The White Company
very green veil for which poor Peter Terlake had craved in vain. Again
the hoarse cheering burst out from below, and he heard the clang of the
rising portcullis. Pressing the veil to his lips, he thrust it into the
bosom of his tunic, and rushed as fast as feet could bear him to arm
himself and join the muster.
The raw morning had broken ere the hot spiced ale had been served round
and the last farewell spoken. A cold wind blew up from the sea and
ragged clouds drifted swiftly across the sky.
The Christchurch townsfolk stood huddled about the Bridge of Avon, the
women pulling tight their shawls and the men swathing themselves in
their gaberdines, while down the winding path from the castle came the
van of the little army, their feet clanging on the hard, frozen road.
First came Black Simon with his banner, bestriding a lean and powerful
dapple-gray charger, as hard and wiry and warwise as himself. After him,
riding three abreast, were nine men-at-arms, all picked soldiers, who
had followed the French wars before, and knew the marches of Picardy as
they knew the downs of their native Hampshire. They were armed to the
teeth with lance, sword, and mace, with square shields notched at the
upper right-hand corner to serve as a spear-rest. For defence each man
wore a coat of interlaced leathern thongs, strengthened at the shoulder,
elbow, and upper arm with slips of steel. Greaves and knee-pieces were
also of leather backed by steel, and their gauntlets and shoes were of
iron plates, craftily jointed. So, with jingle of arms and clatter of
hoofs, they rode across the Bridge of Avon, while the burghers shouted
lustily for the flag of the five roses and its gallant guard.
Close at the heels of the horses came two-score archers bearded and
burly, their round targets on their backs and their long yellow bows,
the most deadly weapon that the wit of man had yet devised, thrusting
forth from behind their shoulders. From each man's girdle hung sword or
axe, according to his humor, and over the right hip there jutted out the
leathern quiver with its bristle of goose, pigeon, and peacock feathers.
Behind the bowmen strode two trumpeters blowing upon nakirs, and two
drummers in parti-colored clothes. After them came twenty-seven sumpter
horses carrying tent-poles, cloth, spare arms, spurs, wedges, cooking
kettles, horse-shoes, bags of nails and the hundred other things which
experience had shown to be needful in a harried and hostile country. A
white mule with red trappings, led by a varlet, carried Sir Nigel's own
napery and table comforts. Then came two-score more archers, ten more
men-at-arms, and finally a rear guard of twenty bowmen, with big John
towering in the front rank and the veteran Aylward marching by the side,
his battered harness and faded surcoat in strange contrast with the
snow-white jupons and shining brigandines of his companions. A quick
cross-fire of greetings and questions and rough West Saxon jests flew
from rank to rank, or were bandied about betwixt the marching archers
and the gazing crowd.
“Hola, Gaffer Higginson!” cried Aylward, as he spied the portly figure
of the village innkeeper. “No more of thy nut-brown, mon gar. We leave
it behind us.”
“By St. Paul, no!” cried the other. “You take it with you. Devil a drop
have you left in the great kilderkin. It was time for you to go.”
“If your cask is leer, I warrant your purse is full, gaffer,” shouted
Hordle John. “See that you lay in good store of the best for our
home-coming.”
“See that you keep your throat whole for the drinking of it archer,”
cried a voice, and the crowd laughed at the rough pleasantry.
“If you will warrant the beer, I will warrant the throat,” said John
composedly.
“Close up the ranks!” cried Aylward. “En avant, mes enfants! Ah, by my
finger bones, there is my sweet Mary from the Priory Mill! Ma foi, but
she is beautiful! Adieu, Mary ma cherie! Mon coeur est toujours a
toi. Brace your belt, Watkins, man, and swing your shoulders as a free
companion should. By my hilt! your jerkins will be as dirty as mine ere
you clap eyes on Hengistbury Head again.”
The Company had marched to the turn of the road ere Sir Nigel Loring
rode out from the gateway, mounted on Pommers, his great black
war-horse, whose ponderous footfall on the wooden drawbridge echoed
loudly from the gloomy arch which spanned it. Sir Nigel was still in his
velvet dress of peace, with flat velvet cap of maintenance, and curling
ostrich feather clasped in a golden brooch. To his three squires riding
behind him it looked as though he bore the bird's egg as well as its
feather, for the back of his bald pate shone like a globe of ivory. He
bore no arms save the long and heavy sword which hung at his saddle-bow;
but Terlake carried in front of him the high wivern-crested bassinet,
Ford the heavy ash spear with swallow-tail pennon, while Alleyne was
entrusted with the emblazoned shield. The Lady Loring rode her palfrey
at her lord's bridle-arm, for she would see him as far as the edge
of the forest, and ever and anon she turned her hard-lined face
up wistfully to him and ran a questioning eye over his apparel and
appointments.
“I trust that there is nothing forgot,” she said, beckoning to Alleyne
to ride on her further side. “I trust him to you, Edricson. Hosen,
shirts, cyclas, and under-jupons are in the brown basket on the left
side of the mule. His wine he takes hot when the nights are cold,
malvoisie or vernage, with as much spice as would cover the thumb-nail.
See that he hath a change if he come back hot from the tilting. There is
goose-grease in a box, if the old scars ache at the turn of the weather.
Let his blankets be dry and----”
“Nay, my heart's life,” the little knight interrupted, “trouble not now
about such matters. Why so pale and wan, Edricson? Is it not enow
to make a man's heart dance to see this noble Company, such valiant
men-at-arms, such lusty archers? By St. Paul! I would be ill to please
if I were not blithe to see the red roses flying at the head of so noble
a following!”
“The purse I have already given you, Edricson,” continued the lady.
“There are in it twenty-three marks, one noble, three shillings and
fourpence, which is a great treasure for one man to carry. And I pray
you to bear in mind, Edricson, that he hath two pair of shoes, those of
red leather for common use, and the others with golden toe-chains,
which he may wear should he chance to drink wine with the Prince or with
Chandos.”
“My sweet bird,” said Sir Nigel, “I am right loth to part from you,
but we are now at the fringe of the forest, and it is not right that I
should take the chatelaine too far from her trust.”
“But oh, my dear lord,” she cried with a trembling lip, “let me bide
with you for one furlong further--or one and a half perhaps. You may
spare me this out of the weary miles that you will journey along.”
“Come, then, my heart's comfort,” he answered. “But I must crave a gage
from thee. It is my custom, dearling, and hath been since I have
first known thee, to proclaim by herald in such camps, townships, or
fortalices as I may chance to visit, that my lady-love, being beyond
compare the fairest and sweetest in Christendom, I should deem it great
honor and kindly condescension if any cavalier would run three courses
against me with sharpened lances, should he chance to have a lady whose
claim he was willing to advance. I pray you then my fair dove, that you
will vouchsafe to me one of those doeskin gloves, that I may wear it as
the badge of her whose servant I shall ever be.”
“Alack and alas for the fairest and sweetest!” she cried. “Fair and
sweet I would fain be for your dear sake, my lord, but old I am and
ugly, and the knights would laugh should you lay lance in rest in such a
cause.”
“Edricson,” quoth Sir Nigel, “you have young eyes, and mine are somewhat
bedimmed. Should you chance to see a knight laugh, or smile, or even,
look you, arch his brows, or purse his mouth, or in any way show
surprise that I should uphold the Lady Mary, you will take particular
note of his name, his coat-armor, and his lodging. Your glove, my life's
desire!”
The Lady Mary Loring slipped her hand from her yellow leather gauntlet,
and he, lifting it with dainty reverence, bound it to the front of his
velvet cap.
“It is with mine other guardian angels,” quoth he, pointing at the
saints' medals which hung beside it. “And now, my dearest, you have come
far enow. May the Virgin guard and prosper thee! One kiss!” He bent down
from his saddle, and then, striking spurs into his horse's sides, he
galloped at top speed after his men, with his three squires at his
heels. Half a mile further, where the road topped a hill, they looked
back, and the Lady Mary on her white palfrey was still where they had
left her. A moment later they were on the downward slope, and she had
vanished from their view.
CHAPTER XIV. HOW SIR NIGEL SOUGHT FOR A WAYSIDE VENTURE.
For a time Sir Nigel was very moody and downcast, with bent brows and
eyes upon the pommel of his saddle. Edricson and Terlake rode behind him
in little better case, while Ford, a careless and light-hearted youth,
grinned at the melancholy of his companions, and flourished his lord's
heavy spear, making a point to right and a point to left, as though
he were a paladin contending against a host of assailants. Sir Nigel
happened, however, to turn himself in his saddle--Ford instantly became
as stiff and as rigid as though he had been struck with a palsy. The
four rode alone, for the archers had passed a curve in the road, though
Alleyne could still hear the heavy clump, clump of their marching, or
catch a glimpse of the sparkle of steel through the tangle of leafless
branches.
“Ride by my side, friends, I entreat of you,” said the knight, reining
in his steed that they might come abreast of him. “For, since it hath
pleased you to follow me to the wars, it were well that you should know
how you may best serve me. I doubt not, Terlake, that you will show
yourself a worthy son of a valiant father; and you, Ford, of yours; and
you, Edricson, that you are mindful of the old-time house from which
all men know that you are sprung. And first I would have you bear
very steadfastly in mind that our setting forth is by no means for the
purpose of gaining spoil or exacting ransom, though it may well happen
that such may come to us also. We go to France, and from thence I trust
to Spain, in humble search of a field in which we may win advancement
and perchance some small share of glory. For this purpose I would have
you know that it is not my wont to let any occasion pass where it is in
any way possible that honor may be gained. I would have you bear this
in mind, and give great heed to it that you may bring me word of all
cartels, challenges, wrongs, tyrannies, infamies, and wronging of
damsels. Nor is any occasion too small to take note of, for I have
known such trifles as the dropping of a gauntlet, or the flicking of
a breadcrumb, when well and properly followed up, lead to a most noble
spear-running. But, Edricson, do I not see a cavalier who rides down
yonder road amongst the nether shaw? It would be well, perchance, that
you should give him greeting from me. And, should he be of gentle blood
it may be that he would care to exchange thrusts with me.”
“Why, my lord,” quoth Ford, standing in his stirrups and shading his
eyes, “it is old Hob Davidson, the fat miller of Milton!”
“Ah, so it is, indeed,” said Sir Nigel, puckering his cheeks; “but
wayside ventures are not to be scorned, for I have seen no finer
passages than are to be had from such chance meetings, when cavaliers
are willing to advance themselves. I can well remember that two leagues