AND now there came a time of stir and bustle, of furbishing ofarms and clang of hammer from all the southland counties. Fastspread the tidings from thorpe to thorpe and from castle tocastle, that the old game was afoot once more, and the lions andlilies to be in the field with the early spring. Great news thisfor that fierce old country, whose trade for a generation hadbeen war, her exports archers and her imports prisoners. For sixyears her sons had chafed under an unwonted peace. Now they flewto their arms as to their birthright. The old soldiers of Crecy,of Nogent, and of Poictiers were glad to think that they mighthear the war-trumpet once more, and gladder still were the hotyouth who had chafed for years under the martial tales of theirsires. To pierce the great mountains of the south, to fight thetawners of the fiery Moors, to follow the greatest captain of theage, to find sunny cornfields and vineyards, when the marches ofPicardy and Normandy were as rare and bleak as the Jedburghforests--here was a golden prospect for a race of warriors. Fromsea to sea there was stringing of bows in the cottage and clangof steel in the castle.

Nor did it take long for every stronghold to pour forth itscavalry, and every hamlet its footmen. Through the late autumnand the early winter every road and country lane resounded withnakir and trumpet, with the neigh of the war-horse and theclatter of marching men. From the Wrekin in the Welsh marches tothe Cotswolds in the west or Butser in the south, there was nohill-top from which the peasant might not have seen the brightshimmer of arms, the toss and flutter of plume and of pensil.From bye-path, from woodland clearing, or from winding moor-sidetrack these little rivulets of steel united in the larger roadsto form a broader stream, growing ever fuller and larger as itapproached the nearest or most commodious seaport. And there allday, and day after day, there was bustle and crowding and labor,while the great ships loaded up, and one after the other spreadtheir white pinions and darted off to the open sea, amid theclash of cymbals and rolling of drums and lusty shouts of thosewho went and of those who waited. From Orwell to the Dart therewas no port which did not send forth its little fleet, gay withstreamer and bunting, as for a joyous festival. Thus in theseason of the waning days the might of England put forth on tothe waters.

In the ancient and populous county of Hampshire there was no lackof leaders or of soldiers for a service which promised eitherhonor or profit. In the north the Saracen's head of the Brocasand the scarlet fish of the De Roches were waving over a strongbody of archers from Holt, Woolmer, and Harewood forests. DeBorhunte was up in the east, and Sir John de Montague in thewest. Sir Luke de Ponynges, Sir Thomas West, Sir Maurice deBruin, Sir Arthur Lipscombe, Sir Walter Ramsey, and stout SirOliver Buttesthorn were all marching south with levies fromAndover, Arlesford, Odiham and Winchester, while from Sussex cameSir John Clinton, Sir Thomas Cheyne, and Sir John Fallislee, witha troop of picked men-at-arms, making for their port atSouthampton. Greatest of all the musters, however, was that ofTwynham Castle, for the name and the fame of Sir Nigel Loringdrew towards him the keenest and boldest spirits, all eager toserve under so valiant a leader. Archers from the New Forest andthe Forest of Bere, billmen from the pleasant country which iswatered by the Stour, the Avon, and the Itchen, young cavaliersfrom the ancient Hampshire houses, all were pushing forChristchurch to take service under the banner of the fivescarlet roses.

And now, could Sir Nigel have shown the bachelles of land whichthe laws of rank required, he might well have cut his forkedpennon into a square banner, and taken such a following into thefield as would have supported the dignity of a banneret.

But poverty was heavy upon him, his land was scant, his coffersempty, and the very castle which covered him the holding ofanother. Sore was his heart when he saw rare bowmen and war-hardened spearmen turned away from his gates, for the lack of themoney which might equip and pay them. Yet the letter whichAylward had brought him gave him powers which he was not slow touse. In it Sir Claude Latour, the Gascon lieutenant of the WhiteCompany, assured him that there remained in his keeping enough tofit out a hundred archers and twenty men-at-arms, which, joinedto the three hundred veteran companions already in France, wouldmake a force which any leader might be proud to command.Carefully and sagaciously the veteran knight chose out his menfrom the swarm of volunteers. Many an anxious consultation heheld with Black Simon, Sam Aylward, and other of his moreexperienced followers, as to who should come and who should stay.By All Saints' day, however ere the last leaves had fluttered toearth in the Wilverley and Holmesley glades, he had filled up hisfull numbers, and mustered under his banner as stout a followingof Hampshire foresters as ever twanged their war-bows. Twentymen-at-arms, too, well mounted and equipped, formed the cavalryof the party, while young Peter Terlake of Fareham, and WalterFord of Botley, the martial sons of martial sires, came at theirown cost to wait upon Sir Nigel and to share with AlleyneEdricson the duties of his squireship.

Yet, even after the enrolment, there was much to be done ere theparty could proceed upon its way. For armor, swords, and lances,there was no need to take much forethought, for they were to behad both better and cheaper in Bordeaux than in England. Withthe long-bow, however, it was different. Yew staves indeed mightbe got in Spain, but it was well to take enough and to spare withthem. Then three spare cords should be carried for each bow,with a great store of arrow-heads, besides the brigandines ofchain mail, the wadded steel caps, and the brassarts or arm-guards, which were the proper equipment of the archer. Aboveall, the women for miles round were hard at work cutting thewhite surcoats which were the badge of the Company, and adorningthem with the red lion of St. George upon the centre of thebreast. When all was completed and the muster called in thecastle yard the oldest soldier of the French wars was fain toconfess that he had never looked upon a better equipped or morewarlike body of men, from the old knight with his silk jupon,sitting his great black war-horse in the front of them, to HordleJohn, the giant recruit, who leaned carelessly upon a huge blackbow-stave in the rear. Of the six score, fully half had seenservice before, while a fair sprinkling were men who had followedthe wars all their lives, and had a hand in those battles whichhad made the whole world ring with the fame and the wonder of theisland infantry.

Six long weeks were taken in these preparations, and it was closeon Martinmas ere all was ready for a start. Nigh two months hadAlleyne Edricson been in Castle Twynham--months which were fatedto turn the whole current of his life, to divert it from thatdark and lonely bourne towards which it tended, and to guide itinto freer and more sunlit channels. Already he had learned tobless his father for that wise provision which had made him seekto know the world ere he had ventured to renounce it.

For it was a different place from that which he had pictured --very different from that which he had heard described when themaster of the novices held forth to his charges upon she raveningwolves who lurked for them beyond the peaceful folds of Beaulicu.There was cruelty in it, doubtless, and lust and sin and sorrow;but were there not virtues to atone, robust positive virtueswhich did not shrink from temptation, which held their own in allthe rough blasts of the work-a-day world? How colorless bycontrast appeared the sinlessness which came from inability tosin, the conquest which was attained by flying from the enemy!Monk-bred as he was, Alleyne had native shrewdness and a mindwhich was young enough to form new conclusions and to outgrow oldones. He could not fail to see that the men with whom he wasthrown in contact, rough-tongued, fierce and quarrelsome as theywere, were yet of deeper nature and of more service in the worldthan the ox-eyed brethren who rose and ate and slept from year'send to year's end in their own narrow, stagnant circle ofexistence. Abbot Berghersh was a good man, but how was he betterthan this kindly knight, who lived as simple a life, held aslofty and inflexible an ideal of duty, and did with all hisfearless heart whatever came to his hand to do? In turning fromthe service of the one to that of the other, Alleyne could notfeel that he was lowering his aims in life. True that his gentleand thoughtful nature recoiled from the grim work of war, yet inthose days of martial orders and militant brotherhoods there wasno gulf fixed betwixt the priest and the soldier. The man of Godand the man of the sword might without scandal be united in thesame individual. Why then should he, a mere clerk, have scrupleswhen so fair a chance lay in his way of carrying out the spiritas well as the letter of his father's provision. Much struggleit cost him, anxious spirit-questionings and midnight prayings,with many a doubt and a misgiving; but the issue was that ere hehad been three days in Castle Twynham he had taken service underSir Nigel, and had accepted horse and harness, the same to bepaid for out of his share of the profits of the expedition.Henceforth for seven hours a day he strove in the tilt-yard toqualify himself to be a worthy squire to so worthy a knight.Young, supple and active, with all the pent energies from yearsof pure and healthy living, it was not long before he couldmanage his horse and his weapon well enough to earn an approvingnod from critical men-at-arms, or to hold his own against Terlakeand Ford, his fellow-servitors.

But were there no other considerations which swayed him from thecloisters towards the world? So complex is the human spirit thatit can itself scarce discern the deep springs which impel it toaction. Yet to Alleyne had been opened now a side of life ofwhich he had been as innocent as a child, but one which was ofsuch deep import that it could not fail to influence him inchoosing his path. A woman, in monkish precepts, had been theembodiment and concentration of what was dangerous and evil--afocus whence spread all that was to be dreaded and avoided. Sodefiling was their presence that a true Cistercian might notraise his eyes to their face or touch their finger-tips under banof church and fear of deadly sin. Yet here, day after day for anhour after nones, and for an hour before vespers, he foundhimself in close communion with three maidens, all young, allfair, and all therefore doubly dangerous from the monkishstandpoint. Yet he found that in their presence he was consciousof a quick sympathy, a pleasant ease, a ready response to allthat was most gentle and best in himself, which filled his soulwith a vague and new-found joy.

And yet the Lady Maude Loring was no easy pupil to handle. Anolder and more world-wise man might have been puzzled by hervarying moods, her sudden prejudices, her quick resentment at allconstraint and authority. Did a subject interest her was therespace in it for either romance or imagination, she would flythrough it with her subtle, active mind, leaving her two fellow-students and even her teacher toiling behind her. On the otherhand, were there dull patience needed with steady toil and strainof memory, no single fact could by any driving be fixed in hermind. Alleyne might talk to her of the stories of old gods andheroes, of gallant deeds and lofty aims, or he might hold forthupon moon and stars, and let his fancy wander over the hiddensecrets of the universe, and he would have a wrapt listener withflushed cheeks and eloquent eyes, who could repeat after him thevery words which had fallen from his lips. But when it came toalmagest and astrolabe, the counting of figures and reckoning ofepicycles, away would go her thoughts to horse and hound, and avacant eye and listless face would warn the teacher that he hadlost his hold upon his scholar. Then he had but to bring out theold romance book from the priory, with befingered cover ofsheepskin and gold letters upon a purple ground, to entice herwayward mind back to the paths of learning.

At times, too, when the wild fit was upon her, she would breakinto pertness and rebel openly against Alleyne's gentle firmness.Yet he would jog quietly on with his teachings, taking no heed toher mutiny, until suddenly she would be conquered by hispatience, and break into self-revilings a hundred times strongerthan her fault demanded. It chanced however that, on one ofthese mornings when the evil mood was upon her, Agatha the youngtire-woman, thinking to please her mistress, began also to tossher head and make tart rejoinder to the teacher's questions. Inan instant the Lady Maude had turned upon her two blazing eyesand a face which was blanched with anger.

"You would dare!" said she. "You would dare!" The frightenedtire-woman tried to excuse herself. "But my fair lady," shestammered, "what have I done? I have said no more than I heard."

"You would dare!" repeated the lady in a choking voice. "You, agraceless baggage, a foolish lack-brain, with no thought abovethe hemming of shifts. And he so kindly and hendy and long-suffering! You would--ha, you may well flee the room!"

She had spoken with a rising voice, and a clasping and opening ofher long white fingers, so that it was no marvel that ere thespeech was over the skirts of Agatha were whisking round the doorand the click of her sobs to be heard dying swiftly away down thecorridor.

Alleyne stared open-eyed at this tigress who had sprung sosuddenly to his rescue. "There is no need for such anger," hesaid mildly. "The maid's words have done me no scath. It is youyourself who have erred."

"I know it," she cried, "I am a most wicked woman. But it is badenough that one should misuse you. Ma foi! I will see that thereis not a second one."

"Nay, nay, no one has misused me," he answered. "But the faultlies in your hot and bitter words. You have called her a baggageand a lack-brain, and I know not what."

"And you are he who taught me to speak the truth," she cried."Now I have spoken it, and yet I cannot please you. Lack-brainshe is, and lack-brain I shall call her."

Such was a sample of the sudden janglings which marred the peaceof that little class. As the weeks passed, however, they becamefewer and less violent, as Alleyne's firm and constant naturegained sway and influence over the Lady Maude. And yet, sooth tosay, there were times when he had to ask himself whether it wasnot the Lady Maude who was gaining sway and influence over him.If she were changing, so was he. In drawing her up from theworld, he was day by day being himself dragged down towards it.In vain he strove and reasoned with himself as to the madness ofletting his mind rest upon Sir Nigel's daughter. What was he--ayounger son, a penniless clerk, a squire unable to pay for hisown harness--that he should dare to raise his eyes to thefairest maid in Hampshire? So spake reason; but, in spite of all,her voice was ever in his ears and her image in his heart.Stronger than reason, stronger than cloister teachings, strongerthan all that might hold him back, was that old, old tyrant whowill brook no rival in the kingdom of youth.

And yet it was a surprise and a shock to himself to find howdeeply she had entered into his life; how completely those vagueambitions and yearnings which had filled his spiritual naturecentred themselves now upon this thing of earth. He had scarcedared to face the change which had come upon him, when a fewsudden chance words showed it all up hard and clear, like alightning flash in the darkness.

He had ridden over to Poole, one November day, with his fellow-squire, Peter Terlake, in quest of certain yew-staves from WatSwathling, the Dorsetshire armorer. The day for their departurehad almost come, and the two youths spurred it over the lonelydowns at the top of their speed on their homeward course, forevening had fallen and there was much to be done. Peter was ahard, wiry, brown faced, country-bred lad who looked on thecoming war as the schoolboy looks on his holidays This day,however, he had been sombre and mute, with scarce a word a mileto bestow upon his comrade.

"Tell me Alleyne Edricson," he broke out, suddenly, as theyclattered along the winding track which leads over theBournemouth hills, "has it not seemed to you that of late theLady Maude is paler and more silent than is her wont?"

"It may be so," the other answered shortly.

"And would rather sit distrait by her oriel than ride gayly tothe chase as of old. Methinks, Alleyne, it is this learningwhich you have taught her that has taken all the life and sapfrom her. It is more than she can master, like a heavy spear to alight rider."

"Her lady-mother has so ordered it," said Alleyne.

"By our Lady! and withouten disrespect," quoth Terlake, "it is inmy mind that her lady-mother is more fitted to lead a company toa storming than to have the upbringing of this tender and milk-white maid. Hark ye, lad Alleyne, to what I never told man orwoman yet. I love the fair Lady Maude, and would give the lastdrop of my heart's blood to serve her. He spoke with a gaspingvoice, and his face flushed crimson in the moonlight.

Alleyne said nothing, but his heart seemed to turn to a lump ofice in his bosom.

"My father has broad acres," the other continued, "from FarehamCreek to the slope of the Portsdown Hill. There is filling ofgranges, hewing of wood, malting of grain, and herding of sheepas much as heart could wish, and I the only son. Sure am I thatSir Nigel would be blithe at such a match."

"But how of the lady?" asked Alleyne, with dry lips.

"Ah, lad, there lies my trouble. It is a toss of the head and adroop of the eyes if I say one word of what is in my mind.'Twere as easy to woo the snow-dame that we shaped last winter inour castle yard. I did but ask her yesternight for her greenveil, that I might bear it as a token or lambrequin upon my helm;but she flashed out at me that she kept it for a better man, andthen all in a breath asked pardon for that she had spoke sorudely. Yet she would not take back the words either, nor wouldshe grant the veil. Has it seemed to thee, Alleyne, that sheloves any one?"

"Nay, I cannot say," said Alleyne, with a wild throb of suddenhope in his heart.

"I have thought so, and yet I cannot name the man. Indeed, gavemyself, and Walter Ford, and you, who are half a clerk, andFather Christopher of the Priory, and Bertrand the page, who isthere whom she sees?"

"I cannot tell," quoth Alleyne shortly; and the two squires rodeon again, each intent upon his own thoughts.

Next day at morning lesson the teacher observed that his pupilwas indeed looking pale and jaded, with listless eyes and a wearymanner. He was heavy-hearted to note the grievous change in her.

"Your mistress, I fear, is ill, Agatha," he said to the tire-woman, when the Lady Maude had sought her chamber.

The maid looked aslant at him with laughing eyes. "It is not anillness that kills," quoth she.

"Pray God not!" he cried. "But tell me, Agatha, what it is thatails her?"

"Methinks that I could lay my hand upon another who is smittenwith the same trouble," said she, with the same sidelong look."Canst not give a name to it, and thou so skilled in leech-craft?"

"Nay, save that she seems aweary."

"Well, bethink you that it is but three days ere you will all begone, and Castle Twynham be as dull as the Priory. Is there notenough there to cloud a lady's brow?"

"In sooth, yes," he answered; "I had forgot that she is about tolose her father."

"Her father!" cried the tire-woman, with a little trill oflaughter. "Oh simple, simple!" And she was off down the passagelike arrow from bow, while Alleyne stood gazing after her,betwixt hope and doubt, scarce daring to put faith in the meaningwhich seemed to underlie her words.