AFTER passing Cahors, the party branched away from the main road,and leaving the river to the north of them, followed a smallertrack which wound over a vast and desolate plain. This path ledthem amid marshes and woods, until it brought them out into aglade with a broad stream swirling swiftly down the centre of it.Through this the horses splashed their way, and on the farthershore Sir Nigel announced to them that they were now within theborders of the land of France. For some miles they stillfollowed the same lonely track, which led them through a densewood, and then widening out, curved down to an open rollingcountry, such as they had traversed between Aiguillon andCahors.

If it were grim and desolate upon the English border, however,what can describe the hideous barrenness of this ten timesharried tract of France? The whole face of the country wasscarred and disfigured, mottled over with the black blotches ofburned farm-steadings, and the gray, gaunt gable-ends of what hadbeen chateaux. Broken fences, crumbling walls, vineyardslittered with stones, the shattered arches of bridges--look whereyou might, the signs of ruin and rapine met the eye. Here andthere only, on the farthest sky-line, the gnarled turrets of acastle, or the graceful pinnacles of church or of monasteryshowed where the forces of the sword or of the spirit hadpreserved some small islet of security in this universal flood ofmisery. Moodily and in silence the little party rode along thenarrow and irregular track, their hearts weighed down by thisfar-stretching land of despair. It was indeed a stricken and ablighted country, and a man might have ridden from Auvergne inthe north to the marches of Foix, nor ever seen a smiling villageor a thriving homestead.

From time to time as they advanced they saw strange lean figuresscraping and scratching amid the weeds and thistles, who, onsight of the band of horsemen, threw up their arms and dived inamong the brushwood, as shy and as swift as wild animals. Morethan once, however, they came on families by the wayside, whowere too weak from hunger and disease to fly, so that they couldbut sit like hares on a tussock, with panting chests and terrorin their eyes. So gaunt were these poor folk, so worn and spent--with bent and knotted frames, and sullen, hopeless, mutinousfaces--that it made the young Englishman heart-sick to look uponthem. Indeed, it seemed as though all hope and light had gone sofar from them that it was not to be brought back; for when SirNigel threw down a handful of silver among them there came nosoftening of their lined faces, but they clutched greedily at thecoins, peering questioningly at him, and champing with theiranimal jaws. Here and there amid the brushwood the travellerssaw the rude bundle of sticks which served them as a home--morelike a fowl's nest than the dwelling-place of man. Yet whyshould they build and strive, when the first adventurer whopassed would set torch to their thatch, and when their own feudallord would wring from them with blows and curses the last fruitsof their toil? They sat at the lowest depth of human misery, andhugged a bitter comfort to their souls as they realized that theycould go no lower. Yet they had still the human gift of speech,and would take council among themselves in their brushwoodhovels, glaring with bleared eyes and pointing with thin fingersat the great widespread chateaux which ate like a cancer intothe life of the country-side. When such men, who are beyond hopeand fear, begin in their dim minds to see the source their woes,it may be an evil time for those who have wronged them. The weakman becomes strong when he has nothing, for then only can he feelthe wild, mad thrill of despair. High and strong the chateaux,lowly and weak the brushwood hut; but God help the seigneur andhis lady when the men of the brushwood set their hands to thework of revenge!

Through such country did the party ride for eight or it might benine miles, until the sun began to slope down in the west andtheir shadows to stream down the road in front of them. Wary andcareful they must be, with watchful eyes to the right and theleft, for this was no man's land, and their only passports werethose which hung from their belts. Frenchmen and Englishmen,Gascon and Provencal, Brabanter, Tardvenu, Scorcher, Flayer, andFree Companion, wandered and struggled over the whole of thisaccursed district. So bare and cheerless was the outlook, and sofew and poor the dwellings, that Sir Nigel began to have fears asto whether he might find food and quarters for his little troop.It was a relief to him, therefore, when their narrow track openedout upon a larger road, and they saw some little way down it asquare white house with a great bunch of holly hung out at theend of a stick from one of the upper windows.

"By St. Paul!" said he, "I am right glad; for I had feared thatwe might have neither provant nor herbergage. Ride on, Alleyne,and tell this inn-keeper that an English knight with his partywill lodge with him this night."

Alleyne set spurs to his horse and reached the inn door a longbow-shot before his companions. Neither varlet nor ostler couldbe seen, so he pushed open the door and called loudly for thelandlord. Three times he shouted, but, receiving no reply, heopened an inner door and advanced into the chief guest-room ofthe hostel.

A very cheerful wood-fire was sputtering and cracking in an opengrate at the further end of the apartment. At one side of thisfire, in a high-backed oak chair, sat a lady, her face turnedtowards the door. The firelight played over her features, andAlleyne thought that he had never seen such queenly power, suchdignity and strength, upon a woman's face. She might have beenfive-and-thirty years of age, with aquiline nose, firm yetsensitive mouth, dark curving brows, and deep-set eyes whichshone and sparkled with a shifting brilliancy. Beautiful as shewas, it was not her beauty which impressed itself upon thebeholder; it was her strength, her power, the sense of wisdomwhich hung over the broad white brow, the decision which lay inthe square jaw and delicately moulded chin. A chaplet of pearlssparkled amid her black hair, with a gauze of silver networkflowing back from it over her shoulders; a black mantle wasswathed round her, and she leaned back in her chair as one who isfresh from a journey.

In the opposite corner there sat a very burly and broad-shouldered man, clad in a black jerkin trimmed with sable, with ablack velvet cap with curling white feather cocked upon the sideof his head. A flask of red wine stood at his elbow, and heseemed to be very much at his ease, for his feet were stuck up ona stool, and between his thighs he held a dish full of nuts.These he cracked between his strong white teeth and chewed in aleisurely way, casting the shells into the blaze. As Alleynegazed in at him he turned his face half round and cocked an eyeat him over his shoulder. It seemed to the young Englishman thathe had never seen so hideous a face, for the eyes were of thelightest green, the nose was broken and driven inwards, while thewhole countenance was seared and puckered with wounds. Thevoice, too, when he spoke, was as deep and as fierce as the growlof a beast of prey.

"Young man," said he, "I know not who you may be, and I am notmuch inclined to bestir myself, but if it were not that I am bentupon taking my ease, I swear, by the sword of Joshua! that Iwould lay my dog-whip across your shoulders for daring to fillthe air with these discordant bellowings."

Taken aback at this ungentle speech, and scarce knowing how toanswer it fitly in the presence of the lady, Alleyne stood withhis hand upon the handle of the door, while Sir Nigel and hiscompanions dismounted. At the sound of these fresh voices, andof the tongue in which they spoke, the stranger crashed his dishof nuts down upon the floor, and began himself to call for thelandlord until the whole house re-echoed with his roarings. Withan ashen face the white-aproned host came running at his call,his hands shaking and his very hair bristling with apprehension."For the sake of God, sirs," he whispered as he passed, "speakhim fair and do not rouse him! For the love of the Virgin, bemild with him!"

"Who is this, then?" asked Sir Nigel.

Alleyne was about to explain, when a fresh roar from the strangerinterrupted him.

"Thou villain inn-keeper," he shouted, "did I not ask you when Ibrought my lady here whether your inn was clean?"

"You did, sire."

"Did I not very particularly ask you whether there were anyvermin in it?"

"You did, sire."

"And you answered me?"

"That there were not, sire."

"And yet ere I have been here an hour I find Englishmen crawlingabout within it. Where are we to be free from this pestilentrace? Can a Frenchman upon French land not sit down in a Frenchauberge without having his ears pained by the clack of theirhideous talk? Send them packing, inn-keeper, or it may be theworse for them and for you."

"I will, sire, I will!" cried the frightened host, and bustledfrom the room, while the soft, soothing voice of the woman washeard remonstrating with her furious companion.

"Indeed, gentlemen, you had best go," said mine host. "It is butsix miles to Villefranche, where there are very good quarters atthe sign of the 'Lion Rouge.' "

"Nay," answered Sir Nigel, "I cannot go until I have seen more ofthis person, for he appears to be a man from whom much is to behoped. What is his name and title?"

"It is not for my lips to name it unless by his desire. But Ibeg and pray you, gentlemen, that you will go from my house, forI know not what may come of it if his rage should gain themastery of him."

"By Saint Paul!" lisped Sir Nigel, "this is certainly a man whomit is worth journeying far to know. Go tell him that a humbleknight of England would make his further honorable acquaintance,not from any presumption, pride, or ill-will, but for theadvancement of chivalry and the glory of our ladies. Give himgreeting from Sir Nigel Loring, and say that the glove which Ibear in my cap belongs to the most peerless and lovely of hersex, whom I am now ready to uphold against any lady whose claimhe might be desirous of advancing."

The landlord was hesitating whether to carry this message or no,when the door of the inner room was flung open, and the strangerbounded out like a panther from its den, his hair bristling andhis deformed face convulsed with anger.

"Still here!" he snarled. "Dogs of England, must ye be lashedhence? Tiphaine, my sword!" He turned to seize his weapon, butas he did so his gaze fell upon the blazonry of sir Nigel'sshield, and he stood staring, while the fire in his strange greeneyes softened into a sly and humorous twinkle.

"Mort Dieu!" cried he, "it is my little swordsman of Bordeaux. Ishould remember that coat-armor, seeing that it is but three dayssince I looked upon it in the lists by Garonne. Ah! Sir Nigel,Sir Nigel! you owe me a return for this," and he touched hisright arm, which was girt round just under the shoulder with asilken kerchief.

But the surprise of the stranger at the sight of Sir Nigel was asnothing compared with the astonishment and the delight whichshone upon the face of the knight of Hampshire as he looked uponthe strange face of the Frenchman. Twice he opened his mouth andtwice he peered again, as though to assure himself that his eyeshad not played him a trick.

"Bertrand!" he gasped at last. "Bertrand du Guesclin!"

"By Saint Ives!" shouted the French soldier, with a hoarse roarof laughter, "it is well that I should ride with my vizor down,for he that has once seen my face does not need to be told myname. It is indeed I, Sir Nigel, and here is my hand! I give youmy word that there are but three Englishmen in this world whom Iwould touch save with the sharp edge of the sword: the prince isone, Chandos the second, and you the third; for I have heard muchthat is good of you."

"I am growing aged, and am somewhat spent in the wars," quoth SirNigel; "but I can lay by my sword now with an easy mind, for Ican say that I have crossed swords with him who hath the bravestheart and the strongest arm of all this great kingdom of France.I have longed for it, I have dreamed of it, and now I can scarcebring my mind to understand that this great honor hath indeedbeen mine."

"By the Virgin of Rennes! you have given me cause to be verycertain of it," said Du Guesclin, with a gleam of his broad whiteteeth.

"And perhaps, most honored sir, it would please you to continuethe debate. Perhaps you would condescend to go farther into thematter. God He knows that I am unworthy of such honor, yet I canshow my four-and-sixty quarterings, and I have been present atsome bickerings and scufflings during these twenty years."

"Your fame is very well known to me, and I shall ask my lady toenter your name upon my tablets," said Sir Bertrand. "There aremany who wish to advance themselves, and who bide their turn, forI refuse no man who comes on such an errand. At present it maynot be, for mine arm is stiff from this small touch, and I wouldfain do you full honor when we cross swords again. Come in withme, and let your squires come also, that my sweet spouse, theLady Tiphaine, may say that she hath seen so famed and gentle aknight."

Into the chamber they went in all peace and concord, where theLady Tiphaine sat like queen on throne for each in turn to bepresented to her. Sooth to say, the stout heart of Sir Nigel,which cared little for the wrath of her lion-like spouse, wassomewhat shaken by the calm, cold face of this stately dame, fortwenty years of camp-life had left him more at ease in the liststhan in a lady's boudoir. He bethought him, too, as he looked ather set lips and deep-set questioning eyes, that he had heardstrange tales of this same Lady Tiphaine du Guesclin. Was it notshe who was said to lay hands upon the sick and raise them fromtheir couches when the leeches had spent their last nostrums?Had she not forecast the future, and were there not times when inthe loneliness of her chamber she was heard to hold converse withsome being upon whom mortal eye never rested--some dark familiarwho passed where doors were barred and windows high? Sir Nigelsunk his eye and marked a cross on the side of his leg as hegreeted this dangerous dame, and yet ere five minutes had passedhe was hers, and not he only but his two young squires as well.The mind had gone out of them, and they could but look at thiswoman and listen to the words which fell from her lips--wordswhich thrilled through their nerves and stirred their souls likethe battle-call of a bugle.

Often in peaceful after-days was Alleyne to think of that sceneof the wayside inn of Auvergne. The shadows of evening hadfallen, and the corners of the long, low, wood-panelled room weredraped in darkness. The sputtering wood fire threw out a circleof red flickering light which played over the little group ofwayfarers, and showed up every line and shadow upon their faces.Sir Nigel sat with elbows upon knees, and chin upon hands, hispatch still covering one eye, but his other shining like a star,while the ruddy light gleamed upon his smooth white head. Fordwas seated at his left, his lips parted, his eyes staring, and afleck of deep color on either cheek, his limbs all rigid as onewho fears to move. On the other side the famous French captainleaned back in his chair, a litter of nut-shells upon his lap,his huge head half buried in a cushion, while his eyes wanderedwith an amused gleam from his dame to the staring, enrapturedEnglishmen. Then, last of all, that pale clear-cut face, thatsweet clear voice, with its high thrilling talk of thedeathlessness of glory, of the worthlessness of life, of the painof ignoble joys, and of the joy which lies in all pains whichlead to a noble end. Still, as the shadows deepened, she spokeof valor and virtue, of loyalty, honor, and fame, and still theysat drinking in her words while the fire burned down and the redash turned to gray.

"By the sainted Ives!" cried Du Guesclin at last, "it is timethat we spoke of what we are to do this night, for I cannot thinkthat in this wayside auberge there are fit quarters for anhonorable company."

Sir Nigel gave a long sigh as he came back from the dreams ofchivalry and hardihood into which this strange woman's words hadwafted him. "I care not where I sleep," said he; "but these areindeed somewhat rude lodgings for this fair lady."

"What contents my lord contents me," quoth she. "I perceive, SirNigel, that you are under vow," she added, glancing at hiscovered eye.

"It is my purpose to attempt some small deed," he answered.

"And the glove--is it your lady's?"

"It is indeed my sweet wife's."

"Who is doubtless proud of you."

"Say rather I of her," quoth he quickly. "God He knows that I amnot worthy to be her humble servant. It is easy, lady, for a manto ride forth in the light of day, and do his devoir when all menhave eyes for him. But in a woman's heart there is a strengthand truth which asks no praise, and can but be known to him whosetreasure it is."

The Lady Tiphaine smiled across at her husband. "You have oftentold me, Bertrand, that there were very gentle knights amongstthe English," quoth she.

"Aye, aye," said he moodily. "But to horse, Sir Nigel, you andyours and we shall seek the chateau of Sir Tristram de Rochefort,which is two miles on this side of Villefranche. He is Seneschalof Auvergne, and mine old war companion."

"Certes, he would have a welcome for you," quoth Sir Nigel; "butindeed he might look askance at one who comes without permit overthe marches."

"By the Virgin! when he learns that you have come to draw awaythese rascals he will be very blithe to look upon your face. Inn-keeper, here are ten gold pieces. What is over and above yourreckoning you may take off from your charges to the next needyknight who comes this way. Come then, for it grows late and thehorses are stamping in the roadway."

The Lady Tiphaine and her spouse sprang upon their steeds withoutsetting feet to stirrup, and away they jingled down the whitemoonlit highway, with Sir Nigel at the lady's bridle-arm, andFord a spear's length behind them. Alleyne had lingered for aninstant in the passage, and as he did so there came a wild outcryfrom a chamber upon the left, and out there ran Aylward and John,laughing together like two schoolboys who are bent upon a prank.At sight of Alleyne they slunk past him with somewhat of a shame-faced air, and springing upon their horses galloped after theirparty. The hubbub within the chamber did not cease, however, butrather increased, with yells of: "A moi, mes amis! A moi,camarades! A moi, l'honorable champion de l'Eveque de Montaubon!A la recouse de l'eglise sainte!" So shrill was the outcry thatboth the inn-keeper and Alleyne, with every varlet withinhearing, rushed wildly to the scene of the uproar.

It was indeed a singular scene which met their eyes. The roomwas a long and lofty one, stone floored and bare, with a fire atthe further end upon which a great pot was boiling. A deal tableran down the centre, with a wooden wine-pitcher upon it and twohorn cups. Some way from it was a smaller table with a singlebeaker and a broken wine-bottle. From the heavy wooden rafterswhich formed the roof there hung rows of hooks which held upsides of bacon, joints of smoked beef, and strings of onions forwinter use. In the very centre of all these, upon the largesthook of all, there hung a fat little red-faced man with enormouswhiskers, kicking madly in the air and clawing at rafters, hams,and all else that was within hand-grasp. The huge steel hook hadbeen passed through the collar of his leather jerkin, and therehe hung like a fish on a line, writhing, twisting, and screaming,but utterly unable to free himself from his extraordinaryposition. It was not until Alleyne and the landlord had mountedon the table that they were able to lift him down, when he sankgasping with rage into a seat, and rolled his eyes round in everydirection.

"Has he gone?" quoth he.

"Gone? Who?"

"He, the man with the red head, the giant man."

"Yes," said Alleyne, "he hath gone."

"And comes not back?"

"No."

"The better for him!" cried the little man, with a long sigh ofrelief. "Mon Dieu! What! am I not the champion of the Bishop ofMontaubon? Ah, could I have descended, could I have come down,ere he fled! Then you would have seen. You would have beheld aspectacle then. There would have been one rascal the less uponearth. Ma, foi, yes!"

"Good master Pelligny," said the landlord, "these gentlemen havenot gone very fast, and I have a horse in the stable at yourdisposal, for I would rather have such bloody doings as youthreaten outside the four walls of mine auberge."

"I hurt my leg and cannot ride," quoth the bishop's champion. "Istrained a sinew on the day that I slew the three men atCastelnau."

"God save you, master Pelligny!" cried the landlord. "It must bean awesome thing to have so much blood upon one's soul. And yetI do not wish to see so valiant a man mishandled, and so I will,for friendship's sake, ride after this Englishman and bring himback to you."

"You shall not stir," cried the champion, seizing the inn-keeperin a convulsive grasp. "I have a love for you, Gaston, and Iwould not bring your house into ill repute, nor do such scath tothese walls and chattels as must befall if two such men as thisEnglishman and I fall to work here."

"Nay, think not of me!" cried the inn-keeper. "What are my wallswhen set against the honor of Francois Poursuivant d'AmourPelligny, champion of the Bishop of Montaubon. My horse, Andre!"

"By the saints, no! Gaston, I will not have it! You have saidtruly that it is an awesome thing to have such rough work uponone's soul. I am but a rude soldier, yet I have a mind. MonDieu! I reflect, I weigh, I balance. Shall I not meet this managain? Shall I not bear him in mind? Shall I not know him byhis great paws and his red head? Ma foi, yes!"

"And may I ask, sir," said Alleyne, "why it is that you callyourself champion of the Bishop of Montaubon?"

"You may ask aught which it is becoming to me to answer. Thebishop hath need of a champion, because, if any cause be set totest of combat, it would scarce become his office to go down intothe lists with leather and shield and cudgel to exchange blowswith any varlet. He looks around him then for some triedfighting man, some honest smiter who can give a blow or take one.It is not for me to say how far he hath succeeded, but it issooth that he who thinks that he hath but to do with the Bishopof Montaubon, finds himself face to face with FrancoisPoursuivant d'Amour Pelligny."

At this moment there was a clatter of hoofs upon the road, and avarlet by the door cried out that one of the Englishmen wascoming back. The champion looked wildly about for some corner ofsafety, and was clambering up towards the window, when Ford'svoice sounded from without, calling upon Alleyne to hasten, or hemight scarce find his way. Bidding adieu to landlord and tochampion, therefore, he set off at a gallop, and soon overtookthe two archers.

"A pretty thing this, John," said he. "Thou wilt have holyChurch upon you if you hang her champions upon iron hooks in aninn kitchen."

"It was done without thinking," he answered apologetically, whileAylward burst into a shout of laughter.

"By my hilt! mon petit," said he, "you would have laughed alsocould you have seen it. For this man was so swollen with pridethat he would neither drink with us, nor sit at the same tablewith us, nor as much as answer a question, but must needs talk tothe varlet all the time that it was well there was peace, andthat he had slain more Englishmen than there were tags to hisdoublet. Our good old John could scarce lay his tongue to Frenchenough to answer him, so he must needs reach out his great handto him and place him very gently where you saw him. But we muston, for I can scarce hear their hoofs upon the road."

"I think that I can see them yet," said Ford, peering down themoonlit road.

"Pardieu! yes. Now they ride forth from the shadow. And yonderdark clump is the Castle of Villefranche. En avant camarades! orSir Nigel may reach the gates before us. But hark, mes amis,what sound is that?"

As he spoke the hoarse blast of a horn was heard from some woodsupon the right. An answering call rung forth upon their left,and hard upon it two others from behind them.

"They are the horns of swine-herds," quoth Aylward. "Though whythey blow them so late I cannot tell."

"Let us on, then," said Ford, and the whole party, setting theirspurs to their horses, soon found themselves at the Castle ofVillefranche, where the drawbridge had already been lowered andthe portcullis raised in response to the summons of Du Guesclin.