rchers who wandered over his province.
at times he would come back in triumph, and a dozen corpses
swinging from the summit of his keep would warn evil-doers that
there was still a law in the land. at others his ventures were
not so happy, and he and his troop would spur it over the
drawbridge with clatter of hoofs hard at their heels and whistle
of arrows about their ears. hard he was of hand and harder of
heart, hated by his foes, and yet not loved by those whom he
protected, for twice he had been taken prisoner, and twice his
ransom had been wrung by dint of blows and tortures out of the
starving peasants and ruined farmers. wolves or watch-dogs, it
was hard to say from which the sheep had most to fear.
the castle of villefranche was harsh and stern as its master. a
broad moat, a high outer wall turreted at the corners, with a
great black keep towering above all--so it lay before them in the
moonlight. by the light of two flambeaux, protruded through the
narrow slit-shaped openings at either side of the ponderous gate,
they caught a glimpse of the glitter of fierce eyes and of the
gleam of the weapons of the guard. the sight of the two-headed
eagle of du guesclin, however, was a passport into any fortalice
in france, and ere they had passed the gate the old border knight
came running forwards with hands out-thrown to greet his famous
countryman. nor was he less glad to see sir nigel, when the
englishman's errand was explained to him, for these archers had
been a sore thorn in his side and had routed two expeditions
which he had sent against them. a happy day it would be for the
seneschal of auvergne when they should learn that the last yew
bow was over the marches.
the material for a feast was ever at hand in days when, if there
was grim want in the cottage, there was at least rude plenty in
the castle. within an hour the guests were seated around a board
which creaked under the great pasties and joints of meat, varied
by those more dainty dishes in which the french excelled, the
spiced ortolan and the truffled beccaficoes. the lady rochefort,
a bright and
laughter-loving dame, sat upon the left of her warlike spouse,
with lady tiphaine upon the right. beneath sat du guesclin and
sir nigel, with sir amory monticourt, of the order of the
hospitallers, and sir otto harnit, a wandering knight from the
kingdom of bohemia. these with alleyne and ford, four french
squires, and the castle chaplain, made the company who sat
together that night and made good cheer in the (castle of
villefranche. the great fire crackled in the grate, the hooded
hawks slept upon their perches, the rough deer-hounds with
expectant eyes crouched upon the tiled floor; close at the elbows
of the guests stood the dapper little lilac-coated pages; the
laugh and jest circled round and all was harmony and comfort.
little they recked of the brushwood men who crouched in their
rags along the fringe of the forest and looked with wild and
haggard eyes at the rich, warm glow which shot a golden bar of
light from the high arched windows of the castle.
supper over, the tables dormant were cleared away as by magic and
trestles and bancals arranged around the blazing fire, for there
was a bitter nip in the air. the lady tiphaine had sunk back in
her cushioned chair, and her long dark lashes drooped low over
her sparkling eyes. alleyne, glancing at her, noted that her
breath came quick and short, and that her cheeks had blanched to
a lily white. du guesclin eyed her keenly from time to time, and
passed his broad brown fingers through his crisp, curly black
hair with the air of a man who is perplexed in his mind.
"these folk here," said the knight of bohemia, "they do not seem
too well fed."
"ah, canaille!" cried the lord of villefranche. "you would
scarce credit it, and yet it is sooth that when i was taken at
poictiers it was all that my wife and foster-brother could do to
raise the money from them for my ransom. the sulky dogs would
rather have three twists of a rack, or the thumbikins for an
hour, than pay out a denier for their own feudal father and liege
lord. yet there is not one of them but hath an old stocking full
of gold pieces hid away in a snug corner."
"why do they not buy food then?" asked sir nigel. "by st. paul!
it seemed to me their bones were breaking through their skin."
"it is their grutching and grumbling which makes them thin. we
have a saying here, sir nigel, that if you pummel jacques
bonhomme he will pat you, but if you pat him he will pummel you.
doubtless you find it so in england."
"ma foi, no!" said sir nigel. "i have two englishmen of this
class in my train, who are at this instant, i make little doubt,
as full of your wine as any cask in your cellar. he who
pummelled them might come by such a pat as he would be likely t
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