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. %&>\ Copyr icjhtecL 1894- By HArpcr 5-BrotUCT3. •'
Synopsis of preceding chapters at end of this installment.
CHAPTER IX.
Sir Nisei, who had entered the room
with a silvery-haired old lady upon his
arm. stared aghast at this sudden burst
of candor. , . , .
‘•Maude, Maude!” said he, shaking
his head, "it is more hard for me to |
gain obedience from you than from the i
tenscore drunken archers who followed
me to Guinne. Yet, hush! little one,
for your fair lady-mother will be here
anori, and there is no need that she
should know it. We will keep you
from the provost-marshal this journey.
Away to your chamber, sweeting, and j
keep' a blithe face, for she who con
fesses is shriven. And now. fair moth
er." he continued, when his daughter (
had gone, "sit you here by the fire, for
your blood runs colder than it did.
Alleyne Edricson, I would have a word
with vou, for 1 would fain that you
should take service under me. And
here in good time comes my lady, with
out whose counsel it is not my wont
to decide aught to import: but. indeed,
it was her own thought that you should
come.” „ , ,
"For I have formed a good opinion
of you, and can see that you are one
who may be trusted.” said the Lady
I coring. “And in good sooth my dear
lord hath need of such a one by liis
side, for he recks so little of himself
that there should be one there to look
to his needs and meet his wants. You
have seen the cloister; it were well
that you should see the world, too, ere
you make choice for life between them. ’
“You can ride?" asked Sir Nigel,
looking at the youth with puckered
"Yes, I have ridden much at the ab
bey.” . . . .
"Yet there is a difference betwixt a
friar's hack and a warrior’s destrier.
You can sing and play?”
"On citole, flute and rebeck.
“Good! You can read blazonry?
"Indifferent well.”
"I trust that you ere lowly and ser
viceable?” ... , . „
"I have served all ny life, my lord.
"Canst carve too?’
•I have carved mo days a week for
the brethren.”
”A model truly! Wilt make a squire
of squires. But toll me, pray, canst
curl hair?”
■ No. my lord, but I could learn.
"It is of Import,” said he, "for I
love to keep my hair well ordered, see
ing that the weight of my helmet for
thirty years hath in some degree frayed
It upon the top.” „
“It is for you also to bear the purse,
said the lady; “fur my sweet lord is of
so free and gracious a temper that he
would give it gayly to the first who
asked alms of him. All these things,
with some knowledge of venerie, and
of the management of horse, hawk, and
hound, with the grace and hardihood
and courtesy which are proper to your
age, will make you a fit squire for Sir
Nigel Loring”
“Alas, lady!” Alleyne answered, "I
know well the great honor that you
have done me in deeming me worthy
to wait upon so renowned a knight,
vet I am so conscious of my own weak
ness that I scarce dare incur duties
which I might be so ill fitted to fulfil.
"Modestv and a humble mind, said
she "are the very first and rarest gifts
in page or squire. Your words prove
that you have these, and all the rest
is but the work of use and of time.
"We can scarce hope,” said Sir Nigel,
"to have all ready for our start before
the feast of St. Luke, for there is much
to be done in the time. You will have
leisure, therefore, if it please you to
take service under me, in which to
learn your devoir.”
"And I have one favor to crave from
vou,” added the lady of the castle, as
Alleyne turned to leave their presence.
"You have, as I understand, much
learning, which you have acquired at
Beaulieu. I would have you give an
hour or two a day whilst you are with
us in discoursing with my daughter,
the Lady Maude; for she is somewhat
backward, I fear, and hath no love for
letters, save for these poor -fond ro
mances, which do but fill her empty
head with dreams of enchanted maid
ens and of errant cavalier. Father
Christopher comes over after nones
from the Priory, but he is stricken with
vehrs and slow of speech, so that she
gets small profit from his teaching. I
would have you do what you can with
her, and with Agatha, my young tire
woman, and with Dorothy Pierpont.
And so Alleyne found himself not
only chosen as squire to a knight, but
also as squire to three damozels, which
was even further from the part which
he had thought to play in the world.
And now there came a time of stir
and bustle, of furbishing of arms and
clang of hammer from all the south
land counties. Fast spread the tidings,
from thorpe to thorpe and from castle
to castle, that the old game was afoot
once more, and the lions and lilies to
be in the field with the early spring.
Great news this for that fierce old
country whose trade for a generation
had been war, her exports archers and
her imports prisoners. For six years
her sons had chafed under an unwonted
peace. Now they flew to their arms as
to their birthright. The old soldiers
of Crecy, of Nogent, and of Poictiers
were gi;id to think that they
hear the war-trumpet onoe more, ana
gladder still were the hot youth who
hud chaffed for years under the mar
tial tales of their sires. To pierce the
great mountains of the south, to nght
the tamers of the fiery Moors, to fol
low the greatest captain of the age, to
find sunny cornfields and vineyards,
when the marches of Picardy and Nor
mandy were as bare and bleak as the
Jedburgh forests —here was
prospects for a race of warriors. From
sea to sea there was stringing of bows
in the cottage and clang of steel in the
< a Nor’did it take long for every strong
hold to pour forth its cavalry, and
every hamlet its footmen. Through the
late autumn and the early winter every
road and country lane resounded with
nakir and trumpet, with the neigh of
the war-horse and the clatter of march
ln?nlTthe ancient and populous county
of Hampshire there was no lack of
leaders or of soldiers for a service
which promised either honor or pront.
Greatest of all the musters, however,
was that at Twynham Castle, for the
name and the fame of Sir Nigel Loring
drew toward him the keenest and bold
est spirits, all eager to serve under so
valiant a leader. Archers from the
New Forest and the Forest of Bere,
blllmen from the pleasant country
which is watered by the Stour, the
Avon, and the Itchen, young cavaliers
from the ancient Hampshire houses, ail
were pushing for Christchurch to take
service under the banner of the five
scarlet roses. .
And now. could Sir Nigel have shown
the bachelles of land which the laws
of rank required, he might well have
cut his forked pennon Into a square
banner, and taken such a following into
the field as would have supported the
dlgnitv of a banneret. But poverty
was heavy upon him; his land was
scant, his coffers empty, and the very
castle which covered him the holding
of another. Sore was his heart when
he saw rare bowmen and war-hardened
spearmen turned away from his ifates
for the lack of the money which might
P’nuip and pay them. Yet the letter
which Avlward had brought him grave
him powers which he was not slow
use. In it Sir Claude the Gas
con lieutenant of the White
assured him that there remained ini his
keeping enough to fit out a hundred
archers and twenty men-at-arms,
which. Joined to the three hundred vet
eran companions already in France,
would make a force which any leader
might be proud to command, care
fully and sagaciously the veteran
knight chose out his meu from the
swarm of volunteers. Many an anxious
consultation he held with Black Simon,
1 Sam Aylward, and others of his more
experienced followers, as to who should
come and who Should stay. By All
l Saint’s Day, however, he had filled up
! his full numbers, and mustered under
his banner as stout a following of
Hampshire foresters as ever twanged
j their war-bows. Twenty men-at-arms,
| too, well mounted and equipped, formed
the cavalry of the party, while young
! Peter Terlake of Fareham, and Walter
j Ford of Botley, the martial sons of
martial sires, came at their own cost
: to wait upon Sir Nigel and to share
| with Alleyne Edricson the duties ot
: Ills squireship.
Yet. even after the enrolment, there
was much tu be done ere the party
could proceed upon its way. For ar
mor, swords, and lances there was no
need to take much forethought, for
they were to be had better and cheaper
in Bordeaux than in England. With
the long-bow, however, it was differ
ent. Yew-staves indeed might be got
in Spain, but it was well to take enough
and to spare with him. Then three
spare cords should be carried for each
bow, with a great store of arrow-heads,
besides the brigandinos of chain-mail,
the wadded steel caps, and the bras
sarts or arm-guards, which were the
proper equipment of the archer. Above
all, the women for miles round were
hard at work cutting the white sur
coats which were the badge of the
company, and adorning them with the
red lion of St. George upon the centre
of the breast. When all was completed
and the muster called in the castle
yard, the oldest soldier of the French
wars was fain to confess that he had
never looked upon a better equipped or
more warlike body of men, from the
knight with his silk jupon, sitting his
great black war-horse in the front of
them, to Hordle John, the giant re
cruit, who leaned carelessly upon a
huge black bow-stave in the rear. Os
the six score, fully half had seen ser
vice before, while • a fair sprinkling
were men who had followed the wars
all their lives, and had a hand in those
battles which had made the whole
world ring with the fame and the won
der of the English infantry.
Six long weeks were taken in these
preparations, and it was close on Mar
tinmas ere all was ready for a start.
Nigh two months had Alleyne Edric
‘A HEARTFELT ANSWER WAS ON HER LIPS WHEN A HOARSE SHOUT ROSEIJP FROM THE BAILEY BELOW.”
son been in Castle Twynham—months
which were fated to turn the whole
current of his life, to divert it from
that dark and lonely bourne toward
which it tended, and to guide it into
freer and more sunlit channels. Al
ready he had learned to bless his father
for that wise provision which had made
him seek to know the world ere he had
ventured to renounce it.
For it was a different place from
that which he had pictured—very dif
ferent from that which he had heard
described when the master of the nov
ices held forth to his charges upon tne
ravening wolves who lurked for them
beyond the peaceful folds of Beaulieu.
There was cruelty in it, doubtless, and
lust and sin and sorrow; but were there
not virtues to atone, robust, positive
virtues, which did not shrink from
temptation, which held their own in all
the rough blasts of the workaday
world? How colorless by contrast ap
peared the sinlessness which came from
inability to sin. the conquest which
was attained by flying from the enemy!
Abbot Berghersh was a good man, but
i how was he better than this kindly
knight, who lived as simple a life,
held as lofty and inflexible an Ideal of
whatever came to his hand to do? In
turning from the service of the one to
that of the other, Alleyne could not feel
' that he was lowering his aims in life.
’ Henceforth for seven hours a day he
i strove in the tilt-yard to qualify him
self to be a worthy squire to so worthy
a knight. Young, supple, and active,
with all the pent energies from years
of pure and healthy living, it was not
long before he could manage his horse
and his weapon well enough to earn
an approving nod from critical men-at
arms, or to hold his own against Ter
lake and Ford, his fellow-squires.
But were there no other considera
tions which swaved him from the
cloisters toward the world? Here, day
after day, for an hour after drones,
and for an hour before vespers, he
found himself In close communion with
three maidens, all young, all fair, and
all therefore doubly dangerous from
the monkish stand-point. Yet he found
that In their presence he was conscious
of a quick sympathy, a pleasant ease, a
readv response to all that was most
gentle and best In himself, which filled
hl« soul with a vague and new-found
Joy.
And vet the Lady Maude Lorlne wa«
no easv pupil to handle An older and
more world-wise man might have been
puzzled bv her varying moods, her sud
den prejudices, her quick resentment
of all constraints and authority. Did a
subject interest her was there space
in it for either romance or Imagina
tion. she would flv through It with her
subtle active mind, leaving her two fel
low-students and even her teacher toll
ing behind her On the other hand,
were these dull patience needed with
steady tofl and strain of memory, no
single fact could, bv anv driving, be
flxed in her mind. Alleyne might talk
to her of the stories of old gods and
heroes, of gallant deeds and lofty alms,
or he might hold forth upon moon and
stars, and let his fancy wander over
the hidden secrets of the universe, and
lie would have a rapt listener witli
flushed cheeks and eloquent eyes, who
could repeat after him the very words
which had fallen from ills lips. But
when it came to almagest and astrol
able. tlic counting of figures and reck
oning of epicycles, away would go her
thoughts to horse and hound, and a va
cant eye and listless face would warn
the teacher that he had lost his hold
upon his scholar. Then he had but to
bring out the old romance-book from
the Priory, with befingered cover of
sheepskin and gold letters upon a pur
ple ground to entice her wayward
mind back to the paths of learning.
At times, too, when the wild fit was
upon her, she would break into pert
ness and rebel openly against Alleyne’s
gentle firmness. Y r ot he would jog
quietly on with his teachings, taking
no heed to her mutiny, until suddenly
she would he conquered by his patience,
and break Into self-revilings a hun
dred times stronger than her fault de
manded. It chanced, however, that, on
one of these mornings when the evil
mood was upon her, Agatha, the young
tire-woman, thinking to please her mis
tress, began also to toss her head and
make tart rejoinder to the teacher’s
questions. In an Instant the Lady
Maude had turned upon her two blaz
ing eyes and a face which was blanched
with anger.
“You would dare!” said she. “You
would dare!”
The frightened tire-woman tried to
excuse herself. “But, my fair lady,”
she stammered, "what have I done? I
have said no more than I heard.”
"You would dare!” repeated the lady,
in a choking voice. "You, a graceless
baggage, a foolish lack-brain, with no
thought above the 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 of her long
white fingers, so that it was no marvel
that, ere the speecli was over, the
skirts of Agatha were whisking round
the door and the click of her sobs to be
heard dying swiftly away down the
corridor.
Alleyne stored open-eyed at this
tigress who had sprung so suddenly to
his rescue. “There is no need for such
anger,” he said mildly. “The maid’s
words have done me no scath. It is
you yourself who have erred.”
"I know it," she cried; “J am a most
wicked woman. But it is bad enougli
that one should misuse you. I will see
that there Is not a second one.”
"Nay, riay, no one has misused me,”
he answered. "But the fault lies m
your hot and bitter words. You have
called her a baggage and a lack-brain,
and I know not what.”
"And you are he who taught me i«
speak the truth!” she cried. “Now I
have spoken it, and yet 1 cannot please
you. Back-brain she Is, and lack-brain
I shall call her.”
Such was a sample of the sudden
janglings which marred the peace of
that little class. And yet, there were
times when Alleyne had to ask himself
whether it was not the Lady Maude
who was gaining sway and influence
over him. If she were changing, so
was he. In vain he strove and reasoned
with himself as to the madness of let
ting his mind rest upon Sir Nigel's
laughter. Stronger than reason, strong
er than cloister teachings, stronger
than all that might hold him back, was
that old, old tyrant who will brook no
rival in the kingdom of youth.
He had scarce dared to face the
change which had come upon hirn, when
a few sudden chance words showed it
ill up bard and clear, like lightning in
the darkness.
He had ridden over to Boole, one
November day. with his fellow-squire,
Peter Terlake. in quest of certain yew
staves from Wat Swathling, the Dor
setshire armorer. Peter was a hard,
wiry brown-faced country-bred lad,
who looked on the coming war as the
chooi-boy looks on his holidays This
day, however, he had been sombre and
mute, with scarce a word a mile to be
stow upon his comrade.
"Tell me. Alleyne Rdrlcson.” be broke
out suddenly, "has it not seemed to you
that of late the Lady Maude is paler
and more silent than Is her wont?”
“It may be so,” {he other answered
shortly.
"And would rather slf distrait by her
oriel than rfde gavlv to the chase as of
old. Methlnks Allevnc it |s this learn
ing which you have taught her that
has taken all the life and sap from
her.”
"Her ladv-mother has so ordered It,”
said Allevpe.
"Bv our Lady’ and wlthouten flisro
snect,” quoth Terlake, "it Is in mv mind
•hat her ladv-mother is more fitted to
lead a eompany to a storming than to
have the upbringing of this tender, and
milk-white maid Hark, ye. ' lad
Alleyne. to what T never told man or
woman yet. T love the fair T,adv Maude
and would give the last dron of mv
heart’s blood to serve her ” He spoke
with a gasping voice, and his face
flushed crimson In the moonlight.
Alievne said nothine-. but Ms heart
seemed to turn to a lump of Ice In hts
bosom.
"My father has broad acres.” the
other eontlnued. "from Fareham Creek
to the slope of the Portsdown Mill.
Sure um 1 that Sir Nigel would be
blithe at such a match."
"But how the lady?" asked Alleyne,
With dry lips.
"Ah, lad! there lies my trouble. It is
a toss of the head and a droop of the
eyes if 1 say one word of what is in my
mind. I did but ask her yester-nlght
for her green veil, that 1 might heal
it as a token or lambrequin upon my
helm; but she Hashed out at me that
she kept it for a better man, and then
all in a breath asked pardon tor that
she had spoke so rudely. Vet she
would not take back the words either,
nor would she grant the veil. lias
it seemed to thee, Alleyne, that she
loves any one?"
"Nay, 1 cannot say," said Alleyne,
with a wild throb ot sudden hope iu
his heart.
"1 have thought so, and yet 1 can
not name the man. Indeed, save my
self, and Walter Ford, and you, who
are half a clerk, and Father Christo
pher of the Priory, and Bertrand the
page, who is there whom she sees?"
"I cannot tell," quoth Alleyne shortly;
and the two squires rode on a gain,
each Intent upon his own thoughts.
Next day at morning lesson the
teacher observed that his pupil was
indeed looking pale and jaded, with
listless eyes and a weary manner lie
was heavy-hearted to note the change
in her.
"Your mistress, T fear. Is 111. Agatha,”
he said to the tire-woman, when the
Lady Maude had sought her chamber.
The maid looker aslant at him with
laughing eyes. "It is not an illness
that kills," quoth she.
“Pray God not!” he cried. "But tell
me. Agatha, what is it that ails her?”
"Me thinks that I could lay my hand
upon another who is smitten with the
same trouble,” said she, with the same
sidelong look. "Canst not give a name
to it, and thou so skilled In leechcraft?"
“Nay, save that she seems aweary."
“Well, bethink you that it is but
three days ere you will he gone, and
Castle Twynham be as dull us the
priory. Is there not enough there to
cloud a lady’s brow?"
“In sootii. yes," he answered. "I
had forgot that she is about to lose
her father.”
"Her father!" cried the tire-woman,
with a little trill of laughter. “Oh,
simple, simple!" And she was off down
the passage like arrow from bow, whilo
Alleyne stood gazing after her, be
twixt hope and doubt, scarce daring
to put faith in the meaning which
seemed to underlie her words.
CHAPTER X.
St. Luke’s day had come and had
gone, and It was iu the season of
Martinmas, that the White Company
was ready for its Journey. Loud
shrieked the brazen bugles from keep
and from gate-way, and merry was
tile rattle of the war-drum, ns 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 the strange scene—the circles of
yellow flickering light, the lines of
stern and bearded faces, the quick
shimmer of arms, and the lean heads
of the horses. In front stood th how
men, ten deep, with a fringe of under
offleers, wlio paced hither and thither,
marshalling the ranks with curt pre
cept or sharp rebuke. Behind were
the little clump of steel-clad horse
men. • their lances raised, with long
pensils drooping down the oaken shafts
So silent and still were they thut they
might have been metal-sheethed stat
ues, were It not for the occasional quick
Impatient of their chargers, or
tin; rattle of i liurnl'ron against neck
plates as they tossed and strained.
A spear's length In front of them sat
the spare and long-limbed figure of
Black .Slrnon, the Norwich fighting man,
his fierce, deep lined face framed 111
steel arid the silk guidon, marked with
the five scarlet roses, slanting over
his broad right shoulder.
The young squire was leaning for
ward gazing at the stirring and martial
scene, when he heard a short quick
gasp at his shoulder, arid there was
the I,ady Maude with her hand to her
heart, leaning up against the wall,
slender and fair, like a half-plucked
lily. Her face was turned away from
him, but he could see, by tlie sharp
Intake of her breath, that she was
weeping bitterly.
‘‘Alas! alas!” be cried, all unnerved
at the sight, ‘‘why Is It that you are
so sad, lady?"
“It Is the sight of these brave men,"
she answered; “and to think how many
of them go and how few are lik<- to
find their way back. I have seen it
before, when I was a little maid, In
the year of the Prince’s great battle
I remember then how they mustered
in the bailey, even as they do now.
and my lady-mother holding me In
her arms at this very window that X
might see the show."
“Please God, you will see them all
ha< k ere another year be out,” said he
She shook her head, looking round
at him with flushed cheeks and eyes
which sparkled In the lamp-light. “Oh,
hut I hate myself for being a woman!
she cried, with a stamp of her little
foot. “What can I do that is good >
Here I must hide and talk and sew
and 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, who could carry my
thoughts out of these gray walls, arid
raise my rnlnd above tapestry and
distaffs. What can I do? I am of no
more use or value than that broken
bow-stave.”
"You are of such value to me” he
cried In a whirl of hot. passionate
words, “that ail else has become
naught. You are mv heart, mv life
mv one and only thought Oh. Maude
T cannot live without you! I nannot I
leave von without a word of love ah
Is changed to me since T have known
vou T am poor and lowly and all
iinworthv: but If great iove may weigh
down sueh defeets. then mihe may do
It Give me but one word of hope to
t-ike to the wars with me. but one.
Ah vou shrink vou shudder! My wild
words have frightened you .
Twice she opened her lips,
no sound came from them. At last
she spoke In a hard and measured voice
as one who dare not trust herself to
speak too freely.
“This Is over-sudden, she said. It Is
not so long since the wor, {*
nothing to you. You have changed
once; perchance you may change
again."
"Cruel!" he cried. “Who hath
changed me?"
"And then your brother!" she con
tinued with a little laugn, disregard
ing his question. "Methmks this hath
become a family custom amongst the
iidricsons. Nay, 1 am sorry, I did not
mean a 'jibe. But, indeed, Alleyne,
tins hath come quickly upon me, and
1 scarce know whut to say.
"Say some word ut nope, however
distant —some kind word that 1 may
cherish in my heart.”
"Nay, Alleyne, il were a cruel kind
ness, and you have been 100 good and
true a friend lo me that 1 should use
you despite!ully. There cannot be a
closer link between us. it is madness
to think of it. Were there no othei
reasons, it is enough that my futliei
and your brother would both cry out
against it."
"Aly brother, what has lie to do with
it" And your father —"
“Come, Alleyne, was il not you who
would have me act fairly to all men,
and eertes, lo my lather amongst
them?"
"You say truly," he cried, "you say
truly. But you do not reject me,
Maude? You give me some ray of
hope? 1 do not ask pledge or promise.
Say only that I am not hateful to
you—that on some happier day I may
hear kinder words from you."
Her eyes softened upon him, and a
heartfelt answer was on her lips,
when a hoarse shout, witli tin- clatter
of arms and stamping of steeds, rose
up from the bailey below. At the
sound her face set. lier eyes sparkled,
and she stood with flushed cheek and
head thrown back —a woman's body,
but a soul of fire.
"My father hath gone down,” sho
cried. "Your place is by ills side. Nay,
look not at me, Alleyne It Is no
time for dallying. Win my father'll
love, and nil mny follow. It is when
the brave soldier hath done Ids devoir
that he hopes for his reward. Fare
well, and may God lie with you!” She
holdout her white, slim hand to him,
but ns he bent Ids lips over It sho
whisked away and was gone, leaving
In Ids outstretched hand tin' very
green veil for which Peter Terlake
had craved In vain. Again tlm hoarse
cheering burst out from below, and ho
heard the clang of the rising portcul
lis. Pressing the veil to Ids lips, he
thrust II Into the bosom of Ids tunic,
ami rushed ns fast us feet could bear
him to arm himself and join the muster.
The raw morning had broken ore
the hot spiced ale was served round
and last farewell spoken. First came
Black Simon with Ids banner, bestrid
ing a lean and powerful dapple-gray
charger, as hard and wiry ns himself.
After him, riding three abreast, were
nine men-at-arms, all picked soldiers,
who had followed the French wars
before. So, with Jingle of arms and
clatter of hoofs, they rode across the
Bridge of Avon, while the burghers
shouted for the flag of the live roses
and Its gallant guard.
Close at the heels of the horses came
two-score archers, burly and mostly
bearded, their round targets on their
backs and their long yellow bows, the
most deadly weapon that the wit of
man had yet devised, thrusting forth
from behind their shoulders. From
each man’s girdle hung sword or axe,
according to his humor, and over his
rltht hip there Jutted out the Jenlhern
quiver, with its bristle of goose, pigeon,
and peacock feathers.
Ho we’ll toast altogether
To the Gray Goose Feather,
And the land where the Gray Goose
- flew.
Behind the bowmen strode two
trumpeters blowing upon tiaklrs, and
two drummers In parti-colored clothes.
After them came twenty-seven sump
ter-horses carrying tent poles, cloth,
spare arms, spurs, wedges, cooking
kettles, horseshoes, bags of nails, and
the hundred other things which ex
perience had shown to be needful In a
harried hostile country. A white mule
with red trappings, led by a varlet,
carried Sir Nigel's own napery and
table comforts. Then came two-score
more archers, ten more rnen-ut-arms,
and, finality a rear-guard of twenty
bowmen, with big John towering in
the front rank and the veteran Aylward
marching by his side, his battered har
ness and faded, sureoat In strange con
trast with the snow-white jupons and
shining brlgandlnes of his companions.
A quick cross-fire of greetings ami
questions and rough West Saxon Jests
flew from rank to rank, or were bandied
about betwixt the marching archers
and the gazing crowd.
The Company had marched to the
turn of the road ere Sir Nigel Lotting
rode out from the gate-way, mounted
on Pomrners, his great black war
war-horse, whose ponderous footfall
on the wooden drawbridge echoed
loudly from the gloomy arch which
spanned It. Sir Nigel was still In Ills
velvet dress of peace, with flal velvet
cap of maintenance, and curling ostrich
feather clasped In a golden brooch.
He bore no arms save the long and |
What Does This Mean?
these puzzling
things, roughly
displayed in
Fresh Flood
upon the wall of a house
where a great crime had
/rn been committed, stared
jyr\\ you in the face, could you
mJ/1 j\ /S ex P* a,n their meaning?
Ibl/JJI i VI i Such was the problem which Sherlock
tf'/l} f j 8 Holmes had to solve in his first
wJfj I *II ** The Study in Scarlet"
WiJl { I IB A book which made CONAN I)OYL,K the fir»t
lit ’jiJih VA /p of detective writers In the world.
In Holmes’ next adventure, he was mmm i —-1... *
confronted by the cabalistic image I^fTTC,
in “The Sign of the Four”
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Same I
Street
Town State
heavy sword which hung at his sad
dle-bow; but Terlake carried in front
of him the high wivern-crested bassi
net, Ford the heavy ash spear with
swallow-tail pennon, while Alleyne
was entrusted with the emblazoned
shield. The Lady Loring rode her
palfrey at her lord's bridle-arm, for
she. would see him as far as the edge
of ttie forest, and ever and anon she
turned her hurdlined face up wistfully
to him and run a questioning eye over
his apparel and appointments.
"I trust that there Is nothing forgot,”
she said, beckoning to Alleyne to ride
on her farther side. “I trust him to
you. Edrlcson. Houen, shirts, cyclas,
and under-Jupons are in the brown
basket on the left side of the mule.
Ills wine he takes hot when the nights
are cold, malvolse or vernage, with
as much spice as would cover the
thumb-nail. Hee thut he hath a change
If he comes back hot from the tilting.
There is goose-grease In a box, if the
old scars ache at the turn of the
weather. The purse I have already
given you, Edrlcson, continued the
lady. “There arc In It twenty-three
marks, one noble, three shillings and
fourpence, which is a great treasure
for one man to carry. And I pray you
to bear In ntind, Edrlcson, thut he
hath two pair of shoes, those of red
leather for common use, and the others
with golden toechalns, which he may
wear should ho chance to drink wlae
with the Prince or with Chandos.”
"My sweet bird." said Sir Nigel, ”1
am right loath to part, but we are
now at the fringe of the forest, and
it is not right that I should take tho
chatelaine too far from her trust.”
"But, oh, my dear lord.” she cried,
with a trembling lip, “let me bide
with you for one furlong further—or
one and n half, perhaps. You may
spare me this out of the weary miles
that you will journey alone."
"Come then, my heart's comfort,” he
answered. "But I must crave a gage
from thee. It is my custom, darling,
and hath been since I have first known
thee, to proclaim by herald in such
camps, townships, or fortalloes as I
may chance to visit, that my lady-love
being beyond compare the fairest ami
sweetest In Christendom, I should
deem It great honor and kindly eonde
seension If any cavalier would run
three courses against me with shar
pened lances, should he chance to have
a lady whose claim he was willing
to advance. I pray you then, my fair
dove, that you will vouchsafe to me
one of those doe-skin gloves, that I
may wear It iis the badge of her whose
servant I shall ever be.”
“Alack apd alas for the fairest and
sweetest!" she cried. "Fair and sweet
I would fain be for your dear sake, my
lord, but old I am and ugly, and tho
knights would laugh should you lay
lance in rest In such a cause.”
"Edrlcson,” quoth Sir Nigel, “you
have young eyes, and mine are some
what bedimmed. Should you chance
to sco a knight laugh, oi- smile, or
even look,, arch Ills brows, or purse
his mouth, or In any way show sur
prise that I should uphold the Lady
Mary, you will take particular noto
of hls name, his coat-armor, ami his
lodging. I’our love, my llfe’B desire!”
The Lady Mary Loring slipped her
hand from her yellow leal her gauntlet,
and he, lifting it with dainty rever
ence, bound It to the front of hls velvet
cup.
"It Is with mine other guardian
angels,” quoth he, pointing at the
.mint’s medals which hung beside It.
"And now, my dearest, you have come
far enough. May the Virgin guard and
prosper thee' One klßs!” he bent down
from hls saddle, and then, striking
spurs Into Ills horse's sides, he galloped
at top speed after hls men, with hls
three squires at hls heels. Half a mile
farther, where the road topped a hill,
they looked buck, and the Lady Mary,
on her white palfrey, was still where
they had left her. A moment later they
vyero on the downward slope, and she
Imd vanished from their view.
(To be Continued Next Week.)
Synopsis of Preceding Chapters.
The *eene* of Mm story r»re laid In the 14th century*
llordle John, of ilo* C'irftercian MitUMter}, flvun
from tho AM*"' of Mean lieu. guilty of certain serious
chuives brought aguin-t liirn by a number of tlm
monk*. Another “f tin* lay brethren, Alleypii fc«l
rloHon,tak<» hi* departure In accordance with hm I
father'* vi ill, denignating tliut lie should, when bo
became Vi, go forth for one year to chooao for bun
gel f fi In future calling. In nadiicMf lie irofM to rlflt bla
brother, tho Hooiiiaii of Min*t<ud. wbone reputation
Id tniHHvorv. At night Alleyne** <k* a road-uide Inn,
where ho meet* Honlle Jolm, find Hamkln Avlward.
nn Kngll*h aiclor Jimt buck from the French war*.
A lb yno Hud* I In brother In Mlntdend wood* quarrel
ing wlf bit beautiful dam-el. Ho icmcupm h» r, thereby
g lining!ho Hoernau’s enmity. Tim mulden, lournii.tr
! thut ho Intend- to j< In hi < on m pun lon a at Cnrl*t
churoh. w hero dwell* Sir Nigel, leave* him laughingly
without tolling him her name. 110 reloin* hi* cooi
imiii'diHHini they journey to Hlr Nigel'* home. On Bee
» lug tho renowned knight, f lordlc John I* much vexed
nt ill apparent bodily weaknc**but <|illckly changv*
hi* mind when they have mi adventure with a huge
bear, lien Allevehe moot* bln companion of the
Woods, whom ho lotti UN 1* tlm daughter of Hir Nigel.
