CHAPTER XII. HOW ALLEYNE LEARNED MORE THAN HE COULD TEACH.
And now there came a time of stir and bustle, of furbishing of arms andclang of hammer from all the southland counties. Fast spread the tidingsfrom thorpe to thorpe and from castle to castle, that the old game wasafoot once more, and the lions and lilies to be in the field with theearly spring. Great news this for that fierce old country, whose tradefor a generation had been war, her exports archers and her importsprisoners. For six years her sons had chafed under an unwonted peace.Now they flew to their arms as to their birthright. The old soldiers ofCrecy, of Nogent, and of Poictiers were glad to think that they mighthear the war-trumpet once more, and gladder still were the hot youth whohad chafed for years under the martial tales of their sires. To piercethe great mountains of the south, to fight the tamers of the fieryMoors, to follow the greatest captain of the age, to find sunnycornfields and vineyards, when the marches of Picardy and Normandy wereas rare and bleak as the Jedburgh forests--here was a golden prospectfor a race of warriors. From sea to sea there was stringing of bows inthe cottage and clang of steel in the castle.
Nor did it take long for every stronghold to pour forth its cavalry, andevery hamlet its footmen. Through the late autumn and the early winterevery road and country lane resounded with nakir and trumpet, with theneigh of the war-horse and the clatter of marching men. From the Wrekinin the Welsh marches to the Cotswolds in the west or Butser in thesouth, there was no hill-top from which the peasant might not have seenthe bright shimmer of arms, the toss and flutter of plume and of pensil.From bye-path, from woodland clearing, or from winding moor-side trackthese little rivulets of steel united in the larger roads to form abroader stream, growing ever fuller and larger as it approached thenearest or most commodious seaport. And there all day, and day afterday, there was bustle and crowding and labor, while the great shipsloaded up, and one after the other spread their white pinions and dartedoff to the open sea, amid the clash of cymbals and rolling of drums andlusty shouts of those who went and of those who waited. From Orwell tothe Dart there was no port which did not send forth its little fleet,gay with streamer and bunting, as for a joyous festival. Thus in theseason of the waning days the might of England put forth on to thewaters.
In the ancient and populous county of Hampshire there was no lack ofleaders or of soldiers for a service which promised either honor orprofit. In the north the Saracen's head of the Brocas and the scarletfish of the De Roches were waving over a strong body of archers fromHolt, Woolmer, and Harewood forests. De Borhunte was up in the east, andSir John de Montague in the west. Sir Luke de Ponynges, Sir Thomas West,Sir Maurice de Bruin, Sir Arthur Lipscombe, Sir Walter Ramsey, and stoutSir Oliver Buttesthorn were all marching south with levies from Andover,Arlesford, Odiham and Winchester, while from Sussex came Sir JohnClinton, Sir Thomas Cheyne, and Sir John Fallislee, with a troop ofpicked men-at-arms, making for their port at Southampton. Greatest ofall the musters, however, was that of Twynham Castle, for the name andthe fame of Sir Nigel Loring drew towards him the keenest and boldestspirits, all eager to serve under so valiant a leader. Archers from theNew Forest and the Forest of Bere, billmen from the pleasant countrywhich is watered by the Stour, the Avon, and the Itchen, young cavaliersfrom the ancient Hampshire houses, all were pushing for Christchurch totake service under the banner of the five scarlet roses.
And now, could Sir Nigel have shown the bachelles of land which the lawsof rank required, he might well have cut his forked pennon into asquare banner, and taken such a following into the field as would havesupported the dignity of a banneret. But poverty was heavy upon him, hisland was scant, his coffers empty, and the very castle which covered himthe holding of another. Sore was his heart when he saw rare bowmen andwar-hardened spearmen turned away from his gates, for the lack of themoney which might equip and pay them. Yet the letter which Aylward hadbrought him gave him powers which he was not slow to use. In it SirClaude Latour, the Gascon lieutenant of the White Company, assured himthat there remained in his keeping enough to fit out a hundred archersand twenty men-at-arms, which, joined to the three hundred veterancompanions already in France, would make a force which any leader mightbe proud to command. Carefully and sagaciously the veteran knight choseout his men from the swarm of volunteers. Many an anxious consultationhe held with Black Simon, Sam Aylward, and other of his more experiencedfollowers, as to who should come and who should stay. By All Saints'day, however ere the last leaves had fluttered to earth in the Wilverleyand Holmesley glades, he had filled up his full numbers, and musteredunder his banner as stout a following of Hampshire foresters as evertwanged their war-bows. Twenty men-at-arms, too, well mounted andequipped, formed the cavalry of the party, while young Peter Terlake ofFareham, and Walter Ford of Botley, the martial sons of martial sires,came at their own cost to wait upon Sir Nigel and to share with AlleyneEdricson the duties of his squireship.
Yet, even after the enrolment, there was much to be done ere the partycould proceed upon its way. For armor, swords, and lances, there was noneed to take much forethought, for they were to be had both better andcheaper in Bordeaux than in England. With the long-bow, however, it wasdifferent. Yew staves indeed might be got in Spain, but it was well totake enough and to spare with them. Then three spare cords should becarried for each bow, with a great store of arrow-heads, besides thebrigandines of chain mail, the wadded steel caps, and the brassarts orarm-guards, which were the proper equipment of the archer. Above all,the women for miles round were hard at work cutting the white surcoatswhich were the badge of the Company, and adorning them with the red lionof St. George upon the centre of the breast. When all was completed andthe muster called in the castle yard the oldest soldier of the Frenchwars was fain to confess that he had never looked upon a better equippedor more warlike body of men, from the old knight with his silk jupon,sitting his great black war-horse in the front of them, to Hordle John,the giant recruit, who leaned carelessly upon a huge black bow-stave inthe rear. Of the six score, fully half had seen service before, while afair sprinkling were men who had followed the wars all their lives, andhad a hand in those battles which had made the whole world ring with thefame and the wonder of the island infantry.
Six long weeks were taken in these preparations, and it was close onMartinmas ere all was ready for a start. Nigh two months had AlleyneEdricson been in Castle Twynham--months which were fated to turn thewhole current of his life, to divert it from that dark and lonely bournetowards which it tended, and to guide it into freer and more sunlitchannels. Already he had learned to bless his father for that wiseprovision which had made him seek to know the world ere he had venturedto renounce it.
For it was a different place from that which he had pictured--verydifferent from that which he had heard described when the master of thenovices held forth to his charges upon the ravening wolves who lurkedfor them beyond the peaceful folds of Beaulieu. There was cruelty in it,doubtless, and lust and sin and sorrow; but were there not virtues toatone, robust positive virtues which did not shrink from temptation,which held their own in all the rough blasts of the work-a-day world?How colorless by contrast appeared the sinlessness which came frominability to sin, the conquest which was attained by flying from theenemy! Monk-bred as he was, Alleyne had native shrewdness and a mindwhich was young enough to form new conclusions and to outgrow oldones. He could not fail to see that the men with whom he was thrown incontact, rough-tongued, fierce and quarrelsome as they were, were yet ofdeeper nature and of more service in the world than the ox-eyed brethrenwho rose and ate and slept from year's end to year's end in their ownnarrow, stagnant circle of existence. Abbot Berghersh was a good man,but how was he better than this kindly knight, who lived as simple alife, held as lofty and inflexible an ideal of duty, and did with allhis fearless heart whatever came to his hand to do? In turning from theservice of the one to that of the other, Alleyne could not feel thathe was lowering his aims in life. True that his gentle and thoughtfulnature recoiled from the grim work o
f war, yet in those days of martialorders and militant brotherhoods there was no gulf fixed betwixt thepriest and the soldier. The man of God and the man of the sword mightwithout scandal be united in the same individual. Why then should he,a mere clerk, have scruples when so fair a chance lay in his way ofcarrying out the spirit as well as the letter of his father's provision.Much struggle it cost him, anxious spirit-questionings and midnightprayings, with many a doubt and a misgiving; but the issue was that erehe had been three days in Castle Twynham he had taken service under SirNigel, and had accepted horse and harness, the same to be paid for outof his share of the profits of the expedition. Henceforth for sevenhours a day he strove in the tilt-yard to qualify himself to be a worthysquire to so worthy a knight. Young, supple and active, with all thepent energies from years of pure and healthy living, it was not longbefore he could manage his horse and his weapon well enough to earnan approving nod from critical men-at-arms, or to hold his own againstTerlake and Ford, his fellow-servitors.
But were there no other considerations which swayed him from thecloisters towards the world? So complex is the human spirit that it canitself scarce discern the deep springs which impel it to action. Yetto Alleyne had been opened now a side of life of which he had been asinnocent as a child, but one which was of such deep import that it couldnot fail to influence him in choosing his path. A woman, in monkishprecepts, had been the embodiment and concentration of what wasdangerous and evil--a focus whence spread all that was to be dreaded andavoided. So defiling was their presence that a true Cistercian mightnot raise his eyes to their face or touch their finger-tips under ban ofchurch and fear of deadly sin. Yet here, day after day for an hourafter nones, and for an hour before vespers, he found himself in closecommunion with three maidens, all young, all fair, and all thereforedoubly dangerous from the monkish standpoint. Yet he found that in theirpresence he was conscious of a quick sympathy, a pleasant ease, a readyresponse to all that was most gentle and best in himself, which filledhis soul with a vague and new-found joy.
And yet the Lady Maude Loring was no easy pupil to handle. An older andmore world-wise man might have been puzzled by her varying moods, hersudden prejudices, her quick resentment at all constraint and authority.Did a subject interest her, was there space in it for either romanceor imagination, she would fly through it with her subtle, active mind,leaving her two fellow-students and even her teacher toiling behind her.On the other hand, were there dull patience needed with steady toil andstrain of memory, no single fact could by any driving be fixed in hermind. Alleyne might talk to her of the stories of old gods and heroes,of gallant deeds and lofty aims, or he might hold forth upon moon andstars, and let his fancy wander over the hidden secrets of the universe,and he would have a rapt listener with flushed cheeks and eloquent eyes,who could repeat after him the very words which had fallen from hislips. But when it came to almagest and astrolabe, the counting offigures and reckoning of epicycles, away would go her thoughts to horseand hound, and a vacant eye and listless face would warn the teacherthat he had lost his hold upon his scholar. Then he had but to bring outthe old romance book from the priory, with befingered cover of sheepskinand gold letters upon a purple ground, to entice her wayward mind backto the paths of learning.
At times, too, when the wild fit was upon her, she would break intopertness and rebel openly against Alleyne's gentle firmness. Yet hewould jog quietly on with his teachings, taking no heed to her mutiny,until suddenly she would be conquered by his patience, and break intoself-revilings a hundred times stronger than her fault demanded. Itchanced however that, on one of these mornings when the evil mood wasupon her, Agatha the young tire-woman, thinking to please her mistress,began also to toss her head and make tart rejoinder to the teacher'squestions. In an instant the Lady Maude had turned upon her two blazingeyes and a face which was blanched with anger.
"You would dare!" said she. "You would dare!" The frightened tire-womantried to excuse herself. "But my fair lady," she stammered, "what have Idone? I have said no more than I heard."
"You would dare!" repeated the lady in a choking voice. "You, agraceless baggage, a foolish lack-brain, with no thought above thehemming of shifts. And he so kindly and hendy and long-suffering! Youwould--ha, you may well flee the room!"
She had spoken with a rising voice, and a clasping and opening of herlong white fingers, so that it was no marvel that ere the speech wasover the skirts of Agatha were whisking round the door and the click ofher sobs to be heard dying swiftly away down the corridor.
Alleyne stared open-eyed at this tigress who had sprung so suddenlyto his rescue. "There is no need for such anger," he said mildly. "Themaid's words have done me no scath. It is you yourself who have erred."
"I know it," she cried, "I am a most wicked woman. But it is bad enoughthat one should misuse you. Ma foi! I will see that there is not asecond one."
"Nay, nay, no one has misused me," he answered. "But the fault liesin your hot and bitter words. You have called her a baggage and alack-brain, and I know not what."
"And you are he who taught me to speak the truth," she cried. "Now Ihave spoken it, and yet I cannot please you. Lack-brain she is, andlack-brain I shall call her."
Such was a sample of the sudden janglings which marred the peace of thatlittle class. As the weeks passed, however, they became fewer and lessviolent, as Alleyne's firm and constant nature gained sway and influenceover the Lady Maude. And yet, sooth to say, there were times when he hadto ask himself whether it was not the Lady Maude who was gaining swayand influence over him. If she were changing, so was he. In drawing herup from the world, he was day by day being himself dragged down towardsit. In vain he strove and reasoned with himself as to the madness ofletting his mind rest upon Sir Nigel's daughter. What was he--a youngerson, a penniless clerk, a squire unable to pay for his own harness--thathe should dare to raise his eyes to the fairest maid in Hampshire? Sospake reason; but, in spite of all, her voice was ever in his ears andher image in his heart. Stronger than reason, stronger than cloisterteachings, stronger than all that might hold him back, was that old, oldtyrant who will brook no rival in the kingdom of youth.
And yet it was a surprise and a shock to himself to find how deeplyshe had entered into his life; how completely those vague ambitions andyearnings which had filled his spiritual nature centred themselves nowupon this thing of earth. He had scarce dared to face the change whichhad come upon him, when a few sudden chance words showed it all up hardand clear, like a lightning flash in the darkness.
He had ridden over to Poole, one November day, with his fellow-squire,Peter Terlake, in quest of certain yew-staves from Wat Swathling, theDorsetshire armorer. The day for their departure had almost come, andthe two youths spurred it over the lonely downs at the top of theirspeed on their homeward course, for evening had fallen and there wasmuch to be done. Peter was a hard, wiry, brown faced, country-bred ladwho looked on the coming war as the schoolboy looks on his holidays.This day, however, he had been sombre and mute, with scarce a word amile to bestow upon his comrade.
"Tell me Alleyne Edricson," he broke out, suddenly, as they clatteredalong the winding track which leads over the Bournemouth hills, "has itnot seemed to you that of late the Lady Maude is paler and more silentthan is her wont?"
"It may be so," the other answered shortly.
"And would rather sit distrait by her oriel than ride gayly to the chaseas of old. Methinks, Alleyne, it is this learning which you have taughther that has taken all the life and sap from her. It is more than shecan master, like a heavy spear to a light rider."
"Her lady-mother has so ordered it," said Alleyne.
"By our Lady! and withouten disrespect," quoth Terlake, "it is in mymind that her lady-mother is more fitted to lead a company to a stormingthan to have the upbringing of this tender and milk-white maid. Hark ye,lad Alleyne, to what I never told man or woman yet. I love the fair LadyMaude, and would give the last drop of my heart's blood to serve her."He spoke with a gasping voice, and hi
s face flushed crimson in themoonlight.
Alleyne said nothing, but his heart seemed to turn to a lump of ice inhis bosom.
"My father has broad acres," the other continued, "from Fareham Creek tothe slope of the Portsdown Hill. There is filling of granges, hewingof wood, malting of grain, and herding of sheep as much as heart couldwish, and I the only son. Sure am I that Sir Nigel would be blithe atsuch a match."
"But how of the lady?" asked Alleyne, with dry lips.
"Ah, lad, there lies my trouble. It is a toss of the head and a droop ofthe eyes if I say one word of what is in my mind. 'Twere as easy to woothe snow-dame that we shaped last winter in our castle yard. I did butask her yesternight for her green veil, that I might bear it as a tokenor lambrequin upon my helm; but she flashed out at me that she kept itfor a better man, and then all in a breath asked pardon for that she hadspoke so rudely. Yet she would not take back the words either, nor wouldshe grant the veil. Has it seemed to thee, Alleyne, that she loves anyone?"
"Nay, I cannot say," said Alleyne, with a wild throb of sudden hope inhis heart.
"I have thought so, and yet I cannot name the man. Indeed, save myself,and Walter Ford, and you, who are half a clerk, and Father Christopherof the Priory, and Bertrand the page, who is there whom she sees?"
"I cannot tell," quoth Alleyne shortly; and the two squires rode onagain, each intent upon his own thoughts.
Next day at morning lesson the teacher observed that his pupil wasindeed looking pale and jaded, with listless eyes and a weary manner. Hewas heavy-hearted to note the grievous change in her.
"Your mistress, I fear, is ill, Agatha," he said to the tire-woman, whenthe Lady Maude had sought her chamber.
The maid looked aslant at him with laughing eyes. "It is not an illnessthat kills," quoth she.
"Pray God not!" he cried. "But tell me, Agatha, what it is that ailsher?"
"Methinks that I could lay my hand upon another who is smitten with thesame trouble," said she, with the same sidelong look. "Canst not give aname to it, and thou so skilled in leech-craft?"
"Nay, save that she seems aweary."
"Well, bethink you that it is but three days ere you will all be gone,and Castle Twynham be as dull as the Priory. Is there not enough thereto cloud a lady's brow?"
"In sooth, yes," he answered; "I had forgot that she is about to loseher father."
"Her father!" cried the tire-woman, with a little trill of laughter. "Ohsimple, simple!" And she was off down the passage like arrow from bow,while Alleyne stood gazing after her, betwixt hope and doubt, scarcedaring to put faith in the meaning which seemed to underlie her words.