CHAPTER XXXII.
HOW THE COMPANY TOOK COUNSEL ROUND THE FALLEN TREE.
"Where is Sir Claude Latour?" asked Sir Nigel, as his feet
touched ground.
"He is in camp, near Montpezat, two hours' march from here, my
fair lord," said Johnston, the grizzled bowman who commanded the
archers.
"Then we shall march thither, for I would fain have you all back
at Dax in time to be in the prince's vanguard."
"My lord," cried Alleyne, joyfully, "here are our chargers in the
field, and I see your harness amid the plunder which these rogues
have left behind them."
"By Saint Ives! you speak sooth, young squire," said Du Guesclin.
"There is my horse and my lady's jennet. The knaves led them
from the stables, but fled without them. Now, Nigel, it is great
joy to me to have seen one of whom I have often heard. Yet we
must leave you now, for I must be with the King of Spain ere your
army crosses the mountains."
"I had thought that you were in Spain with the valiant Henry of
Trastamare."
"I have been there, but I came to France to raise succor for him.
I shall ride back, Nigel, with four thousand of the best lances
of France at my back, so that your prince may find he hath a task
which is worthy of him. God be with you, friend, and may we meet
again in better times!"
"I do not think," said Sir Nigel, as he stood by Alleyne's side
looking after the French knight and his lady, "that in all
Christendom you will meet with a more stout-hearted man or a
fairer and sweeter dame. But your face is pale and sad, Alleyne!
Have you perchance met with some hurt during the ruffle?"
"Nay, my fair lord, I was but thinking of my friend Ford, and how
he sat upon my couch no later than yesternight."
Sir Nigel shook his head sadly. "Two brave squires have I lost,"
said he. "I know not why the young shoots should be plucked, and
an old weed left standing, yet certes there must be come good
reason, since God hath so planned it. Did you not note, Alleyne,
that the Lady Tiphaine did give us warning last night that danger
was coming upon us?"
"She did, my lord."
"By Saint Paul! my mind misgives me as to what she saw at Twynham
Castle. And yet I cannot think that any Scottish or French
rovers could land in such force as to beleaguer the fortalice.
Call the Company together, Aylward; and let us on, for it will be
shame to us if we are not at Dax upon the trysting day."
The archers had spread themselves over the ruins, but a blast
upon a bugle brought them all back to muster, with such booty as
they could bear with them stuffed into their pouches or slung
over their shoulders. As they formed into ranks, each man
dropping silently into his place, Sir Nigel ran a questioning eye
over them, and a smile of pleasure played over his face. Tall
and sinewy, and brown, clear-eyed, hard-featured, with the stern
and prompt bearing of experienced soldiers, it would be hard
indeed for a leader to seek for a choicer following. Here and
there in the ranks were old soldiers of the French wars, grizzled
and lean, with fierce, puckered features and shaggy, bristling
brows. The most, however, were young and dandy archers, with
fresh English faces, their beards combed out, their hair curling
from under their close steel hufkens, with gold or jewelled
earrings gleaming in their ears, while their gold-spangled
baldrics, their silken belts, and the chains which many of them
wore round their thick brown necks, all spoke of the brave times
which they had had as free companions. Each had a yew or hazel
stave slung over his shoulder, plain and serviceable with the
older men, but gaudily painted and carved at either end with the
others. Steel caps, mail brigandines, white surcoats with the
red lion of St. George, and sword or battle-axe swinging from
their belts, completed this equipment, while in some cases the
murderous maule or five-foot mallet was hung across the
bowstave, being fastened to their leathern shoulder-belt by a
hook in the centre of the handle. Sir Nigel's heart beat high as
he looked upon their free bearing and fearless faces.
For two hours they marched through forest and marshland, along
the left bank of the river Aveyron; Sir Nigel riding behind his
Company, with Alleyne at his right hand, and Johnston, the old
master bowman, walking by his left stirrup. Ere they had reached
their journey's end the knight had learned all that he would know
of his men, their doings and their intentions. Once, as they
marched, they saw upon the further bank of the river a body of
French men-at-arms, riding very swiftly in the direction of
Villefranche.
"It is the Seneschal of Toulouse, with his following," said
Johnston, shading his eyes with his hand. "Had he been on this
side of the water he might have attempted something upon us."
"I think that it would be well that we should cross," said Sir
Nigel. "It were pity to balk this worthy seneschal, should he
desire to try some small feat of arms."
"Nay, there is no ford nearer than Tourville," answered the old
archer. "He is on his way to Villefranche, and short will be the
shrift of any Jacks who come into his hands, for he is a man of
short speech. It was he and the Seneschal of Beaucaire who hung
Peter Wilkins, of the Company, last Lammastide; for which, by the
black rood of Waltham! they shall hang themselves, if ever they
come into our power. But here are our comrades, Sir Nigel, and
here is our camp."
As he spoke, the forest pathway along which they marched opened
out into a green glade, which sloped down towards the river.
High, leafless trees girt it in on three sides, with a thick
undergrowth of holly between their trunks. At the farther end of
this forest clearing there stood forty or fifty huts, built very
neatly from wood and clay, with the blue smoke curling out from
the roofs. A dozen tethered horses and mules grazed around the
encampment, while a number of archers lounged about: some
shooting at marks, while others built up great wooden fires in
the open, and hung their cooking kettles above them. At the
sight of their returning comrades there was a shout of welcome,
and a horseman, who had been exercising his charger behind the
camp, came cantering down to them. He was a dapper, brisk man,
very richly clad, with a round, clean-shaven face, and very
bright black eyes, which danced and sparkled with excitement.
"Sir Nigel!" he cried. "Sir Nigel Loring, at last! By my soul
we have awaited you this month past. Right welcome, Sir Nigel!
You have had my letter?"
"It was that which brought me here," said Sir Nigel. "But
indeed, Sir Claude Latour, it is a great wonder to me that you
did not yourself lead these bowmen, for surely they could have
found no better leader?"
"None, none, by the Virgin of L'Esparre!" he cried, speaking in
the strange, thick Gascon speech which turns every _v_ into a
_b_. "But you know what these islanders of yours are, Sir Nigel.
They will not be led by any save their own blood and race. There
is no persuading them. Not even I, Claude Latour Seigneur of
Montchateau, master of the high justice, the middle and the low,
could gain their favor. They must needs hold a council and put
their two hundred thick heads together, and then there comes this
fellow Aylward and another, as their spokesmen, to say that they
will disband unless an Englishman of good name be set over them.
There are many of them, as I understand, who come from some great
forest which lies in Hampi, or Hampti--I cannot lay my tongue to
the name. Your dwelling is in those parts, and so their thoughts
turned to you as their leader. But we had hoped that you would
bring a hundred men with you."
"They are already at Dax, where we shall join them," said Sir
Nigel. "But let the men break their fast, and we shall then take
counsel what to do."
"Come into my hut," said Sir Claude. "It is but poor fare that I
can lay before you--milk, cheese, wine, and bacon--yet your
squire and yourself will doubtless excuse it. This is my house
where the pennon flies before the door--a small residence to
contain the Lord of Montchateau."
Sir Nigel sat silent and distrait at his meal, while Alleyne
hearkened to the clattering tongue of the Gascon, and to his talk
of the glories of his own estate, his successes in love, and his
triumphs in war.
"And now that you are here, Sir Nigel," he said at last, "I have
many fine ventures all ready for us. I have heard that Montpezat
is of no great strength, and that there are two hundred thousand
crowns in the castle. At Castelnau also there is a cobbler who
is in my pay, and who will throw us a rope any dark night from
his house by the town wall. I promise you that you shall thrust
your arms elbow-deep among good silver pieces ere the nights are
moonless again; for on every hand of us are fair women, rich
wine, and good plunder, as much as heart could wish."
"I have other plans," answered Sir Nigel curtly; "for I have come
hither to lead these bowmen to the help of the prince, our
master, who may have sore need of them ere he set Pedro upon the
throne of Spain. It is my purpose to start this very day for Dax
upon the Adour, where he hath now pitched his camp."
The face of the Gascon darkened, and his eyes flashed with
resentment, "For me," he said, "I care little for this war, and I
find the life which I lead a very joyous and pleasant one. I
will not go to Dax."
"Nay, think again, Sir Claude," said Sir Nigel gently; "for you
have ever had the name of a true and loyal knight. Surely you
will not hold back now when your master hath need of you."
"I will not go to Dax," the other shouted.
"But your devoir--your oath of fealty?"
"I say that I will not go."
"Then, Sir Claude, I must lead the Company without you."
"If they will follow," cried the Gascon with a sneer. "These are
not hired slaves, but free companions, who will do nothing save
by their own good wills. In very sooth, my Lord Loring, they are
ill men to trifle with, and it were easier to pluck a bone from a
hungry bear than to lead a bowman out of a land of plenty and of
pleasure."
"Then I pray you to gather them together," said Sir Nigel, "and I
will tell them what is in my mind; for if I am their leader they
must to Dax, and if I am not then I know not what I am doing in
Auvergne. Have my horse ready, Alleyne; for, by St. Paul! come
what may, I must be upon the homeward road ere mid-day."
A blast upon the bugle summoned the bowmen to counsel, and they
gathered in little knots and groups around a great fallen tree
which lay athwart the glade. Sir Nigel sprang lightly upon the
trunk, and stood with blinking eye and firm lips looking down at
the ring of upturned warlike faces.
"They tell me, bowmen," said he, "that ye have grown so fond of
ease and plunder and high living that ye are not to be moved from
this pleasant country. But, by Saint Paul! I will believe no
such thing of you, for I can readily see that you are all very
valiant men, who would scorn to live here in peace when your
prince hath so great a venture before him. Ye have chosen me as
a leader, and a leader I will be if ye come with me to Spain; and
I vow to you that my pennon of the five roses shall, if God give
me strength and life, be ever where there is most honor to be
gained. But if it be your wish to loll and loiter in these
glades, bartering glory and renown for vile gold and ill-gotten
riches, then ye must find another leader; for I have lived in
honor, and in honor I trust that I shall die. If there be forest
men or Hampshire men amongst ye, I call upon them to say whether
they will follow the banner of Loring."
"Here's a Romsey man for you!" cried a young bowman with a sprig
of evergreen set in his helmet.
"And a lad from Alresford!" shouted another.
"And from Milton!"
"And from Burley!"
"And from Lymington!"
"And a little one from Brockenhurst!" shouted a huge-limbed
fellow who sprawled beneath a tree.
"By my hilt! lads," cried Aylward, jumping upon the fallen trunk,
"I think that we could not look the girls in the eyes if we let
the prince cross the mountains and did not pull string to clear a
path for him. It is very well in time of peace to lead such a
life as we have had together, but now the war-banner is in the
wind once more, and, by these ten finger-bones! if he go alone,
old Samkin Aylward will walk beside it."
These words from a man as popular as Aylward decided many of the
waverers, and a shout of approval burst from his audience.
"Far be it from me," said Sir Claude Latour suavely, "to persuade
you against this worthy archer, or against Sir Nigel Loring; yet
we have been together in many ventures, and perchance it may not
be amiss if I say to you what I think upon the matter."
"Peace for the little Gascon!" cried the archers. "Let every man
have his word. Shoot straight for the mark, lad, and fair play
for all."
"Bethink you, then," said Sir Claude, "that you go under a hard
rule, with neither freedom nor pleasure--and for what? For
sixpence a day, at the most; while now you may walk across the
country and stretch out either hand to gather in whatever you
have a mind for. What do we not hear of our comrades who have
gone with Sir John Hawkwood to Italy? In one night they have
held to ransom six hundred of the richest noblemen of Mantua.
They camp before a great city, and the base burghers come forth
with the keys, and then they make great spoil; or, if it please
them better, they take so many horse-loads of silver as a
composition; and so they journey on from state to state, rich and
free and feared by all. Now, is not that the proper life for a
soldier?"
"The proper life for a robber!" roared Hordle John, in his
thundering voice.
"And yet there is much in what the Gascon says," said a swarthy
fellow in a weather-stained doublet; "and I for one would rather
prosper in Italy than starve in Spain."
"You were always a cur and a traitor, Mark Shaw," cried Aylward.
"By my hilt! if you will stand forth and draw your sword I will
warrant you that you will see neither one nor the other."
"Nay, Aylward," said Sir Nigel, "we cannot mend the matter by
broiling. Sir Claude, I think that what you have said does you
little honor, and if my words aggrieve you I am ever ready to go
deeper into the matter with you. But you shall have such men as
will follow you, and you may go where you will, so that you come
not with us. Let all who love their prince and country stand
fast, while those who think more of a well-lined purse step forth
upon the farther side."
Thirteen bowmen, with hung heads and sheepish faces, stepped
forward with Mark Shaw and ranged themselves behind Sir Claude.
Amid the hootings and hissings of their comrades, they marched
off together to the Gascon's hut, while the main body broke up
their meeting and set cheerily to work packing their possessions,
furbishing their weapons, and preparing for the march which lay
before them. Over the Tarn and the Garonne, through the vast
quagmires of Armagnac, past the swift-flowing Losse, and so down
the long valley of the Adour, there was many a long league to be
crossed ere they could join themselves to that dark war-cloud
which was drifting slowly southwards to the line of the snowy
peaks, beyond which the banner of England had never yet been
seen.
