The White Company

  CHAPTER XXVIII. HOW THE COMRADES CAME OVER THE MARCHES OF FRANCE

  After passing Cahors, the party branched away from the main road, andleaving the river to the north of them, followed a smaller track whichwound over a vast and desolate plain. This path led them amid marshesand woods, until it brought them out into a glade with a broad streamswirling swiftly down the centre of it. Through this the horses splashedtheir way, and on the farther shore Sir Nigel announced to them thatthey were now within the borders of the land of France. For some milesthey still followed the same lonely track, which led them througha dense wood, and then widening out, curved down to an open rollingcountry, such as they had traversed between Aiguillon and Cahors.

  If it were grim and desolate upon the English border, however, whatcan describe the hideous barrenness of this ten times harried tractof France? The whole face of the country was scarred and disfigured,mottled over with the black blotches of burned farm-steadings, andthe gray, gaunt gable-ends of what had been chateaux. Broken fences,crumbling walls, vineyards littered with stones, the shattered arches ofbridges--look where you might, the signs of ruin and rapine met the eye.Here and there only, on the farthest sky-line, the gnarled turrets of acastle, or the graceful pinnacles of church or of monastery showed wherethe forces of the sword or of the spirit had preserved some small isletof security in this universal flood of misery. Moodily and in silencethe little party rode along the narrow and irregular track, their heartsweighed down by this far-stretching land of despair. It was indeeda stricken and a blighted country, and a man might have ridden fromAuvergne in the north to the marches of Foix, nor ever seen a smilingvillage or a thriving homestead.

  From time to time as they advanced they saw strange lean figuresscraping and scratching amid the weeds and thistles, who, on sightof the band of horsemen, threw up their arms and dived in among thebrushwood, as shy and as swift as wild animals. More than once, however,they came on families by the wayside, who were too weak from hunger anddisease to fly, so that they could but sit like hares on a tussock, withpanting chests and terror in their eyes. So gaunt were these poor folk,so worn and spent--with bent and knotted frames, and sullen, hopeless,mutinous faces--that it made the young Englishman heart-sick to lookupon them. Indeed, it seemed as though all hope and light had gone sofar from them that it was not to be brought back; for when Sir Nigelthrew down a handful of silver among them there came no softening oftheir lined faces, but they clutched greedily at the coins, peeringquestioningly at him, and champing with their animal jaws. Here andthere amid the brushwood the travellers saw the rude bundle ofsticks which served them as a home--more like a fowl's nest than thedwelling-place of man. Yet why should they build and strive, when thefirst adventurer who passed would set torch to their thatch, and whentheir own feudal lord would wring from them with blows and curses thelast fruits of their toil? They sat at the lowest depth of human misery,and hugged a bitter comfort to their souls as they realized that theycould go no lower. Yet they had still the human gift of speech, andwould take council among themselves in their brushwood hovels, glaringwith bleared eyes and pointing with thin fingers at the great widespreadchateaux which ate like a cancer into the life of the country-side. Whensuch men, who are beyond hope and fear, begin in their dim minds to seethe source of their woes, it may be an evil time for those who have wrongedthem. The weak man becomes strong when he has nothing, for then only canhe feel the wild, mad thrill of despair. High and strong the chateaux,lowly and weak the brushwood hut; but God help the seigneur and his ladywhen the men of the brushwood set their hands to the work of revenge!

  Through such country did the party ride for eight or it might be ninemiles, until the sun began to slope down in the west and their shadowsto stream down the road in front of them. Wary and careful they mustbe, with watchful eyes to the right and the left, for this was no man'sland, and their only passports were those which hung from their belts.Frenchmen and Englishmen, Gascon and Provencal, Brabanter, Tardvenu,Scorcher, Flayer, and Free Companion, wandered and struggled over thewhole of this accursed district. So bare and cheerless was the outlook,and so few and poor the dwellings, that Sir Nigel began to have fears asto whether he might find food and quarters for his little troop. It wasa relief to him, therefore, when their narrow track opened out upon alarger road, and they saw some little way down it a square white housewith a great bunch of holly hung out at the end of a stick from one ofthe upper windows.

  "By St. Paul!" said he, "I am right glad; for I had feared that we mighthave neither provant nor herbergage. Ride on, Alleyne, and tell thisinn-keeper that an English knight with his party will lodge with himthis night."

  Alleyne set spurs to his horse and reached the inn door a long bow-shotbefore his companions. Neither varlet nor ostler could be seen, so hepushed open the door and called loudly for the landlord. Three times heshouted, but, receiving no reply, he opened an inner door and advancedinto the chief guest-room of the hostel.

  A very cheerful wood-fire was sputtering and cracking in an open grateat the further end of the apartment. At one side of this fire, in ahigh-backed oak chair, sat a lady, her face turned towards the door.The firelight played over her features, and Alleyne thought that he hadnever seen such queenly power, such dignity and strength, upon a woman'sface. She might have been five-and-thirty years of age, with aquilinenose, firm yet sensitive mouth, dark curving brows, and deep-set eyeswhich shone and sparkled with a shifting brilliancy. Beautiful as shewas, it was not her beauty which impressed itself upon the beholder;it was her strength, her power, the sense of wisdom which hung overthe broad white brow, the decision which lay in the square jaw anddelicately moulded chin. A chaplet of pearls sparkled amid her blackhair, with a gauze of silver network flowing back from it over hershoulders; a black mantle was swathed round her, and she leaned back inher chair as one who is fresh from a journey.

  In the opposite corner there sat a very burly and broad-shouldered man,clad in a black jerkin trimmed with sable, with a black velvet cap withcurling white feather cocked upon the side of his head. A flask of redwine stood at his elbow, and he seemed to be very much at his ease, forhis feet were stuck up on a stool, and between his thighs he held a dishfull of nuts. These he cracked between his strong white teeth and chewedin a leisurely way, casting the shells into the blaze. As Alleyne gazedin at him he turned his face half round and cocked an eye at him overhis shoulder. It seemed to the young Englishman that he had never seenso hideous a face, for the eyes were of the lightest green, the nose wasbroken and driven inwards, while the whole countenance was seared andpuckered with wounds. The voice, too, when he spoke, was as deep and asfierce as the growl of a beast of prey.

  "Young man," said he, "I know not who you may be, and I am not muchinclined to bestir myself, but if it were not that I am bent upon takingmy ease, I swear, by the sword of Joshua! that I would lay my dog-whipacross your shoulders for daring to fill the air with these discordantbellowings."

  Taken aback at this ungentle speech, and scarce knowing how to answer itfitly in the presence of the lady, Alleyne stood with his hand upon thehandle of the door, while Sir Nigel and his companions dismounted. Atthe sound of these fresh voices, and of the tongue in which they spoke,the stranger crashed his dish of nuts down upon the floor, and beganhimself to call for the landlord until the whole house re-echoed withhis roarings. With an ashen face the white-aproned host came runningat his call, his hands shaking and his very hair bristling withapprehension. "For the sake of God, sirs," he whispered as he passed,"speak him fair and do not rouse him! For the love of the Virgin, bemild with him!"

  "Who is this, then?" asked Sir Nigel.

  Alleyne was about to explain, when a fresh roar from the strangerinterrupted him.

  "Thou villain inn-keeper," he shouted, "did I not ask you when I broughtmy lady here whether your inn was clean?"

  "You did, sire."

  "Did I not very particularly ask you whether there were any vermin init?"

  "You did, sire."
/>
  "And you answered me?"

  "That there were not, sire."

  "And yet ere I have been here an hour I find Englishmen crawling aboutwithin it. Where are we to be free from this pestilent race? Can aFrenchman upon French land not sit down in a French auberge withouthaving his ears pained by the clack of their hideous talk? Send thempacking, inn-keeper, or it may be the worse for them and for you."

  "I will, sire, I will!" cried the frightened host, and bustled fromthe room, while the soft, soothing voice of the woman was heardremonstrating with her furious companion.

  "Indeed, gentlemen, you had best go," said mine host. "It is but sixmiles to Villefranche, where there are very good quarters at the sign ofthe 'Lion Rouge.'"

  "Nay," answered Sir Nigel, "I cannot go until I have seen more of thisperson, for he appears to be a man from whom much is to be hoped. Whatis his name and title?"

  "It is not for my lips to name it unless by his desire. But I beg andpray you, gentlemen, that you will go from my house, for I know not whatmay come of it if his rage should gain the mastery of him."

  "By Saint Paul!" lisped Sir Nigel, "this is certainly a man whom itis worth journeying far to know. Go tell him that a humble knight ofEngland would make his further honorable acquaintance, not from anypresumption, pride, or ill-will, but for the advancement of chivalry andthe glory of our ladies. Give him greeting from Sir Nigel Loring, andsay that the glove which I bear in my cap belongs to the most peerlessand lovely of her sex, whom I am now ready to uphold against any ladywhose claim he might be desirous of advancing."

  The landlord was hesitating whether to carry this message or no, whenthe door of the inner room was flung open, and the stranger bounded outlike a panther from its den, his hair bristling and his deformed faceconvulsed with anger.

  "Still here!" he snarled. "Dogs of England, must ye be lashed hence?Tiphaine, my sword!" He turned to seize his weapon, but as he did so hisgaze fell upon the blazonry of sir Nigel's shield, and he stood staring,while the fire in his strange green eyes softened into a sly andhumorous twinkle.

  "Mort Dieu!" cried he, "it is my little swordsman of Bordeaux. I shouldremember that coat-armor, seeing that it is but three days since Ilooked upon it in the lists by Garonne. Ah! Sir Nigel, Sir Nigel! youowe me a return for this," and he touched his right arm, which was girtround just under the shoulder with a silken kerchief.

  But the surprise of the stranger at the sight of Sir Nigel was asnothing compared with the astonishment and the delight which shone uponthe face of the knight of Hampshire as he looked upon the strange faceof the Frenchman. Twice he opened his mouth and twice he peered again,as though to assure himself that his eyes had not played him a trick.

  "Bertrand!" he gasped at last. "Bertrand du Guesclin!"

  "By Saint Ives!" shouted the French soldier, with a hoarse roar oflaughter, "it is well that I should ride with my vizor down, for he thathas once seen my face does not need to be told my name. It is indeed I,Sir Nigel, and here is my hand! I give you my word that there are butthree Englishmen in this world whom I would touch save with the sharpedge of the sword: the prince is one, Chandos the second, and you thethird; for I have heard much that is good of you."

  "I am growing aged, and am somewhat spent in the wars," quoth Sir Nigel;"but I can lay by my sword now with an easy mind, for I can say thatI have crossed swords with him who hath the bravest heart and thestrongest arm of all this great kingdom of France. I have longed for it,I have dreamed of it, and now I can scarce bring my mind to understandthat this great honor hath indeed been mine."

  "By the Virgin of Rennes! you have given me cause to be very certain ofit," said Du Guesclin, with a gleam of his broad white teeth.

  "And perhaps, most honored sir, it would please you to continue thedebate. Perhaps you would condescend to go farther into the matter.God He knows that I am unworthy of such honor, yet I can show myfour-and-sixty quarterings, and I have been present at some bickeringsand scufflings during these twenty years."

  "Your fame is very well known to me, and I shall ask my lady to enteryour name upon my tablets," said Sir Bertrand. "There are many who wishto advance themselves, and who bide their turn, for I refuse no man whocomes on such an errand. At present it may not be, for mine arm is stifffrom this small touch, and I would fain do you full honor when we crossswords again. Come in with me, and let your squires come also, that mysweet spouse, the Lady Tiphaine, may say that she hath seen so famed andgentle a knight."

  Into the chamber they went in all peace and concord, where the LadyTiphaine sat like queen on throne for each in turn to be presented toher. Sooth to say, the stout heart of Sir Nigel, which cared little forthe wrath of her lion-like spouse, was somewhat shaken by the calm, coldface of this stately dame, for twenty years of camp-life had left himmore at ease in the lists than in a lady's boudoir. He bethought him,too, as he looked at her set lips and deep-set questioning eyes, that hehad heard strange tales of this same Lady Tiphaine du Guesclin. Wasit not she who was said to lay hands upon the sick and raise them fromtheir couches when the leeches had spent their last nostrums? Had shenot forecast the future, and were there not times when in the lonelinessof her chamber she was heard to hold converse with some being upon whommortal eye never rested--some dark familiar who passed where doors werebarred and windows high? Sir Nigel sunk his eye and marked a cross onthe side of his leg as he greeted this dangerous dame, and yet erefive minutes had passed he was hers, and not he only but his two youngsquires as well. The mind had gone out of them, and they could but lookat this woman and listen to the words which fell from her lips--wordswhich thrilled through their nerves and stirred their souls like thebattle-call of a bugle.

  Often in peaceful after-days was Alleyne to think of that scene of thewayside inn of Auvergne. The shadows of evening had fallen, and thecorners of the long, low, wood-panelled room were draped in darkness.The sputtering wood fire threw out a circle of red flickering lightwhich played over the little group of wayfarers, and showed up everyline and shadow upon their faces. Sir Nigel sat with elbows upon knees,and chin upon hands, his patch still covering one eye, but his othershining like a star, while the ruddy light gleamed upon his smooth whitehead. Ford was seated at his left, his lips parted, his eyes staring,and a fleck of deep color on either cheek, his limbs all rigid as onewho fears to move. On the other side the famous French captain leanedback in his chair, a litter of nut-shells upon his lap, his huge headhalf buried in a cushion, while his eyes wandered with an amused gleamfrom his dame to the staring, enraptured Englishmen. Then, last ofall, that pale clear-cut face, that sweet clear voice, with its highthrilling talk of the deathlessness of glory, of the worthlessness oflife, of the pain of ignoble joys, and of the joy which lies in allpains which lead to a noble end. Still, as the shadows deepened, shespoke of valor and virtue, of loyalty, honor, and fame, and still theysat drinking in her words while the fire burned down and the red ashturned to gray.

  "By the sainted Ives!" cried Du Guesclin at last, "it is time that wespoke of what we are to do this night, for I cannot think that in thiswayside auberge there are fit quarters for an honorable company."

  Sir Nigel gave a long sigh as he came back from the dreams of chivalryand hardihood into which this strange woman's words had wafted him. "Icare not where I sleep," said he; "but these are indeed somewhat rudelodgings for this fair lady."

  "What contents my lord contents me," quoth she. "I perceive, Sir Nigel,that you are under vow," she added, glancing at his covered eye.

  "It is my purpose to attempt some small deed," he answered.

  "And the glove--is it your lady's?"

  "It is indeed my sweet wife's."

  "Who is doubtless proud of you."

  "Say rather I of her," quoth he quickly. "God He knows that I am notworthy to be her humble servant. It is easy, lady, for a man to rideforth in the light of day, and do his devoir when all men have eyes forhim. But in a woman's heart there is a strength and truth which asks nopraise, and can but be kn
own to him whose treasure it is."

  The Lady Tiphaine smiled across at her husband. "You have often toldme, Bertrand, that there were very gentle knights amongst the English,"quoth she.

  "Aye, aye," said he moodily. "But to horse, Sir Nigel, you and yoursand we shall seek the chateau of Sir Tristram de Rochefort, which istwo miles on this side of Villefranche. He is Seneschal of Auvergne, andmine old war companion."

  "Certes, he would have a welcome for you," quoth Sir Nigel; "but indeedhe might look askance at one who comes without permit over the marches."

  "By the Virgin! when he learns that you have come to draw away theserascals he will be very blithe to look upon your face. Inn-keeper, hereare ten gold pieces. What is over and above your reckoning you may takeoff from your charges to the next needy knight who comes this way. Comethen, for it grows late and the horses are stamping in the roadway."

  The Lady Tiphaine and her spouse sprang upon their steeds withoutsetting feet to stirrup, and away they jingled down the white moonlithighway, with Sir Nigel at the lady's bridle-arm, and Ford a spear'slength behind them. Alleyne had lingered for an instant in the passage,and as he did so there came a wild outcry from a chamber upon theleft, and out there ran Aylward and John, laughing together like twoschoolboys who are bent upon a prank. At sight of Alleyne they slunkpast him with somewhat of a shame-faced air, and springing upon theirhorses galloped after their party. The hubbub within the chamber did notcease, however, but rather increased, with yells of: "A moi, mes amis! Amoi, camarades! A moi, l'honorable champion de l'Eveque de Montaubon! Ala recousse de l'eglise sainte!" So shrill was the outcry that both theinn-keeper and Alleyne, with every varlet within hearing, rushed wildlyto the scene of the uproar.

  It was indeed a singular scene which met their eyes. The room was a longand lofty one, stone floored and bare, with a fire at the further endupon which a great pot was boiling. A deal table ran down the centre,with a wooden wine-pitcher upon it and two horn cups. Some way from itwas a smaller table with a single beaker and a broken wine-bottle. Fromthe heavy wooden rafters which formed the roof there hung rows of hookswhich held up sides of bacon, joints of smoked beef, and strings ofonions for winter use. In the very centre of all these, upon thelargest hook of all, there hung a fat little red-faced man with enormouswhiskers, kicking madly in the air and clawing at rafters, hams, andall else that was within hand-grasp. The huge steel hook had been passedthrough the collar of his leather jerkin, and there he hung like a fishon a line, writhing, twisting, and screaming, but utterly unable to freehimself from his extraordinary position. It was not until Alleyne andthe landlord had mounted on the table that they were able to lift himdown, when he sank gasping with rage into a seat, and rolled his eyesround in every direction.

  "Has he gone?" quoth he.

  "Gone? Who?"

  "He, the man with the red head, the giant man."

  "Yes," said Alleyne, "he hath gone."

  "And comes not back?"

  "No."

  "The better for him!" cried the little man, with a long sigh of relief."Mon Dieu! What! am I not the champion of the Bishop of Montaubon? Ah,could I have descended, could I have come down, ere he fled! Then youwould have seen. You would have beheld a spectacle then. There wouldhave been one rascal the less upon earth. Ma foi, yes!"

  "Good master Pelligny," said the landlord, "these gentlemen have notgone very fast, and I have a horse in the stable at your disposal, forI would rather have such bloody doings as you threaten outside the fourwalls of mine auberge."

  "I hurt my leg and cannot ride," quoth the bishop's champion. "Istrained a sinew on the day that I slew the three men at Castelnau."

  "God save you, master Pelligny!" cried the landlord. "It must be anawesome thing to have so much blood upon one's soul. And yet I do notwish to see so valiant a man mishandled, and so I will, for friendship'ssake, ride after this Englishman and bring him back to you."

  "You shall not stir," cried the champion, seizing the inn-keeper in aconvulsive grasp. "I have a love for you, Gaston, and I would notbring your house into ill repute, nor do such scath to these walls andchattels as must befall if two such men as this Englishman and I fall towork here."

  "Nay, think not of me!" cried the inn-keeper. "What are my walls whenset against the honor of Francois Poursuivant d'Amour Pelligny, championof the Bishop of Montaubon. My horse, Andre!"

  "By the saints, no! Gaston, I will not have it! You have said truly thatit is an awesome thing to have such rough work upon one's soul. I ambut a rude soldier, yet I have a mind. Mon Dieu! I reflect, I weigh, Ibalance. Shall I not meet this man again? Shall I not bear him in mind?Shall I not know him by his great paws and his red head? Ma foi, yes!"

  "And may I ask, sir," said Alleyne, "why it is that you call yourselfchampion of the Bishop of Montaubon?"

  "You may ask aught which it is becoming to me to answer. The bishop hathneed of a champion, because, if any cause be set to test of combat, itwould scarce become his office to go down into the lists with leatherand shield and cudgel to exchange blows with any varlet. He looks aroundhim then for some tried fighting man, some honest smiter who can give ablow or take one. It is not for me to say how far he hath succeeded, butit is sooth that he who thinks that he hath but to do with the Bishop ofMontaubon, finds himself face to face with Francois Poursuivant d'AmourPelligny."

  At this moment there was a clatter of hoofs upon the road, and a varletby the door cried out that one of the Englishmen was coming back.The champion looked wildly about for some corner of safety, and wasclambering up towards the window, when Ford's voice sounded fromwithout, calling upon Alleyne to hasten, or he might scarce find hisway. Bidding adieu to landlord and to champion, therefore, he set off ata gallop, and soon overtook the two archers.

  "A pretty thing this, John," said he. "Thou wilt have holy Church uponyou if you hang her champions upon iron hooks in an inn kitchen."

  "It was done without thinking," he answered apologetically, whileAylward burst into a shout of laughter.

  "By my hilt! mon petit," said he, "you would have laughed also couldyou have seen it. For this man was so swollen with pride that he wouldneither drink with us, nor sit at the same table with us, nor as much asanswer a question, but must needs talk to the varlet all the time thatit was well there was peace, and that he had slain more Englishmen thanthere were tags to his doublet. Our good old John could scarce lay histongue to French enough to answer him, so he must needs reach out hisgreat hand to him and place him very gently where you saw him. But wemust on, for I can scarce hear their hoofs upon the road."

  "I think that I can see them yet," said Ford, peering down the moonlitroad.

  "Pardieu! yes. Now they ride forth from the shadow. And yonder darkclump is the Castle of Villefranche. En avant camarades! or Sir Nigelmay reach the gates before us. But hark, mes amis, what sound is that?"

  As he spoke the hoarse blast of a horn was heard from some woods uponthe right. An answering call rung forth upon their left, and hard uponit two others from behind them.

  "They are the horns of swine-herds," quoth Aylward. "Though why theyblow them so late I cannot tell."

  "Let us on, then," said Ford, and the whole party, setting their spursto their horses, soon found themselves at the Castle of Villefranche,where the drawbridge had already been lowered and the portcullis raisedin response to the summons of Du Guesclin.