CHAPTER XVIII.
HOW SIR NIGEL LORING PUT A PATCH UPON HIS EYE.
It was on the morning of Friday, the eight-and-twentieth day of
November, two days before the feast of St. Andrew, that the cog
and her two prisoners, after a weary tacking up the Gironde and
the Garonne, dropped anchor at last in front of the noble city of
Bordeaux. With wonder and admiration, Alleyne, leaning over the
bulwarks, gazed at the forest of masts, the swarm of boats
darting hither and thither on the bosom of the broad curving
stream, and the gray crescent-shaped city which stretched with
many a tower and minaret along the western shore. Never had he
in his quiet life seen so great a town, nor was there in the
whole of England, save London alone, one which might match it in
size or in wealth. Here came the merchandise of all the fair
countries which are watered by the Garonne and the Dordogne--the
cloths of the south, the skins of Guienne, the wines of the
Medoc--to be borne away to Hull, Exeter, Dartmouth, Bristol or
Chester, in exchange for the wools and woolfels of England. Here
too dwelt those famous smelters and welders who had made the
Bordeaux steel the most trusty upon earth, and could give a
temper to lance or to sword which might mean dear life to its
owner. Alleyne could see the smoke of their forges reeking up
in the clear morning air. The storm had died down now to a
gentle breeze, which wafted to his ears the long-drawn stirring
bugle-calls which sounded from the ancient ramparts.
"Hola, mon petit!" said Aylward, coming up to where he stood.
"Thou art a squire now, and like enough to win the golden spurs,
while I am still the master-bowman, and master-bowman I shall
bide. I dare scarce wag my tongue so freely with you as when we
tramped together past Wilverley Chase, else I might be your guide
now, for indeed I know every house in Bordeaux as a friar knows
the beads on his rosary."
"Nay, Aylward," said Alleyne, laying his hand upon the sleeve of
his companion's frayed jerkin, "you cannot think me so thrall as
to throw aside an old friend because I have had some small share
of good fortune. I take it unkind that you should have thought
such evil of me."
"Nay, mon gar. 'Twas but a flight shot to see if the wind blew
steady, though I were a rogue to doubt it."
"Why, had I not met you, Aylward, at the Lynhurst inn, who can
say where I had now been! Certes, I had not gone to Twynham
Castle, nor become squire to Sir Nigel, nor met----" He paused
abruptly and flushed to his hair, but the bowman was too busy
with his own thoughts to notice his young companion's
embarrassment.
"It was a good hostel, that of the `Pied Merlin,'" he remarked.
"By my ten finger bones! when I hang bow on nail and change my
brigandine for a tunic, I might do worse than take over the dame
and her business."
"I thought," said Alleyne, "that you were betrothed to some one
at Christchurch."
"To three," Aylward answered moodily, "to three. I fear I may
not go back to Christchurch. I might chance to see hotter
service in Hampshire than I have ever done in Gascony. But mark
you now yonder lofty turret in the centre, which stands back from
the river and hath a broad banner upon the summit. See the
rising sun flashes full upon it and sparkles on the golden
lions. 'Tis the royal banner of England, crossed by the prince's
label. There he dwells in the Abbey of St. Andrew, where he hath
kept his court these years back. Beside it is the minster of the
same saint, who hath the town under his very special care."
"And how of yon gray turret on the left?"
"'Tis the fane of St. Michael, as that upon the right is of
St. Remi. There, too, above the poop of yonder nief, you see the
towers of Saint Croix and of Pey Berland. Mark also the mighty
ramparts which are pierced by the three water-gates, and sixteen
others to the landward side."
"And how is it, good Aylward, that there comes so much music from
the town? I seem to hear a hundred trumpets, all calling in
chorus."
"It would be strange else, seeing that all the great lords of
England and of Gascony are within the walls, and each would have
his trumpeter blow as loud as his neighbor, lest it might be
thought that his dignity had been abated. Ma foi! they make as
much louster as a Scotch army, where every man fills himself with
girdle-cakes, and sits up all night to blow upon the toodle-pipe.
See all along the banks how the pages water the horses, and there
beyond the town how they gallop them over the plain! For every
horse you see a belted knight hath herbergage in the town, for,
as I learn, the men-at-arms and archers have already gone forward
to Dax."
"I trust, Aylward," said Sir Nigel, coming upon deck, "that the
men are ready for the land. Go tell them that the boats will be
for them within the hour."
The archer raised his hand in salute, and hastened forward. In
the meantime Sir Oliver had followed his brother knight, and the
two paced the poop together, Sir Nigel in his plum-colored velvet
suit with flat cap of the same, adorned in front with the Lady
Loring's glove and girt round with a curling ostrich feather.
The lusty knight, on the other hand, was clad in the very latest
mode, with cote-hardie, doublet, pourpoint, court-pie, and paltock
of olive-green, picked out with pink and jagged at the edges. A
red chaperon or cap, with long hanging cornette, sat daintily on
the back of his black-curled head, while his gold-hued shoes were
twisted up _a la poulaine_, as though the toes were shooting forth
a tendril which might hope in time to entwine itself around his
massive leg.
"Once more, Sir Oliver," said Sir Nigel, looking shorewards with
sparkling eyes, "do we find ourselves at the gate of honor, the
door which hath so often led us to all that is knightly and
worthy. There flies the prince's banner, and it would be well
that we haste ashore and pay our obeisance to him. The boats
already swarm from the bank."
"There is a goodly hostel near the west gate, which is famed for
the stewing of spiced pullets," remarked Sir Oliver. "We might
take the edge of our hunger off ere we seek the prince, for
though his tables are gay with damask and silver he is no
trencherman himself, and hath no sympathy for those who are his
betters."
"His betters!"
"His betters before the tranchoir, lad. Sniff not treason where
none is meant. I have seen him smile in his quiet way because I
had looked for the fourth time towards the carving squire. And
indeed to watch him dallying with a little gobbet of bread, or
sipping his cup of thrice-watered wine, is enough to make a man
feel shame at his own hunger. Yet war and glory, my good friend,
though well enough in their way, will not serve to tighten such a
belt as clasps my waist."
"How read you that coat which hangs over yonder galley, Alleyne?"
asked Sir Nigel.
"Argent, a bend vert between cotises dancette gules."
"It is a northern coat. I have seen it in the train of the
Percies. From the shields, there is not one of these vessels
which hath not knight or baron aboard. I would mine eyes were
better. How read you this upon the left?"
"Argent and azure, a barry wavy of six."
"Ha, it is the sign of the Wiltshire Stourtons! And there beyond
I see the red and silver of the Worsleys of Apuldercombe, who
like myself are of Hampshire lineage, Close behind us is the
moline cross of the gallant William Molyneux, and beside it the
bloody chevrons of the Norfork Woodhouses, with the amulets of
the Musgraves of Westmoreland. By St. Paul! it would be a very
strange thing if so noble a company were to gather without some
notable deed of arms arising from it. And here is our boat, Sir
Oliver, so it seems best to me that we should go to the abbey
with our squires, leaving Master Hawtayne to have his own way in
the unloading."
The horses both of knights and squires were speedily lowered into
a broad lighter, and reached the shore almost as soon as their
masters. Sir Nigel bent his knee devoutly as he put foot on
land, and taking a small black patch from his bosom he bound it
tightly over his left eye.
"May the blessed George and the memory of my sweet lady-love
raise high my heart!" quoth he. "And as a token I vow that I
will not take this patch from my eye until I have seen something
of this country of Spain, and done such a small deed as it lies
in me to do. And this I swear upon the cross of my sword and
upon the glove of my lady."
"In truth, you take me back twenty years, Nigel," quoth Sir
Oliver, as they mounted and rode slowly through the water-gate.
"After Cadsand, I deem that the French thought that we were an
army of the blind, for there was scarce a man who had not closed
an eye for the greater love and honor of his lady. Yet it goes
hard with you that you should darken one side, when with both
open you can scarce tell a horse from a mule. In truth, friend,
I think that you step over the line of reason in this matter."
"Sir Oliver Buttesthorn," said the little knight shortly, "I
would have you to understand that, blind as I am, I can yet see
the path of honor very clearly, and that that is the road upon
which I do not crave another man's guidance."
"By my soul," said Sir Oliver, "you are as tart as verjuice this
morning! If you are bent upon a quarrel with me I must leave you
to your humor and drop into the `Tete d'Or' here, for I marked a
varlet pass the door who bare a smoking dish, which had,
methought, a most excellent smell."
"Nenny, nenny," cried his comrade, laying his hand upon his knee;
"we have known each other over long to fall out, Oliver, like two
raw pages at their first epreuves. You must come with me first
to the prince, and then back to the hostel; though sure I am that
it would grieve his heart that any gentle cavalier should turn
from his board to a common tavern. But is not that my Lord
Delewar who waves to us? Ha! my fair lord, God and Our Lady be
with you! And there is Sir Robert Cheney. Good-morrow, Robert!
I am right glad to see you."
The two knights walked their horses abreast, while Alleyne and
Ford, with John Norbury, who was squire to Sir Oliver, kept
some paces behind them, a spear's-length in front of Black Simon
and of the Winchester guidon-bearer. Norbury, a lean, silent
man, had been to those parts before, and sat his horse with a
rigid neck; but the two young squires gazed eagerly to right or
left, and plucked each other's sleeves to call attention to the
many strange things on every side of them.
"See to the brave stalls!" cried Alleyne. "See to the noble
armor set forth, and the costly taffeta--and oh, Ford, see to
where the scrivener sits with the pigments and the ink-horns, and
the rolls of sheepskin as white as the Beaulieu napery! Saw man
ever the like before?"
"Nay, man, there are finer stalls in Cheapside," answered Ford,
whose father had taken him to London on occasion of one of the
Smithfield joustings. "I have seen a silversmith's booth there
which would serve to buy either side of this street. But mark
these houses, Alleyne, how they thrust forth upon the top. And
see to the coats-of-arms at every window, and banner or pensil on
the roof."
"And the churches!" cried Alleyne. "The Priory at Christ church
was a noble pile, but it was cold and bare, methinks, by one of
these, with their frettings, and their carvings, and their
traceries, as though some great ivy-plant of stone had curled and
wantoned over the walls."
"And hark to the speech of the folk!" said Ford. "Was ever such
a hissing and clacking? I wonder that they have not wit to learn
English now that they have come under the English crown. By
Richard of Hampole! there are fair faces amongst them. See the
wench with the brown whimple! Out on you, Alleyne, that you
would rather gaze upon dead stone than on living flesh!"
It was little wonder that the richness and ornament, not only of
church and of stall, but of every private house as well, should
have impressed itself upon the young squires. The town was now
at the height of its fortunes. Besides its trade and its
armorers, other causes had combined to pour wealth into it. War,
which had wrought evil upon so many fair cities around, had
brought nought but good to this one. As her French sisters
decayed she increased, for here, from north, and from east, and
from south, came the plunder to be sold and the ransom money to
be spent. Through all her sixteen landward gates there had set
for many years a double tide of empty-handed soldiers hurrying
Francewards, and of enriched and laden bands who brought their
spoils home. The prince's court, too, with its swarm of noble
barons and wealthy knights, many of whom, in imitation of their
master, had brought their ladies and their children from England,
all helped to swell the coffers of the burghers. Now, with this
fresh influx of noblemen and cavaliers, food and lodging were
scarce to be had, and the prince was hurrying forward his forces
to Dax in Gascony to relieve the overcrowding of his capital.
In front of the minster and abbey of St. Andrew's was a large
square crowded with priests, soldiers, women, friars, and
burghers, who made it their common centre for sight-seeing and
gossip. Amid the knot of noisy and gesticulating townsfolk, many
small parties of mounted knights and squires threaded their way
towards the prince's quarters, where the huge iron-clamped doors
were thrown back to show that he held audience within. Two-score
archers stood about the gateway, and beat back from time to time
with their bow-staves the inquisitive and chattering crowd who
swarmed round the portal. Two knights in full armor, with lances
raised and closed visors, sat their horses on either side, while
in the centre, with two pages to tend upon him, there stood a
noble-faced man in flowing purple gown, who pricked off upon a
sheet of parchment the style and title of each applicant,
marshalling them in their due order, and giving to each the place
and facility which his rank demanded. His long white beard and
searching eyes imparted to him an air of masterful dignity, which
was increased by his tabardlike vesture and the heraldic barret
cap with triple plume which bespoke his office.
"It is Sir William de Pakington, the prince's own herald and
scrivener," whispered Sir Nigel, as they pulled up amid the line
of knights who waited admission. "Ill fares it with the man who
would venture to deceive him. He hath by rote the name of every
knight of France or of England; and all the tree of his family,
with his kinships, coat-armor, marriages, augmentations,
abatements, and I know not what beside. We may leave our horses
here with the varlets, and push forward with our squires."
Following Sir Nigel's counsel, they pressed on upon foot until
they were close to the prince's secretary, who was in high debate
with a young and foppish knight, who was bent upon making his way
past him.
"Mackworth!" said the king-at-arms. "It is in my mind, young
sir, that you have not been presented before."
"Nay, it is but a day since I set foot in Bordeaux, but I feared
lest the prince should think it strange that I had not waited
upon him."
"The prince hath other things to think upon," quoth Sir William
de Pakington; "but if you be a Mackworth you must be a Mackworth
of Normanton, and indeed I see now that your coat is sable and
ermine."
"I am a Mackworth of Normanton," the other answered, with some
uneasiness of manner.
"Then you must be Sir Stephen Mackworth, for I learn that when
old Sir Guy died he came in for the arms and the name, the
war-cry and the profit."
"Sir Stephen is my elder brother, and I am Arthur, the second
son," said the youth.
"In sooth and in sooth!" cried the king-at-arms with scornful
eyes. "And pray, sir second son, where is the cadency mark which
should mark your rank. Dare you to wear your brother's coat
without the crescent which should stamp you as his cadet. Away
to your lodgings, and come not nigh the prince until the armorer
hath placed the true charge upon your shield." As the youth
withdrew in confusion, Sir William's keen eye singled out the
five red roses from amid the overlapping shields and cloud of
pennons which faced him.
"Ha!" he cried, "there are charges here which are above
counterfeit. The roses of Loring and the boar's head of
Buttesthorn may stand back in peace, but by my faith! they are
not to be held back in war. Welcome, Sir Oliver, Sir Nigel!
Chandos will be glad to his very heart-roots when he sees you.
This way, my fair sirs. Your squires are doubtless worthy the
fame of their masters. Down this passage, Sir Oliver! Edricson!
Ha! one of the old strain of Hampshire Edricsons, I doubt not.
And Ford, they are of a south Saxon stock, and of good repute.
There are Norburys in Cheshire and in Wiltshire, and also, as I
have heard, upon the borders. So, my fair sirs, and I shall see
that you are shortly admitted."
He had finished his professional commentary by flinging open a
folding door, and ushering the party into a broad hall, which was
filled with a great number of people who were waiting, like
themselves, for an audience. The room was very spacious, lighted
on one side by three arched and mullioned windows, while opposite
was a huge fireplace in which a pile of faggots was blazing
merrily. Many of the company had crowded round the flames, for
the weather was bitterly cold; but the two knights seated
themselves upon a bancal, with their squires standing behind
them. Looking down the room, Alleyne marked that both floor and
ceiling were of the richest oak, the latter spanned by twelve
arching beams, which were adorned at either end by the lilies and
the lions of the royal arms. On the further side was a small
door, on each side of which stood men-at-arms. From time to time
an elderly man in black with rounded shoulders and a long white
wand in his hand came softly forth from this inner room, and
beckoned to one or other of the company, who doffed cap and
followed him.
The two knights were deep in talk, when Alleyne became aware of a
remarkable individual who was walking round the room in their
direction. As he passed each knot of cavaliers every head turned
to look after him, and it was evident, from the bows and
respectful salutations on all sides, that the interest which he
excited was not due merely to his strange personal appearance.
He was tall and straight as a lance, though of a great age, for
his hair, which curled from under his velvet cap of maintenance,
was as white as the new-fallen snow. Yet, from the swing of his
stride and the spring of his step, it was clear that he had not
yet lost the fire and activity of his youth. His fierce
hawk-like face was clean shaven like that of a priest, save for a
long thin wisp of white moustache which drooped down half way to
his shoulder. That he had been handsome might be easily judged
from his high aquiline nose and clear-cut chin; but his features
had been so distorted by the seams and scars of old wounds, and
by the loss of one eye which had been torn from the socket, that
there was little left to remind one of the dashing young knight
who had been fifty years ago the fairest as well as the boldest
of the English chivalry. Yet what knight was there in that hall
of St. Andrew's who would not have gladly laid down youth, beauty,
and all that he possessed to win the fame of this man? For who
could be named with Chandos, the stainless knight, the wise
councillor, the valiant warrior, the hero of Crecy, of
Winchelsea, of Poictiers, of Auray, and of as many other battles
as there were years to his life?
"Ha, my little heart of gold!" he cried, darting forward suddenly
and throwing his arms round Sir Nigel. "I heard that you were
here and have been seeking you."
"My fair and dear lord," said the knight, returning the warrior's
embrace, "I have indeed come back to you, for where else shall I
go that I may learn to be a gentle and a hardy knight?"
"By my troth!" said Chandos with a smile, "it is very fitting
that we should be companions, Nigel, for since you have tied up
one of your eyes, and I have had the mischance to lose one of
mine, we have but a pair between us. Ah, Sir Oliver! you were on
the blind side of me and I saw you not. A wise woman hath made
prophecy that this blind side will one day be the death of me.
We shall go in to the prince anon; but in truth he hath much upon
his hands, for what with Pedro, and the King of Majorca, and the
King of Navarre, who is no two days of the same mind, and the
Gascon barons who are all chaffering for terms like so many
hucksters, he hath an uneasy part to play. But how left you the
Lady Loring?"
"She was well, my fair lord, and sent her service and greetings
to you."
"I am ever her knight and slave. And your journey, I trust that
it was pleasant?"
"As heart could wish. We had sight of two rover galleys, and
even came to have some slight bickering with them."
"Ever in luck's way, Nigel!" quoth Sir John. "We must hear the
tale anon. But I deem it best that ye should leave your squires
and come with me, for, howsoe'er pressed the prince may be, I am
very sure that he would be loth to keep two old comrades-in-arms
upon the further side of the door. Follow close behind me, and I
will forestall old Sir William, though I can scarce promise to
roll forth your style and rank as is his wont." So saying, he led
the way to the inner chamber, the two companions treading close
at his heels, and nodding to right and left as they caught sight
of familiar faces among the crowd.
