what you can with her, and with
agatha my young tire-woman, and with dorothy pierpont."
and so alleyne found himself not only chosen as squire to a
knight but also as squire to three damosels, which was even
further from the part which he had thought to play in the world.
yet he could but agree to do what he might, and so went forth
from the castle hall with his face flushed and his head in a
whirl at the thought of the strange and perilous paths which his
feet were destined to tread.
chapter xii.
how alleyne learned more than he could teach.
and now there came a time of stir and bustle, of furbishing of
arms and clang of hammer from all the southland counties. fast
spread the tidings from thorpe to thorpe and from castle to
castle, that the old game was afoot once more, and the lions and
lilies to be in the field with the early spring. great news this
for that fierce old country, whose trade for a generation had
been war, her exports archers and her imports prisoners. for six
years her sons had chafed under an unwonted peace. now they flew
to their arms as to their birthright. the old soldiers of crecy,
of nogent, and of poictiers were glad to think that they might
hear the war-trumpet once more, and gladder still were the hot
youth who had chafed for years under the martial tales of their
sires. to pierce the great mountains of the south, to fight the
tawners of the fiery moors, to follow the greatest captain of the
age, to find sunny cornfields and vineyards, when the marches of
picardy and normandy were as rare and bleak as the jedburgh
forests--here was a golden prospect for a race of warriors. from
sea to sea there was stringing of bows in the cottage and clang
of steel in the castle.
nor did it take long for every stronghold to pour forth its
cavalry, and every hamlet its footmen. through the late autumn
and the early winter every road and country lane resounded with
nakir and trumpet, with the neigh of the war-horse and the
clatter of marching men. from the wrekin in the welsh marches to
the cotswolds in the west or butser in the south, there was no
hill-top from which the peasant might not have seen the bright
shimmer of arms, the toss and flutter of plume and of pensil.
from bye-path, from woodland clearing, or from winding moor-side
track these little rivulets of steel united in the larger roads
to form a broader stream, growing ever fuller and larger as it
approached the nearest or most commodious seaport. and there all
day, and day after day, there was bustle and crowding and labor,
while the great ships loaded up, and one after the other spread
their white pinions and darted off to the open sea, amid the
clash of cymbals and rolling of drums and lusty shouts of those
who went and of those who waited. from orwell to the dart there
was no port which did not send forth its little fleet, gay with
streamer and bunting, as for a joyous festival. thus in the
season of the waning days the might of england put forth on to
the waters.
in the ancient and populous county of hampshire there was no lack
of leaders or of soldiers for a service which promised either
honor or profit. in the north the saracen's head of the brocas
and the scarlet fish of the de roches were waving over a strong
body of archers from holt, woolmer, and harewood forests. de
borhunte was up in the east, and sir john de montague in the
west. sir luke de ponynges, sir thomas west, sir maurice de
bruin, sir arthur lipscombe, sir walter ramsey, and stout sir
oliver buttesthorn were all marching south with levies from
andover, arlesford, odiham and winchester, while from sussex came
sir john clinton, sir thomas cheyne, and sir john fallislee, with
a troop of picked men-at-arms, making for their port at
southampton. greatest of all the musters, however, was that of
twynham castle, for the name and the fame of sir nigel loring
drew towards him the keenest and boldest spirits, all eager to
serve under so valiant a leader. archers from the new forest and
the forest of bere, billmen from the pleasant country which is
watered by the stour, the avon, and the itchen, young cavaliers
from the ancient hampshire houses, all were pushing for
christchurch to take service under the banner of the five
scarlet roses.
and now, could sir nigel have shown the bachelles of land which
the laws of rank required, he might well have cut his forked
pennon into a square banner, and taken such a following into the
field as would have supported the dignity of a banneret.
but poverty was heavy upon him, his land was scant, his coffers
empty, and the very castle which covered him the holding of
another. sore was his heart when he saw rare bowmen and war-
hardened spearmen turned away from his gates, for the lack of the
money which might equip and pay them. yet th
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