ST. LUKE'S day had come and had gone, and it was in the season ofMartinmas, when the oxen are driven in to the slaughter, that theWhite Company was ready for its journey. Loud shrieked thebrazen bugles from keep and from gateway, and merry was therattle of the war-drum, as the men gathered in the outer bailey,with torches to light them, for the morn had not yet broken.Alleyne, from the window of the armory, looked down upon thestrange scene--the circles of yellow flickering light, the linesof stern and bearded faces, the quick shimmer of arms, and thelean heads of the horses. In front stood the bow-men, ten deep,with a fringe of under-officers, who paced hither and thithermarshalling the ranks with curt precept or short rebuke. Behindwere the little clump of steel-clad horsemen, their lancesraised, with long pensils drooping down the oaken shafts. Sosilent and still were they, that they might have been metal-sheathed statues, were it not for the occasional quick, impatientstamp of their chargers, or the rattle of chamfron against neck-plates as they tossed and strained. A spear's length in front ofthem sat the spare and long-limbed figure of Black Simon, theNorwich fighting man, his fierce, deep-lined face framed insteel, and the silk guidon marked with the five scarlet rosesslanting over his right shoulder. All round, in the edge of thecircle of the light, stood the castle servants, the soldiers whowere to form the garrison, and little knots of women. who sobbedin their aprons and called shrilly to their name-saints to watchover the Wat, or Will, or Peterkin who had turned his hand to thework of war.

The young squire was leaning forward, gazing at the stirring andmartial scene, when he heard a short, quick gasp at his shoulder,and there was the Lady Maude, with her hand to her heart, leaningup against the wall, slender and fair, like a half-plucked lily.Her face was turned away from him, but he could see, by the sharpintake of her breath, that she was weeping bitterly.

"Alas! alas!" he cried, all unnerved at the sight, "why is itthat you are so sad, lady?"

"It is the sight of these brave men," she answered; "and to thinkhow many of them go and how few are like to find their way back.I have seen it before, when I was a little maid, in the year ofthe Prince's great battle. I remember then how they mustered inthe bailey, even as they do now, and my lady-mother holding me inher arms at this very window that I might see the show."

"Please God, you will see them all back ere another year be out,"said he.

She shook her head, looking round at him with flushed cheeks andeyes that sparkled in the lamp-light. "Oh, but I hate myself forbeing a woman!" she cried, with a stamp of her little foot."What can I do that is good? Here I must bide, and talk and sewand spin, and spin and sew and talk. Ever the same dull round,with nothing at the end of it. And now you are going too, whocould carry my thoughts out of these gray walls, and raise mymind above tapestry and distaffs. What can I do? I am of no moreuse or value than that broken bowstave."

"You are of such value to me," he cried, in a whirl of hot,passionate words, "that all else has become nought. You are myheart, my life, my one and only thought. Oh, Maude, I cannotlive without you, I cannot leave you without a word of love. Allis changed to me since I have known you. I am poor and lowly andall unworthy of you; but if great love may weigh down suchdefects, then mine may do it. Give me but one word of hope totake to the wars with me--but one. Ah, you shrink, you shudder!My wild words have frightened you."

Twice she opened her lips, and twice no sound came from them. Atlast she spoke in a hard and measured voice, as one who dare nottrust herself to speak too freely.

"This is over sudden," she said; "it is not so long since theworld was nothing to you. You have changed once; perchance youmay change again."

"Cruel!" he cried, "who hath changed me?"

"And then your brother," she continued with a little laugh,disregarding his question. "Methinks this hath become a familycustom amongst the Edricsons. Nay, I am sorry; I did not mean ajibe. But, indeed, Alleyne, this hath come suddenly upon me, andI scarce know what to say."

"Say some word of hope, however distant--some kind word that Imay cherish in my heart."

"Nay, Alleyne, it were a cruel kindness, and you have been toogood and true a friend to me that I should use you despitefully.There cannot be a closer link between us. It is madness to thinkof it. Were there no other reasons, it is enough that my fatherand your brother would both cry out against it."

"My brother, what has he to do with it? And your father----"

"Come, Alleyne, was it not you who would have me act fairly toall men, and, certes, to my father amongst them?"

"You say truly," he cried, "you say truly. But you do not rejectme, Maude? You give me some ray of hope? I do not ask pledge orpromise. Say only that I am not hateful to you--that on somehappier day I may hear kinder words from you."

Her eyes softened upon him, and a kind answer was on her lips,when a hoarse shout, with the clatter of arms and stamping ofsteeds, rose up from the bailey below. At the sound her face sether eyes sparkled, and she stood with flushed cheek and headthrown back--a woman's body, with a soul of fire.

"My father hath gone down," she cried. "Your place is by hisside. Nay, look not at me, Alleyne. It is no time for dallying.Win my father's love, and all may follow. It is when the bravesoldier hath done his devoir that he hopes for his reward,Farewell, and may God be with you!" She held out her white, slimhand to him, but as he bent his lips over it she whisked away andwas gone, leaving in his outstretched hand the very green veilfor which poor Peter Terlake had craved in vain. Again thehoarse cheering burst out from below, and he heard the clang ofthe rising portcullis. Pressing the veil to his lips, he thrustit into the bosom of his tunic, and rushed as fast as feet couldbear him to arm himself and join the muster.

The raw morning had broken ere the hot spiced ale had been servedround and the last farewell spoken. A cold wind blew up from thesea and ragged clouds drifted swiftly across the sky.

The Christchurch townsfolk stood huddled about the Bridge ofAvon, the women pulling tight their shawls and the men swathingthemselves in their gaberdines, while down the winding path fromthe castle came the van of the little army, their feet clangingon the hard, frozen road. First came Black Simon with hisbanner, bestriding a lean and powerful dapple-gray charger, ashard and wiry and warwise as himself. After him, riding threeabreast, were nine men-at-arms, all picked soldiers, who hadfollowed the French wars before, and knew the marches of Picardyas they knew the downs of their native Hampshire. They werearmed to the teeth with lance, sword, and mace, with squareshields notched at the upper right-hand corner to serve as aspear-rest. For defence each man wore a coat of interlacedleathern thongs, strengthened at the shoulder, elbow, and upperarm with slips of steel. Greaves and knee-pieces were also ofleather backed by steel, and their gauntlets and shoes were ofiron plates, craftily jointed, So, with jingle of arms andclatter of hoofs, they rode across the Bridge of Avon, while theburghers shouted lustily for the flag of the five roses and itsgallant guard.

Close at the heels of the horses came two-score archers beardedand burly, their round targets on their backs and their longyellow bows, the most deadly weapon that the wit of man had yetdevised, thrusting forth from behind their shoulders. From eachman's girdle hung sword or axe, according to his humor, and overthe right hip there jutted out the leathern quiver with itsbristle of goose, pigeon, and peacock feathers. Behind thebowmen strode two trumpeters blowing upon nakirs, and twodrummers in parti-colored clothes. After them came twenty-sevensumpter horses carrying tent-poles, cloth, spare arms, spurs,wedges, cooking kettles, horse-shoes, bags of nails and thehundred other things which experience had shown to be needful ina harried and hostile country. A white mule with red trappings,led by a varlet, carried Sir Nigel's own napery and tablecomforts. Then came two-score more archers, ten more men-at-arms, and finally a rear guard of twenty bowmen, with big Johntowering in the front rank and the veteran Aylward marching bythe side, his battered harness and faded surcoat in strangecontrast with the snow-white jupons and shining brigandines ofhis companions. A quick cross-fire of greetings and questionsand rough West Saxon jests flew from rank to rank, or werebandied about betwixt the marching archers and the gazing crowd.

"Hola, Gaffer Higginson!" cried Aylward, as he spied the portlyfigure of the village innkeeper. "No more of thy nut-brown, mongar. We leave it behind us."

"By St. Paul, no!" cried the other. "You take it with you.Devil a drop have you left in the great kilderkin. It was timefor you to go."

"If your cask is leer, I warrant your purse is full, gaffer,"shouted Hordle John. "See that you lay in good store of the bestfor our home-coming."

"See that you keep your throat whole for the drinking of itarcher," cried a voice, and the crowd laughed at the roughpleasantry.

"If you will warrant the beer, I will warrant the throat," saidJohn composedly.

"Close up the ranks!" cried Aylward. "En avant, mes enfants!Ah, by my finger bones, there is my sweet Mary from the PrioryMill! Ma foi, but she is beautiful! Adieu, Mary ma cherie! Moncoeur est toujours a toi. Brace your belt, Watkins, man, andswing your shoulders as a free companion should. By my hilt!your jerkins will be as dirty as mine ere you clap eyes onHengistbury Head again."

The company had marched to the turn of the road ere Sir NigelLoring rode out from the gateway, mounted on Pommers, his greatblack war-horse, whose ponderous footfall on the woodendrawbridge echoed loudly from the gloomy arch which spanned it.Sir Nigel was still in his velvet dress of peace, with flatvelvet cap of maintenance, and curling ostrich feather clasped ina golden brooch. To his three squires riding behind him itlooked as though he bore the bird's egg as well as its feather,for the back of his bald pate shone like a globe of ivory. Hebore no arms save the long and heavy sword which hung at hissaddle-bow; but Terlake carried in front of him the high wivern-crested bassinet, Ford the heavy ash spear with swallow-tailpennon, while Alleyne was entrusted with the emblazoned shield.The Lady Loring rode her palfrey at her lord's bridle-arm, forshe would see him as far as the edge of the forest, and ever andanon she turned her hard-lined face up wistfully to him and ran aquestioning eye over his apparel and appointments

"I trust that there is nothing forgot," she said, beckoning toAlleyne to ride on her further side. "I trust him to you,Edricson. Hosen, shirts, cyclas, and under-jupons are in thebrown basket on the left side of the mule. His wine he takes hotwhen the nights are cold, malvoisie or vernage, with as muchspice as would cover the thumb-nail. See that he hath a changeif he come back hot from the tilting. There is goose-grease in abox, if the old scars ache at the turn of the weather. Let hisblankets be dry and----"

"Nay, my heart's life," the little knight interrupted, "troublenot now about such matters. Why so pale and wan, Edricson? Is itnot enow to make a man's heart dance to see this noble Company,such valiant men-at-arms, such lusty archers? By St. Paul! Iwould be ill to please if I were not blithe to see the red rosesflying at the head of so noble a following!"

"The purse I have already given you, Edricson," continue thelady. "There are in it twenty-three marks, one noble, threeshillings and fourpence, which is a great treasure for one man tocarry. And I pray you to bear in mind, Edricson, that he hathtwo pair of shoes, those of red leather for common use, and theothers with golden toe-chains, which he may wear should he chanceto drink wine with the Prince or with Chandos."

"My sweet bird," said Sir Nigel, "I am right loth to part fromyou, but we are now at the fringe of the forest, and it is notright that I should take the chatelaine too far from her trust."

"But oh, my dear lord," she cried with a trembling lip, "let mebide with you for one furlong further--or one and a half perhaps.You may spare me this out of the weary miles that you willjourney along."

"Come, then, my heart's comfort," he answered. "But I must cravea gage from thee. It is my custom, dearling, and hath been sinceI have first known thee, to proclaim by herald in such camps,townships, or fortalices as I may chance to visit, that my lady-love, being beyond compare the fairest and sweetest inChristendom, I should deem it great honor and kindlycondescension if any cavalier would run three courses against mewith sharpened lances, should he chance to have a lady whoseclaim he was willing to advance. I pray you then my fair dove,that you will vouchsafe to me one of those doeskin gloves, that Imay wear it as the badge of her whose servant I shall ever be."

"Alack and alas for the fairest and sweetest!" she cried. "Fairand sweet I would fain be for your dear sake, my lord, but old Iam and ugly, and the knights would laugh should you lay lance inrest in such a cause."

"Edricson," quoth Sir Nigel, "you have young eyes, and mine aresomewhat bedimmed. Should you chance to see a knight laugh, orsmile, or even, look you, arch his brows, or purse his mouth, orin any way show surprise that I should uphold the Lady Mary, youwill take particular note of his name, his coat-armor, and hislodging. Your glove, my life's desire!"

The Lady Mary Loring slipped her hand from her yellow leathergauntlet, and he, lifting it with dainty reverence, bound it tothe front of his velvet cap.

"It is with mine other guardian angels," quoth he, pointing atthe saints' medals which hung beside it. "And now, my dear-est,you have come far enow. May the Virgin guard and prosper thee!One kiss!" He bent down from his saddle, and then, strikingspurs into his horse's sides, he galloped at top speed after hismen, with his three squires at his heels. Half a mile further,where the road topped a hill, they looked back, and the Lady Maryon her white palfrey was still where they had left her. A momentlater they were on the downward slope, and she had vanished fromtheir view.