The White Company
“Nay, nay, my sweet cousin,” cried Don Pedro. “Had we known that your
own coffers were so low, or that this sorry sum could have weighed one
way or the other, we had been loth indeed----”
“Enough, sire, enough!” said the prince, flushing with vexation. “If
the public funds be, indeed, so backward, Sir William, there is still,
I trust, my own private credit, which hath never been drawn upon for my
own uses, but is now ready in the cause of a friend in adversity. Go,
raise this money upon our own jewels, if nought else may serve, and see
that it be paid over to Don Fernando.”
“In security I offer----” cried Don Pedro.
“Tush! tush!” said the prince. “I am not a Lombard, sire. Your kingly
pledge is my security, without bond or seal. But I have tidings for you,
my lords and lieges, that our brother of Lancaster is on his way for our
capital with four hundred lances and as many archers to aid us in our
venture. When he hath come, and when our fair consort is recovered in
her health, which I trust by the grace of God may be ere many weeks be
past, we shall then join the army at Dax, and set our banners to the
breeze once more.”
A buzz of joy at the prospect of immediate action rose up from the group
of warriors. The prince smiled at the martial ardor which shone upon
every face around him.
“It will hearten you to know,” he continued, “that I have sure advices
that this Henry is a very valiant leader, and that he has it in his
power to make such a stand against us as promises to give us much honor
and pleasure. Of his own people he hath brought together, as I learn,
some fifty thousand, with twelve thousand of the French free companies,
who are, as you know very valiant and expert men-at-arms. It is certain
also, that the brave and worthy Bertrand de Guesclin hath ridden into
France to the Duke of Anjou, and purposes to take back with him great
levies from Picardy and Brittany. We hold Bertrand in high esteem, for
he has oft before been at great pains to furnish us with an honorable
encounter. What think you of it, my worthy Captal? He took you at
Cocherel, and, by my soul! you will have the chance now to pay that
score.”
The Gascon warrior winced a little at the allusion, nor were his
countrymen around him better pleased, for on the only occasion when they
had encountered the arms of France without English aid they had met with
a heavy defeat.
“There are some who say, sire,” said the burly De Clisson, “that the
score is already overpaid, for that without Gascon help Bertrand had not
been taken at Auray, nor had King John been overborne at Poictiers.”
“By heaven! but this is too much,” cried an English nobleman. “Methinks
that Gascony is too small a cock to crow so lustily.”
“The smaller cock, my Lord Audley, may have the longer spur,” remarked
the Captal de Buch.
“May have its comb clipped if it make over-much noise,” broke in an
Englishman.
“By our Lady of Rocamadour!” cried the Lord of Mucident, “this is more
than I can abide. Sir John Charnell, you shall answer to me for those
words!”
“Freely, my lord, and when you will,” returned the Englishman
carelessly.
“My Lord de Clisson,” cried Lord Audley, “you look somewhat fixedly in
my direction. By God's soul! I should be right glad to go further into
the matter with you.”
“And you, my Lord of Pommers,” said Sir Nigel, pushing his way to the
front, “it is in my mind that we might break a lance in gentle and
honorable debate over the question.”
For a moment a dozen challenges flashed backwards and forwards at this
sudden bursting of the cloud which had lowered so long between the
knights of the two nations. Furious and gesticulating the Gascons, white
and cold and sneering the English, while the prince with a half smile
glanced from one party to the other, like a man who loved to dwell upon
a fiery scene, and yet dreaded least the mischief go so far that he
might find it beyond his control.
“Friends, friends!” he cried at last, “this quarrel must go no further.
The man shall answer to me, be he Gascon or English, who carries it
beyond this room. I have overmuch need for your swords that you should
turn them upon each other. Sir John Charnell, Lord Audley, you do not
doubt the courage of our friends of Gascony?”
“Not I, sire,” Lord Audley answered. “I have seen them fight too often
not to know that they are very hardy and valiant gentlemen.”
“And so say I,” quoth the other Englishman; “but, certes, there is no
fear of our forgetting it while they have a tongue in their heads.”
“Nay, Sir John,” said the prince reprovingly, “all peoples have their
own use and customs. There are some who might call us cold and dull and
silent. But you hear, my lords of Gascony, that these gentlemen had no
thought to throw a slur upon your honor or your valor, so let all anger
fade from your mind. Clisson, Captal, De Pommers, I have your word?”
“We are your subjects, sire,” said the Gascon barons, though with no
very good grace. “Your words are our law.”
“Then shall we bury all cause of unkindness in a flagon of Malvoisie,”
said the prince, cheerily. “Ho, there! the doors of the banquet-hall!
I have been over long from my sweet spouse but I shall be back with you
anon. Let the sewers serve and the minstrels play, while we drain a
cup to the brave days that are before us in the south!” He turned away,
accompanied by the two monarchs, while the rest of the company, with
many a compressed lip and menacing eye, filed slowly through the
side-door to the great chamber in which the royal tables were set forth.
CHAPTER XX. HOW ALLEYNE WON HIS PLACE IN AN HONORABLE GUILD.
Whilst the prince's council was sitting, Alleyne and Ford had remained
in the outer hall, where they were soon surrounded by a noisy group of
young Englishmen of their own rank, all eager to hear the latest news
from England.
“How is it with the old man at Windsor?” asked one.
“And how with the good Queen Philippa?”
“And how with Dame Alice Perrers?” cried a third.
“The devil take your tongue, Wat!” shouted a tall young man, seizing
the last speaker by the collar and giving him an admonitory shake. “The
prince would take your head off for those words.”
“By God's coif! Wat would miss it but little,” said another. “It is as
empty as a beggar's wallet.”
“As empty as an English squire, coz,” cried the first speaker. “What a
devil has become of the maitre-des-tables and his sewers? They have not
put forth the trestles yet.”
“Mon Dieu! if a man could eat himself into knighthood, Humphrey, you
had been a banneret at the least,” observed another, amid a burst of
laughter.
“And if you could drink yourself in, old leather-head, you had been
first baron of the realm,” cried the aggrieved Humphrey. “But how of
England, my lads of Loring?”
“I take it,” said Ford, “that it is much as it was when you were there
last, save that perchance there is a little less noise there.”
“And why less noise, young Solomon?”
“Ah, that is for your wit to discover.”
“Pardieu! here is a paladin come over, with the Hampshire mud still
sticking to his shoes. He means that the noise is less for our being out
of the country.”
“They are very quick in these parts,” said Ford, turning to Alleyne.
“How are we to take this, sir?” asked the ruffling squire.
“You may take it as it comes,” said Ford carelessly.
“Here is pertness!” cried the other.
“Sir, I honor your truthfulness,” said Ford.
“Stint it, Humphrey,” said the tall squire, with a burst of laughter.
“You will have little credit from this gentleman, I perceive. Tongues
are sharp in Hampshire, sir.”
“And swords?”
“Hum! we may prove that. In two days' time is the vepres du tournoi,
when we may see if your lance is as quick as your wit.”
“All very well, Roger Harcomb,” cried a burly, bull-necked young man,
whose square shoulders and massive limbs told of exceptional personal
strength. “You pass too lightly over the matter. We are not to be so
easily overcrowed. The Lord Loring hath given his proofs; but we know
nothing of his squires, save that one of them hath a railing tongue.
And how of you, young sir?” bringing his heavy hand down on Alleyne's
shoulder.
“And what of me, young sir?”
“Ma foi! this is my lady's page come over. Your cheek will be browner
and your hand harder ere you see your mother again.”
“If my hand is not hard, it is ready.”
“Ready? Ready for what? For the hem of my lady's train?”
“Ready to chastise insolence, sir,” cried Alleyne with flashing eyes.
“Sweet little coz!” answered the burly squire. “Such a dainty color!
Such a mellow voice! Eyes of a bashful maid, and hair like a three
years' babe! Voila!” He passed his thick fingers roughly through the
youth's crisp golden curls.
“You seek to force a quarrel, sir,” said the young man, white with
anger.
“And what then?”
“Why, you do it like a country boor, and not like a gentle squire. Hast
been ill bred and as ill taught. I serve a master who could show you how
such things should be done.”
“And how would he do it, O pink of squires?”
“He would neither be loud nor would he be unmannerly, but rather more
gentle than is his wont. He would say, 'Sir, I should take it as an
honor to do some small deed of arms against you, not for mine own glory
or advancement, but rather for the fame of my lady and for the upholding
of chivalry.' Then he would draw his glove, thus, and throw it on the
ground; or, if he had cause to think that he had to deal with a churl,
he might throw it in his face--as I do now!”
A buzz of excitement went up from the knot of squires as Alleyne, his
gentle nature turned by this causeless attack into fiery resolution,
dashed his glove with all his strength into the sneering face of his
antagonist. From all parts of the hall squires and pages came running,
until a dense, swaying crowd surrounded the disputants.
“Your life for this!” said the bully, with a face which was distorted
with rage.
“If you can take it,” returned Alleyne.
“Good lad!” whispered Ford. “Stick to it close as wax.”
“I shall see justice,” cried Norbury, Sir Oliver's silent attendant.
“You brought it upon yourself, John Tranter,” said the tall squire,
who had been addressed as Roger Harcomb. “You must ever plague the
new-comers. But it were shame if this went further. The lad hath shown a
proper spirit.”
“But a blow! a blow!” cried several of the older squires. “There must be
a finish to this.”
“Nay; Tranter first laid hand upon his head,” said Harcomb. “How say
you, Tranter? The matter may rest where it stands?”
“My name is known in these parts,” said Tranter, proudly, “I can let
pass what might leave a stain upon another. Let him pick up his glove
and say that he has done amiss.”
“I would see him in the claws of the devil first,” whispered Ford.
“You hear, young sir?” said the peacemaker. “Our friend will overlook
the matter if you do but say that you have acted in heat and haste.”
“I cannot say that,” answered Alleyne.
“It is our custom, young sir, when new squires come amongst us from
England, to test them in some such way. Bethink you that if a man have
a destrier or a new lance he will ever try it in time of peace, lest in
days of need it may fail him. How much more then is it proper to test
those who are our comrades in arms.”
“I would draw out if it may honorably be done,” murmured Norbury
in Alleyne's ear. “The man is a noted swordsman and far above your
strength.”
Edricson came, however, of that sturdy Saxon blood which is very slowly
heated, but once up not easily to be cooled. The hint of danger which
Norbury threw out was the one thing needed to harden his resolution.
“I came here at the back of my master,” he said, “and I looked on every