"hola, by the splendor of
heaven, here is our cher petit! now, by my ten finger bones!
this is a rare sight to mine eyes." he sprang up and threw his
arms round alleyne's neck, while john, no less pleased, but more
backward and saxon in his habits, stood grinning and bobbing by
the wayside, with his newly won steel cap stuck wrong side
foremost upon his tangle of red hair.
"hast come to stop?" cried the bowman, patting alleyne all over
in his delight. "shall not get away from us again!"
"i wish no better," said he, with a pringling in the eyes at this
hearty greeting.
"well said, lad!" cried big john. "we three shall to the wars
together, and the devil may fly away with the abbot of beaulieu!
but your feet and hosen are all besmudged. hast been in the
water, or i am the more mistaken."
"i have in good sooth," alleyne answered, and then as they
journeyed on their way he told them the many things that had
befallen him, his meeting with the villein, his sight of the
king, his coming upon his brother, with all the tale of the black
welcome and of the fair damsel. they strode on either side, each
with an ear slanting towards him, but ere he had come to the end
of his story the bowman had spun round upon his heel, and was
hastening back the way they had come, breathing loudly through
his nose.
"what then?" asked alleyne, trotting after him and gripping at
his jerkin.
"i am back for minstead, lad."
"and why, in the name of sense?"
"to thrust a handful of steel into the socman. what! hale a
demoiselle against her will, and then loose dogs at his own
brother! let me go!"
"nenny, nenny!" cried alleyne, laughing. "there was no scath
done. come back, friend"--and so, by mingled pushing and
entreaties, they got his head round for christchurch once more.
yet he walked with his chin upon his shoulder, until, catching
sight of a maiden by a wayside well, the smiles came back to his
face and peace to his heart.
"but you," said alleyne, "there have been changes with you also.
why should not the workman carry his tools? where are bow and
sword and cap--and why so warlike, john?"
"it is a game which friend aylward hath been a-teaching of me."
"and i found him an over-apt pupil," grumbled the bowman. "he
hath stripped me as though i had fallen into the hands of the
tardvenus. but, by my hilt! you must render them back to me,
camarade, lest you bring discredit upon my mission, and i will
pay you for them at armorers' prices."
"take them back, man, and never heed the pay," said john. "i did
but wish to learn the feel of them, since i am like to have such
trinkets hung to my own girdle for some years to come."
"ma foi, he was born for a fr companion!" cried aylward, "he hath
the very trick of speech and turn of thought. i take them back
then, and indeed it gives me unease not to feel my yew-stave
tapping against my leg bone. but see, mes garcons, on this side
of the church rises the square and darkling tower of earl
salisbury's castle, and even from here i seem to see on yonder
banner the red roebuck of the montacutes."
"red upon white," said alleyne, shading his eyes; "but whether
roebuck or no is more than i could vouch. how black is the great
tower, and how bright the gleam of arms upon the wall! see below
the flag, how it twinkles like a star!"
"aye, it is the steel head-piece of the watchman," remarked the
archer. "but we must on, if we are to be there before the
drawbridge rises at the vespers bugle; for it is likely that sir
nigel, being so renowned a soldier, may keep hard discipline
within the walls, and let no man enter after sundown." so
saying, he quickened his pace, and the three comrades were soon
close to the straggling and broad-spread town which centered
round the noble church and the frowning castle.
it chanced on that very evening that sir nigel loring, having
supped before sunset, as was his custom, and having himself seen
that pommers and cadsand, his two war-horses, with the thirteen
hacks, the five jennets, my lady's three palfreys, and the great
dapple-gray roussin, had all their needs supplied, had taken his
dogs for an evening breather. sixty or seventy of them, large
and small, smooth and shaggy--deer-hound, boar-hound, blood-
hound, wolf-hound, mastiff, alaun, talbot, lurcher, terrier,
spaniel--snapping, yelling and whining, with score of lolling
tongues and waving tails, came surging down the narrow lane which
leads from the twynham kennels to the bank of avon. two russet-
clad varlets, with loud halloo and cracking whips, walked thigh-
deep amid the swarm, guiding, controlling, and urging. behind
came sir nigel himself, with lady loring upon his arm, the pair
walking slowly and sedately, as befitted both their age and their
condition, while they watched with a smil
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