VI. IN WHICH LADY ERMYNTRUDE OPENS THE IRON COFFER
AS in a dream Nigel heard these stupendous and incredible words.
As in a dream also he had a vision of a smiling and conciliatory
Abbot, of an obsequious sacrist, and of a band of archers who
cleared a path for him and for the King's messenger through the
motley crowd who had choked the entrance of the Abbey court. A
minute later he was walking by the side of Chandos through the
peaceful cloister, and in front in the open archway of the great
gate was the broad yellow road between its borders of green
meadow-land. The spring air was the sweeter and the more fragrant
for that chill dread of dishonor and captivity which had so
recently frozen his ardent heart. He had already passed the
portal when a hand plucked at his sleeve and he turned to find
himself confronted by the brown honest face and hazel eyes of the
archer who had interfered in his behalf.
" Well," said Aylward, "what have you to say to me, young sir?"
"What can I say, my good fellow, save that I thank you with all my
heart? By Saint Paul! if you had been my blood brother you could
not have stood by me more stoutly."
"Nay! but this is not enough."
Nigel colored with vexation, and the more so as Chandos was
listening with his critical smile to their conversation. "If you
had heard what was said in the court," said he, "you would
understand that I am not blessed at this moment with much of this
world's gear. The black death and the monks have between them
been heavy upon our estate. Willingly would I give you a handful
of gold for your assistance, since that is what you seem to crave;
but indeed I have it not, and so once more I say that you must be
satisfied with my thanks."
"Your gold is nothing to me," said Aylward shortly, "nor would you
buy my loyalty if you filled my wallet with rose nobles, so long
as you were not a man after my own heart. But I have seen you
back the yellow horse, and I have seen you face the Abbot of
Waverley, and you are such a master as I would very gladly serve
if you have by chance a place for such a man. I have seen your
following, and I doubt not that they were stout fellows in your
grandfather's time; but which of them now would draw a bow-string
to his ear? Through you I have left the service of the Abbey of
Waverley, and where can I look now for a post? If I stay here I
am all undone like a fretted bow-string."
"Nay, there can be no difficulty there," said Chandos. "Padieu!
a roistering, swaggering dare-devil archer is worth his price on
the French border. There are two hundred such who march behind my
own person, and I would ask nothing better than to see you among
them."
"I thank you, noble sir, for your offer," said Aylward, " and I
had rather follow your banner than many another one, for it is
well known that it goes ever forward, and I have heard enough of
the wars to know that there are small pickings for the man who
lags behind. Yet, if the Squire will have me, I would choose to
fight under the five roses of Loring, for though I was born in the
hundred of Easebourne and the rape of Chichester, yet I have grown
up and learned to use the longbow in these parts, and as the free
son of a free franklin I had rather serve my own neighbor than a
stranger."
"My good fellow," said Nigel, "I have told you that I could in no
wise reward you for such service."
"If you will but take me to the wars I will see to my own reward,"
said Aylward. "Till then I ask for none, save a corner of your
table and six feet of your floor, for it is certain that the only
reward I would get from the Abbey for this day's work would be the
scourge for my back and the stocks for my ankles. Samkin Aylward
is your man, Squire Nigel, from this hour on, and by these ten
finger-bones he trusts the Devil will fly away with him if ever he
gives you cause to regret it!" So saying he raised his hand to
his steel cap in salute, slung his great yellow bow over his back,
and followed on some paces in the rear of his new master.
"Pardieu! I have arrived a la bonne heure," said Chandos. "I
rode from Windsor and came to your manor house, to find it empty
save for a fine old dame, who old me of your troubles. From her I
walked across to the Abbey, and none too soon, for what with
cloth-yard shafts for your body, and bell, book and candle for
your soul, it was no very cheerful outlook. But here is the very
dame herself, if I mistake not."
It was indeed the formidable figure of the Lady Ermyntrude, gaunt,
bowed and leaning on her staff, which had emerged from the door of
the manor-house and advanced to greet them. She croaked with
laughter, and shook her stick at the great building as she heard
of the discomfiture of the Abbey court. Then she led the way into
the hall where the best which she could provide had been laid out
for their illustrious guest. There was Chandos blood in her own
veins, traceable back through the de Greys, de Multons, de
Valences, de Montagues and other high and noble strains, so that
the meal had been eaten and cleared before she had done tracing
the network of intermarriages and connections, with quarterings,
impalements, lozenges and augmentations by which the blazonry of
the two families might be made to show a common origin. Back to
the Conquest and before it there was not a noble family-tree every
twig and bud of which was not familiar to the Dame Ermyntrude.
And now when the trestles were cleared and the three were left
alone in the hall, Chandos broke his message to the lady. "King
Edward hath ever borne in mind that noble knight your son Sir
Eustace," said he. "He will journey to Southampton next week, and
I am his harbinger. He bade me say, noble and honored lady, that
he would come from Guildford in any easy stage so that he might
spend one night under your roof."
The old dame flushed with pleasure, and then turned white with
vexation at the words. "It is in truth great honor to the house
of Loring," said she, "yet our roof is now humble and, as you have
seen, our fare is plain. The King knows not that we are so poor.
I fear lest we seem churlish and niggard in his eyes."
But Chandos reasoned away her fears. The King's retinue would
journey on to Farnham Castle. There were no ladies in his party.
Though he was King, still he was a hardy soldier, and cared little
for his ease. In any case, since he had declared his coming, they
must make the best of it. Finally, with all delicacy, Chandos
offered his own purse if it would help in the matter. But already
the Lady Ermyntrude had recovered her composure.
"Nay, fair kinsman, that may not be," said she. "I will make such
preparation as I may for the King. He will bear in mind that if
the house of Loring can give nothing else, they have always held
their blood and their lives at his disposal."
Chandos was to ride on to Farnham Castle and beyond, but he
expressed his desire to have a warm bath ere he left Tilford, for
like most of his fellow-knights, he was much addicted to simmering
in the hottest water that he could possibly endure. The bath
therefore, a high hooped arrangement like a broader but shorter
churn, was carried into the privacy of the guest-chamber, and
thither it was that Nigel was summoned to hold him company while
he stewed and sweltered in his tub.
Nigel perched himself upon the side of the high bed, swinging his
legs over the edge and gazing with wonder and amusement at the
quaint face, the ruffled yellow hair, and the sinewy shoulders of
the famous warrior, dimly seen amid a pillar of steam. He was in
a mood for talk; so Nigel with eager lips plied him with a
thousand questions about the wars, hanging upon every word which
came back to him, like those of the ancient oracles, out of the
mist and the cloud. To Chandos himself, the old soldier for whom
war had lost its freshness, it was a renewal of his own ardent
youth to listen to Nigel's rapid questions and to mark the rapt
attention with which he listened.
"Tell me of the Welsh, honored sir," asked the Squire. "What
manner of soldiers are the Welsh?"
"They are very valiant men of war," said Chandos, splashing about
in his tub. "There is good skirmishing to be had in their valleys
if you ride with a small following. They flare up like a
furzebush in the flames, but if for a short space you may abide
the heat of it, then there is a chance that it may be cooler."
"And the Scotch?" asked Nigel. "You have made war upon them also,
as I understand."
"The Scotch knights have no masters in the world, and he who can
hold his own with the best of them, be it a Douglas, a Murray or a
Seaton, has nothing more to learn. Though you be a hard man, you
will always meet as hard a one if you ride northward. If the
Welsh be like the furze fire, then, padieu! the Scotch are the
peat, for they will smolder and you will never come to the end of
them. I have had many happy hours on the marches of Scotland, for
even if there be no war the Percies of Alnwick or the Governor of
Carlisle can still raise a little bickering with the border
clans."
"I bear in mind that my father was wont to say that they were very
stout spearmen."
"No better in the world, for the spears are twelve foot long and
they hold them in very thick array; but their archers are weak,
save only the men of Ettrick and Selkirk who come from the forest.
I pray you to open the lattice, Nigel, for the steam is overthick.
Now in Wales it is the spearmen who are weak, and there are no
archers in these islands like the men of Gwent with their bows of
elm, which shoot with such power that I have known a cavalier to
have his horse killed when the shaft had passed through his mail
breeches, his thigh and his saddle. And yet, what is the most
strongly shot arrow to these new balls of iron driven by the fire-
powder which will crush a man's armor as an egg is crushed by a
stone? Our fathers knew them not."
"Then the better for us," cried Nigel, "since there is at least
one honorable venture which is all our own."
Chandos chuckled and turned upon the flushed youth a twinkling and
sympathetic eye. "You have a fashion of speech which carries me
back to the old men whom I met in my boyhood," said he. "There
were some of the real old knight-errants left in those days, and
they spoke as you do. Young as you are, you belong to another
age. Where got you that trick of thought and word?"
"I have had only one to teach me, the Lady Ermyntrude."
"Pardieu! she has trained a proper young hawk ready to stoop at a
lordly quarry," said Chandos. "I would that I had the first
unhooding of you. Will you not ride with me to the wars?"
The tears brimmed over from Nigel's eyes, and he wrung the gaunt
hand extended from the bath. "By Saint Paul! what could I ask
better in the world? I fear to leave her, for she has none other
to care for her. But if it can in any way be arranged - "
"The King's hand may smooth it out. Say no more until he is here.
But if you wish to ride with me - "
"What could man wish for more? Is there a Squire in England who
would not serve under the banner of Chandos! Whither do you go,
fair sir? And when do you go? Is it to Scotland? Is it to
Ireland? Is it to France? But alas, alas!"
The eager face had clouded. For the instant he had forgotten that
a suit of armor was as much beyond his means as a service of gold
plate. Down in a twinkling came all his high hopes to the ground.
Oh, these sordid material things, which come between our dreams
and their fulfilment! The Squire of such a knight must dress with
the best. Yet all the fee simple of Tilford would scarce suffice
for one suit of plate.
Chandos, with his quick wit and knowledge of the world, had
guessed the cause of this sudden change. " If you fight under my
banner it is for me to find the weapons," said he. "Nay, I will
not be denied."
But Nigel shook his head sadly. " It may not be. The Lady
Ermyntrude would sell this old house and every acre round it, ere
she would permit me to accept this gracious bounty which you
offer. Yet I do not despair, for only last week I won for myself
a noble war-horse for which I paid not a penny, so perchance a
suit of armor may also come my way."
"And how won you the horse?"
"It was given me by the monks of Waverley."
"This is wonderful. Pardieu! I should have expected, from what I
had seen, that they would have given you little save their
malediction."
"They had no use for the horse, and they gave it to me."
"Then we have only to find some one who has no use for a suit of
armor and will give it to you. Yet I trust that you will think
better of it and let me, since that good lady proves that I am
your kinsman, fit you for the wars."
"I thank you, noble sir, and if I should turn to anyone it would
indeed be to you; but there are other ways which I would try
first. But I pray you, goon Sir John, to tell me of some of your
noble spear-runnings against the French, for the whole land rings
with the tale of your deeds and I have heard that in one morning
three champions have fallen before your lance. Was it not so?"
"That it was indeed so these scars upon my body will prove; but
these were the follies of my youth."
"How can you call them follies? Are they not the means by which
honorable advancement may be gained and one's lady exalted?"
"It is right that you should think so, Nigel. At your age a man
should have a hot head and a high heart. I also had both and
fought for my lady's glove or for my vow or for the love of
fighting. But as one grows older and commands men one has other
things to think of. One thinks less of one's own honor and more
of the safety of the army. It is not your own spear, your own
sword, your own arm, which will turn the tide of fight; but a cool
head may save a stricken field. He who knows when his horsemen
should charge and when they should fight on foot, he who can mix
his archers with his men-at-arms in such a fashion that each can
support the other, he who can hold up his reserve and pour it into
the battle when it may turn the tide, he who has a quick eye for
boggy land and broken ground - that is the man who is of more
worth to an army than Roland, Oliver and all the paladins."
"Yet if his knights fail him, honored sir, all his head-work will
not prevail."
"True enough, Nigel; so may every Squire ride to the wars with his
soul on fire, as yours is now. But I must linger no longer, for
the King's service must be done. I will dress, and when I have
bid farewell to the noble Dame Ermyntrude I will on to Farnham;
but you will see me here again on the day that the King comes."
So Chandos went his way that evening, walking his horse through
the peaceful lanes and twanging his citole as he went, for he
loved music and was famous for his merry songs. The cottagers
came from their huts and laughed and clapped as the rich full
voice swelled and sank to the cheery tinkling of the strings.
There were few who saw him pass that would have guessed that the
quaint one-eyed man with the yellow hair was the toughest fighter
and craftiest man of war in Europe. Once only, as he entered
Farnham, an old broken man-at-arms ran out in his rags and
clutched at his horse as a dog gambols round his master. Chandos
threw him a kind word and a gold coin as he passed on to the
castle.
In the meanwhile young Nigel and the Lady Ermyntrude, left alone
with their difficulties, looked blankly in each other's faces.
"The cellar is well nigh empty," said Nigel. "There are two
firkins of small beer and a tun of canary. How can we set such
drink before the King and his court?"
"We must have some wine of Bordeaux. With that and the mottled
cow's calf and the fowls and a goose, we can set forth a
sufficient repast if he stays only for the one night. How many
will be with him?"
"A dozen, at the least."
The old dame wrung her hands in despair. "Nay, take it not to
heart, dear lady!" said Nigel. "We have but to say the word and
the King would stop at Waverley, where he and his court would find
all that they could wish."
"Never!" cried the Lady Ermyntrude. "It would be shame and
disgrace to us forever if the King were to pass our door when he
has graciously said that he was fain to enter in. Nay, I will do
it. Never did I think that I would be forced to this, but I know
that he would wish it, and I will do it."
She went to the old iron coffer, and taking a small key from her
girdle she unlocked it. The rusty hinges, screaming shrilly as
she threw back the lid, proclaimed how seldom it was that she had
penetrated into the sacred recesses of her treasure-chest. At the
top were some relics of old finery: a silken cloak spangled with
golden stars, a coif of silver filigree, a roll of Venetian lace.
Beneath were little packets tied in silk which the old lady
handled with tender care: a man's hunting-glove, a child's shoe, a
love-knot done in faded green ribbon, some letters in rude rough
script, and a vernicle of Saint Thomas. Then from the very bottom
of the box she drew three objects, swathed in silken cloth, which
she uncovered and laid upon the table. The one was a bracelet of
rough gold studded with uncut rubies, the second was a gold
salver, and the third was a high goblet of the same metal.
"You have heard me speak of these, Nigel, but never before have
you seen them, for indeed I have not opened the hutch for fear
that we might be tempted in our great need to turn them into
money. I have kept them out of my sight and even out of my
thoughts. But now it is the honor of the house which calls, and
even these must go. This goblet was that which my husband, Sir
Nele Loring, won after the intaking of Belgrade when he and his
comrades held the lists from matins to vespers against the flower
of the French chivalry. The salver was given him by the Earl of
Pembroke in memory of his valor upon the field of Falkirk."
"And the bracelet, dear lady?"
"You will not laugh, Nigel?"
"Nay, why should I laugh?"
"The bracelet was the prize for the Queen of Beauty which was
given to me before all the high-born ladies of England by Sir Nele
Loring a month before our marriage - the Queen of Beauty, Nigel -
I, old and twisted, as you see me. Five strong men went down
before his lance ere he won that trinket for me. And now in my
last years - "
" Nay, dear and honored lady, we will not part with it."
"Yes, Nigel, he would have it so. I can hear his whisper in my
ear. Honor to him was everything - the rest nothing. Take it
from me, Nigel, ere my heart weakens. Tomorrow you will ride with
it to Guildford; you will see Thorold the goldsmith; and you will
raise enough money to pay for all that we shall need for the
King's coming." She turned her face away to hide the quivering of
her wrinkled features, and the crash of the iron lid covered the
sob which burst from her overwrought soul.
