare not strike flint and steel. 
 
 Simon passed his hand roughly over him and felt a fat 
 clean-shaven face, and a cloth gabardine which hung to 
 the ankles. "Who are you?" he whispered. "Speak the 
 truth and speak it low, if you would ever speak 
 again." 
 
 The man's teeth chattered in his head with cold and 
 fright. 
 
 " I speak no English," he murmured. 
 
 " French, then," said Nigel. 
 
 " I am a holy priest of God. You court the ban of 
 holy Church when you lay hands upon me. I pray you 
 let me go upon my way, for there are those whom I would 
 shrive and housel. If they should die in sin, their 
 damnation is upon you." 
 
 " How are you called, then ? " 
 
 " I am Dom Peter de CervoUes." 
 
 "De CervoUes, the arch-priest, he who heated the 
 brazier when they burned out my eyes," cried old Andreas. 
 " Of all the devils in heU there is none fouler than this 
 one. Friends, friends, if I have done aught for you this 
 night, I ask but one reward, that ye let me have my will 
 of this man." 
 
 But Nigel pushed the old man back. " There is no 
 time for this," he said. . " Now, hark you, priest — if priest 
 indeed you be — ^your gown and tonsure will not save you 
 if you play us false, for we are here of a set purpose, and 
 we will go forward with it, come what may. Answer 
 
THE SECOND MESSENGER 305 
 
 me and answer me truly or it will be an ill night for you. 
 In what part of the castle does this tunnel enter ? " 
 
 " In the lower cellar." 
 
 " What is at the end ? " 
 
 " An oaken door." 
 
 " Is it barred ? " 
 
 " Yes, it is barred." 
 
 " How would you have entered ? " 
 
 " I would have given the password." 
 
 " Who then would have opened ? " 
 
 "There is a guard within." 
 
 " And beyond him ? " 
 
 " Beyond him are the prison cells and the jailers." 
 
 "Who else would be afoot ? " 
 
 " No one save a guard at the gate and another on the 
 battlement." 
 
 " What, then, is the password ? " 
 
 The man was silent, 
 
 " The password, fellow ! " 
 
 The cold points of two daggers pricked his throat, but 
 still he would not speak. 
 
 " Where is the blind man ? " asked Nigel. " Here, 
 Andreas, you can have him and do what you wiU with 
 him." 
 
 "Nay, nay," the priest whimpered. "Keep him off 
 me. Save me from blind Andreas! I will tell you 
 everything." 
 
 " The password, tben, this instant ? " 
 
 "It is 'Benedicite!'" 
 
 " We have the password, Simon," cried Nigel. " Come, 
 then, let us on to the farther end. These peasants will 
 guard the priest, and they will remain here lest we wish 
 to send a message." 
 
 " Nay, fair sir, it is in my mind that we can do better," 
 said Simon. " Let us take the priest with us, so that he 
 who is within may know his voice." 
 
 X 
 
3o6 SIR NIGEL 
 
 "It is weU thought of," said Nigel, "and first let us 
 pray together, for indeed this night may well be our last." 
 
 He and the three men-at-arms knelt in the rain and 
 sent up their simple orisons, Simon still clutching tight to 
 his prisoner's wrist. 
 
 The priest fumbled in his breast, and drew something 
 forth, 
 
 " It is the heart of the blessed confessor Saint Enogat," 
 said he. " It may be that it will ease and assoil your 
 souls if you would wish to handle it." 
 
 The four Englishmen passed the flat sUrer case from 
 hand to hand, each pressing his lips devoutly upon it. 
 Then they rose to their feet. Nigel was the first to lower 
 himself down the hole ; then Simon ; then the priest, who 
 was instantly seized by the other two. The men-at-arms 
 followed them. They had scarcely moved away from the 
 hole when Nigel stopped. 
 
 " Surely some one else came after us," said he. 
 
 They listened, but no whisper or rustle came from 
 behind them. For a minute they paused and then 
 resumed their journey through the dark. It seemed a 
 long, long way, though in truth it was but a few hundred 
 yards before they came to a door with a glimmer of yellow 
 light around it, which barred their passage. Nigel struck 
 upon it with his hand. 
 
 . There was the rasping of a bolt and then a loud voice : 
 " Is that you, priest ? " 
 
 " Yes, it .is I," said the prisoner, in a quavering voice. 
 " Open, Arnold." 
 
 The voice was enough. There was no question of pass- 
 words. The door swung inward, and in an instant the 
 janitor was cut down by Nigel and Simon. So sudden 
 and so fierce was the attack that save for the thud of his 
 body no sound was heard. A flood of light btiist outward 
 into the passage, and the Englishmen stood with blinking 
 eyes in its glare. 
 
THE SECOND MESSENGER 307 
 
 In front of them lay a stone-flagged corridor, across 
 which lay the dead body of the janitor. It had doors on 
 either side of it, and another grated door at the farther 
 end. A strange hubbub, a kind of low droning and 
 whining filled the air. The four men were standing 
 listening, fuU of wonder as to what this might mean, when 
 a sharp cry came from behind them. The priest lay in a 
 shapeless heap upon the ground, and the blood was rushing 
 from his gaping throat. Down the passage, a black 
 shadow in the yellow light, there fled a crouching man, 
 who clattered with a stick as he went. 
 
 " It is Andreas," cried West-country Will. " He has 
 slain him." 
 
 " Then it was he that I heard behind us," said Nigel. 
 "Doubtless he was at our very heels in the darkness. I 
 fear that the priest's cry has been heard." 
 
 " Nay," said Simon, " there are so many cries that one 
 more may well pass. Let us take this lamp from the wall 
 and see what sort of devil's den we have around us." 
 
 They opened the door upon the right, and so horrible a 
 smell issued from it that they were driven back from it. 
 The lamp which Simon held forward showed a monkey- 
 like creature mowing and grimacing ia a corner, man or 
 woman none could tell, but driven crazy by loneliness and 
 horror. In the other cell was a gray-bearded man fettered 
 to the wall, looking blankly before him, a body without a 
 soul, yet with life still in him, for his duU eyes turned 
 slowly in their direction. But it was from behind the 
 central door at the end of the passage that the chorus of 
 sad cries came which filled the air. 
 
 "Simon," said Nigel, "before we go farther we will 
 take this outer door from its hinges. With it we will block 
 this passage so that at the worst we may hold our ground 
 here until help comes. Do you back to the camp as fast 
 as your feet can bear you. The peasants will draw you 
 upward through the hole. Give my greetings to Sir 
 
3o8 SIR NIGEL 
 
 Eoberfc and tell him that the castle is taken without fail 
 if he comes this way with fifty men. Say that we have 
 made a lodgment within the walls. And tell him also, 
 Simon, that I would counsel him to make a stir before the 
 gateway so that the guard may be held there whilst we 
 make good our footing behind them. Go, good Simon, and 
 lose not a moment ! " 
 
 But the man-at-arms shook his head. " It is I who 
 have brought you here, fair sir, and here I bide through 
 fair and foul. But you speak wisely and well, for Sir 
 Eobert should indeed be told what is going forward now 
 that we have gone so far. Harding, do you go with aU 
 speed and bear the gentle Nigel's message." 
 
 Eeluctantly the man-at-arms sped upon his errand. 
 They could hear the racing of his feet and the low jingle 
 of his harness until they died away in the tunnel. Then 
 the three companions approached the door at the end. It 
 was their intention to wait where they were until help 
 should come, but suddenly amid the babel of cries within 
 there broke forth an English voice, shouting in torment. 
 
 " My God ! " it cried, " I pray you, comrades, for a cup 
 of water, as you hope for Christ's mercy ! " 
 
 A shout of laughter and the thud of a heavy blow 
 followed the appeal. 
 
 All the hot blood rushed to Nigel's head at the sound, 
 buzzing in his ears and throbbing in his temples. There 
 are times when the fiery heart of a man must overbear the 
 cold braia of a soldier. With one bound he was at the 
 door, with another he was through it, the men-at-arms 
 at his heels. So strange was the scene before them that 
 for an instant all three stood motionless with horror and 
 surprise. 
 
 It was a great vaulted chamber, brightly lit by many 
 torches. At the farther end roared a great fire. In front 
 of it three naked men were chained to posts in such a way 
 that, flinch as they might, they could never get beyond 
 
THE SECOND MESSENGER 309 
 
 the range of its scorching heat. Yet they were so far 
 from it that no actual burn would be inflicted if they 
 could but keep turning and shifting so as continually to 
 present some fresh portion of their flesh to the flames. 
 Hence they danced and whirled in front of the fire, tossing 
 ceaselessly this way and that within the compass of their 
 chains, wearied to death, their protruding tongues cracked 
 and blackened with thirst, but unable for one instant to 
 rest from their writhings and contortions. 
 
 Even stranger was the sight at each side of the room, 
 whence came that chorus of groans which had first struck 
 upon the ears of Nigel and his companions. A line of 
 great hogsheads were placed alongside the walls, and 
 within each sat a man, Ms head protruding from the top. 
 As they moved within there was a constant splashing and 
 washing of water. The white wan faces all turned 
 together as the door flew open, and a cry of amazement 
 and of hope took the place of those long-drawn moans of 
 despair. 
 
 At the same instant two fellows clad in black, who had 
 been seated with a flagon of wine between them at a table 
 near the fire, sprang wUdly to their feet, staring with blank 
 amazement at this sudden inrush. That instant of delay 
 deprived them of their last chance of safety. Midway 
 down the room was a flight of stone steps which led to the 
 main door. 
 
 Swift as a wild cat Nigel bounded toward it and gained 
 the steps a stride or two before the jailers. They turned 
 and made for the other which led to the passage, but 
 Simon and his comrades were nearer to it than they. Two 
 sweeping blows, two dagger thrusts into writhing figures, 
 and the ruffians who worked the will of the Butcher lay 
 dead upon the floor of their slaughter-house. 
 
 Oh, the buzz of joy and of prayer from all those white 
 lips ! Oh, the light of returning hope in all those sunken 
 weary eyes! One wild shout would have gone up had 
 
310 SIR NIGEL 
 
 not Nigel's outstretched hands and warning voice hushed 
 them to silence. ' -■' ^ ' - ' 
 
 He opened the door behind him. A curving newel 
 staircase wound upward into the darkness. He listened, 
 but no sound came down. There was a key in the outer 
 lock of the iron door. He whipped it out and turned it 
 on the inner side. The ground that they had gained was 
 safe. Now they could turn to the relief of these poor 
 fellows beside them. A few strong blows struck off the 
 irons and freed the three dancers before the fire. With a 
 husky croak of joy, they rushed across to their comrades' 
 water-barrels, plunged their heads in like horses, and 
 drank and drank and drank. Then in turn the poor 
 shivering wretches were taken out of the barrels, their 
 skins bleached and wrinkled with long soaking. Their 
 bonds were torn from them ; but, cramped and fixed, their 
 limbs refused to act, and they tumbled and twisted upon 
 the floor in their efforts to reach Nigel and to kiss his 
 hand. 
 
 In a corner lay Aylward, dripping from his barrel and 
 exhausted with cold and hunger. Nigel ran to his side 
 and raised his head. The jug of wine from which the two 
 jailers had drunk still stood upon their table. The squire 
 placed it to the archer's lips, and he took a hearty puU 
 at it. 
 
 " How is it with you now, Aylward ? " 
 
 " Better, squire, better, but may I never touch water 
 again as long as I live ! Alas ! poor Dicon has gone, and 
 Stephen also — the life chilled out of them. The cold is in 
 the very marrow of my bones. I pray you,, let me lean 
 upon your arm as far as the fire, that I may warm the 
 frozen blood and set it running in my vdns once more." 
 
 A strange sight it was to see these twenty naked men 
 crouching in a half-circle round the fire with their trembling 
 hands extended to the blaze. Soon their tongues at least 
 were thawed, and they poured out the story of their 
 
THE SECOND MESSENGER 31 1 
 
 troubles, with many a prayer and ejaculation to the saints 
 for their safe delivery. No food had crossed their lips 
 since they had been taken. The Butcher had commanded 
 them to join his garrison and to shoot upon their com- 
 rades from the wall. When they refused he had set aside 
 three of them for execution. 
 
 The others had been dragged to the cellar, whither the 
 leering tyrant had followed them. Only one question 
 he had asked them, whether they were of a hot-blooded 
 nature or of a cold. Blows were showered upon them 
 untU they answered. Three had said cold, and had been 
 condemned to the torment of the fire. The rest who had 
 said hot were delivered up to the torture of the water- 
 cask. Every few hours this man or fiend had come down 
 to exult over their sufferings and to ask them whether 
 they were ready yet to enter his service. Three had con- 
 sented and were gone. But the others had all of them 
 stood firm, two of them even to their death. 
 
 Such was the tale to which Nigel and his comrades 
 listened while they waited impatiently for the comiag of 
 KnoUes and his men. Many an anxious look did they 
 cast down the black tunnel, but no glimmer of light and 
 no clash of steel came from its depths. Suddenly, how- 
 ever, a loud and measured sound broke upon their ears. 
 It was a dull metallic clang, ponderous and slow, growing 
 louder and ever louder — the tread of an armoured man. 
 The poor wretches round the fire, all unnerved by hunger 
 and suffering, huddled together with wan, scared faces, 
 their eyes fixed in terror on the door. 
 
 "It is he!" they whispered. "It is the Butcher 
 himself!" 
 
 Nigel had darted to the door and listened intently. 
 There were no footfalls save those of one man. Once 
 sure of that, he softly turned the key in the lock. At the 
 same instant there came a buU's bellow from without. 
 
 " Ives ! Bertrand ! " cried the voice. " Can you not hear 
 
312 SIR NIGEL 
 
 me coming, you drunken varlets ? You shall cool your 
 own heads in the water-casks, you lazy rascals ! What, 
 not even now ! Open, you dogs. Open, I say ! " 
 
 He had thrust down the latch, and with a kick he 
 flung the door wide and rushed inward. For an instant 
 he stood motionless, a statue of dull yellow metal, his 
 eyes fixed upon the empty casks and the huddle of naked 
 men. Then, with the roar of a trapped lion, he turned, 
 but the door had slammed behind him, and Black Simon, 
 with grim figure and sardonic face, stood between. 
 
 The Butcher looked round him helplessly, for he was 
 unarmed save for his dagger. Then his eyes fell upon 
 Nigel's roses. 
 
 " You are a gentleman of coat-armour," he cried. " I 
 surrender myself to you." 
 
 "I will not take your surrender, you black villain," 
 said Nigel. "Draw and defend yourself. Simon, give 
 him your sword." 
 
 "Nay, this is madness," said the blunt man-at-arms. 
 " Why should I give the wasp a sting ? " 
 
 " Give it him, I say. I cannot kill him in cold blood." 
 
 " But I can ! " yelled Aylward, who had crept up from 
 the fire. " Come, comrades ! By these ten finger-bones ! 
 has he not taught us how cold blood should be warmed ? " 
 
 Like a pack of wolves they were on him, and he 
 clanged upon the floor with a dozen frenzied naked figures 
 clutching and clinging above him. In vain Nigel tried to 
 pull them off. They were mad with rage, these tortured 
 starving men, their eyes fixed and glaring, their hair on 
 end, their teeth gnashing with fury, while they tore at the 
 howling, writhing man. Then, with a rattle and clatter, 
 they puUed him across the room by his two ankles and 
 dragged him into the fire. 
 
 Nigel shuddered and turned away his eyes as he saw 
 the brazen figure roll out and stagger to his knees, only to 
 be hurled once more into the heart of the blaze. His 
 
THE SECOND MESSENGER 313 
 
 prisoners screamed with joy and clapped their hands as 
 they pushed him back with their feet imtU the armour 
 was too hot 'for them to touch. Then at last he lay still 
 and glowed darkly red, while the naked men danced in a 
 wild half-circle round the fire. 
 
 But now at last the supports had come. Lights flashed 
 and armour gleamed down the tunnel. The cellar filled 
 mth armed men, while from above came the cries and 
 turmoil of the feigned assault upon the gate. Led by 
 KnoUes and Nigel, the stohning party rushed upward and 
 seized the court-yard. The guard of the gate taken in the 
 rear threw down their weapons and cried for mercy. The 
 gate was thrown open and the assailants rushed in, with 
 hundreds of furious peasants at their heels. Some of the 
 robbers died in hot blood, many in cold ; but aU died, for 
 Knolles had vowed to give no quarter. Day was just 
 breaking when the last fugitive had been hunted out and 
 slain. From all sides came the yells and whoops of the 
 soldiers, with the rending and riving of doors as they 
 burst into the store-rooms and treasure-chambers. There 
 was a joyous scramble among them, for the plunder of 
 eleven years, gold and jewels, satins and velvets, rich plate 
 and noble hangings were all to be had for the taking. 
 
 The rescued prisonets, their hunger appeased and their 
 clothes restored, led the search for booty. Nigel, leaning 
 on his sword by the gateway, saw Aylward totter past, a 
 huge bundle under each arm, another slung over his back, 
 and a smaller packet hanging from his mouth. He dropped 
 it for a moment as he passed his young master. 
 
 "By these ten finger-bones! I am right glad that I 
 came to the war, and no man could ask for a more goodly 
 life," said he. " I have a present here for every girl in 
 Tilford, and my father need never fear the frown of 
 the Sacrist of Waverley again. But how of you. Squire 
 Loring? It standeth not aright that we should gather 
 the harvest whilst you, who sowed it, go forth empty- 
 
314 SIR NIGEL 
 
 handed. Come, gentle sir, take these things that I have, 
 gathered, and I will go back and find more." 
 
 But Nigel smiled and shook his head. "You have 
 gained what your heart desired, and perchance I have 
 done so also," said he. 
 
 An instant later Knollea strode up to him with out- 
 stretched hand. 
 
 " I ask your pardon, Nigel," said he. " I have spoken 
 too hotly in my wrath." 
 
 " Nay, fair sir, I was at fault." 
 
 " If we stand here now within this castle, it is to you 
 that I owe it. The king shall know of it, and Chandos 
 also. Can I do aught else, Nigel, to prove to you the 
 high esteem in which I hold you ? " 
 
 The squire flushed with pleasure. "Do you send a 
 messenger home to England, fair sir, with news of these 
 doings ? " 
 
 "Surely, I must do so. But do not tell me, Nigel, 
 that you would he that messenger. Ask me some other 
 favour, for indeed I cannot let you go." 
 
 " Now, God forbid ! " cried Nigel. " By Saint Paul ! I 
 woxdd not be so caitiff and so thrall as to leave you when 
 some small deed might stiU, be done. But I would fain 
 send a message by your messenger." 
 
 "To whom?" 
 
 "It is to the Lady Mary, daughter of old Sir John 
 Buttesthorn, who dwells near Guildford." 
 
 " But you will write the message, Nigel. Such greet- 
 ings as a cavalier sends to his lady-love should be under 
 seal." 
 
 " Nay, he can carry my message by word of mouth." 
 
 "Then I shall tell him, for he goes this morning. 
 What message, then, shall he say to the lady ? " 
 
 " He will give her my very humble greeting, and ha 
 wiU say to her that for the second time Saint Catharine 
 has been our friend." 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 HOW ROBERT OF BEAUMANOIE CAME TO PLOEEMEL 
 
 SiE Robert Knolles and his men passed onward that 
 day, looking back many a time to see the two dark 
 columns of smoke, one thicker and one more slender, 
 which arose from the castle and from the fort of La 
 Brohini^re. There was not an archer nor a man-at-arms 
 who did not bear a great bundle of spoil upon his back, 
 and KnoEes frowned darkly as he looked upon them. 
 Gladly would he have thrown it all down by the roadside, 
 but he had tried such matters before, and he knew that it 
 was as safe to tear a half-gnawed bone from a bear as their 
 blood-won plunder from such men as these. In any case 
 it was but two days* march to Ploermel, where he hoped 
 to bring his journey to an end. 
 
 That night they camped at Mauron, where a small 
 English and Breton garrison held the castle. Eight glad 
 were the bowmen to see some of their own countrymen 
 once more, and they spent the night over wine and dice,t 
 a crowd of Breton girls assisting, so that next morning 
 their bundles were much lighter, and most of the plunder 
 of La Brohiniere was left with the men and women of 
 Mauron. Next day their march lay with a fair sluggish 
 river upon their right, and a great rolling forest upon their 
 left, which covered the whole country. At last, toward 
 evening, the towers of Ploermel rose before them, and they 
 saw against a darkening sky the Eed Cross of England 
 waving in the. wind. So blue was the river Due which 
 skirted the road, and so green its banks, that they might 
 
 3'S 
 
316 SIR NIGEL 
 
 indeed have been back beside their own homely streams, 
 the Oxford Thames or the Midland Trent, but ever as the 
 darkness deepened there came in wild gusts the howling 
 of wolves from the forest to remind them that they were 
 in a land of war. So busy had men been for many years 
 in hunting one another that the beasts of the chase had 
 grown to a monstrous degree, until the streets of the 
 towns were no longer safe from the wild inroads of the 
 fierce creatures, the wolves and the bears, who swarmed 
 around them. 
 
 It was nightfall when the little army entered the outer 
 gate of the Castle of Ploermel and encamped in the broad 
 baUey-yard. Ploermel was at that time the centre of 
 British power in Mid-Brittany, as Hennebon was in the 
 West, and it was held by a garrison of five hundred men 
 under an old soldier, Eichard of Bambro', a rugged North- 
 umbrian, trained in that great school of warriors, the 
 border wars. He who had ridden the marches of the most 
 troubled frontier in Europe, and served his time against 
 the Liddlesdale and Nithsdale raiders, was hardened for a 
 life in the field. 
 
 Of late, however, Bambro' had been unable to under- 
 take any enterprise, for his reinforcements had failed him, 
 and amid his following he had but three English knights 
 and seventy men. The rest were a mixed crew of Bretons, 
 Hainaulters, and a few German mercenary soldiers, brave 
 men individually, as those of that stock have ever been, 
 but lacking interest in the cause, and bound together by 
 no common tie of blood or tradition. 
 
 On the other hand, the surrounding castles, and espe- 
 cially that of Josselin, were held by strong forces of en- 
 thusiastic Bretons, infiamed by a common patriotism, and 
 full of warlike ardour. Eobert of Beaumanoir, the fierce 
 seneschal of the house of Bohan, pushed constant forays 
 and excursions against Ploermel, so that town and castle 
 were both in daily dread of being surrounded and besieged. 
 
ROBERT OF BEAUMANOIR 317 
 
 Several small parties of the English faction had been cut 
 off and slain to a man, and so straitened were the others 
 that it was difficult for them to gather provisions from the 
 country round. 
 
 Such was the state of Bambro's garrison when on that 
 March evening Knolles and his men streamed into the 
 bailey- yard of his castle. 
 
 In the glare of the torches at the inner gate Bambro' 
 was waiting to receive them, a dry, hard, wizened man, 
 small and fierce, with beady black eyes and quick, furtive 
 ways. Beside him, a strange contrast, stood his squire, 
 Croquart, a German, whose name and fame as a man-at- 
 arms were widespread, though, like Robert Knolles him- 
 self, he had begun as a humble page. He was a very 
 tall man, with an enormous spread of shoulders, and a 
 pair of huge hands with which he could crack a horse- 
 shoe. He was slow and lethargic, save in moments of 
 excitement, and his calm blond face, his dreamy blue eyes, 
 and his long fair hair gave him so gentle an appearance that 
 none save those who had seen him in his berserk mood, 
 raging, an iron giant, in the forefront of the battle, could 
 ever guess how terrible a warrior he might be. Little 
 knight and huge squire stood together under the arch of 
 the donjon and gave welcome to the newcomers, while a 
 swarm of soldiers crowded round to embrace their com- 
 rades and to lead them off where they might feed and 
 make merry together. 
 
 Supper had been set. in the hall of Ploermel, wherein 
 the knights and squires assembled. Bambro' and Croquart 
 were there with Sir Hugh Calverly, an old friend of 
 Knolles and a fellow-townsman, for both were men of 
 Chester. Sir Hugh was a middle-sized flaxen man, with 
 hard gray eyes and fierce, large-nosed face, sliced across 
 with the scar of a sword-cut. There, too, were Geoffrey 
 D'Ardaine, a young Breton seigneur ; Sir Thomas Belford, 
 a burly thick-set Midland Englishman; Sir Thomaa 
 
3i8 SIR NIGEL 
 
 Walton, whose surcoat of scarlet martlets showed that 
 he was of the Surrey Waltons; James Marshall and 
 John EusseU, young English squires ; and the two brothers, 
 Eichard and Hugh Le GaUiard, who were of Gascon blood. 
 Besides these were several squires unknown to fame, and 
 of the newcomers, Sir Kobert Knolles, Sir Thomas Percy, 
 Nigel Loring, and two other squires, Allington and 
 Parsons. These were the company who gathered in the 
 torchlight round the table of the Seneschal of Ploermel, 
 and kept high revel with joyous hearts because they 
 thought that much honour and noble deeds lay before 
 them. 
 
 But one sad face there was at the board, and that 
 belonged to him at the head of it. Sir Eichard Bambro' 
 sat with his chin leaning upon his hand and his eyes 
 downcast upon the cloth, whUe all round him rose the 
 merry clatter of voices, every one planning some fresh 
 enterprise which might now be attempted. Sir Eobert 
 Knolles was for an immediate advance upon Josselin. 
 Calverly thought that a raid might be made into the 
 South, where the main French power lay. Others spoke 
 of an attack upon Vannes. 
 
 To all these eager opinions Bambro' listened in a moody 
 silence, which he broke at last by a fierce execration 
 which drew a hushed attention from the company, 
 
 " Say no more, fair sirs," he cried, " for indeed your 
 words are like so many stabs in my heart. All this and 
 more we might indeed have done. But of a truth you are 
 too late." 
 
 "Too late?" cried KnoUes. "What mean you, 
 Eichard?" 
 
 " Alas that I should have to say it, but you and aU 
 these fair soldiers might be back in England once more 
 for all the profit that I am like to have from your coming. 
 Saw you a rider on a white horse ere you reached the 
 Castle?" 
 
ROBERT OF BEAUMANOIR 319 
 
 " Nay, I Saw him not." 
 
 " He came by the western road from Hennebon. Would 
 that he had broken his neck ere he came here. Not an 
 hour ago he left his message, and now hath ridden on 
 to warn the garrison of Malestroit. A truce has been 
 proclaimed for a year betwixt the French king and the 
 English, and he who breaks it forfeits life and estate," 
 
 " A truce ! " Here was an end to all their fine dreams. 
 They looked blankly at each other all round the table, 
 while Croquart brought his great fist down upon the board 
 until the glasses rattled again, Knolles sat with clinched 
 hands as if he were a' figure of stone, while Nigel's heart 
 turned cold and heavy within him, A truce! Where, 
 then, was his third deed, and how might he return without 
 it? 
 
 Even as they sat in moody silence there was the caU 
 of a bugle from somewhere out in the darkness. 
 
 Sir Eichard looked up with surprise. "We are not 
 wont to be summoned after once the portcullis is down," 
 said he. " Truce or no truce, we must let no man within 
 our walls until we have proved him. Croquart, see to it ! " 
 
 The huge German left the room. The company were 
 still seated in despondent silence when he returned, 
 
 " Sir Eichard," said he, " the brave kuight Robert of 
 Beaumanoir and his Squire William de Montaubon are 
 without the gate, and would fain have speech with you." 
 
 Bambro' started in his chair. What could the fierce 
 leader of the Bretons, a man who was red to the elbow 
 with English blood, have to say to them ? On what 
 errand had he left his castle of Josselin to pay this visit 
 to his deadly enemies ? " 
 
 " Are they armed ? " he asked. 
 
 " They are unarmed." 
 
 " Then admit them and bring them hither, but double 
 the guards, and take all heed against surprise." 
 
 Places were set at the farther end of the table for 
 
320 SIR NIGEL 
 
 these most unexpected guests. Presently the door was 
 swung open, and Crociuart, with all form and courtesy, 
 announced the two Bretons, who entered with the proud 
 and lofty air of gallant warriors and high-bred gentlemen. 
 
 Beaumanoir was a tall, dark man, with raven hair and 
 long, swarthy beard. He was strong and straight as a 
 young oak, with fiery black eyes, and no flaw in his 
 comely features, save that his front teeth had been dashed 
 from their sockets. His squire, William of Montaubon, 
 was also tall, with a thin, hatchet face, and two small 
 gray eyes set very close upon either side of a long, fierce 
 nose. In Beaumanoir's expression one read only gallantry 
 and frankness ; in Montaubon's there was gallantry also, 
 but it was mixed with the cruelty and cunning of the 
 wolf. They bowed as they entered, and the little English 
 seneschal advanced with outstretched hand to meet them. 
 
 "Welcome, Eobert, so long as you are beneath this 
 roof," said he. " Perhaps the time may come ia another 
 place when we may speak to each other in another 
 fashion." 
 
 " So I hope, Eichard," said Beaumanoir ; " but, indeed, 
 we of Josselin bear you in high esteem, and are much 
 beholden to you and to your men for all that you have 
 done for us. We could not wish better neighbours, nor 
 any from whom more honour is to be gained. I learn that 
 Sir Eobert KnoUes and others have joined you, and we are 
 heavy hearted to think that the orders of our kings should 
 debar us from attempting a venture." 
 
 He and his squire sat down at the places set for them, 
 and, filling their glasses, drank to the company. 
 
 " What you say is true, Eobert," said Bambro', " and 
 before you came we were discussing the matter among 
 ourselves, and grieving that it should be so. When hdard 
 you of the truce ? " 
 
 " Tester evening a messenger rode from Nantes." 
 
 " Our news came to-night from Hennebon. The king's 
 
ROBERT OF BEAUMANOIR 321 
 
 own seal Avas on the order. So I fear that for a year, at 
 least, you will bide at JOsselin and we at Ploermel, and 
 kill time as we may. Perchance we may hunt the wolf 
 together in the great forest, or fly our hawks on the banks 
 of the Duo." 
 
 " Doubtless we shaU do all this, Richard," said Beau- 
 manoir ; " but by Saint Cadoc it is in my mind that, with 
 good- will upon both sides, we may please ourselves, and 
 yet stand excused before our kings." 
 
 Knights and squires leaned forward in their chairs, 
 their eager eyes fixed upon him. He broke into a gap- 
 toothed smile as he looked round at the circle, the wizened 
 seneschal, the blond giant, Nigel's fresh young face, the 
 grim features of KnoUes, and the yellow, hawk-like 
 Calverly, all burning with the same desire. 
 
 " I see that I need not doubt the good-will," said he, 
 " and of that I was very certain before I came upon this 
 errand. Bethink you, then, that this order applies to war 
 but not to challenges, spear-runnings, knightly exchanges, 
 or the like. King Edward is too good a knight, and so is 
 King John, that either of them should stand in the way of 
 a gentleman who desires to advance himself, or to venture 
 his body for the exaltation of his lady. Is this not so ? " 
 
 A murmur of eager assent rose from the table. 
 
 " If you, as the garrison of Ploermel, march upon the 
 garrison of Josselin, then it is very plain that we have 
 broken the truce, and upon our heads be it. But if there 
 be a private bickering betwixt me, for example, and this 
 young, squire whose eyes show that he is very eager for 
 honour, and if, thereafter, others on each side join in and 
 fight upon the quarrel, it iS in no sense war, but rather 
 our own pnv&te business which no king can alter." 
 
 "Indeed, Robert," said Bambro', "aU that you say is 
 very good and fair." 
 
 Beaumanoir leaned forward toward Nigel, his brimming 
 glass in his hand. 
 
 Y 
 
322 SIR NIGEL 
 
 " Your name, squire ? " said he. 
 
 " My name is Nigel Loring." 
 
 " I see that you are young and eager, so I choose you, as 
 I would fain have been chosen when I was of your age." 
 
 "I thank you, fair sir," said Nigel, "It is great 
 honour that one so famous as yourself should condescend 
 to do some small deed upon me." 
 
 " But we must have cause for quarrel, Nigel. Now, 
 here I drink to the ladies of Brittany, who, of all ladies 
 upon this earth, are the most fair and the most virtuous, 
 80 that the least worthy amongst them is far above the 
 best of England. What say you to that, young sir ? " 
 
 Nigel dipped his finger in his glass, and, leaning over, 
 he placed its wet impress on the Breton's hand. 
 
 " This in your face ! " said he. 
 
 Beaumanoir swept off the red drop of moistm-e and 
 smiled his approval. 
 
 " It could not have been better done," said he. " Why 
 spoil my velvet paltoct, as many a hot-headed fool would 
 have done. It is in my mind, young sir, that you will go 
 far. And now, who follows up this quaixel ? " 
 
 A growl ran round the table. 
 
 Beaumanoir ran his eye round and shook his head. 
 
 " Alas ! " said he, " there are but twenty of you here, 
 and I have thirty at JosseUn who are so eager to advance 
 themselves that, if I return without hope for all of them, 
 there will be sore hearts amongst them. I pray you, 
 Eichard, since we have been at these pains to arrange 
 matters, that you in turn will do what you may. Can 
 you not find ten more men ? " 
 
 " But not of gentle blood." 
 
 "Nay, it matters not, if they wiU. oiily fight." 
 
 " Of that there can be no doubt, for the castle is full 
 of archers and men-at-arms who would gladly play a part 
 in the matter." 
 
 " Then choose ten," said Beaumanoir. 
 
ROBERT OF BEAUMANOIR 323 
 
 But for the first time the wolf-like squire opened his 
 thin lips. 
 
 " Surely, my lord, you vdll not allow archers," said he. 
 
 " I fear not any man." 
 
 " Nay, fair sir, consider that this is a trial of weapons 
 betwixt us, where man faces man. You have seen these 
 English archers, and you know how fast and how strong 
 are their shafts. Bethink you that if ten of them were 
 against us, it is likely that half of us would be down 
 before ever we came to handstrokes." 
 
 " By Saint Cadoc, William, I think that you are right," 
 cried the Breton. " If we are to have such a fight as will 
 remain in the memories of men, you will bring no archers 
 and we no crossbows. Let it be steel upon steel. How 
 say you, then ? " 
 
 "Surely we can bring ten men-at-arms to make up 
 the thirty that you desire, Robert. It is agreed, then, that 
 we fight on no quarrel of England and France, but ovet 
 this matter of the ladies in which you and Squire Loring 
 have fallen out. And now the time ? " 
 
 "At once." 
 
 " Surely at once, or perchance a second messenger may 
 come and this also be forbidden. We wiU be ready with 
 to-morrow's sunrise." 
 
 " Nay, a day later," cried the Breton squire. " Bethink 
 you, my lord, that the three lances of Eadenac would take 
 time to come over." 
 
 " They are not of our garrison, and they shall not 
 have a place." 
 
 " But, fair sir, of all the lances of Brittany " 
 
 " Nay, Wniiam, I wiU not have it an hour later. To- 
 morrow it shall be, Richard." 
 
 "And where?" 
 
 "I marked a fitting place even as I rode here this 
 evening. If you cross the river and take the bridle-path 
 through the fields which leads to Josselin you come 
 
324 SIR NIGEL 
 
 midway upon a mighty oak standing at the corner of a 
 fair and level meadow. There let us meet at midday 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Agreed ! " cried Bambro'. " But I pray you not to 
 rise, Eobert ! The night is still young, and the spices and 
 hippocras will soon be served. Bide with us, I pray you, 
 for if you would fain hear the latest songs from England, 
 these gentlemen have doubtless brought them. To some 
 of us perchance it is the last night, so we would make it 
 a full one." 
 
 But the gallant Breton shook his head. " It may 
 indeed be the last night for many," said he, " and it is 
 but right that my comrades should know it. I have no 
 need of monk or friar, for I cannot think that harm 
 will ever come beyond the grave to one who has borne 
 himself as a knight should, but others have other thoughts 
 upon these matters, and would fain have time for prayei* 
 and penitence. Adieu, fair sirs, and I drink a last glass 
 to a happy meeting at the midway oak." 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 HOW THIETY OF JOSSELIN ENCOUNTERED THIETy OF 
 PLOERMEL 
 
 All night the Castle of Ploermel rang with warlike pre- 
 parations, for the smiths were hammering and filing and 
 riveting, preparing the armour for the champions. In 
 the stable yard hostlers were testing and grooming the 
 great war-horses, jirhile in the chapel knights and squires 
 were easing their souls at the knees of old Father Benedict. 
 
 Down in the courtyard, meanwhile, the men-at-arms 
 had been assembled, and the volunteers weeded out until 
 the best men had been selected. Black Simon had 
 obtained a place, and great was the joy which shone upon 
 his grim visage. With him were chosen young Nicholas 
 Dagsworth, a gentleman adventurer who was nephew 
 to the famous Sir Thomas, Walter the German, Hulbit^e 
 — a huge peasant whose massive frame gave promise which 
 his sluggish spirit failed to fulfil — John Alcock, Eobin 
 Adey and Eaoul Provost. These with three others made 
 up the required thirty. Great was the grumbling and 
 evil the talk among the archers when it was learned 
 that none of them were to be included, but the bow 
 had been forbidden on either side. It is true that many 
 of them were expert fighters both with axe and with sword, 
 but they were unused to carry heavy armour, and a 
 half-armed man would have short shrift in such a 
 hand-to-hand struggle as lay before them. 
 
 It was two hours after tierce, or one hour before noon, 
 on the fourth Wednesday of Lent, in the year of Christ 
 
 325 
 
326 SIR NIGEL 
 
 1351, that the men of Ploermel rode forth from their castle- 
 gate and crossed the bridge of the Due. In front was 
 Bambro', -with his squire, Oroquart, the latter on a great 
 roan horse bearing the banner of Ploermel, which was 
 a black rampant lion holding a blue flag upon a field 
 of ermine. Behind him came Eobert KnoUes and Nigel 
 Loring, with an attendant at their side, who carried 
 the pennon of the black raven. Then rode Sir Thomas 
 Percy, with his blue lion flaunting above him, and Sir 
 Hugh Calverly, whose banner bore a silver owl, followed 
 by the massive Belford, who carried a huge iron club, 
 weighing sixty pounds, upon his saddle-bow, and Sir 
 Thomas Walton, the knight of Surrey. Behind them 
 were four brave Anglo-Bretons, Perrot de Commelain, Le 
 Gaillart, d'Aspremont and d'Ardaine, who fought against 
 their own countrymen because they were partisans of the 
 Countess of Montfort. Her engrailed silver cross upon a 
 blue field was carried at their head. In the rear were 
 five German or Hainault taercenaries, the tall Hulbitee, 
 and the men-at-arms. Altogether of these combatants 
 twenty were of English birth, four were Breton, and six 
 were of German blood. 
 
 So, with glitter of armour and flaunting of pennons, 
 their war-horses tossing and pawing, the champions rode 
 down to the midway oak. Behind them streamed 
 hundreds of archers and men-at-arms, whose weapons had 
 been wisely taken from them, lest a general battle should 
 ensue. With them also went the townsfolk, men and 
 women, together with wine-sellers, provision merchants, 
 armourers, grooms, and heralds, with surgeons to tend the 
 wounded and priests to shrive the dying. The path was 
 blocked by this throng, but aU over the face of the 
 country, horsemen and footmen, gentle and simple, men 
 and women, could be seen speeding their way to the scene 
 of the encounter. 
 
 The journey was not a long one, for presently, as they 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE THIRTY 327 
 
 threaded their way through the fields, there appeared 
 before them a great gray oak which spread its gnarled 
 leafless branches over the corner of a green and level 
 meadow. The tree was black with the peasants who had 
 climbed into it, and all roxmd it was a huge throng, 
 chattering and calling like a rookery at sunset. A storm 
 of hooting broke out from them at the approach of the 
 English, for Bambro' was hated in the country, where he 
 raised money for the Montfort cause by putting every 
 parish to ransom, and maltreating those who refused to 
 pay. There was little amenity ia the warlike ways which 
 had been learned upon the Scottish border. The cham- 
 pions rode onward without deigning to take notice of the 
 taunts of the rabble, but the archers turned that way and 
 soon beat the mob to silence. Then they resolved them- 
 selves into the keepers of the ground, and pressed the 
 people back until they formed a dense line along the 
 edge of the field, leaving the whole space clear for 
 the warriors. ' 
 
 The Breton champions had not yet arrived, so the Eng- 
 lish tethered their horses at one side of the ground, and then 
 gathered round their leader. Every man had his shield 
 slung round his neck, and had cut his spear to the length 
 of five feet, so that it might be more manageable for fighting 
 on foot. Besides the spear, a sword or a battle-axe hung at 
 the side of each. They were clad from head to foot in 
 armour, with devices upon the crests and surcoats to 
 distinguish them from their antagonists. At present their 
 visors were stUl up, and they chatted gaily with each 
 other. 
 
 " By Saint Dunstan ! " cried Percy, slapping his gaunt- 
 leted hands together and stamping his steel feet, " I shall 
 be right glad to get to work, for my blood is chilled." 
 
 " I warrant you will be warm enough ere you get 
 through," said Calverly. 
 
 " Or cold for ever. Candle shall burn and beU toll at 
 
32S SIR NIGEL 
 
 Alnwick Chapel if I leave tliis ground alive ; but Come 
 what may, fair sirs, it should be a famous joust, and one 
 which will help us forward. Surely each of us will 
 have worshipfuUy won worship, if we chance to come 
 through." 
 
 "You say truth, Thomas," said Knolles, bracing 
 his girdle. "For my own part I have no joy in such, 
 encounters when there is warfare to be carried out, for it 
 standeth not aright that a man should think of his own 
 pleasure and advancement rather than of the king's 
 cause and the weal of the army. But in times of truce I 
 can think of no better way in which a day may be 
 profitably spent. Why so silent, Nigel ? " 
 
 "Indeed, fair sir, I was looking towards Josselin, 
 which lies, as I understand, beyond those woods. I see 
 no sign of this debonair gentleman and of his following. 
 It would be indeed grievous pity if any cause came to 
 hold them back." 
 
 Hugh Calverly laughed at the words. "You need 
 have no fear, young sir," said he. " Such a spirit lies in 
 Eobert de Beaumanoir that if he must come alone he 
 would ride against us none the less. I warrant that if he 
 were on a bed of death he would be borne here and die 
 on the green field." 
 
 " You say truly, Hugh," said Bambro'. " I know him 
 and those who ride behind him. Thirty stouter men or 
 more skilled in arms are not to be found in Christendom. 
 It is in my mind that, come what may, there will be much 
 honour for all of us this day. Ever in my head I have a 
 rhyme which the wife of a Welsh archer gave me when I 
 crossed her hand with a golden bracelet after the intaking 
 of Bergerac. She was of the old blood of Merlin with the 
 power of sight. Thus she said — 
 
 " 'Twixt the oak-tree and the river 
 Knightly fame and brave endeavour 
 Make an honoured name for ever," 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE THIRTY 329 
 
 Methinks I see the oak-tree, and yonder is the river. 
 Surely this should betide some good to us." 
 
 The huge German squire betrayed some impatience 
 during this speech of his leader. Though his rank was 
 subordinate, no man present had more experience of 
 warfare or was more famous as a fighter than he. He 
 now broke brusquely into the talk, 
 
 " We should be better employed in ordering our line 
 and making our plans than in talking of the rhymes of 
 Merlin or such old wives' tales," said he. " It is to our 
 own strong arms and good weapons that we must trust 
 this day. And first I would ask you, Sir Kichard, what 
 is your will if perchance you should fall in the midst of 
 the fight ? " 
 
 Bambro' turned to the others. " If such should be the 
 case, fair sirs, I desire that my squire, Croquart, should 
 command." 
 
 There was a pause, while the knights looked with 
 some chagria at each other. The silence was broken by 
 Knolles. 
 
 " I will do what you say, Eichard," said he, " though 
 indeed it is bitter that we who are knights should serve 
 beneath a squire. Yet it is not for us to fall out among 
 ourselves now at this last moment, and I have ever heard 
 that Croquart is a very worthy and valiant man. There- 
 fore, I will pledge you on jeopardy of my soul that I will 
 accept him as leader if you fall." 
 
 " So will I also, Eichard," said Calverly, 
 
 " And I too ! " cried BeKord. " But surely I hear 
 music, and yonder are their pennons amid the trees." 
 
 They all turned, leaning upon their short spears, and 
 watched the advance of the men of JosseLin, as their troop 
 wound its way out from the woodlands. In front rode 
 three heralds with tabards of the ermine of Brittany, 
 blowing loudly upon silver trumpets. Behind them a 
 great man upon a white horse bore the banner of Josselin, 
 
330 SIR NIGEL 
 
 ,which carries nine golden bezants upon a scarlet field. 
 Then came the champions riding two and two, fifteen 
 knights and fifteen squires, each with his pennon dis- 
 played. Behind them on a litter was borne an aged 
 priest, the Bishop of Kennes, carrying in his hands the 
 viaticum and the holy oils that he might give the last aid 
 and comfort of the Church to those who were dying. The 
 procession was terminated by hundreds of men and women 
 from JosseUn, Guegon, and Helleon, and by the entire 
 garrison of the fortress, who came, as the English had 
 done, without their arms. The head of this long column 
 had reached the field before the rear were clear of the 
 wood, but as they arrived the champions picketed their 
 horses on the farther side, behind which their banner was 
 planted, and the people lined up until they had inclosed 
 the whole lists with a dense wall of spectators. 
 ; With keen eyes the English party had watched the 
 armorial blazonry of their antagonists, for those fluttering 
 pennons and brilliant surcoats carried a language which 
 all men could read. In front was the banner of Beau- 
 manoir, blue with silver frets. His motto, " J'ayme qui 
 m'ayme," was carried on a second flag by a little page. 
 
 " Whose is the shield behind him — silver with scarlet 
 drops ? " asked Knolles. 
 
 "It is his squire, William of Montaubon," Calverly 
 answered. " And there are the golden lion of Eochefort 
 and the silver cross of Du Bois the Strong. I would not 
 wish to meet a better company than are before us this 
 day. See, there are the blue rings of young Tintiniac, 
 who slew my squire, Hubert, last Lammastide. With the 
 aid of Saint George I will avenge him ere nightfall." 
 
 " By the three kings of Almain," growled Croquart, 
 " we wUl need to fight hard this day, for never have I seen 
 so many good soldiers gathered together. Yonder is Yves 
 Cheruel, whom they call the man of iron ; Caro de Bodegat 
 also, with whom I have had more than one bickering — 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE THIRTY 331 
 
 that is he with the three ermine circles on the scarlet 
 shield. There too is left-handed Alain de Karanais ; bear 
 in mind that his stroke comes on the side where there 
 is no shield." 
 
 "Who is the small stout man," asked Nigel — "he 
 with the black and silver shield? By Saint Paul! he 
 seems a very worthy person and one from whom much 
 might be gained, for he is nigh as broad as he is long." 
 
 "It is Sir Eobert Eaguenel," said Oalverly, whose 
 long spell of service in Brittany had made him familiar 
 with the people. " It is said that he can lift a horse uponr 
 his back. Beware a fuU stroke of that steel mace, for the 
 armour is not made that can abide it. But here is the 
 good Beaumanoir, and surely it is time that we came to 
 grips." 
 
 The Breton leader had marshalled his men in a line 
 opposite to the, English, and now he strode forward and 
 shook Bambro' by the hand. 
 
 "By Saint Cadoc! this is a very joyous meeting, 
 Eichard," said he, " and we have certainly hit upon a very 
 excellent way of keeping a truce." 
 
 " Indeed, Eobert," said Bambro', " we owe you much 
 thanks, for I can see that you have been at great pains to 
 bring a wort% company against us this day. Surely if 
 aU should chance to perish there will be few noble houses 
 in Brittany who will not mourn." 
 
 "Nay, we have none of the highest of Brittany," 
 Beaumanoir answered. "Neither a Blois, nor a Leon, 
 nor a Eohan, nor a Conan, fights in our ranks this day. 
 And yet we are all men of blood and coat-armour, who 
 are ready to venture our persons for the desire of our 
 ladies and the love of the high order of knighthood. 
 And now, Eichard, what is your sweet will concerning 
 this fight?" 
 
 " That we continue until one or other can endure no 
 longer, for since it is seldom that so many brave men 
 
332 SIR NIGEL 
 
 draw together it is fitting that we see as much as is 
 possible of each other." 
 
 " Eichard, your words are fair and good. It shall be 
 even as you say. For the rest, each shall fight as pleases 
 him best from the time that the herald calls the word. 
 If any man from without shall break in upon us he shall 
 be hanged on yonder oak." 
 
 With a salute he drew down his visor and returned to 
 his own men, who were kneeling in a twinkling, many 
 coloured group, while the old bishop gave them his 
 blessing. , 
 
 The heralds rode round with a warning to the spectators. 
 Then they halted at the side of the two bands of men, who 
 now stood in a long line facing each other with fifty yards 
 of grass between. The visors had been closed, and every 
 man was now cased in metal from head to foot, some few 
 glowing in brass, the greater number shining in steel. 
 Only their fierce eyes could be seen smouldering in the 
 dark shadow of their helmets. So for an instant they 
 stood glaring and crouching. 
 
 Then, with a loud cry of " Allez ! " the herald dropped 
 his upraised hand, and the two lines of men shuffled as 
 fast as their heavy armour would permit, until they met 
 with a sharp clang of metal in the middle of the field. 
 There was a sound as of sixty smiths working upon their 
 anvils. Then the babel of yells and shouts from the 
 spectators, cheering on this party or that, rose and swelled, 
 until even the uproar of the combat was drowned in that 
 mighty surge. 
 
 So eager were the combatants to engage that in a few 
 moments all order had been lost and the two bands were 
 mixed up in one furious scrambling, clattering throng, 
 each man tossed hither and thither, thrown against one 
 adversary and then against another, beaten and hustled 
 and buffeted, with only the one thought in his mind to 
 thrust with his spear or to beat with his axe against 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE THIRTY 333 
 
 any one who came within the narrow slit of vision left by 
 his visor. 
 
 But alas for Nigel and his hopes of some great deed ! 
 His was at least the fate of the brave, for he was the first 
 to fall. With a high heart, he had placed himself in the 
 Hne as nearly opposite to Beaumanoir as he could, and 
 had made straight for the Breton leader, remembering 
 that in the outset the quarrel had been so ordered that it 
 lay between them. But ere he could reach his goal he 
 was caught in the swirl of his own comrades, and, being 
 the lighter man, was swept aside and dashed into the 
 arms of Alain de Karanais, the left-handed swordsman, 
 with such a crash that the two rolled upon the ground 
 together. Light-footed as a cat, Nigel had sprung up first, 
 and was stooping over the Breton squire, when the 
 powerful dwarf Eaguenel brought his mace thudding 
 down upon the exposed back of his helmet. With a 
 groan, Nigel fell upon his face, blood gushing from his 
 mouth, nose, and ears. There he lay, trampled over by 
 either party, while that great fight for which his fiery 
 soul had panted was swaying back and forward above his 
 unconscious form. 
 
 But Nigel was not long unavenged. The huge iron 
 club of Belford struck the dwarf Eaguenel to the ground, 
 while Belford in turn was felled by a sweeping blow from 
 Beaumanoir. Sometimes a dozen were on the ground at 
 one time, but so strong was the armour, and so deftly was 
 the force of a blow broken by guard and shield, that the 
 stricken men were often pulled to their feet once more 
 by their comrades, and were able to continue the fight. 
 
 Some, however, were beyond aU' aid. Croquart had 
 cut at a Breton knight named Jean Eousselot, and had 
 shorn away his shoulder-piece, exposing his neck and the 
 upper part of his arm. Vainly he tried to cover this 
 vulnerable surface with his shield. It was his right side, 
 and he could not stretch it far enough across, nor could 
 
334 SIR NIGEL 
 
 he get away on account of the press of men around him. 
 For a time he held his foemen at bay, but that bare patch 
 of white shoulder was a mark for every weapon, until at 
 last a hatchet sank up to the socket in the knight's chest. 
 Almost at the same moment a second Breton, a young 
 squire named Geoffrey Mellon, was slain by a thrust from 
 Black Simon, which found the weak spot beneath the arm- 
 pit. Three other Bretons, Evan Cheruel, Caro de Bodegat, 
 and Tristan de Pestivien, the first two knights and the 
 latter a squire, became separated from their comrades, and 
 were beaten to the ground with English aU around them, 
 so that they had to choose between instant death and 
 surrender. They handed their swords to Bambro', and 
 stood apart, each of them sorely wounded, watching with 
 hot and bitter hearts the Ttielee which still surged up and 
 down the field. 
 
 But now the combat had lasted twenty minutes without 
 stint or rest, until the warriors were so exhausted with 
 the burden of their armour, the loss of blood, the shock 
 of blows, and their own furious exertions, that they could 
 scarce totter or raise their weapons. There must be a 
 pause if the combat was to have any decisive end. 
 
 " Cessez ! Gessez ! Betirez ! " cried the heralds, as they 
 spurred their horses between the exhausted men. 
 
 Slowly the gallant Beaumanoir led the twenty-five 
 men who were left to their original station, where they 
 opened their visors and threw themselves down upon the 
 grass, panting like weary dogs, and wiping the sweat from 
 their bloodshot eyes. A pitcher of wine of Anjou was 
 carried round by a page, and each in turn drained a cup, 
 save only Beaumanoir, who kept his Lent with such 
 strictness that neither food nor drink might pass his lips 
 before simset. He paced slowly among his men, croaking 
 forth encouragement from his parched lips, and pointing 
 out to them that among the English there was scarce a 
 man who was not wounded, and some so sorely that they 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE THIRTY 335 
 
 could hardly stand. If the fight so far had gone against, 
 them, there were still five hours of daylight, and muchi 
 might happen before the last of them was laid upon his 
 back. 
 
 Varlets had rushed forth to draw away the two dead 
 Bretons, and a brace of English archers had carried Mgel 
 from the field. With his own hands, Aylward had un-' 
 laced the crushed helmet, and had wept to see the bloodless 
 and unconscious face of his young master. He still 
 breathed, however, and stretched upon the grass by the 
 riverside the bowman tended him with rude surgery, until 
 the water upon his brow and the wind upon his face had 
 coaxed back the life into his battered frame. He breathed 
 with heavy gasps, and some tinge of blood crept back into 
 his cheeks, but still he lay unconscious of the roar of the 
 crowd and of that great struggle which his comrades were 
 now waging once again. 
 
 The English had lain for a space, bleeding and breath- 
 less, in no better case than their rivals, save that they 
 were still twenty-nine in number. But of this muster 
 there were not nine who were hale men, and some were 
 so weak from loss of blood that they could scarce keep 
 standing. Yet, when the signal was at last given to re- 
 engage, there was not a man upon either side who did 
 not totter to his feet and stagger forward toward his 
 enemies. 
 
 But the opening of this second phase of the combat 
 brought one great misfortune and discouragement to the 
 English. Bambro', like the others, had undone his visor, 
 but with his mind full of many cares, he had neglected to 
 make it fast again. There was an opening an inch broad 
 between it and the beaver. As the two liaes met, the 
 left-handed Breton squire, Alan de Karanais, caught sight 
 of Bambro's face, and in an instant thrust his short spear 
 through the opening. The English leader gave a cry of 
 pain and fell on his knees, but staggered to his feet again. 
 
336 SIR NIGEL 
 
 too weak to raise his shield. As he stood exposed, the 
 Breton knight, Geoffrey Dubois the Strong, struck him 
 such a blow with his axe that he beat in the whole breast- 
 plate with the breast behind it. Bambro' fell dead upon 
 the ground, and for a few minutes a fierce fight raged 
 round his body. 
 
 Then the English drew back. Sullen and dogged, bear- 
 ing Bambro' with them, and the Bretons, breathing hard, 
 gathered again in their own quarter. At the same in- 
 stant the three prisoners picked up such weapon? as were 
 scattered upon the grass and ran over to join their own 
 party. 
 
 " Nay, nay ! " cried KnoUes, raising his visor and ad- 
 vancing. "This may not be. You have been held to 
 mercy when we might have slain you, and by the Virgin, 
 I will hold you dishonoured, all three, if you stand not 
 back." 
 
 " Say not so, Eobert KnoUes," Evan Gheruel answered. 
 " Never yet has the word dishonour been breathed with 
 my name ; but I should count myself faineant if I did 
 not fight beside my comrades when chance has made it 
 right and proper that I should do so." 
 
 " By Saint Cadoc ! he speaks truly," croaked Beau- 
 manoir, advancing in front of his men. " You are well 
 aware, Eobert, that it is the law of war and the usage of 
 chivaby that if the knight to whom you have surrendered 
 be himseK slain, the prisoners thereby become released." 
 
 There was no answer to this, and Knolles, weary and 
 spent, returned to his comrades. 
 
 "I would that we had slain them," said he. "We 
 have lost our leader, and they have gained three men 
 by the same stroke." 
 
 " If any more lay down their arms, it is my order that 
 you slay them forthwith," said Croquart, whose bent sword 
 and bloody armour showed how manfully he had borne 
 himself in the fray. " And now, comrades, do not- be 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE THIRTY 337 
 
 heavy hearted because we have lost our leader. Indeed,' 
 his rhymes of Merlin have availed him little. By the 
 three kings of Almain ! I can teach you what is better 
 than an old woman's prophecies, and that is that you 
 should keep your shoulders together and your shields so 
 close that none can break between them. Then you wiU 
 know what is on either side of you, and you can fix your 
 eyes upon the front. Also, if any be so weak or wounded 
 that he must sink his hands, his comrades on right and 
 left can bear him up. Now advance all together in God's 
 name, for the battle is still ours if we bear ourselves like 
 men." 
 
 In a solid line the English advanced, while the Bretons 
 ran forward as before to meet them. The swiftest of these 
 was a certain squire, Geoffrey Poulart, who bore a helmet 
 which was fashioned as a cock's head, with high comb 
 above, and long pointed beak in front pierced with the 
 breathing-holes. He thrust with his sword at Calverly, 
 but Belford, who was the next in the line, raised his giant 
 club and struck him a crushing blow from the side. He 
 staggered, and then, pushing forth from the crowd, he ran 
 round and round in circles as one whose brain is stricken, 
 the blood dripping from the holes of his brazen beak. 
 So for a long time he ran, the crowd laughing and cock- 
 crowing at the sight, until at last he stumbled and fell 
 stone dead upon his face. But the fighters had seen 
 nothing of his fate, for desperate and unceasing was the 
 rush of the Bretons and the steady advance of the English 
 line. 
 
 For a time it seemed as if nothing would break it, 
 but gap-toothed Beaumanoir was a general as well as a 
 warrior. While his weary, bleeding, hard-breathing men 
 still flimg themselves upon the front of the line, he himself, 
 with Eaguenel, Tintiniac, Alain de Karanais, and Dubois, 
 rushed round the flank and attacked the English with fury 
 fropa behind. There was a long and desperate melee, untU 
 
 Z 
 
338 SIR NIGEL 
 
 once more the heralds, seeing the combatants stand gasping 
 and unable to strike a blow, rode in and called yet another 
 interval of truce. 
 
 But in those few minutes while they had been assaulted 
 upon both sides the losses of the English party had been 
 heavy. The Anglo-Breton D'Ardaine had fallen before 
 Beaumanoir's sword, but not before he had cut deeply 
 into his enemy's shoulder. Sir Thomas Walton, Eichard 
 of Ireland one of the squires, and Hulbitee the big peasant 
 had all fallen before the mace of the dwarf Eaguenel or 
 the swords of his companions. Some twenty men were 
 still left standing upon either side, but aU were in the last 
 state of exhaustion, gasping, reeling, hardly capable of 
 striking a blow. 
 
 It was strange to see them as they staggered, with many 
 a lurch and stumble, toward each other once again, for 
 they moved like drunken men, and the scales of their 
 neck-armour and joints were as red as fishes' gills when 
 they raised them. They left foul wet footprints behind 
 them on the green grass as they moved forward once more 
 to their endless contest. 
 
 Beaumanoir, faint with the drain of his blood and with 
 a tongue of leather, paused as he advanced. 
 
 " I am fainting, comrades," he cried. " I must drink." 
 
 " Drink your own blood, Beaimianoir ! " cried Dubois, 
 and the weary men all croaked together in dreadful 
 laughter. 
 
 But now the English had learned from experience, and 
 under the guidance of Crociuart they fought no longer in 
 a straight line, but in one so bent that at last it became a 
 circle. As the Bretons still pushed and staggered against 
 it they thrust it back on every side, until they had turned 
 it into the most dangerous formation of all, a solid block 
 of men, their faces turned outward, their weapons bristling 
 fqrth to meet every attack. Thus the English stood, and 
 no ^sault could move them. They could lean against each 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE THIRTY 339 
 
 other back to back while they waited and allowed their 
 foemen to tire themselves out. Again and again the 
 gallant Bretons tried to make a way through. Again and 
 again they were beaten back by a shower of blows. 
 
 Beaumanoir, his head giddy with fatigue, opened his 
 helmet and gazed in despair at this terrible, unbreakable 
 circle. Only too clearly he could see the inevitable result. 
 His men were wearing themselves out. Already many of 
 them could scarce stir hand or foot, and might be dead 
 for any aid which they could give him in winning the 
 fight. Soon all would be in the same plight. Then these 
 cursed English would break their circle to swarm over his 
 helpless men and to strike them down. Do what he might, 
 he could see no way by which such an end might be pre- 
 vented. He cast his eyes round in his agony, and there 
 was one of his Bretons slinking away to the side of the 
 lists. He could scarce credit his senses when he saw by 
 the scarlet and silver that the deserter was his own well- 
 tried squire, "William of Montaubon, 
 
 " "William ! "William ! " he cried. " Surely you would 
 not leave me ? " 
 
 But the other's helmet was closed and he could hear 
 nothing. Beaumanoir saw that he was staggering away 
 as swiftly as he could. "With a cry of bitter despair, he 
 drew into a knot as many of his braves as could still 
 move, and together they made a last rush upon the English 
 spears. This time he was firmly resolved, deep in his 
 gaUant soul, that he would come no foot back, but would 
 find his death there among his foemen or carve a path 
 into the heart of their ranks. The fire in his breast spread 
 from man to man of his followers, and amid the crashing 
 of blows they still locked themselves against the English 
 shields and drove hard for an opening in their ranks. 
 
 But all was vain! Beaumanoir's head reeled. His 
 senses were leaving him. In another minute he and his 
 men would have been stretched senseless before this 
 
340 SIR NIGEL 
 
 terrible circle of steel, when suddenly the whole array fell 
 in pieces before his eyes ; his enemies, Croquart, Knolles, 
 Calverly, Belford, all were stretched upon the ground to- 
 gether, their weapons dashed from their hands and their 
 bodies too exhausted to rise. The surviving Bretons had 
 but strength to fall upon them dagger in hand, and to 
 wring from them their surrender with the sharp point 
 stabbing through their visors. Then victors and vanquished 
 lay groaning and panting in one helpless and blood-smeared 
 heap. 
 
 To Beaumanoir's simple mind it has seemed that at 
 the supreme moment the Saints of Brittany had risen at 
 their country's call. Already, as he lay gasping, his heart 
 was pouring forth its thanks to his patron Saint Cadoc. 
 But the spectators had seen clearly enough the earthly 
 cause of this sudden victory, and a hurricane of applause 
 from one side, with a storm of hooting from the other, 
 showed how different was the emotion which it raised 
 in minds which sympathized with the victors or the 
 vanquished. 
 
 Wniiam of Montaubon, the cunning squire, had made 
 his way across to the spot where the steeds were tethered, 
 and had mounted his own great roussin. At first it was 
 thought that he was about to ride from the field, but the 
 howl of execration from the Breton peasants changed 
 suddenly to a yell of applause and delight as he turned 
 the beast's head for the English circle and thrust his long 
 prick spurs into its side. Those who faced him saw this 
 sudden and unexpected appearance. Time was when both 
 horse and rider must have winced away from the shower 
 of their blows. But now they were in no state to meet 
 such a rush. They could scarce raise their arms. Their 
 blows were too feeble to hurt this mighty creature. In a 
 moment it had plunged through the ranks, and seven of 
 them were on the grass. It turned and rushed through 
 them again, leaving five others helpless bei^eath its hgofs. 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE THIRTY 341 
 
 No need to do more ! Already Beaumanoir and his com- 
 panions were inside the circle, the prostrate men were 
 helpless, and Josselin had won. 
 
 That night a train of crest-fallen archers, bearing many 
 a prostrate figure, marched sadly into Ploermel Castle. 
 Behind them rode ten men, all weary, all wounded, and all 
 with burniug hearts against WiUiam of Montaubon for the 
 foul trick that he had served them. 
 
 But over at JosseUn, yellow gorse-blossoms in their 
 helmets, the victors were borne in on the shoulders of a 
 shouting mob, amid the fanfare of trumpets and the beating 
 of drums. Such was the combat of the Midway Oak, 
 where brave men met brave men, and such honour was 
 gained that from that day he who had fought in the battle 
 of the Thirty was ever given the highest place and the 
 post of honour, nor was it easy for any man to pretend 
 to have been there, for it has been said by that great 
 chronicler who knew them all, that not one on either 
 side failed to carry to his grave the marks of that- stern 
 encounter. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 HOW NIGEL WAS CALLED TO HIS MASTER 
 
 " Mt sweet ladye," wrote Nigel, in a script which it would 
 take the eyes of love to read, " there hath been a most 
 noble meeting in the fourth sennight of Lent betwixt some 
 of our own people and sundry most worthy persons of this 
 country, which ended, by the grace of our lady, in so fine 
 a joust that no man living can call to mind so fair an 
 occasion. Much honour was gained by the Sieur de 
 Beaumanoir and also by an Almain named Croquart, with 
 whom I hope to have some speech when I am hale again, 
 for he is a most excellent person and very ready to advance 
 himself or to relieve another from a vow. For myself I 
 had hoped, with Godde's help, to venture that third small 
 deed which might set me free to haste to your sweet side, 
 but things have gone awry with me, and I early met with 
 such scathe and was of so small comfort to my friends 
 that my heart is heavy within me, and in sooth I feel 
 that I have lost honour rather than gained it. Here I 
 have lain since the Feast of the Virgin, and here I am 
 like still to be, for I can move no limb, save only my 
 hand; but grieve not, sweet lady, for Saint Catharine 
 hath been our friend since in so short a time I had two 
 such ventures as the Eed Ferret and the intaking of the 
 Eeaver's fortalice. It needs but one more deed, and 
 sickerly when I am hale once more it will not be long ere 
 I seek it out. Till then, if my eyes may not rest upon 
 you, my heart at least is ever at thy feet." 
 
 So he wrote from his sick-room in the Castle of 
 343 
 
NIGEL WAS CALLED TO HIS MASTER 343 
 
 Ploermel late in the summer, but yet anothier summer had 
 come before his crufihed head had mended and his wasted 
 limbs had gained their strength once more. With despair 
 he heard of the breaking of the truce, and of the fight at 
 Mauron, in which Sir Eobert KnoUes and Sir Walter 
 Bentley crushed the rising power of Brittany — a fight in 
 which many of the thirty champions of Josselin met their 
 end. Then, when with renewed strength and high hopes 
 in his heart he went forth to search for the famous 
 Croquart, who proclaimed himself ever ready night or day 
 to meet any man with any weapon, it was only to find 
 that, in trying the paces of his new horse, the German had 
 been cast into a ditch and had broken his neck. In the 
 same ditch perished Nigel's last chance of soon accomplish- 
 ing that deed which should free him from his vow. 
 
 There was truce once more over all Christendom, and 
 mankind was sated with war, so that only in far-off 
 Prussia, where the Teutonic knights waged ceaseless battle 
 with the Lithuanian heathen, could he hope to find his 
 heart's desire. But money and high knightly fame were 
 needed ere a man could go upon the northern crusade, and 
 ten years were yet to pass ere Nigel should look from the 
 battlements of Marienberg on the waters of the Frische 
 Haff, or should endure the torture of the hot plate when 
 bound to the Holy Woden stone of Memel. Meanwhile, 
 he chafed his burning soul out through the long seasons of 
 garrison life in Brittany, broken only by one visit to the 
 chateau of the father of Eaoul, when he carried to the 
 Lord of Grosbois the news of how his son had fallen like 
 a gallant gentletnan . under the gateway of La Bro- 
 hiniere. 
 
 And then, then at last, when all hope was well-nigh 
 dead in his heart, there came one glorious July morning 
 which brought a horseman bearing a letter to the Castle 
 of Vannes, of which Nigel now was seneschal. It con- 
 tained but few words, short and clear as the call of a 
 
344 SIR NiGEI. 
 
 war-trumpet. It was Chandos who wrote. He needed hia 
 squire at his side, for his pennon was in the breeze once 
 more. He was at Bordeaux. The prince was starting at 
 once for Bergerac, whence he would make a great raid 
 into Trance. It would not end without a battle. They 
 had sent word of their coming, and the good French king 
 had promised to be at great pains to receive them. Let 
 Mgel hasten at once. If the army had left, then let him 
 follow after with all speed. Chandos had three other 
 squires, but would very gladly see his fourth once again, 
 for he had heard much of him since he parted, and nothing 
 which he might not have expected to hear of his father's 
 son. Such was the letter which made the summer sun 
 shine brighter and the blue sky seem of a still fairer blue 
 upon that happy morning in Vannes. 
 
 It is a weaiy way from Vannes to Bordeaux. Coast- 
 wise ships are hard to find, and winds blow north when 
 all brave hearts would fain be speeding south. A full 
 month has passed from the day when Nigel received his 
 letter before he stood upon the quay-side of the Garonne 
 amid the stacked barrels of Gascon wine and helped to 
 lead Pommers down the gang-planks. Not Aylward 
 himself had a worse opinion of the sea than the great 
 yeUow horse, and he whinnied with joy as he thrust his 
 muzzle into his master's outstretched hand, and stamped 
 his ringing hoofs upon the good firm cobblestones. Beside 
 him, slapping his tawny shoidder in encouragement, was 
 the lean spare form of Black Simon, who had remained 
 ever under Nigel's pennon. 
 
 But Aylward, where was he ? Alas ! two years before 
 he and the whole of KnoUes' company of archers had 
 been drafted away on the king's service to Guienne, and 
 since he could not write the squire knew not whether he 
 was alive or dead. Simon, indeed, had thrice heard of 
 him from wandering archers, each time that he was alive 
 and well and newly married, but as the wife in one case 
 
NIGEL WAS CALLED TO HIS MASTER 345 
 
 was a fair maid, and in another a dark, while in the third 
 she was a French widow, it was hard to know the truth. 
 ■ Already the army had been gone a month, but news of 
 it came daily to the town, and such news as all men could 
 read, for through the landward gates there rolled one 
 constant stream of waggons, pouring down the Liboume 
 Eoad, and bearing the booty of southern France. The 
 town was full of foot soldiers, for none but mounted men 
 had been taken by the prince. With sad faces and 
 longing eyes they watched the passing of the train of 
 plunder-laden carts, piled high with rich furniture, silks, 
 velvets, tapestries, carvings, and precious metals, which 
 had been the pride of many a lordly home in fair Auvergne 
 or the wealthy Bourbonnais. 
 
 Let no man think that in these wars England alone 
 was face to face with France alone. There is glory and to 
 spare without trifling with the truth. Two provinces in 
 France, both rich and warlike, had become English through 
 a royal marriage, and these, Guienne and Gascony, furnished 
 many of the most valiant soldiers under the' island flag. 
 So poor a country as England could not afford to keep a 
 great force overseas, and so must needs have lost the war 
 with France through want of power to uphold the struggle. 
 The feudal system enabled an army to be drawn rapidly 
 together with small expense, but at the end of a few weeks 
 it dispersed again as swiftly, and only by a well-filled 
 money-chest could it be held together. There was no such 
 chest in England, and the king was for ever at his wits' 
 end how to keep his men in the field. 
 
 But Guienne and Gascony were full of knights and 
 squires who were always ready to assemble from their 
 isolated castles for a raid into France, and these with the 
 addition of those English cavaliers who fought for honour, 
 and a few thousand of the formidable archers, hired for 
 fourpence a day, made an army with which a short campaign 
 could be carried on. Such were the materials of the 
 
346 SIR NIGEL 
 
 prince's force, some eight thousand strong, who were now 
 riding in a great circle through southern Erance, leaving a 
 broad wale of blackened and ruined country behind them. 
 
 But France, even with her south-western corner in 
 English hands, was still a very warlike power, far richer 
 and more populous than her rival. Single provinces were 
 so great that they were stronger than many a kingdom. 
 Normandy in the north. Burgundy in the east, Brittany 
 in the west, and Languedoc in the south were each capable 
 of fitting out a great army of its own. Therefore the 
 brave and spirited John, watching from Paris this insolent 
 raid into his dominions, sent messengers in hot haste to 
 all these great feudatories, as well as to Lorraine, Picardy, 
 Auvergne, Hainault, Vermandois, Champagne, and to the 
 German mercenaries over his eastern border, bidding all 
 of them to ride hard, with bloody spm", day and night, 
 until they shovdd gather to a head at Chartres. 
 
 There a great army had assembled early in September, 
 while the prince, all unconscious of its presence, sacked 
 towns and besieged castles from Bourges to Issodun, pass- 
 ing Eomorantin, and so onward to Vierzon and to Tours. 
 Prom week to week there were merry skirmishes at barriers, 
 brisk assaults of fortresses in which much honour was won, 
 knightly meetings with detached parties of Frenchmen 
 and occasional spear-runnings, where noble champions 
 deigned to venture their persons. Houses, too, were to be 
 plvmdered, while wine and women were in plenty. Never 
 had either knights or archers had so pleasant and profitable 
 an excursion, so that it was with high heart and much 
 hope of pleasant days at Bordeaux with their pockets fuU 
 of money that the army turned south from the Loire and 
 began to retrace its steps to the seaboard city. 
 
 But now its pleasant and martial promenade changed 
 suddenly to very serious work of war. As the prince 
 moved south he found that all supplies had been cleared 
 away from in front of him and that there was neither.^ 
 
NIGEL WAS CALLED TO HIS MASTER 347 
 
 fodder for the horses nor food for the men. Two hundred 
 waggons laden with spoil rolled at the head of the army, 
 but the starving soldiers would soon have gladly changed 
 it all for as many loads of bread and of meat. The light 
 troops of the Trench had preceded them, and burned or 
 destroyed everything that could be of use. Now also for 
 the first time the prince and his men became aware that a 
 great army was moving upon the eastern side of them, 
 streaming southward in the hope of cutting off their 
 retreat to the sea. The sky glowed with their fires at 
 night, and the autumn sun twinkled and gleamed from one 
 end of the horizon to the other upon the steel caps and 
 flashing weapons of a mighty host. 
 
 Anxious to secure his plunder, and conscious that the 
 levies of France were far superior in number to his own 
 force, the prince redoubled his attempts to escape ; but his 
 horses were exhausted and his starving men were hardly 
 to be kept in order, A few more days would unfit them 
 for battle. Therefore, when he found near the village of 
 Maupertuis a position in which a small force might have 
 a chance to hold its own, he gave up the attempt to out- 
 march his pursuers, and he turned at bay, like a hunted 
 boar, aU tusks and eyes of flame. 
 
 While these high events had been in progress, Nigel 
 with Black Simon and four other men-at-arms from 
 Bordeaux were hastening northward to join the army. 
 As far as Bergerac they were in a friendly land, but thence 
 onward they rode over a blackened landscape with many 
 a roofless house, its two bare gable-ends sticking upward — 
 a " KnoUes' mitre," as it was afte;rwards called, when Sir 
 Eobert worked his stern will upon the country. For 
 three days they rode northward, seeing many small parties 
 of French in all directions, but too eager to reach the army 
 to ease their march in the search of adventures. 
 
 Then at last after passing Lusignan they began to come 
 in touch with English foragers, mounted bowmen for the 
 
348 SIR NIGEL 
 
 most part, who were endeavouring to collect supplies 
 either for the army or for themselves. From them Nigel 
 learned that the prince, with Chandos ever at his side, was 
 hastening south and might he met within a short day's 
 march. As he stUl advanced these English stragglers 
 hecame more and more numerous, until at last he overtook 
 a considerable column of archers moving in the same 
 direction as his own party. These were men whose horses 
 had failed them and who had therefore 'been left behind 
 on the advance, but were now hastening to be in time for 
 the impending battle. A crowd of peasant girls accom- 
 panied them upon their march, and a whole train of laden 
 mules were led beside them, 
 
 Nigel and his little troop of men-at-arms were riding 
 past the archers when Black Simon, with a sudden 
 exclamation, touched his leader upon the arm. 
 
 " See yondei", fair sir," he cried, with gleaming eyes, 
 " there where the wastrel walks with the great fardel upon 
 his back ! Who is he who marches behind him ? " 
 
 Nigel looked, and was aware of a stunted peasant who 
 bore upon his rounded back an enormous bundle very 
 much larger than himself. Behind him walked a burly 
 broad-shouldered archer, whose stained jerkin and battered 
 headpiece gave token of long and hard service. His bow 
 was slung over his shoulder, and his arms were round the 
 waists of two buxom Frenchwomen, who tripped along 
 beside him with much laughter and many saucy answers 
 flung back over their shoulders to a score of admirers 
 behind them. 
 
 " Aylward ! " cried Nigel, spurring forward. 
 
 The archer turned his bronzed face, stared for an 
 instant with wUd eyes, and then, dropping his two ladies, 
 who were instantly carried off by his comrades, he rushed 
 to seize the hand which his young master held down to 
 him. 
 
 "Now, by my hilt, Squire Nigel, this is the fairest 
 
NIGEL WAS CALLED TO HIS MASTER 349 
 
 sight of my lifetime ! " he cried. " And you, old leather- 
 face! Nay, Simon, I would put my arms roimd your 
 dried herring of a body, if I could but reach you. Here 
 is Pommers too, and I read in his eye that he knows me 
 well, and is as ready to put his teeth into me as when he 
 stood in my father's stall." 
 
 It was like a whiff of the heather-perfumed breezes of 
 Hankley to see his homely face once more. Nigel laughed 
 with sheer joy as he looked at him. 
 
 "It was an ill day when the king's service called you 
 from my side," said he, " and by Saint Paul ! I am right 
 glad to set eyes upon you once more ! I see well that you 
 are in no wise altered, but the same Aylward that I have 
 ever known. But who is this varletwith the great bundle 
 who waits upon your movements ? " 
 
 " It is no less than a feather-bed, fair sir, which he 
 bears upon his back, for I would fain bring it to Tilford, 
 and yet it is dverlarge for me when I take my place with 
 my fellows in the ranks. But indeed this war has been a 
 most excellent one, and I have already sent half a waggon- 
 load of my gear back to Bordeaux to await my home- 
 coming. Yet I have my fears when I think of all the 
 rascal foot-archers who are waiting there, for some folk 
 have no grace or honesty in their souls, and cannot keep 
 their hands from that which belongs to another. But if 
 I may throw my leg over yonder spare horse I will come 
 on with you, fair sir, for indeed it would be joy to my 
 heart to know that I was riding under your banner once 
 
 So Aylward, having given instructions to the bearer of 
 his feather-bed, rode away in spite of shrill protests from 
 his Prench companions, who speedily consoled themselves 
 with those of his comrades who seemed to have most to 
 give. ■ 
 
 Nigel's party was soon clear of the column of archers 
 and riding hard in the direction of the prince's army. 
 
350 SIR NIGEL 
 
 They passed by a narrow and winding track, through the 
 great wood of Nouaille, and found before them a marshy 
 valley down which ran a sluggish stream. Along its 
 farther bank hundreds of horses were being watered, and 
 beyond was a dense block of waggons. Through these the 
 comrades passed, and then topped a small mound, from 
 which the whole strange scene lay spread before them. 
 
 Down the valley the slow stream meandered, with 
 marshy meadows on either side. A mile or two lower a 
 huge drove of horses were to be seen assembled upon the 
 bank. They were the steeds of the French cavalry, and 
 the blue haze of a hundred fires showed where King John's 
 men were camping. In front of the mound upon which 
 they stood the English line was drawn, but there were few 
 fires, for indeed, save their horses, there was little for them 
 to cook. Their fight rested upon the river, and their 
 array stretched across a mile of ground, until the left was 
 in touch with a tangled forest which guarded it from flank 
 attack. In front was a long thick hedge and much broken 
 ground, with a single deeply rutted country road cutting 
 through it in the middle. Under the hedge and along the 
 whole front of the position lay swarms of archers upon the 
 grass, the greater number slumbering peacefully with 
 sprawling limbs in the warm rays of the September sun. 
 Behind were the quarters of the various knights, and from 
 end to end flew the banners and pennons marked with the 
 devices of the chivalry of England and Guienne. 
 
 With a glow in his heart Nigel saw those badges of 
 famous captains and leaders, and knew that now at last he 
 also might show his coat-armour in such noble company. 
 There was the flag of Jean Grailly, the Captal de Buch, 
 five silver shells on a black cross, which marked the 
 presence of the most famous soldier of Gascony, while 
 beside it waved the red Hon of the noble Knight of 
 Hainault, Sir Eustace d'Ambreticourt. These two coats 
 Nigel knew, as did every warrior in Europe, but a dense 
 
. NIGEL WAS CALLED TO HIS MASTER 351 
 
 grove of pennoned lances surrounded them, bearing charges 
 which were strange to him, from which he understood that 
 these belonged to the Guienne division of the army. 
 Farther down the line the famous English ensigns floated 
 on the wind, the scarlet and gold of Warwick, the silver 
 star of Oxford, the golden cross of Suffolk, the blue and 
 gold of WiUoughby, and the gold-fretted scarlet of Audley. 
 In the very centre of them all was one which caused all 
 others to pass from his mind, for close to the royal banner 
 of England, crossed with the label of the prince, there 
 waved the war-worn flag with the red wedge upon the 
 golden field which marked the quarters of the noble 
 Chandos. 
 
 At the sight Nigel set spurs to his horse, and a few 
 minutes later had reached the spot. Chandos, gaunt from 
 hunger and want of sleep, but with the old fire lurking in 
 his eye, was standing by the prince's tent, gazing down at 
 what could be seen of the French array, and heavy with 
 thought. Nigel sprang from his horse and was within 
 touch of his master when the silken hanging of the royal 
 tent was torn violently aside and Edward rushed out. 
 
 He was without his armour and clad in a sober suit 
 of black, but the high dignity of his bearing and the 
 imperious anger which flushed his face proclaimed the 
 leader and the prince. At his heels was a little white- 
 haired ecclesiastic in a flowing gown of scarlet sendal, 
 expostulating and arguing in a torrent of words. 
 
 " Not another word, my Lord Cardinal," cried the angry 
 prince. " I have listened to you overlong, and by God's 
 dignity ! that which you say is neither good nor fair in 
 my ears. Hark you, John, I would have your counsel. 
 What think you is the message which my Lord Cardinal 
 of Perigord has carried from the king of France? He 
 says that of his clemency he will let my army pass back 
 to Bordeaux if we will restore to him all that we have 
 taken, remit all ransoms, and surrender my own person 
 
352 SIR NIGEL 
 
 with that of a hundred nobles of England and Guienue to 
 be held as prisoners. What think you, John ? " 
 
 Chandos smiled. " Things are not done in that fashion," 
 said he. 
 
 " But, my Lord Chandos," cried the Cardinal, " I have 
 made it clear to the prince that indeed it is a scandal to 
 all Christendom and a cause of mocking to the heathen, 
 that two great sons of the Church should turn their swords 
 thus upon each other." 
 
 " Then bid the king of France keep clear of us," said 
 the prince. 
 
 " Fair son, you are aware that you are in the heart of 
 his country, and that it standeth not aright that he should 
 suffer you to go forth as you came. You have but a small 
 army, three thousand bowmen and five thousand men-at- 
 arms at the most, who seem in evil case for want of food 
 and rest. The king has thirty thousand men at his back, 
 of which twenty thousand are expert men-at-arms. It is 
 fitting therefore that you make such terms as you may, 
 lest worse befall." 
 
 " Give my greetings to the king of France and teU him 
 that England will never pay ransom for me. But it seems 
 to me, my Lord Cardinal, that you have our numbers and 
 condition very ready upon your tongue, and I would fain 
 know how the eye of a Churchman can read a line of 
 battle so easily. I have seen that these knights of your 
 household have walked freely to and fro within our camp, 
 and I much fear that when I welcomed you as envoys I 
 have in truth given my protection to spies. How say you, 
 my Lord Cardinal ? " 
 
 " Fair prince, I know not how you can find it in your 
 heart or conscience to say such evil words." 
 
 " There is this red-bearded nephew of thine, Eobert de 
 Duras. See where he stands yonder, coimting and prying. 
 Hark hither, young sir ! I have been saying to your imcle 
 the Cardinal that it is in my mind that you and your 
 
NIGEL WAS CALLED TO HIS MASTER SSi 
 
 comrades have carried news of our dispositions to the 
 French king. How say you ? " 
 
 The knight turned pale and sank his eyes. "My 
 lord," he murmured, "it may be that I have answered 
 some questions." 
 
 " And how wUl such answers accord with your honour, 
 seeing that we have trusted you since you came in the 
 train of the cardinal ? " 
 
 " My lord, it is true that I am in the train of the 
 cardinal, and yet I am liege man of King John and a 
 knight of France, so I pray you to assuage your wrath 
 against me." 
 
 The prince ground his teeth and his piercing eyes 
 blazed upon the youth. 
 
 " By my father's soul ! I can scarce forbear to strike 
 you to the earth 1 But this I promise you, that if you 
 show that sign of the Eed Griffin in the field and if you 
 be„ taken alive in to-morrow's battle, your head shall most 
 assuredly be shorn from your shoulders ! " 
 
 " Fair son, indeed you speak wildly," cried the Cardinal. 
 " I pledge you my word that neither my nephew Eobert 
 nor any of my train will take part in the battle. And 
 now I leave you, sire, and may God assoil your soul, for 
 indeed in all this world no men stand in greater peril 
 than you and those who are around you, and I rede you 
 that you spend the night in such ghostly exercises as may 
 best prepare you for that which may befall." So saying 
 the cardinal bowed, and with his household walking 
 behind him set off for the spot where they had left their 
 horses, whence they rode to the neighbouring abbey. 
 
 The angry prince turned upon his heel and entered his 
 tent once more, while Chandos, glancing round, held out 
 a warm welcoming hand to Nigel. 
 
 " I have heard much of your noble deeds," said he. 
 " Already your name rises as a squire errant. I stood no 
 higher, nor so high, at your age." 
 
 2a 
 
354 SIR NIGEL 
 
 Nigel flushed with pride and pleasure. " Indeed, my 
 dear lord, it is very little that I have done. But now that 
 I am back at your side I hope that in truth I shall learn 
 to bear myself in worthy fashion, for where else should I 
 win honour if it be not under your banner ? " 
 
 " Truly, Nigel, you have come at a very good time for 
 advancement. I cannot see how we can leave this spot 
 without a great battle which wiU live in men's minds for 
 ever. In aU our fights in France I cannot call to mind any 
 in which they have been so strong or we so weak as now, 
 so that there will be the more honour to be gained. I 
 would that we had two thousand more archers. But I 
 doubt not that we shall give them much trouble ere they 
 drive us out from amidst these hedges. Have you seen 
 the French ? " 
 
 " Nay, fair sir, I have but this moment arrived." 
 
 " I was about to ride forth myself to coast their army 
 and observe their countenance, so come with me ere the 
 night fall, and we shall see what we can of their order and 
 dispositions." ^ 
 
 There was a truce between the two forces for the day, 
 on account of the ill-advised and useless interposition of 
 the Cardinal of Perigord. Hence when Chandos and Nigel 
 had pushed their horses through the long hedge which 
 fronted the position they found that many small parties 
 of the knights of either army were riding up and down on 
 the plain outside. The greater number of these groups 
 were French, since it was very necessary for them to know 
 as much as possible of the English defences ; and many of 
 their scouts had ridden up to within a hundred yards of 
 the hedge, where they were sternly ordered back by the 
 pickets of archers on guard. 
 
 Through these scattered knots of horsemen Chandos 
 rode, and as many of them were old antagonists it was 
 "Ha, John!" on the one side, and "Ha, Eaoul!" "Ha, 
 Nicholas!" "Ha, Guichard!" upon the other, as they 
 
NIGEL WAS CALLED TO HIS MASTER 355 
 
 brushed past them. Only one cavalier greeted them 
 amiss, a large, red-faced man, the Lord Clermont, who 
 by some strange chance bore upon his surcoat a blue 
 virgin standing amid golden sunbeams, which was the 
 very device which Chandos had donned for the day. The 
 fiery Frenchman dashed across their path and drew his 
 steed back on to its haunches. 
 
 " How long is it, my Lord Chandos," said he, hotly, 
 " since you have taken it upon yourself to wear my arms ? " 
 
 Chandos smiled. " It is surely you who have mine," 
 said he, "since this surcoat was worked for me by the 
 good nuns of Windsor a long year ago." 
 
 " If it were not for the truce," said Clermont, " I would 
 soon show you that you have no right to wear it." 
 
 " Look for it then in the battle to-morrow, and I also 
 will look for yours," Chandos answered. " There we can 
 very honourably settle the matter." 
 
 But the Frenchman was choleric and hard to appease. 
 
 " You English can invent nothing," said he, " and you 
 take for your own whatever you see handsome belonging 
 to others." So, grumbling and fuming, he rode upon his 
 way, while Chandos, laughing gaily, spurred onward across 
 the plain. 
 
 The immediate front of the English line was shrouded 
 with scattered trees and bushes which hid the enemy ; but 
 when they had cleared these a fair view of the great 
 French army lay before them. In the centre of the huge 
 camp was a long and high pavilion of red silk, with the 
 silver lilies of the king at one end of it, and the golden 
 oriflamme the battle-flag of old France, at the other. Like 
 the reeds of a pool from side to side of the broad array, 
 and dwindling away as far as their eyes could see, were 
 the banners and pennons of high barons and famous 
 knights, but above them all flew the ducal standards 
 which showed that the feudal muster of all the warlike 
 provinces of France was in the field before them. 
 
3S6 SIR NIGEL 
 
 With a kindling eye Chandos looked across at the 
 proud ensigns of Normandy, of Burgundy, of Auvergne, of 
 Champagne, of Vermandois, and of Berry, flaunting and 
 gleaming in the rays of the sinking sun. Eiding slowly 
 down the line he marked with attentive gaze the camp 
 of the cross-bowmen, the muster of the German mercenaries, 
 the numbers of the foot-soldiers, the arms of every proud 
 vassal or vavasor which might give some guide as to the 
 power of each division. From wing to wing and round 
 the flanks he went, keeping ever within crossbow-shot of 
 the army, and then at last having noted all things in his 
 mind he turned his horse's head and rode slowly back, 
 heavy with thought, to the English lines. 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 HOW THE KING OF FRANCE HELD COUNSEL AT MAUPERTUIS 
 
 The morning of Sunday, the nineteenth of September, in 
 the year of our Lord 1356, was cold and fine. A haze 
 which rose from the marshy valley of Muisson covered 
 both camps and set the starving Englishmen shivering, 
 but it cleared slowly away as the sun rose. In the red 
 silken pavilion of the French king — the same which had 
 been viewed by Nigel and Chandos the evening before — 
 a solemn mass was held by the Bishop of Chalons, who 
 prayed for those who were about to die, with little thought 
 in his mind that his own last hour was so near at hand. 
 Then, when communion had been taken by the king and 
 his four young sons the altar was cleared away, and a 
 great red-covered table placed lengthwise down the tent, 
 round which John might assemble his council and de- 
 termine how best he should proceed. With the silken 
 roof, rich tapestries of Arras round the walls and eastern 
 rugs beneath the feet, his palace could furnish no fairer 
 chamber. 
 
 King John, who sat upon the canopied dais at the 
 upper end, was now in the sixth year of his reign and the 
 thirty-sixth of his life. ' He was a short burly man, ruddy- 
 faced and deep-chested, with dark kindly eyes and a most 
 noble bearing. It did not need the blue cloak sewed with 
 silver lilies to mark him as the king. Though his reign 
 had been short, his fame was already widespread over all 
 Europe as a kindly gentleman and a fearless soldier — a fit 
 
 357- 
 
3s8 SIR NIGEL 
 
 leader for a chivalrous nation. His elder son, the Duke 
 of Normandy, stUl hardly more than a boy, stood beside 
 him, his hand upon the king's shoulder, and John half 
 turned from time to time to fondle him. On the right, at 
 the same high dais, was the king's younger brother, the 
 Duke of Orleans, a pale heavy-featured man, with a languid 
 manner and intolerant eyes. On the left was the Duke 
 of Bourbon, sad-faced and absorbed, with that gentle 
 melancholy in his eyes and bearing which comes often 
 with the premonition of death. All these were in their 
 armour, save only for their helmets, which lay upon the 
 board before them. 
 
 Below, grouped around the long red table, was an 
 assembly of the most famous warriors in Europe. At the 
 end nearest the king was the veteran soldier the Duke of 
 Athens, son of a banished father, and now high constable 
 of France. On one side of him sat the red-faced and 
 choleric Lord Clermont, with the same blue virgin in 
 golden rays upon his surcoat which had caused his quarrel 
 with Chandos the night before. On the other was a 
 noble-featured grizzly-haired soldier, Arnold d'Andreghen, 
 who shared with Clermont the honour of being Marshal of 
 France. Next to them sat Lord James of Bourbon, a 
 brave warrior who was afterwards slain by the White 
 Company at Brignais, and beside him a little group of 
 German noblemen, including the Earl of Salzburg and the 
 Earl of Nassau, who had ridden over the frontier with 
 their formidable 'mercenaries at the bidding of the French 
 king. The ridged armour and the hanging nasals of their 
 bassinets were enough in themselves to tell every soldier 
 that they were from beyond the Ehine. At the other side 
 of the table was a line of proud and war-like Lords, 
 Fiennes, Chatillon, Nesle, de Landas, de Beaujeu, with 
 the fierce knight errant de Chargny, he who had planned 
 the surprise of Calais, and Eustace de Eibeaumont, who 
 had upon the same occasion won the prize of valour from 
 
THE KING OF FRANCE HELD COUNSEL 359 
 
 the hands of Edward of England. Such were the chiefs 
 to whom the king now turned for assistance and 
 advice. 
 
 " You have already heard, my friends," said he, " that 
 the Prince of Wales has made no answer to the proposal 
 which we sent by the Lord Cardinal of Perigord. Certea 
 this is as it should be, and though I have obeyed the call 
 of Holy Church I had no fears that so excellent a prince 
 as Edward of England would refuse to meet us in battle. 
 I am now of opinion that we should fall upon them at once, 
 lest perchance the Cardinal's cross should again come 
 betwixt our swords and our enemies." 
 
 A buzz of joyful assent arose from the meeting, and 
 even from the attendant men-at-arms who guarded the 
 door. When it had died away the Duke of Orleans rose 
 in his place beside the king. 
 
 " Sire," said he, " you speak as we would have you do, 
 and I for one am of opinion that the Ca,rdinal of Perigord 
 has been an ill friend of France, for why should we bargain 
 for a part when we have but to hold out our hand in order 
 to grasp the whole ? What need is there for words ? Let 
 us spring to horse forthwith and ride over this handful 
 of marauders who have dared to lay waste your fair 
 dominions. If one of them go hence save as our prisoner 
 we are the more to blame." 
 
 "By Saint Denis, brother!" said the king, smiling, 
 " if words could slay you would have had them all upon 
 their backs ere ever we left Chartres. You are new to war, 
 but when you have had experience of a stricken field or 
 two you know that things must be done with forethought 
 and in order or they may go awry. In our father's time 
 we sprang to horse and spurred upon these English at 
 Crecy and elsewhere as you advise, but we had little profit 
 from it, and now we are grown wiser. How say you, 
 Sieur de Eibeaumont ? You have coasted their lines and 
 observed their coimtenance. Would you ride down upon 
 
36o SIR NIGEL 
 
 them, as my brother has advised, or how would you ordet 
 the matter ? " 
 
 De Eibeaumont, a tall, dark-eyed, handsome man, 
 paused ere he answered. 
 
 " Sire," he said at last, "I have indeed ridden along their 
 front and down their flanks in company with Lord Landas 
 and Lord de Beaujeu, who are here at your council to 
 witness to what I say. Indeed, sire, it is in my mind that 
 though the English are few in number yet they are in such 
 a position amongst these hedges and vines that you would 
 be well-advised if you were to leave them alone, for they 
 have no food and must retreat, so that you will be able 
 to follow them and to fight them to better advantage." 
 
 A murmur of disapproval rose from the company and 
 the Lord Clermont, marshal of the army, sprang to his 
 feet, his face red with anger. 
 
 " Eustace, Eustace," said he, " I bear in mind the days 
 when you were of great heart and high enterprise, but 
 since King Edward gave you yonder chaplet of pearls you 
 have ever been backward against the English ! " 
 
 " My Lord Clermont," said de Eibeaumont, sternly, " it 
 is not for me to brawl at the king's council and in the 
 face of the enemy, but we wiU go further into this matter 
 at some other time. Meanwhile, the king has asked me 
 for my advice and I have given it as best I might." 
 
 " It had been better for your honour. Sir Eustace, had 
 you held your peace," said the Duke of Orleans. " Shall 
 we let them slip from our fingers when we have them 
 here and are fourfold their number ? I know not where 
 we should dwell afterwards, for I am very sure that we 
 should be ashamed to ride back to Paris, or to look our 
 ladies in the eyes again." 
 
 " Indeed, Eustace, you have done well to say what is in 
 your mind," said the king ; " but I have already said that 
 we shall join battle this morning, so that there is no room 
 here for further talk. But I would fain have heard from 
 
" ' INDEED, EUSTACE, YOD HAVE DONE WELL TO SAY WHAT IS IN YOUK MIND. 
 
THE KING OF FRANCE HELD COUNSEL 361 
 
 you how it would be wisest and best that we attack 
 them ? " 
 
 "I will advise you, sire, to the best of my power. 
 Upon their right is a river with marshes around it, and 
 upon their left a great wood, so that we can advance only 
 upon the centre. Along their front is a thick hedge, and 
 behind it I saw the green jerkins of their archers, as thick 
 as the sedges by the river. It is broken by one road 
 where only four horsemen could ride abreast, which leads 
 through the position. It is clear, then, that if we are to 
 drive them back we must cross the great hedge, and I am 
 very sure that the horses will not face it with such a 
 storm of arrows beating from behind it. Therefore, it is 
 my counsel that we fight upon foot, as the English did at 
 Crecy, for indeed we may find that our horses will be 
 more hindrance than help to us this day." 
 
 " The same thought was in my own mind, sire," said 
 Arnold d'Andreghen, the veteran marshal. " At Crecy the 
 bravest had to turn their backs, for what can a man do 
 with a horse which is mad with pain and fear ? If we 
 advance upon foot we are our own masters, and if we stop 
 the shame is ours." 
 
 "The counsel is good," said the Duke of Athens, 
 turning his shrewd wizened face to the king ; " but one 
 thing only I would add to it. The strength of these 
 people lies in their archers, and if we could throw them 
 into disorder, were it only for a short time, we should win 
 the hedge ; . else they will shoot so strongly that we must 
 lose many men before we reach it, for indeed we have 
 learned that no armour will keep out their shafts when 
 they are close." 
 
 "Your words, fair sir, are both good and wise," said 
 the king, " but I pray you to tell us how you would throw 
 these archers into disorder 1 " 
 
 " I would choose three hundred horsemen, sire, the 
 best and most forward in the army. With these I would 
 
362 SIR NiGEL 
 
 ride up the narrow road, and so turn to right and left, 
 falling upon the archers behind the hedga It may be 
 that the thi-ee hundred would suffer sorely, but what are 
 they among so great a host, if a road may be cleared for 
 their companions ? " 
 
 " I would say a word to that, sire," cried the German 
 Count of Nassau. " I have come here with my comrades 
 to venture our persons in your quarrel ; but we claim the 
 right to fight in our own fashion, and we would count it 
 dishonour to dismount from our steeds out of fear of the 
 arrows of the English. Therefore, with your permission, we 
 will ride to the front, as the Duke of Athens has advised, 
 and so clear a path for the rest of you." 
 
 " This may not be ! " cried the Lord Clermont, angrily. 
 " It would be strange indeed if Frenchmen could not be 
 found to clear a path for the army of the King of France. 
 One would think to hear you talk, my Lord Coutit, that 
 your hardihood was greater than our own, but by our Lady 
 of Eocamadour you will learn before nightfall that it is 
 not so. It is for me, who am a marshal of France, to lead 
 these three hundred, since it is an honourable venture." 
 
 "And I claim the same right for the same reason," 
 said Arnold of Andreghen. 
 
 The German count struck the table with his mailed 
 fist. - 
 
 "Do what you like ! " said he. " But this only I can 
 promise you, that neither I nor any of my German riders 
 wUl descend from our horses so long as they ar6 able 
 to carry us, for in our country it is only people of no 
 consequence who fight upon their feet." 
 
 The Lord Clermont was leaning angrily forward with 
 some hot reply when King John intervened. 
 
 " Enough, enough ! " he said. " It is for you to give 
 your opinions, and for me to tell you what you will do. 
 Lord Clermont, and you, Arnold, you will choose three 
 hundred of the bravest cavaliers in the army and you wiU 
 
THE KING OF FRANCE HELD COUNSEL 363 
 
 endeavour to break these archers. As to yoii and your 
 Germans, my Lord Nassau, you will remain upon horse- 
 back, since you desire it, and you will follow the marshals 
 and support them as best you may. The rest of the 
 army will advance upon foot, in three other divisions as 
 arranged: yours, Charles," and he patted his son, the 
 Duke of Normandy, affectionately upon the hand ; " yours, 
 Philip," he glanced at the Duke of Orleans ; " and the 
 main battle which is my own. To you, Geoffrey de 
 Chargny, I intrust the oriflamme this day. But who is 
 this knight and what does he desire ? " 
 
 A young knight, ruddy-bearded and tall, a red giifBn 
 upon his surcoat, had appeared in the opening of the tent. 
 His flushed face and dishevelled dress showed that he had 
 come in haste. 
 
 " Sire," said he, " I am Eobert de Duras, of the house- 
 hold of the Cardinal de Perigord. I have told you 
 yesterday all that I have learned of the English camp. 
 This morning I was again admitted to it, and I have seen 
 their waggons moving to the rear. Sire, they are in flight 
 for Bordeaux." 
 
 " Tore God, I knew it ! " cried the Duke of Orleans, in 
 a voice of fury. " Whilst we have been talking they have 
 slipped through our fingers. Did I not warn you ? " 
 
 " Be silent, Philip ! " said the king, angrily. " But you, 
 sir, have you seen this with your own eyes ? " 
 
 " With my own eyes, sire, and I have ridden straight 
 from their camp." 
 
 King John looked at him with a stern gaze. " I know 
 not how it accords with your honour to carry such tidings 
 in such a fashion," said he ; " but we cannot choose but 
 take advantage of it. Fear not, brother Philip, it is in 
 my mind that you will see all that you would wish of the 
 Englishmen before nightfall. Should we faU upon them 
 whilst they cross the ford it will be to our advantage. 
 Now, fair sirs, I pray you to hasten to your posts and to 
 
364 SIR NIGEL 
 
 cany out all that we have agreed. Advance the oriflamme, 
 Geoffrey, and do you marshal the divisions, Arnold, So 
 may God and Saint Denis have us in their holy keeping 
 this day!" 
 
 The Prince of Wales stood upon that little knoll where 
 Nigel had halted the day before. Beside him were Chandos, 
 and a tall sun-burned warrior of middle age, the Gascon 
 Captal de Buch. The three men were all attentively 
 watching the distant French lines, while behind them a 
 column of waggons wound down to the ford of the Muisson. 
 
 Close in the rear four knights in fuU armour with 
 open visors sat their horses and conversed in undertones 
 with each other. A glance at their shields would have 
 given their names to any soldier, for they were all men of 
 fame who had seen much warfare. At present they were 
 awaiting their orders, for each of them commanded the 
 whole or part of a division of the army. The youth upon 
 the left, dark, slim, and earnest, was William Montacute, 
 Earl of Salisbury, only twenty-eight years of age, and yet 
 a veteran of Crecy. How high he stood in reputation is 
 shown by the fact that the command of the rear, the post 
 of honour in a retreating army, had been given to him by 
 the prince. He was talking to a grizzled harsh-faced man, 
 somewhat over middle age, with lion features and fierce 
 light-blue eyes which gleamed as they watched the distant 
 enemy. It was the famous Eobert de Ufibrd, Earl of 
 Suffolk, who had fought without a break from Cadsand 
 onward through the whole Continental War. The other 
 tall silent soldier, with the silver star gleaming upon his 
 surcoat, was John de Vere, Earl of Oxford, and he listened 
 to the talk of Thomas Beauchamp, a burly, jovial, ruddy 
 nobleman and a tried soldier, who leaned forward and 
 tapped his mailed hand upon the other's steel-clad thigh. 
 They were old battle-companions, of the same age and 
 in the very prime of life, with equal fame and equal 
 experience of the wars. Such was the group of famous 
 
THE KING OF FRANCE HELD COUNSEL 365 
 
 English soldiers who sat their horses behind the prince 
 and waited for their orders. 
 
 " I would that you had laid hands upon him," said the 
 prince angrily, continuing his conversation with Chandos, 
 " and yet, perchance, it was wiser to play this trick and 
 make them think that we were retreating." 
 
 " He has certainly carried the tidings," said Chandos, 
 with a smile, " No sooner had the waggons started than I 
 saw him gallop down the edge of the wood." . 
 
 " It was well thought of, John," the prince remarked, 
 " for it would indeed be great comfort if we could turn 
 their own spy against them. Unless they advance upon 
 us, I know not how we can hold out another day, for there 
 is not a loaf left in the army ; and yet if ve leave this 
 position, where shall we hope to find such another ? " 
 
 " They will stoop, fair sir, they will stoop to our lure. 
 Even now Kobert de Duras will be telling them that the 
 waggons are on the move, and they will hasten to overtake 
 us lest we pass the ford. But who is this, who rides so 
 fast ? Here perchance may be tidings." 
 
 A horseman had spurred up to the knoll. He sprang 
 from the saddle, and sank on one knee before the prince. 
 
 " How now, my Lord Audley," said Edward. " What 
 would you have ? " 
 
 " Sir," said the knight, still kneeling with bowed head 
 before his leader, " I have a boon to ask of you." ' 
 
 " Nay, James, rise ! Let me hear what I can do." 
 
 The famous knight errant, pattern of chivalry for all 
 time, rose and turned his swarthy face and dark earnest 
 eyes upon his master. 
 
 " Sir," said he, " I have ever served most loyally my 
 lord your father and yourself, and shall continue so to do 
 so long as I have life. Dear sir, I must now acquaint 
 you that formerly I made a vow if ever I should be in 
 any battle under your command that I would be fore- 
 most or die in the attempt. I beg therefore that you will 
 
366 SIR NIGEL 
 
 graciously permit me to honourably quit my place among 
 the others, that I may post myself in such wise as to 
 accomplish my vow." 
 
 The prince smiled, for it was very sure that vow or no 
 vow, permission or no permission, Lord James Audley 
 would still be in the van. 
 
 " Go, James," said he, shaking his hand, " and God 
 grant that this day you may shine in valour above all 
 knights. But hark, John, what is that ? " 
 
 Chandos cast up his fierce nose like the eagle. which 
 smells slaughter afar. 
 
 " Surely, sir, all is forming even as we had planned it." 
 
 From far away there came a thunderous shout. Then 
 another and yet another. 
 
 " See, they are moving ! " cried the Captal de Buch. ' 
 
 All morning they had watched the gleam of the armed 
 squadrons who were drawn up in front of the French 
 camp. Now, while a great blare of trumpets was borne to 
 their ears, the distant masses flickered and twinkled in the 
 sunlight. 
 
 " Yes, yes, they are moving ! " cried the prince. 
 
 " They are moving ! They are moving ! " Down the 
 line the murmur ran. And then, with a sudden impulse, 
 the archers at the hedge sprang to their feet and the 
 knights behind them waved their weapons in the air, 
 while one tremendous shout of warlike joy carried their 
 defiance to the approaching enemy. Then there fell such 
 a silence that the pawing of the horses or the jingle of 
 their harness struck loud upon the ear, until amid the 
 hush there rose a low deep roar like the sound of the tide 
 upon the beach, ever growing and deepening as the host of 
 France drew near. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 HOW NIGEL FOUND HIS THIRD DEED 
 
 FouK archers lay behind a clump of bushes ten yards in 
 front of the thick hedge which shielded their companions. 
 Amid the long line of bowmen those behind them were 
 their own company, and in the main the same who were 
 with KnoUes in Brittany, The four in front were their 
 leaders : old Wat of Carlisle, Ned Widdington the red- 
 headed dalesman, the bald bowyer Bartholomew, and 
 Samkin Aylward, newly rejoined after a week's absence. 
 All four were munching bread and apples, for Aylwaxd 
 had brought in a full haversack, and divided them freely 
 among his starving comrades. The old borderer and the 
 yorkshireman were gaunt and hollow-eyed with privation, 
 while the bowyer's round face had fallen in so that the 
 skin hung in' loose pouches under his eyes and beneath 
 his jaws. 
 
 Behind them lines of haggard, wolfish men glared 
 through the underwood, silent and watchful save that they 
 burst into a fierce yelp of welcome when Chandos and 
 Nigel galloped up, sprang from their horses and took their 
 station" beneath them. AU along the green fringe of 
 bowmen might be seen the steel-clad figures of knights 
 and squires who had pushed their way into the front line 
 to share the fortune of the archers. 
 
 " I call to mind that I once shot six ends with a 
 Kentish woldsman at Ashford " began the bowyer. 
 
 " Nay, nay, we have heard that story ! " said old Wat, 
 impatiently, " Shut thy clap, Bartholomew, for it is no 
 
 367 
 
368 SIR NIGEL 
 
 time for redeless gossip 1 Walk down the line, I pray you, 
 and see if there be no frayed string, nor broken nock nor 
 loosened whipping to be mended." 
 
 The stout bowyer passed down the fringe of bowmen, 
 amid a running fire of rough wit. Here and there a bow 
 was thrust out at him through the hedge for his 
 professional advice. 
 
 " Wax your heads ! " he kept crying. " Pass down the 
 wax-pot and wax your heads. A waxed arrow will pass 
 where a dry will be held. Tom Beverley, you jack-fool ! 
 where is your bracer-guard ? Your string will flay your 
 arm ere you reach your up-shot this day. And you, 
 Watkin, draw not to your mouth, as is your wont, but to 
 your shoulder. You are so used to the wine-pot that the 
 string must needs follow it. Nay, stand loose, and give 
 space for your drawing arms, for they will be on us anon." 
 I He ran back and joined his comrades in the front, who 
 had now risen to their feet. Behind them a half-mile of 
 archers stood behind the hedge, each with his great war- 
 bow strung, half a dozen shafts loose behind him, and 
 eighteen more in the quiver slung across his front. With 
 arrow on string, their feet firm-planted, their fierce eager 
 faces peering through the branches, they awaited the 
 coming storm. 
 
 The broad flood of steel, after oozing slowly forward, 
 had stopped about a mile from the English front. The 
 greater part of the army had then descended from their 
 horses, while a crowd of varlets and hostlers led them to 
 the rear. The French formed themselves now into three 
 great divisions, which shimmered in the sun like silver 
 pools, reed-capped with many a thousand of banners and 
 pennons. A space of several hundred yards divided each. 
 At the same time two bodies of horsemen formed them- 
 selves in front. The first consisted of three hundred men 
 in one thick column, the second of a thousand, riding in a 
 more extended line. 
 
HOW NIGEL FOUND HIS THIRD DEED 369 
 
 The prince had ridden up to the line of archera. He 
 was in dark armour, his visor open, and his handsome 
 aquiline face all glowing with spirit and martial fire. The 
 howmen yelled at him, and he waved his hands to them 
 as a huntsman cheers his hounds. 
 
 " Well, John, what think you now ? " he asked. 
 " What would my noble father not give to be by our side 
 this day ? Have you seen that they have left their 
 horses ? " 
 
 " Yes, my fair lord, they have learned their lesson," 
 said Chandos. " Because we have had good fortune upon 
 our feet at Crecy and elsewhere, they think that they have 
 found the trick of it. But it is in my mind that it is very 
 different to stand when you are assailed, as we have done, 
 and to assail others when you must drag your harness for 
 a mile and come weary to the fray." 
 
 " You speak wisely, John. But these horsemen who 
 form in front and ride slowly toward us, what make you 
 of them ? " 
 
 " Doubtless they hope to cut the strings of our bowmen 
 and so clear a way for the others. But they are indeed a 
 chosen band, for mark you, fair sir, are not those the 
 colours of Clermont upon the left, and of d'Andreghen 
 upon the right, so that both marshals ride with the 
 vanguard ? " 
 
 " By God's soul, John ! " cried the prince, " it is very 
 sure that you can see more with one eye than any man in 
 this army with two. But it is even as you say. And this 
 larger band behind ? " 
 
 " They should be Germans, fair sir, by the fashion of 
 their harness." 
 
 The two bodies of horsemen had moved slowly over the 
 plain, with a space of nearly a quarter of a mile between 
 them. Now, having come two bowshots from the hostile 
 line, they halted. All that they could see of the English 
 was the long hedge, with a» occasional twinkle of steel 
 
 2e 
 
370 SIR NIGEL 
 
 through its leafy branches, and behind that the spear-heada 
 of the men-at-arms rising from amid the brushwood and 
 the vines, A lovely autumn countryside with changing 
 many-tinted foliage lay stretched before thein, all bathed 
 in peaceful sunshine, and nothing save those flickering 
 fitful gleams to teU of the sUent and lurking enemy who 
 barred their way. But the bold spirit of the French 
 cavaliers rose the higher to the danger. The clamour of 
 their war-cries filled the air, and they tossed their 
 pennoned spears over their heads in menace and defiance. 
 From the English line it was a noble sight, the gallant, 
 pawing, curveting horses, the many-coloured twinkling 
 riders, the swoop and wave and toss of plume and banner. 
 
 Then a bugle rang forth. With a sudden yeU every 
 spur struck deep, every lance was laid in rest, and the 
 whole gallant squadron flew like a glittering thunderbolt 
 for the centre of the English line. 
 
 A himdred yards they had crossed, and yet another 
 hundred, but there was no movement in front of them, 
 and no sound save their own hoarse battle-cries and the 
 thunder of their horses. Ever swifter and swifter they 
 flew. From behind the hedge it was a vision of horses, 
 white, bay, and black, their necks stretched, their nostrils 
 distended, their bellies to the ground, while of the rider 
 one could but see a shield with a plume-tufted' visor above 
 it, and a spear-head twinkling in front. 
 
 Then of a sudden the prince raised his hand and gave 
 a cry. Chandos echoed it, it swelled down the line, and 
 with one mighty chorus of twanging strings and hissing 
 shafts the long-pent storm broke at last. 
 
 Alas for the noble steeds ! Alas for the gallant men ! 
 When the lust of battle is over who would not grieve to 
 see that noble squadron break into red ruin before the 
 rain of arrows beating upon the faces and breasts of the 
 horses ? The front rank crashed down, and the others 
 piled themselves upon the top of them, unable to check 
 
HOW NIGEL FOUND HIS THIRD DEED 371 
 
 their speed, or to swerve aside from the terrible wall of 
 their shattered comrades which had so suddenly sprung 
 up before tiiem. Fifteen feet high was that blood-spurting 
 mound of screaming, kicking horses and writhing, struggling 
 men. Here and there on the flanks a horseman cleared 
 himself and dashed for the hedge, only to have his steed 
 slain under him and to be hurled from his saddle. Of all 
 the three hundred gallant riders, not one ever reached that 
 fatal hedge. 
 
 But now in a long rolling wave of steel the German 
 battalion roared swiftly onward. They opened in the 
 centre to pass that terrible mound of death, and then 
 spurred swiftly in upon the archers. They were bravB 
 men, well-led, and in their open lines they could avoid 
 the clubbing together which had been the ruin of the 
 vanguard ; yet they perished singly even as the others 
 had perished together. A few were slain by the arrows. 
 The greater number had their horses killed under them, 
 and were so shaken and shattered by the fall that they 
 could not raise their limbs, overweighted with iron, from 
 the spot where they lay. 
 
 Three men riding together broke through the bushes 
 which sheltered the leaders of the archers, cut down 
 Widdington the Dalesman, spurred onward through the 
 hedge, dashed over the bowmen behind it, and made for 
 the prince. One fell with an arrow through his head, a 
 second was beaten from his saddle by Ghandos, and the 
 third was slain by the prince's own hand. A second band 
 broke through near the river, but were cut off by Lord 
 Audley and his squires, so that all were slain. A single 
 horseman whose steed was mad with pain, an arrow in its 
 eye and a second in its nostril, sprang over the hedge and 
 clattered through the whole army, disappearing amid 
 whoops and laughter into the woods behind* But none 
 others won as far as the hedge. The' whole front of the 
 position was fringed with a litter of German wounded or 
 
372 SIR NIGEL 
 
 dead, while one great heap in the centre marked the 
 downfall of the gallant French three hundred. 
 
 While these two waves of the attack had broken in 
 front of the English position, leaving this blood-stained 
 wreckage behind them, the main divisions had halted and 
 made their last preparations for their own assault. They 
 had not yet begun their advance, and the nearest was still 
 half a mile distant, when the few survivors from the 
 forlorn hope, their maddened horses bristling with arrows, 
 flew past them on either flank. 
 
 At the same moment the English archers and men-at- 
 arms dashed through the hedge, and dragged all who were 
 living out of that tangled heap of shattered horses and 
 men. It was a mad wild rush, for in a few minutes the 
 fight must be renewed, and yet there was a rich harvest of 
 wealth for the lucky man who could pick a wealthy 
 prisoner from amid the crowd. The nobler spirits dis- 
 dained to think of ransoms while the fight was still 
 unsettled ; but a swarm of needy soldiers, Gascons and 
 English, dragged the wounded out by the leg or the arm, 
 and with daggers at their throats demanded their names, 
 title, and means. He who had made a good prize hurried 
 him to the rear where his own servants could guard him, 
 while he who was disappointed too often drove the dagger 
 home and then rushed once more into the tangle in the 
 hope of better luck. Clermont, with an arrow through 
 the sky-blue virgin on his surcoat, lay dead within ten 
 paces of the hedge ; d' Andreghen was dragged by a penni- 
 less squire from under a horse and became his prisoner. 
 The Earls of Salzburg and of Nassau were both found 
 helpless on the ground and taken to the rear. Aylward 
 cast his thick arms round Count Otto von Langenbeck, 
 and laid him, helpless from a broken leg, behind his bush. 
 Black Simon had made prize of Bernard, Count of Yenta- 
 dour, and hurried him through the hedge. Everywhere 
 there was rushing and shouting, brawling and buffeting, 
 
HOW NIGEL FOUND HIS THIRD DEED 373 
 
 wliile amid it all a swarm of archers were seeking their 
 shafts, plucking them from the dead, and sometimes even 
 from the wounded. Then there was a sudden cry of 
 warning. In a moment every man was back in his place 
 once more, and the line of the hedge was clear. 
 
 It was high time ; for already the first division of the 
 French was close upon them. If the charge of the horse-^ 
 men had been terrible from its rush and its fire, this steady 
 advance of a huge phalanx of armoured footmen was even 
 more fearsome to the spectator. They moved very slowly, 
 on account of the weight of their armour, but their 
 progress was the more regular and inexorable. With 
 elbows touching — their shields slung in front, their short 
 five-foot spears carried in their right hands, and their 
 maces or swords ready at their belts, the deep column of 
 men-at-arms moved onward. Again the storm of arrows 
 beat upon them clinking and thudding on the armour. 
 They crouched double behind their shields as they met it. 
 Many fell, but stUl the slow tide lapped onward. Yelling, 
 they surged up to the hedge, and lined it for half a mile, 
 struggling hard to pierce it. 
 
 For five minutes the long straining ranks faced each 
 other with fierce stab of spear on one side and heavy beat 
 of axe or mace upon the other. In many parts the hedge 
 was pierced or levelled to the ground, and the French 
 men-at-arms were raging among the archers, hacking and 
 hewing among the lightly armed men. For a moment it 
 seemed as if the battle was on the turn. 
 
 But John de Vere, Earl of Oxford, cool, wise, and crafty 
 in war, saw and seized his chance. On the right flank a 
 marshy meadow skirted the river. So soft was it that a 
 heavy-armed man would sink to his knees. At his order 
 a spray of light bowmen was thrown out from the battle- 
 line and forming upon the flank of the French poured 
 their arrows into them. At the same moment Chandos, 
 with Audley, Nigel, Bartholomew Burghersh, the Captal 
 
374 SIR NIGEL 
 
 de Buch, and a score of other knights sprang upon theif 
 horses, and charging down the narrow lane rode over the 
 French line in front of them. Once through it they 
 spurred to left and right, trampling down the dismounted 
 men-at-arms. 
 
 A fearsome sight was Pommers that day, his red eyes 
 roUing, his nostrils gaping, his tawny mane tossing, and 
 his savage teeth gnashing in fury, as he tore and smashed 
 and ground beneath his ramping hoofs all that came before 
 him. Fearsome too was the rider, ice-cool, alert, concen- 
 trated of purpose, with heart of fire and muscles of steel. 
 A very angel of battle he seemed as he drove his maddened 
 horse through the thickest of the press ; but, strive as he 
 would, the tall figure of his master upon his coal-black 
 steed was ever half a length before him. 
 
 Already the moment of danger was passed. The 
 French line had given back. Those who had pierced the 
 hedge had fallen like brave men amid the ranks of their 
 foemen. The division of Warwick had hurried up from 
 the vineyards to fill the gaps of Salisbury's battle line. 
 Back rolled the shining tide, slowly at first, even as it had 
 advanced, but quicker now as the bolder fell and the 
 weaker shredded out and shufiBled with ungainly speed for 
 a place of safety. Again there was a rush from behind 
 the hedge. Again there was a reapiag of that strange 
 crop of bearded arrows which grew so thick upon the 
 ground, and again the wounded prisoners were seized and 
 dragged in brutal haste to the rear. Then the line was 
 restored, and the English, weary, panting and shaken, 
 awaited the next attack. 
 
 But a great good fortune had come to them — so great 
 that as they looked down the vaUey they could scarce 
 credit their own senses. Behind the division of the 
 dauphin, which had pressed them so hard, stood a second 
 division hardly less numerous, led by the Duke of Orleans. 
 The fugitives from in front, blood-smeared and bedraggled. 
 
HOW NIGEL FOUND HIS THIRD DEED 375 
 
 blinded with sweat and with fear, rushed amid its ranks 
 in their flight, and in a moment, without a blow being 
 struck, had carried them off in their wild rout. This vast 
 array, so solid and so martial, thawed suddenly away Kke 
 a snow-wreath in the sun. It was gone, and in its place 
 thousands of shining dots scattered over the whole plain 
 as each man made his own way to the spot where he could 
 find his horse and bear himself from the field. For a 
 moment it seemed that the battle was won, and a thunder- 
 shout of joy pealed up from the English line. 
 
 But as the curtain of the duke's division was drawn 
 away it was only to disclose stretching far behind it, and 
 spanning the valley from side to side, the magnificent 
 array of the French king, solid, imshaken, and preparing 
 its ranks for the attack. Its numbers were as great as 
 those of the English army ; it was unscathed by all that 
 was past, and it had a valiant monarch to lead it to the 
 charge. With the slow deliberation of the man who 
 means to do or to die, its leader marshalled its ranks for 
 the supreme effort of the day. 
 
 Meanwhile during that brief moment of exultation 
 when the battle appeared to be won, a crowd of hot-headed 
 young knights and squires swarmed and clamoured round 
 the prince, beseeching that he would allow them to ride 
 forth, 
 
 " See this insolent fellow who bears three martlets upon 
 a field gules ! " cried Sir Maurice Berkeley. " He stands 
 betwixt the two armies as though he had no dread 
 of us." 
 
 "I pray you, sir, that I may ride out to him since 
 he seems ready to attempt some small deed," pleaded 
 Nigel. • 
 
 " Nay, fair sirs, it is an evil thing that we should break 
 
 our line, seeing that we still have much to do," said the 
 
 prince. " See ! he rides away, and so the mattier is settled." 
 
 "Nay, fair prince," said the young knight who had 
 
376 SIR NIGEL 
 
 spoken first. "My grey horse, Lebryte, could run him 
 down ere he could reach shelter. Never since I left 
 Severn side have I seen steed so fleet as mine. Shall I 
 not show you ? " In an instant he had spurred the charger 
 and was speeding across the plain. 
 
 I The Frenchman, John de Helennes, a squire of Picardy, 
 had waited with a burning heart, his soul sick at the flight 
 of the division in which he had ridden. In the hope of 
 doing some redeeming exploit, or of meeting his own 
 death, he had loitered between the armies, but no move- 
 ment had come from the English lines. Now he had 
 turned his horse's head to join the king's array, when the 
 low drumming of hoofs sounded behind him, and he turned 
 to find a horseman hard upon his heels. Each had drawn 
 his sword, and the two armies paused to view the fight. 
 In the first bout Sir Maurice Berkeley's lance was 
 struck from his hand, and as he sprang down to recover 
 it the Frenchman ran him through the thigh, dismoimted 
 from his horse, and received his surrender. As the un- 
 fortunate Englishman hobbled away at the side of his 
 captor a roar of laughter burst from both armies at the 
 spectacle, 
 
 " By my ten finger-bones ! " cried Aylward, chuckling 
 behind the remains of his bush, "he found more on his 
 distaff that time than he knew how to spin. Who was 
 the knight ? " 
 
 " By his arms," said old Wat, " he should either be a 
 Berkeley of the West or a Popham of Kent." 
 
 " I call to mind that I shot a match of six ends once 
 with a Kentish woldsman " began the fat bowyer. 
 
 " Nay, nay, stint thy talk, Bartholomew ! " cried old 
 Wat. " Here is poor Ned with his head cloven, and it 
 would be more fitting if you were saying aves for his 
 soul, instead of all this bobance and boasting. How now, 
 Tom of Beverley ? " 
 
 " We have suffered sorely in this last bout, Wat. There 
 
HOW NIGEL FOUND HIS THIRD DEED 377 
 
 are forty of our men upon their backs, and the Dean 
 foresters on the right are in worse case still." 
 
 "Talking wiU not mend it, Tom, and if all but one 
 were on their backs he must still hold his ground." 
 
 While the archers were chatting, the leaders of the 
 army were in solemn conclave just behind them. Two 
 divisions of the French had been repulsed, and yet there 
 was many an anxious face as the older knights looked 
 across the plain at the unbroken array of the French king 
 moving slowly toward them. The line of the archers was 
 much thinned and shredded. Many knights and squires 
 had been disabled in the long and fierce combat at the 
 hedge. Others, exhausted by want of food, had no strength 
 left and were stretched panting upon the ground. Some 
 were engaged in carrying the wounded to the rear and 
 laying them under the shelter of the trees, while others 
 were replacing their broken swords or lances from the 
 weapons of the slain. The Captal de Buch, brave and 
 experienced as he was, frowned darkly and whispered his 
 misgivings to Chandos. 
 
 But the prince's courage flamed the higher as the 
 shadow fell, while his dark eyes gleamed with a soldier's 
 pride as he glanced round him at his weary comrades, and 
 then at the dense masses of the king's battle which now, 
 with a hundred trumpets blaring and a thousand pennons 
 waving, rolled slowly over the plain. 
 
 " Come what may, John, this has been a most noble 
 meeting," said he. " They will not be ashamed of us in 
 England. Take heart, my friends, for if we conquer we 
 shall carry the glory ever with us; but if we be slain 
 then we die most worshipfuUy and in high honour, as we 
 have ever prayed that we might die, and we leave behind 
 us our brothers and kinsmen who will assuredly avenge us. 
 It is but one more effort and all will be well. Warwick, 
 Oxford, Salisbury, Suffolk^ every man to the front ! My 
 banner to the front also I Your horses, fair sirs! The 
 
378 SIR NIGEL 
 
 archers are spent, and our own good lances must win the 
 field this day. Advance, Walter, and may God and Saint 
 Greorge be with England ! " 
 
 Sir Walter Woodland, riding a high black horse, took 
 station by the prince, with the royal banner resting in a 
 socket by his saddle. From aU sides the knights and 
 squires crowded in upon it, until they formed a great 
 squadron containing the survivors of the battalions of 
 Warwick and Salisbury, as well as those of the prince. 
 Four hundred men-at-arms who had been held in reserve 
 were brought up and thickened the array, but even so 
 Chandos's face was grave as he scanned it, and then turned 
 his eyes upon the masses of the Frenchmen. 
 
 "Ilike it not, fair sir. The weight is overgreat," he 
 whispered to the prince. 
 
 " How would you order it, John ? Speak what is in 
 your mind." 
 
 " We should attempt something upon their flank whilst 
 we hold them in front. How say you, Jean ? " 
 
 He turned to the Captal de Buch, whose dark, resolute 
 face reflected the same misgivings. 
 
 " Indeed, John, I think as you do," said he. " The 
 French king is a very valiant man, and so are those who 
 are about him, and I know not how we may drive them 
 back imless we can do as you advise. If you will give me 
 only a hundred men I will attempt it." 
 
 " Surely the task is mine, fair sir, since the thought 
 has come from me," said Chandos. 
 
 " Nay, John, I would keep you at my side. Bxit you 
 speak well, Jean, and you shall do even as you have said. 
 Go, ask the Earl of Oxford for a hundred men-at-arms and 
 as many hobbelers, that you may ride round the mound 
 yonder, and so fall upon them unseen. Let all that are 
 left of the archers gather on each side, shoot away their 
 arrows, and then fight as best they may. Wait till they 
 are past yonder thorn-bush and then,- Walter, bear my 
 
HOW NIGEL FOUND HIS THIRD DEED 379 
 
 banner straight against that of the King of France. Fair 
 sirs, may God and the thought of your ladies hold high 
 your hearts!" ' 
 
 The French monarch, seeing that his footmen had made 
 no impression upon the English, and also that the hedge 
 had been well-nigh levelled to the ground in the course of 
 the combat, so that it no longer presented an obstacle, had 
 ordered his followers to remount their horses, and it was 
 as a solid mass of cavalry that the chivalry of France 
 advanced to their last supreme effort. The king was in 
 the centre of the front line, Geoffrey de Chargny with 
 the golden oriflamme upon his right, and Eustace de 
 Eibeaumont with the royal lilies upon the left. At his 
 elbow was the Duke of Athens, High Constable of France, 
 and round him were the nobles of the court, fiery and 
 furious, yelling their war-cries, as they waved their 
 weapons over their heads. Six thousand gallant men 
 of the bravest race in Europe, men whose very names are 
 like blasts of a battle-trumpet — Beaujeus and Chatillons, 
 Tancarvilles and Ventadours— pressed hard behind the 
 silver lilies. 
 
 Slowly they moved at first, walking their horses that 
 they might be the fresher for the shock. Then they broke 
 into a trot which was quickening into a gallop when the 
 remains of the hedgg 'in front of them was beaten in an 
 instant to the ground and the broad line of the steel-clad 
 chivalry of England swept grandly forth to the final shock. 
 With loose rein and busy spur the two lines of horsemen 
 galloped at the top of their speed straight and hard for 
 each other. An instant later they met with a thunder- 
 crash which was heard by the burghers on the wall of 
 Poietiers, seven good miles away. 
 
 Under that frightful impact horses fell dead with 
 broken necks, and many a rider, held in his saddle by 
 the high pommel, fractured his thighs with the shock. 
 Here and there a pair met breast to breast, the horses 
 
38o SIR NIGEL 
 
 rearing straight upward and falling back upon their 
 masters. But for the most part the line had opened 
 in the gallop, and the cavaliers, flying through the gaps, 
 buried themselves in the enemy's ranks. Then the flanks 
 shredded out, and the thick press in the centre loosened 
 until there was space to swing a sword and to guide a 
 steed. For ten acres there was one wild tumultuous 
 swirl of tossing heads, of gleaming weapons which rose 
 and fell, of upthrown hands, of tossing plumes and of 
 lifted shields, while the din of a thousand war-cries and 
 the clash-clash of metal upon metal rose and swelled 
 like the roar and beat of an ocean surge upon a rock- 
 bound coast. Backward and forward swayed the mighty 
 throng, now down the valley and now up, as each side in 
 turn put forth its strength for a fresh rally. Locked in 
 one long deadly grapple, great England and gallant France 
 with iron hearts and souls of fire strove and strove for 
 mastery. 
 
 Sir Walter Woodland, riding hard upon his high black 
 horse, had plunged into the swelter and headed for the 
 blue and silver banner of King John. Close at his heels 
 in a solid wedge rode the prince, Chandos, Nigel, Lord 
 Eeginald Cobham, Audley, with his four famous squires, 
 and a score of the flower of the English and Gascon knight- 
 hood. Holding together and bearing down opposition by 
 a shower of blows and by the weight of their powerful 
 horses, their progress was still very slow, for ever fresh 
 waves of French cavaliers surged up against them and 
 broke in front only to close in again upon their rear. 
 Sometimes they were swept backward by the rush, some- 
 times they gained a few paces, sometimes they could but 
 keep their foothold, and yet from minute to miaute that 
 blue and silver flag which waved above the press grew ever 
 a little closer. A dozen furious hard-breathing French 
 knights had broken into their ranks, and clutched at Sir 
 Walter Woodland's banner, but Chandos and Nigel guarded 
 
HOW NIGEL FOUND HIS THIRD DEED 381 
 
 it on one side, Audley with his squires on the other, so 
 that no man laid his hand upon it and lived. 
 
 But now there was a distant crash and a roar of " Saint 
 George for Guienne ! " from behind. The Captal de Buch 
 had charged home. " Saint George for England ! " yelled 
 the main attack, and ever the counter-cry came back to 
 them from afar. The ranks opened in front of them. The 
 French were giving way. A small knight with golden 
 scroll-work upon his armour threw himself upon the 
 prince and was struck dead by his mace. It was the 
 Duke of Athens, Constable of France, but none had time 
 to note it, and the fight roUed on over his body. Looser 
 still were the French ranks. Many were turning their 
 horses, for that ominous roar had shaken their resolution. 
 The little English wedge poured onward, the prince, 
 Chandos, Audley, and Nigel ever in the van. 
 
 A huge warrior in black, bearing a golden banner, 
 appeared suddenly in a gap of the shredding ranks. He 
 tossed his precious burden to a squire, who bore it away. 
 Like a pack of hounds on the very haunch of a deer 
 the English rushed yelling for the oriflamme. But the 
 black warrior ilung himself across their path. " Chargny ! 
 Chargny a la recousse I " he roared with a voice of thunder. 
 Sir Eeginald Cobham dropped before his battle-axe, so did 
 the Gascon de Clisson. Nigel was beaten down on to the 
 crupper of his horse by a sweeping blow ; but at the same 
 instant Chandos's quick blade passed through the French- 
 man's camail and pierced his throat. So died Geoffrey de 
 Chargny ; but the oriflamme was saved. 
 
 Dazed with the shock, Nigel still kept his saddle, and 
 Pommers, his yellow hide mottled with blood, bore him 
 onward with the others. The French horsemen were now 
 in full flight ; but one stern group of knights stood firm, 
 like a rock in a rushing torrent, beating off all, whether 
 friend or foe, who tried to break the ranks. The oriflamme 
 had gone, and so had the blue and silver banner, but here 
 
382 SIR NIGEL 
 
 were desperate men ready to fight to the death. In their 
 ranks honour wa,3 to be reaped. The prince and his 
 following hurled themselves upon them, while the rest 
 of the English horsemen swept onward to secure the 
 fugitives and to win their ransoms. But the nobler spirits 
 — Audley, Chandos, and the others — would have thought 
 it shame to gain money while there was work to- be done 
 or honour to be won. Furious was the wild attack, 
 desperate the prolonged defence. Men. fell from their 
 saddles for very exhaustion. 
 
 Nigel, stUl at his place near Chandos's elbow, was hotly 
 attacked hy a short broad-shouldered warrior upon a stout 
 white cob, but Pommers reared with pawing forefeet and 
 dashed the smaller horse to the ground. The falhng rider 
 clutched Nigel's arm and tore him from the saddle, so that 
 the two rolled upon the grass under the stamping hoofs, 
 the English squire on the top and his shortened sword 
 glimmered before the visor of the gasping, breathless 
 Frenchman. 
 
 " Je me retids ! je me rends ! " he panted. 
 
 For a moment a vision of rich ransoms passed through 
 Nigel's brain.. That noble palfrey, that gold-fiecked armour, 
 meant fortune to the captor. Let others have it ! There 
 was work still to be done. How could he desert the prince 
 and his noble master for the sake of a private gain ? Could 
 he lead a prisoner to the rear when honour beckoned him 
 to the van ? He staggered to his feet, seized Pommers by 
 the mane, and swung himself into the saddle. 
 
 An instant later he was by Chandos's side once more 
 and they were bursting together through the last ranks of 
 the gallant group who had fought so bravely to the end. 
 Behind them was one long swath of the dead and the 
 wounded. In front the whole wide plain was covered 
 with the flying French and their pursuers. 
 
 The prince reined up his steed and opened his visor, 
 while his followers crowded round him with waving 
 weapons and frenzied shouts of victory. 
 
HOW NIGEL FOUND HIS THIRD DEED 383 
 
 " What now, John ! " cried the smiling prince, wiping 
 his streaming face with his ungauntleted hand. " How 
 fares it then ? ". 
 
 " I am little hurt, fair lord, save for a crushed hand and 
 a spear-prick in the shoulder. But you, sir ? I trust you 
 have no scathe ? " 
 
 "In truth, John, with you at one elbow and Lord 
 Audley at the other, I know not how I could come to 
 harm. But alas ! I fear that Sir James is sorely stricken." 
 
 The gallant Lord Audley had dropped upon the ground 
 and the blood oozed from every crevice of his battered 
 armour. His four brave squiresT-Dutton of Button, 
 Delves of Doddington, Fbwlhurst of Crewe, and Hawk- 
 stone of Wainhill — wounded and weary themselves, but 
 with no thought save for their master, unlaced his helmet 
 Bnd bathed his pallid blood-stained face. 
 
 He looked up at the prince with burning eyes, "I 
 thank you, sir, for deigning to consider so poor a knight 
 as myself," said he, in a feeble voice. 
 
 The prince dismounted and bent over him. "I am 
 bound to honour you very much, James," said he, " for by 
 your valour this day you have won glory and renown 
 above us all, and your prowess has proved you to be the 
 bravest knigrht." 
 
 " My Lord," murmured the wounded man, " you have a 
 right to say what you please ; but I wish it were as you say." 
 
 "James," said the prince, "from, this time onward I 
 make you a knight of my own household, and I settle 
 upon you five hundred marks of yearly income from my 
 own estates in England."; 
 
 " Sir," the knight answered, " God inake me worthy of 
 the. good fortune you bestow upon me. Your knight I 
 will ever be, and the money I will divide with your leave 
 amongst these four squires who have brought me whatever 
 glory I have won this day." So saying his head fell 
 back, and he lay white and silent ijpon the grass. 
 
384 SIR NIGEL 
 
 " Bring water ! " said the prince. " Let the royal leech 
 see to him ; for I had rather lose many men than the good 
 Sir James. Ha, Chandos, what have we here ? " 
 
 A knight lay across the path with his helmet beaten 
 down upon his shoulders. On his surcoat and shield 
 were the arms of a red grif&n. 
 
 " It is Eobert de Duras the spy," said Chandos. 
 
 "Well for him that he has met his end," said the 
 angry prince. " Put him on his shield, Hubert, and let 
 four archers bear him to the monastery. Lay him at the 
 feet of the cardinal and say that by this sign I greet him. 
 Place my flag on yonder high bush, Walter, and let my 
 tent be raised there, that my friends may know where to 
 seek me." 
 
 The flight and pursuit had thundered far away, and 
 the field was deserted save for the numerous groups of 
 weary horsemen who were making their way back, driving 
 their prisoners before them. The archers were scattered 
 over the whole plain, rifling the saddle-bags and gathering 
 the armour of those who had fallen, or searching for their 
 own scattered arrows. 
 
 Suddenly, however, as the prince was turning toward 
 the bush which he had chosen for his headquarters, there 
 broke out from behind him an extraordinary uproar and a 
 group of knights and squires came pouring toward him, 
 all arguing, swearing and abusing each other in French 
 and English at the tops of their voices. In the midst of 
 them limped a stout little man in gold-spangled armour, 
 who appeared to be the object of the contention, for one 
 would drag him one way and one another, as though they 
 would pull him limb from limb. 
 
 " Nay, fair sirs, gently, gently, I pray you!" he pleaded. 
 "There is enough for all, and no need to treat me so rudely." 
 
 But ever the hubbub broke out again, and swords 
 gleamed as the angry disputants glared furiously at each 
 other. The prince's eyes feU upon the small prisoner, 
 and he staggered back with a gasp of astonishment. 
 
HOW NIGEL FOUND HIS THIRD DEED 385 
 
 " King John ! " he cried. 
 
 A shout of joy rose from the warriors around him. 
 " The king of France ! The king of Prance a prisoner ! " 
 they cried in an ecstasy. 
 
 " Nay, nay, fair sirs, let him not hear that we rejoice ! 
 Let no word bring pain to his soul ! " Eunning forward 
 the prince clasped the French king by the two hands. 
 
 " Most welcome, sire ! " he cried. " Indeed it is good 
 for us that so gallant a knight should stay with us for 
 some short time, since the chance of war has so ordered it. 
 Wine there ! Bring wine for the king ! " 
 
 But John was flushed and angry. His helmet had 
 been roughly torn off, and blood was smeared upon his 
 cheek. His noisy captors stood around him in a circle, 
 eyeing him hungrily like dogs who have been beaten from 
 their quarry. There were Gascons and English, knights, 
 squires, and archers, all pushing and straining. 
 
 "I pray you, fair prince, to get rid of these rude 
 fellows," said King John, " for indeed they have plagued 
 me sorely. By Saint Denis ! my arm has been well-nigh 
 pulled from its socket." 
 
 "What wish you then?" asked the prince, turning 
 angrily upon the noisy swarm of his followers. 
 
 " We took him, fair lord. He is ours ! " cried a score 
 of voices. They closed in, all yelping together like a 
 pack of wolves. " It was I, fair lord ! " — " Nay, it was 
 I ! " — " You lie, you rascal, it was I ! " Again their fierce 
 eyes glared and their blood-stained hands sought the hilts 
 of their weapons. 
 
 " Nay, this must be settled here and now ! " said the 
 prince. " I crave your patience, fair and honoured sir, for 
 a few brief minutes, since indeed much ill-will may spring 
 from this if it be not set at rest. Who is this tall knight 
 who can scarce keep his hands from the king's shoulder?" 
 
 " It is Denis de Morbecque, my lord, a knight of Saiafc 
 Omer, who is in our service, being an outlaw from France." 
 
 2 c 
 
386 SIR NIGEL 
 
 " I call him to mind. How, then, Sir Denis ? "What 
 say you in this matter ? " 
 
 " He gave himself to me, fair lord. He had fallen in 
 the press, and I came upon him and seized him. I told 
 him that I was a knight from Artois, and he gave me his 
 glove. See here, I bear it in my hand." 
 
 "It is true, fair lord! It is true!" cried a dozen 
 French voices. 
 
 " Nay, sir, judge not too soon ! " shouted an English 
 squire, pushing his way to the front. " It was I who had 
 hiTTi at my mercy, and he is my prisoner, for he spoke to 
 this man only because he could tell by his tongue that he 
 was his own countryman. I took him, and here are a 
 score to prove it." 
 
 " It is true, fair lord ! We saw it, and it was even so ! " 
 cried a chorus of Englishmen. 
 
 At all times there are growling and snapping between 
 the English and their allies of France. The prince saw 
 how easily this might set a light to such a flame as could 
 not readily be quenched. It must be stamped out now 
 ere it had time to mount. 
 
 " Fair and honoured lord," he said to the king, " again 
 I pray you for a moment of patience. It is your word 
 and only yours which can tell us what is just and right. 
 To whom were you graciously pleased to commit your 
 royal person ? " 
 
 King John looked up from the flagon which had been 
 brought to him and wiped his lips with the dawnings of a 
 smile upon his ruddy face. 
 
 "It was not this Englishman," he said, and a cheer 
 burst from the G-ascons, " nor was it this bastard French- 
 man," he added. " To neither of them did I surrender." 
 
 There was a hush of surprise. 
 
 " To whom then, sire ? " asked the prince. 
 
 The king looked slowly round. " There was a devil of 
 a yellow horse," said he. "My poor palfrey went over 
 
HOW NIGEL FOUND HIS THIRD DEED 387 
 
 like a skittle-pin before a ball. Of the rider I know 
 nothing save that he bore red roses on a silver shield. 
 Ah ! by Saint Denis, there is the man himself, and there 
 his thrice-accursed horse ! " 
 
 His head swimming, and moving as if in a dream, 
 Mgel found himself the centre of the circle of armed and 
 angry men. 
 
 The prince laid his hand upon his shoulder. " It is 
 the little cock of Tilford Bridge," said he. " On my 
 father's soul, I have ever said that you would win your 
 way. Did you receive the king's surrender ? " 
 
 " Nay, fair lord, I did not receive it." 
 
 " Did you hear him give it ? " 
 
 " I heard, sir, but I did not know that it was the king. 
 My master Lord Chandos had gone on, and I followed 
 after." 
 
 "And left him lying. Then the surrender was not 
 complete, and by the laws of war the ransom goes to 
 Denis de Morbecque, if his story be true." 
 
 " It is true," said the king. " He was the second." 
 
 " Then the ransom is yours, Denis. But for my part 
 I swear by my father's soul that I had rather have the 
 honour this squire has gathered than all the richest 
 ransoms of France." 
 
 At these words spoken before that circle of noble 
 warriors Nigel's heart gave one great throb, and he dropped 
 upon his knee before the prince. 
 
 " Fair lord, how can I thank you ? " he murmured. 
 " These words at least are more than any ransom." 
 
 " Eise up ! " said the smiling prince, and he smote with 
 his sword upon his shoulder. " England has lost a brave 
 squire, and has gained a gallant knight. Nay, linger not, 
 I pray ! Eise up. Sir Nigel." 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 HOW THE THIRD MESSENGEK CAME TO COSFORD 
 
 Two months have passed, and the long slopes of Hindhead 
 are russet with the faded ferns — the fuzzy brown pelt 
 which wraps the chilling earth. With whoop and scream 
 the wild November wind sweeps over the great rolling 
 downs, tossing the branches of the Cosford beeches, and 
 rattling at the rude latticed windows. The stout old 
 knight of Dupplin, grown even a little stouter, with whiter 
 beard to fringe an ever redder face, sits as of yore at the 
 head of his own board. A well-heaped platter, flanked by 
 a foaming tankard stands before him. At his right sits 
 the Lady Mary, her dark, plain, queenly face marked deep 
 with those years of weary waiting, but bearing the gentle 
 grace and dignity which only sorrow and restraint can 
 give. On his left is Mathew, the old priest. Long ago 
 the golden-haired beauty had passed from Cosford to 
 Fernhurst, where the young and beautiful Lady Edith 
 Brocas is the belle of all Sussex, a sunbeam of smiles and 
 merriment, save perhaps when her thoughts for an instant 
 fly back to that dread night when she was plucked from 
 under the very talons of the foul hawk of Shalford. 
 
 The old knight looked up as a fresh gust of wind with 
 a dash of rain beat against the window behind him. 
 
 " By Saint Hubert, it is a wild night," said he. " I 
 had hoped to-morrow to have a flight at a heron of the 
 pool or a mallard at the brook. How fares it with little 
 Katherine the peregrine, Maxy ? " 
 
 " I have joined the wing, father, and I have imped the 
 388 
 
THE THIRD MESSENGER 389 
 
 feathers ; but I fear it will be Christmas ere she can fly 
 again." 
 
 " This is a hard saying/' said Sir John ; " for indeed I 
 have seen no bolder better bird. Her wing was broken 
 by a heron's beak last Sabbath se'nnight, holy father, and 
 Mary has the mending of it." 
 
 "I trust, my son, that you had heard mass ere you 
 turned to worldly pleasure upon God's holy day," Father 
 Mathew answered. 
 
 " Tut, tut ! " said the old knight, laughing. " Shall I 
 make confession at the head of my own table ? I can 
 worship the good God amongst His own works, the woods 
 and the fields, better than in yon pile of stone and wood. 
 But I call to mind a charm for a wounded hawk which 
 was taught me by the fowler of Gaston de Foix. How 
 did it run ? • The lion of the tribe of Judah, the root of 
 David, has conquered.' Yes, those were the words to be 
 said three times as you walk round the perch where the 
 bird is mewed." 
 
 The old priest shook his head. " Nay, these charms 
 are tricks of the devil," said he. " Holy Church lends 
 them no countenance, for they are neither good nor fair. 
 But how is it now with your tapestry, Lady Mary ? 
 When last I was beneath this roof you had half done in 
 five fair colours the story of Theseus and Ariadne." 
 
 " It is half done still, holy father." 
 
 " How is this, my daughter ? Have you, then, so many 
 calls?" 
 
 " Nay, holy father, her thoughts are otherwhere," Sir 
 John answered. " She will sit an hoiir at a time, the 
 needle in her hand and her soul a hundred leagues from 
 Cosford House. Ever since the prince's battle " 
 
 " Good father, I beg you " 
 
 " Nay, Mary, none can hear me, save your own con- 
 fessor. Father Mathew. Ever since the prince's battle, I 
 say, when we heard that young Nigel had won such honour. 
 
390 SIR NIGEL 
 
 she is brain-wode, and sits ever — well, even as you see 
 her now." 
 
 An intent look had come into Mary's eyes ; her gaze 
 was fixed upon the dark rain-splashed window. It was a 
 face carved from ivory, white-lipped and rigid, on which 
 the old priest looked. 
 
 " What is it, my daughter ? What do you see ? " 
 
 " I see nothing, father." 
 
 " What is it, then, that disturbs you ? " 
 
 " I hear, father." 
 
 " What do you hear ? " 
 
 " There are horsemen on the road." 
 
 The old knight laughed. "So it goes on, father. 
 What day is there that a hundred horsemen do not pass 
 our gate, and yet every clink of hoofs sets her poor heart 
 a-trembling. So strong and steadfast she has ever been, 
 my Mary, and now no sound too slight to shake her to 
 the soul ! Nay, daughter, nay, I pray you ! " 
 
 She had half-risen from her chair, her hands clinched 
 and her dark, startled eyes still fixed upon the 
 window. 
 
 " I hear them, father ! I hear them amid the wind 
 and the rain ! Yes, yes, they are turning — they have 
 turned ! My God, they are at our very door ! " 
 
 "By Saint Hubert, the girl is right!" cried old Sir 
 John, beating his fist upon the board. " Ho, varlets, out 
 with you to the yard ! Set the mulled wine on the blaze 
 once more ! There are travellers at the gate, and it is no 
 night to keep a dog waiting at our door. Hurry, 
 Hannekin ! Hurry, I say, or I will haste you with my 
 cudgel ! " 
 
 Plainly to the ears of all men could be heard the 
 stamping of the horses. Mary had stood up, quivering in 
 every Umh. An eager step at the threshold, the door was 
 flung wide, and there in the opening stood Nigel, the rain 
 gleaming upon his smiling face, his cheeks flushed with 
 
THE THIRD MESSENGER 391 
 
 the beating of the wind, Ms blue eyes shining with tender- 
 ness and love. Something held her by the throat, the 
 light of the torches danced up and down ; but her strong 
 spirit rose at the thought that others should see that inner 
 holy of holies of her soul. There is a heroism of women 
 to which no valour of man can attain. Her eyes only 
 carried him her message as she held out her hand. 
 
 " Welcome, Mgel ! " said she. 
 
 He stooped and kissed it. 
 
 " Saint Catharine has brought me home," said he. 
 
 A merry supper it was at Cosford Manor that night, 
 with Nigel at the head between the jovial old knight and 
 the Lady Mary, while at the farther end Samkin Aylward 
 wedged between two servant maids kept his neighbours in 
 alternate laughter and terror as he told his tales of the 
 French Wars. Nigel had to turn his doeskin heels and 
 show his little golden spurs. As he spoke of what was 
 passed Sir John clapped him on the shoulder, while Mary 
 took his strong right hand in hers, and the good old priest, 
 smiling, blessed them both. Nigel had drawn a little 
 golden ring from his pocket, and it twinkled in the 
 torchlight. 
 
 " Did you say that you must go on your way, to-morrow, 
 father ? " he asked the priest. 
 
 " Indeed, fair son, the matter presses." 
 
 " But you may bide the momiug ? " 
 
 " It wiU suffice if I start at noon." 
 
 " Much may be done in a morning." He looked at 
 Mary, who blushed and smiled. " By Saint Paul ! I have 
 waited long enough." 
 
 " Good, good ! " chuckled the old knight, with wheezy 
 laughter. " Even so I wooed your mother, Mary. Wooers 
 were brisk in the olden time. To-morrow is Tuesday, and 
 Tuesday is ever a lucky day. Alas ! that the good Dame 
 Ermyntrude is no longer with us to see it done ! The old 
 hound must run us down, Nigel, and I hear its bay upon 
 
392 SIR NIGEL 
 
 my own heels ; but my heart will rejoice that before the 
 end I may call you son. Give me your hand, Mary, and 
 yours, Nigel. Now, take an old man's blessing, and may 
 God keep and guard you both, and give you your desert, 
 for I believe on my soul that in all this broad land there 
 dwells no nobler man nor any woman more fitted to be 
 his mate." 
 
 There let us leave them, their hearts full of gentle 
 joy, the golden future of hope and promise stretching out 
 before their youthful eyes. Alas for those green spring 
 dreamings ! How often do they fade and wither until 
 they fall and rot, a dreary sight, by the wayside of life ! 
 But here, by God's blessing, it was not so, for they 
 burgeoned and they grew, ever fairer and more noble, 
 until the whole wida world might marvel at the beauty 
 of it. 
 
 It has been told elsewhere how as the years passed 
 Nigel's name rose higher in honour; but still Mary's 
 would keep pace with it, each helping and sustaining 
 the other upon an ever higher path. In many lands did 
 Nigel carve his fame, and ever as he returned spent and 
 weary from his work he drank fresh strength and fire and 
 craving for honour from her who glorified his home. At 
 Twynham Castle they dwelled for many years, beloved 
 and honotired by all. Then in the fulness of time they 
 came back to the Tilford Manor-house and spent their 
 happy, healthy age amid those heather downs where Nigel 
 had passed his first lusty youth, ere ever he turned his 
 face to the wars. Thither also came Aylward when he 
 had left the Pied Merlin where for many a year he 
 sold ale to the men of the forest. 
 
 But the years pass ; the old wheel turns and ever the 
 thread runs out. The wise and the good, the noble and the 
 bravei, they come from the darkness, and into the darkness 
 they go, whence, whither, and why, who may say ? Here 
 
THE THIRD MESSENGER 393 
 
 is the slope of Hindhead. The fern still glows russet in 
 liovember, the heather still burns red in July ; but where 
 now is the Manor of Cosford ? Where is the old house 
 of Tilford ? Where, but for a few scattered grey stones, 
 is the mighty pile of Waverley ? And yet even gnawing 
 Time has not eaten all things away. Walk with me 
 toward Guildford, reader, upon the busy highway. Here, 
 where the high green mound rises before us, mark yonder 
 roofless shrine which still stands four-square to the winds. 
 It is St. Catharine's, where Mgel and Mary plighted their 
 faith. Below lies the winding river, and over yonder you 
 stiU see the dark Chantry woods which mount up to the 
 bare summit, on which, roofed and whole, stands that 
 Chapel of the Martyr where the comrades beat off the 
 archers of the crooked Lord of ShaKord. Down yonder 
 on the flanks of the long chalk hills one traces the road 
 by which they made their journey to the wars. And now 
 turn hither to the north, down this sunken winding path ! 
 It is an unchanged since Nigel's day. Here is the Church 
 of Compton. Pass under the aged and crumbling arch. 
 Before the steps of that ancient altar, unrecorded and 
 unbrassed, lies the dust of Mgel and of Mary. Near 
 them is that of Maude their daughter, and of AUeyne 
 Edricson, whose spouse she was; their children and 
 children's children are lying by their side. Here too, 
 near the old yew in the churchyard, is the little mound 
 which marks where Samkin Aylward went back to that 
 good soil from which he sprang. 
 
 So lie the dead leaves ; but they and such as they 
 nourish for ever that great old trunk of England, which 
 stiU sheds forth another crop and another, each as strong 
 and as fair as the last. The body may lie in mouldering 
 chancel, or in crumbling vault, but the rumour of noble 
 lives, the record of valour and truth, can never die, but 
 lives on in the soul of the people. Our own work lies 
 ready to our hands; and yet our strength may be the 
 
394 SIR NIGEL 
 
 greater and our faith the firmer if we spare an hour from 
 present toils to look back upon the women who were 
 gentle and strong, or the men who loved honour more 
 than life on this green stage of England where for a few 
 short years we play our little part. 
 
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