HE was a middle-sized man, of most massive and robust build, withan arching chest and extraordinary breadth of shoulder. Hisshaven face was as brown as a hazel-nut, tanned and dried by theweather, with harsh, well-marked features, which were notimproved by a long white scar which stretched from the corner ofhis left nostril to the angle of the jaw. His eyes were brightand searching, with something of menace and of authority in theirquick glitter, and his mouth was firm-set and hard, as befittedone who was wont to set his face against danger. A straightsword by his side and a painted long-bow jutting over hisshoulder proclaimed his profession, while his scarred brigandineof chain-mail and his dinted steel cap showed that he was noholiday soldier, but one who was even now fresh from the wars. Awhite surcoat with the lion of St. George in red upon the centrecovered his broad breast, while a sprig of new-plucked broom atthe side of his head-gear gave a touch of gayety and grace to hisgrim, war-worn equipment.

"Ha!" he cried, blinking like an owl in the sudden glare. "Goodeven to you, comrades! Hola! a woman, by my soul!" and in aninstant he had clipped Dame Eliza round the waist and was kissingher violently. His eye happening to wander upon the maid,however, he instantly abandoned the mistress and danced off afterthe other, who scurried in confusion up one of the ladders, anddropped the heavy trap-door upon her pursuer. He then turnedback and saluted the landlady once more with the utmost relishand satisfaction.

"La petite is frightened," said he. "Ah, c'est l'amour, l'amour!Curse this trick of French, which will stick to my throat. Imust wash it out with some good English ale. By my hilt!camarades, there is no drop of French blood in my body, and I ama true English bowman, Samkin Aylward by name; and I tell you,mes amis, that it warms my very heart-roots to set my feet on thedear old land once more. When I came off the galley at Hythe,this very day, I down on my bones, and I kissed the good brownearth, as I kiss thee now, ma belle, for it was eight long yearssince I had seen it. The very smell of it seemed life to me.But where are my six rascals? Hola, there! En avant!"

At the order, six men, dressed as common drudges, marchedsolemnly into the room, each bearing a huge bundle upon his head.They formed in military line, while the soldier stood in front ofthem with stern eyes, checking off their several packages.

"Number one--a French feather-bed with the two counter-panes ofwhite sandell," said he.

"Here, worthy sir," answered the first of the bearers, laying agreat package down in the corner.

"Number two--seven ells of red Turkey cloth and nine ells ofcloth of gold. Put it down by the other. Good dame, I prytheegive each of these men a bottrine of wine or a jack of ale.Three-a full piece of white Genoan velvet with twelve ells ofpurple silk. Thou rascal, there is dirt on the hem! Thou hastbrushed it against some wall, coquin!"

"Not I, most worthy sir," cried the carrier, shrinking away fromthe fierce eyes of the bowman.

"I say yes, dog! By the three kings! I have seen a man gasp outhis last breath for less. Had you gone through the pain andunease that I have done to earn these things you would be at morecare. I swear by my ten finger-bones that there is not one ofthem that hath not cost its weight in French blood! Four--anincense-boat, a ewer of silver, a gold buckle and a cope workedin pearls. I found them, camarades, at the Church of St. Denisin the harrying of Narbonne, and I took them away with me lestthey fall into the hands of the wicked. Five--a cloak of furturned up with minever, a gold goblet with stand and cover, and abox of rose-colored sugar. See that you lay them together. Six--a box of monies, three pounds of Limousine gold-work, a pair ofboots, silver tagged, and, lastly, a store of naping linen. So,the tally is complete! Here is a groat apiece, and you may go."

"Go whither, worthy sir?" asked one of the carriers.

"Whither? To the devil if ye will. What is it to me? Now, mabelle, to supper. A pair of cold capons, a mortress of brawn, orwhat you will, with a flask or two of the right Gascony. I havecrowns in my pouch, my sweet, and I mean to spend them. Bring inwine while the food is dressing. Buvons my brave lads; you shalleach empty a stoup with me."

Here was an offer which the company in an English inn at that orany other date are slow to refuse. The flagons were re-gatheredand came back with the white foam dripping over their edges. Twoof the woodmen and three of the laborers drank their portions offhurriedly and trooped off together, for their homes were distantand the hour late. The others, however, drew closer, leaving theplace of honor to the right of the gleeman to the free-handednew-comer. He had thrown off his steel cap and his brigandine,and had placed them with his sword, his quiver and his paintedlong-bow, on the top of his varied heap of plunder in the corner.Now, with his thick and somewhat bowed legs stretched in front ofthe blaze, his green jerkin thrown open, and a great quart potheld in his corded fist, he looked the picture of comfort and ofgood-fellowship. His hard-set face had softened, and the thickcrop of crisp brown curls which had been hidden by his helmetgrew low upon his massive neck. He might have been forty yearsof age, though hard toil and harder pleasure had left their grimmarks upon his features. Alleyne had ceased painting his piedmerlin, and sat, brush in hand, staring with open eyes at a typeof man so strange and so unlike any whom he had met. Men hadbeen good or had been bad in his catalogue, but here was a manwho was fierce one instant and gentle the next, with a curse onhis lips and a smile in his eye. What was to be made of such aman as that?

It chanced that the soldier looked up and saw the questioningglance which the young clerk threw upon him. He raised hisflagon and drank to him, with a merry flash of his white teeth.

"A toi, mon garcon," he cried. "Hast surely never seen a man-at-arms, that thou shouldst stare so?"

"I never have," said Alleyne frankly, "though I have oft heardtalk of their deeds."

"By my hilt!" cried the other, "if you were to cross the narrowsea you would find them as thick as bees at a tee-hole. Couldstnot shoot a bolt down any street of Bordeaux, I warrant, but youwould pink archer, squire, or knight. There are morebreastplates than gaberdines to be seen, I promise you."

"And where got you all these pretty things?" asked Hordle John,pointing at the heap in the corner.

"Where there is as much more waiting for any brave lad to pick itup. Where a good man can always earn a good wage, and where heneed look upon no man as his paymaster, but just reach his handout and help himself. Aye, it is a goodly and a proper life.And here I drink to mine old comrades, and the saints be withthem! Arouse all together, me, enfants, under pain of mydispleasure. To Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!"

"Sir Claude Latour and the White Company!" shouted thetravellers, draining off their goblets.

"Well quaffed, mes braves! It is for me to fill your cups again,since you have drained them to my dear lads of the white jerkin.Hola! mon ange, bring wine and ale. How runs the old stave?--

We'll drink all together To the gray goose feather And theland where the gray goose flew."

He roared out the catch in a harsh, unmusical voice, and endedwith a shout of laughter. "I trust that I am a better bowmanthan a minstrel," said he.

"Methinks I have some remembrance of the lilt," remarked thegleeman, running his fingers over the strings, "Hoping that itwill give thee no offence, most holy sir"--with a vicious snap atAlleyne--"and with the kind permit of the company, I will evenventure upon it."

Many a time in the after days Alleyne Edricson seemed to see thatscene, for all that so many which were stranger and more stirringwere soon to crowd upon him. The fat, red-faced gleeman, thelistening group, the archer with upraised finger beating in timeto the music, and the huge sprawling figure of Hordle John, allthrown into red light and black shadow by the flickering fire inthe centre--memory was to come often lovingly back to it. At thetime he was lost in admiration at the deft way in which thejongleur disguised the loss of his two missing strings, and thelusty, hearty fashion in which he trolled out his little balladof the outland bowmen, which ran in some such fashion as this:

What of the bow? The bow was made in England: Of true wood, ofyew wood, The wood of English bows; So men who are free Love theold yew tree And the land where the yew tree grows.

What of the cord? The cord was made in England: A rough cord, atough cord, A cord that bowmen love; So we'll drain our jacks Tothe English flax And the land where the hemp was wove.

What of the shaft? The shaft was cut in England: A long shaft,a strong shaft, Barbed and trim and true; So we'll drink alltogether To the gray goose feather And the land where the graygoose flew.

What of the men? The men were bred in England: The bowman--theyeoman-- The lads of dale and fell Here's to you--and to you; Tothe hearts that are true And the land where the true heartsdwell.

"Well sung, by my hilt!" shouted the archer in high delight."Many a night have I heard that song, both in the old war-timeand after in the days of the White Company, when Black Simon ofNorwich would lead the stave, and four hundred of the best bowmenthat ever drew string would come roaring in upon the chorus. Ihave seen old John Hawkwood, the same who has led half theCompany into Italy, stand laughing in his beard as he heard it,until his plates rattled again. But to get the full smack of itye must yourselves be English bowmen, and be far off upon anoutland soil."

Whilst the song had been singing Dame Eliza and the maid hadplaced a board across two trestles, and had laid upon it theknife the spoon, the salt, the tranchoir of bread, and finallythe smoking dish which held the savory supper. The archersettled himself to it like one who had known what it was to findgood food scarce; but his tongue still went as merrily as histeeth.

"It passes me," he cried, "how all you lusty fellows can bidescratching your backs at home when there are such doings over theseas. Look at me--what have I to do? It is but the eye to thecord, the cord to the shaft, and the shaft to the mark. There isthe whole song of it. It is but what you do yourselves forpleasure upon a Sunday evening at the parish village butts."

"And the wage?" asked a laborer.

"You see what the wage brings," he answered. "I eat of the best,and I drink deep. I treat my friend, and I ask no friend totreat me. I clap a silk gown on my girl's back. Never aknight's lady shall be better betrimmed and betrinketed. How ofall that, mon garcon? And how of the heap of trifles that youcan see for yourselves in yonder corner? They are from the SouthFrench, every one, upon whom I have been making war. By my hilt!camarades, I think that I may let my plunder speak for itself."

"It seems indeed to be a goodly service," said the tooth-drawer.

"Tete bleu! yes, indeed. Then there is the chance of a ransom.Why, look you, in the affair at Brignais some four years back,when the companies slew James of Bourbon, and put his army to thesword, there was scarce a man of ours who had not count, baron,or knight. Peter Karsdale, who was but a common country loutnewly brought over, with the English fleas still hopping underhis doublet, laid his great hands upon the Sieur Amaury deChatonville, who owns half Picardy, and had five thousand crownsout of him, with his horse and harness. 'Tis true that a Frenchwench took it all off Peter as quick as the Frenchman paid it;but what then? By the twang of string! it would be a bad thingif money was not made to be spent; and how better than on woman--eh, ma belle?"

"It would indeed be a bad thing if we had not our brave archersto bring wealth and kindly customs into the country," quoth DameEliza, on whom the soldier's free and open ways had made a deepimpression.

"A toi, ma cherie!" said he, with his hand over his heart."Hola! there is la petite peeping from behind the door. A toi,aussi, ma petite! Mon Dieu! but the lass has a good color!"

"There is one thing, fair sir," said the Cambridge student in hispiping voice, "which I would fain that you would make more clear.As I understand it, there was peace made at the town of Bretignysome six years back between our most gracious monarch and theKing of the French. This being so, it seems most passing strangethat you should talk so loudly of war and of companies when thereis no quarrel between the French and us."

"Meaning that I lie," said the archer, laying down his knife.

"May heaven forfend!" cried the student hastily. "Magna estveritas sed rara, which means in the Latin tongue that archersare all honorable men. I come to you seeking knowledge, for itis my trade to learn."

"I fear that you are yet a 'prentice to that trade," quoth thesoldier; "for there is no child over the water but could answerwhat you ask. Know then that though there may be peace betweenour own provinces and the French, yet within the marches ofFrance there is always war, for the country is much dividedagainst itself, and is furthermore harried by bands of flayers,skinners, Brabacons, tardvenus, and the rest of them. When everyman's grip is on his neighbor's throat, and every five-sous-pieceof a baron is marching with tuck of drum to fight whom he will,it would be a strange thing if five hundred brave English boyscould not pick up a living. Now that Sir John Hawkwood hath gonewith the East Anglian lads and the Nottingham woodmen into theservice of the Marquis of Montferrat to fight against the Lord ofMilan, there are but ten score of us left, yet I trust that I maybe able to bring some back with me to fill the ranks of the WhiteCompany. By the tooth of Peter! it would be a bad thing if Icould not muster many a Hamptonshire man who would be ready tostrike in under the red flag of St. George, and the more so ifSir Nigel Loring, of Christchurch, should don hauberk once moreand take the lead of us."

"Ah, you would indeed be in luck then," quoth a woodman; "for itis said that, setting aside the prince, and mayhap good old SirJohn Chandos, there was not in the whole army a man of such triedcourage."

"It is sooth, every word of it," the archer answered. "I haveseen him with these two eyes in a stricken field, and never didman carry himself better. Mon Dieu! yes, ye would not credit itto look at him, or to hearken to his soft voice, but from thesailing from Orwell down to the foray to Paris, and that is cleartwenty years, there was not a skirmish, onfall, sally, bushment,escalado or battle, but Sir Nigel was in the heart of it. I gonow to Christchurch with a letter to him from Sir Claude Latourto ask him if he will take the place of Sir John Hawkwood; andthere is the more chance that he will if I bring one or twolikely men at my heels. What say you, woodman: wilt leave thebucks to loose a shaft at a nobler mark?"

The forester shook his head. "I have wife and child at EmeryDown," quoth he; "I would not leave them for such a venture."

You, then, young sir?" asked the archer.

"Nay, I am a man of peace," said Alleyne Edricson. "Besides, Ihave other work to do."

"Peste!" growled the soldier, striking his flagon on the boarduntil the dishes danced again. "What, in the name of the devil,hath come over the folk? Why sit ye all moping by the fireside,like crows round a dead horse, when there is man's work to bedone within a few short leagues of ye? Out upon you all, as aset of laggards and hang-backs! By my hilt I believe that themen of England are all in France already, and that what is leftbehind are in sooth the women dressed up in their paltocks andhosen."

"Archer," quoth Hordle John, "you have lied more than once andmore than twice; for which, and also because I see much in you todislike, I am sorely tempted to lay you upon your back."

"By my hilt! then, I have found a man at last!" shouted thebowman. "And, 'fore God, you are a better man than I take youfor if you can lay me on my back, mon garcon. I have won the rammore times than there are toes to my feet, and for seven longyears I have found no man in the Company who could make my jerkindusty."

"We have had enough bobance and boasting," said Hordle John,rising and throwing off his doublet. "I will show you that thereare better men left in England than ever went thieving toFrance."

"Pasques Dieu!" cried the archer, loosening his jerkin, andeyeing his foeman over with the keen glance of one who is a judgeof manhood. "I have only once before seen such a body of a man.By your leave, my red-headed friend, I should be right sorry toexchange buffets with you; and I will allow that there is no manin the Company who would pull against you on a rope; so let thatbe a salve to your pride. On the other hand I should judge thatyou have led a life of ease for some months back, and that mymuscle is harder than your own. I am ready to wager upon myselfagainst you if you are not afeard."

"Afeard, thou lurden!" growled big John. "I never saw the faceyet of the man that I was afeard of. Come out, and we shall seewho is the better man."

"But the wager?"

"I have nought to wager. Come out for the love and the lust ofthe thing."

"Nought to wager!" cried the soldier. "Why, you have that whichI covet above all things. It is that big body of thine that I amafter. See, now, mon garcon. I have a French feather-bed there,which I have been at pains to keep these years back. I had it atthe sacking of Issodum, and the King himself hath not such a bed.If you throw me, it is thine; but, if I throw you, then you areunder a vow to take bow and bill and hie with me to France, thereto serve in the White Company as long as we be enrolled."

"A fair wager!" cried all the travellers, moving back theirbenches and trestles, so as to give fair field for the wrestlers.

"Then you may bid farewell to your bed, soldier," said HordleJohn.

"Nay; I shall keep the bed, and I shall have you to France inspite of your teeth, and you shall live to thank me for it. Howshall it be, then, mon enfant? Collar and elbow, or close-lock,or catch how you can?"

"To the devil with your tricks," said John, opening and shuttinghis great red hands. "Stand forth, and let me clip thee."

"Shalt clip me as best you can then," quoth the archer, movingout into the open space, and keeping a most wary eye upon hisopponent. He had thrown off his green jerkin, and his chest wascovered only by a pink silk jupon, or undershirt, cut low in theneck and sleeveless. Hordle John was stripped from his waistupwards, and his huge body, with his great muscles swelling outlike the gnarled roots of an oak, towered high above the soldier.The other, however, though near a foot shorter, was a man ofgreat strength; and there was a gloss upon his white skin whichwas wanting in the heavier limbs of the renegade monk. He wasquick on his feet, too, and skilled at the game; so that it wasclear, from the poise of head and shine of eye, that he countedthe chances to be in his favor. It would have been hard thatnight, through the whole length of England, to set up a finerpair in face of each other.

Big John stood waiting in the centre with a sullen, menacing eye,and his red hair in a bristle, while the archer paced lightly andswiftly to the right and the left with crooked knee and handsadvanced. Then with a sudden dash, so swift and fierce that theeye could scarce follow it, he flew in upon his man and lockedhis leg round him. It was a grip that, between men of equalstrength, would mean a fall; but Hordle John tore him off fromhim as he might a rat, and hurled him across the room, so thathis head cracked up against the wooden wall.

"Ma foi!" cried the bowman, passing his fingers through hiscurls, "you were not far from the feather-bed then, mon gar. Alittle more and this good hostel would have a new window."

Nothing daunted, he approached his man once more, but this timewith more caution than before. With a quick feint he threw theother off his guard, and then, bounding upon him, threw his legsround his waist and his arms round his bull-neck, in the hope ofbearing him to the ground with the sudden shock. With a bellowof rage, Hordle John squeezed him limp in his huge arms; andthen, picking him up, cast him down upon the floor with a forcewhich might well have splintered a bone or two, had not thearcher with the most perfect coolness clung to the other'sforearms to break his fall. As it was, he dropped upon his feetand kept his balance, though it sent a jar through his framewhich set every joint a-creaking. He bounded back from hisperilous foeman; but the other, heated by the bout, rushed madlyafter him, and so gave the practised wrestler the very vantagefor which he had planned. As big John flung himself upon him,the archer ducked under the great red hands that clutched forhim, and, catching his man round the thighs, hurled him over hisshoulder--helped as much by his own mad rush as by the trainedstrength of the heave. To Alleyne's eye, it was as if John hadtaken unto himself wings and flown. As he hurtled through theair, with giant limbs revolving, the lad's heart was in hismouth; for surely no man ever yet had such a fall and camescathless out of it. In truth, hardy as the man was, his neckhad been assuredly broken had he not pitched head first on thevery midriff of the drunken artist, who was slumbering sopeacefully in the corner, all unaware of these stirring doings.The luckless limner, thus suddenly brought out from his dreams,sat up with a piercing yell, while Hordle John bounded back intothe circle almost as rapidly as he had left it.

"One more fall, by all the saints!" he cried, throwing out hisarms.

"Not I," quoth the archer, pulling on his clothes, "I have comewell out of the business. I would sooner wrestle with the greatbear of Navarre."

"It was a trick," cried John.

"Aye was it. By my ten finger-bones! it is a trick that will adda proper man to the ranks of the Company."

"Oh, for that," said the other, "I count it not a fly; for I hadpromised myself a good hour ago that I should go with thee, sincethe life seems to be a goodly and proper one. Yet I would fainhave had the feather-bed."

"I doubt it not, mon ami," quoth the archer, going back to histankard. "Here is to thee, lad, and may we be good comrades toeach other! But, hola! what is it that ails our friend of thewrathful face?"

The unfortunate limner had been sitting up rubbing himselfruefully and staring about with a vacant gaze, which showed thathe knew neither where he was nor what had occurred to him.Suddenly, however, a flash of intelligence had come over hissodden features, and he rose and staggered for the door. " 'Warethe ale!" he said in a hoarse whisper, shaking a warning fingerat the company. "Oh, holy Virgin, 'ware the ale!" and slappinghis hands to his injury, he flitted off into the darkness, amid ashout of laughter, in which the vanquished joined as merrily asthe victor. The remaining forester and the two laborers werealso ready for the road, and the rest of the company turned tothe blankets which Dame Eliza and the maid had laid out for themupon the floor. Alleyne, weary with the unwonted excitements ofthe day, was soon in a deep slumber broken only by fleetingvisions of twittering legs, cursing beggars, black robbers, andthe many strange folk whom he had met at the "Pied Merlin."