The White Company

by Arthur Conan Doyle

  CHAPTER XI. HOW A YOUNG SHEPHERD HAD A PERILOUS FLOCK.

  Black was the mouth of Twynham Castle, though a pair of torches burningat the further end of the gateway cast a red glare over the outerbailey, and sent a dim, ruddy flicker through the rough-hewn arch,rising and falling with fitful brightness. Over the door the travellerscould discern the escutcheon of the Montacutes, a roebuck gules on afield argent, flanked on either side by smaller shields which bore thered roses of the veteran constable. As they passed over the drawbridge,Alleyne marked the gleam of arms in the embrasures to right and left,and they had scarce set foot upon the causeway ere a hoarse blareburst from a bugle, and, with screech of hinge and clank of chain, theponderous bridge swung up into the air, drawn by unseen hands. At thesame instant the huge portcullis came rattling down from above, and shutoff the last fading light of day. Sir Nigel and his lady walked on indeep talk, while a fat under-steward took charge of the three comrades,and led them to the buttery, where beef, bread, and beer were kept everin readiness for the wayfarer. After a hearty meal and a dip in thetrough to wash the dust from them, they strolled forth into the bailey,where the bowman peered about through the darkness at wall and at keep,with the carping eyes of one who has seen something of sieges, and isnot likely to be satisfied. To Alleyne and to John, however, it appearedto be as great and as stout a fortress as could be built by the hands ofman.

  Erected by Sir Balwin de Redvers in the old fighting days of the twelfthcentury, when men thought much of war and little of comfort, CastleTwynham had been designed as a stronghold pure and simple, unlike thoselater and more magnificent structures where warlike strength had beencombined with the magnificence of a palace. From the time of the Edwardssuch buildings as Conway or Caernarvon castles, to say nothing of RoyalWindsor, had shown that it was possible to secure luxury in peace aswell as security in times of trouble. Sir Nigel's trust, however, stillfrowned above the smooth-flowing waters of the Avon, very much as thestern race of early Anglo-Normans had designed it. There were the broadouter and inner bailies, not paved, but sown with grass to nourish thesheep and cattle which might be driven in on sign of danger. All roundwere high and turreted walls, with at the corner a bare square-facedkeep, gaunt and windowless, rearing up from a lofty mound, which made italmost inaccessible to an assailant. Against the bailey-walls were rowsof frail wooden houses and leaning sheds, which gave shelter to thearchers and men-at-arms who formed the garrison. The doors of thesehumble dwellings were mostly open, and against the yellow glare fromwithin Alleyne could see the bearded fellows cleaning their harness,while their wives would come out for a gossip, with their needlework intheir hands, and their long black shadows streaming across the yard.The air was full of the clack of their voices and the merry prattling ofchildren, in strange contrast to the flash of arms and constant warlikechallenge from the walls above.

  "Methinks a company of school lads could hold this place against anarmy," quoth John.

  "And so say I," said Alleyne.

  "Nay, there you are wide of the clout," the bowman said gravely. "By myhilt! I have seen a stronger fortalice carried in a summer evening.I remember such a one in Picardy, with a name as long as a Gascon'spedigree. It was when I served under Sir Robert Knolles, before the daysof the Company; and we came by good plunder at the sacking of it. I hadmyself a great silver bowl, with two goblets, and a plastron of Spanishsteel. Pasques Dieu! there are some fine women over yonder! Mort de mavie! see to that one in the doorway! I will go speak to her. But whomhave we here?"

  "Is there an archer here hight Sam Aylward?" asked a gaunt man-at-arms,clanking up to them across the courtyard.

  "My name, friend," quoth the bowman.

  "Then sure I have no need to tell thee mine," said the other.

  "By the rood! if it is not Black Simon of Norwich!" cried Aylward. "Amon coeur, camarade, a mon coeur! Ah, but I am blithe to see thee!" Thetwo fell upon each other and hugged like bears.

  "And where from, old blood and bones?" asked the bowman.

  "I am in service here. Tell me, comrade, is it sooth that we shall haveanother fling at these Frenchmen? It is so rumored in the guard-room,and that Sir Nigel will take the field once more."

  "It is like enough, mon gar., as things go."

  "Now may the Lord be praised!" cried the other. "This very night will Iset apart a golden ouche to be offered on the shrine of my name-saint. Ihave pined for this, Aylward, as a young maid pines for her lover."

  "Art so set on plunder then? Is the purse so light that there is notenough for a rouse? I have a bag at my belt, camarade, and you have butto put your fist into it for what you want. It was ever share and sharebetween us."

  "Nay, friend, it is not the Frenchman's gold, but the Frenchman's bloodthat I would have. I should not rest quiet in the grave, coz, if I hadnot another turn at them. For with us in France it has ever been fairand honest war--a shut fist for the man, but a bended knee for thewoman. But how was it at Winchelsea when their galleys came down upon itsome few years back? I had an old mother there, lad, who had come downthither from the Midlands to be the nearer her son. They found herafterwards by her own hearthstone, thrust through by a Frenchman's bill.My second sister, my brother's wife, and her two children, they were butash-heaps in the smoking ruins of their house. I will not say that wehave not wrought great scath upon France, but women and children havebeen safe from us. And so, old friend, my heart is hot within me, and Ilong to hear the old battle-cry again, and, by God's truth! if SirNigel unfurls his pennon, here is one who will be right glad to feel thesaddle-flaps under his knees."

  "We have seen good work together, old war-dog," quoth Aylward; "and,by my hilt! we may hope to see more ere we die. But we are more like tohawk at the Spanish woodcock than at the French heron, though certesit is rumored that Du Guesclin with all the best lances of France havetaken service under the lions and towers of Castile. But, comrade, it isin my mind that there is some small matter of dispute still open betweenus."

  "'Fore God, it is sooth!" cried the other; "I had forgot it. Theprovost-marshal and his men tore us apart when last we met."

  "On which, friend, we vowed that we should settle the point when next wecame together. Hast thy sword, I see, and the moon throws glimmer enoughfor such old night-birds as we. On guard, mon gar.! I have not heardclink of steel this month or more."

  "Out from the shadow then," said the other, drawing his sword. "A vow isa vow, and not lightly to be broken."

  "A vow to the saints," cried Alleyne, "is indeed not to be set aside;but this is a devil's vow, and, simple clerk as I am, I am yet themouthpiece of the true church when I say that it were mortal sin tofight on such a quarrel. What! shall two grown men carry malice foryears, and fly like snarling curs at each other's throats?"

  "No malice, my young clerk, no malice," quoth Black Simon. "I have nota bitter drop in my heart for mine old comrade; but the quarrel, as hehath told you, is still open and unsettled. Fall on, Aylward!"

  "Not whilst I can stand between you," cried Alleyne, springing beforethe bowman. "It is shame and sin to see two Christian Englishmen turnswords against each other like the frenzied bloodthirsty paynim."

  "And, what is more," said Hordle John, suddenly appearing out of thebuttery with the huge board upon which the pastry was rolled, "if eitherraise sword I shall flatten him like a Shrovetide pancake. By the blackrood! I shall drive him into the earth, like a nail into a door, ratherthan see you do scath to each other."

  "'Fore God, this is a strange way of preaching peace," cried BlackSimon. "You may find the scath yourself, my lusty friend, if you raiseyour great cudgel to me. I had as lief have the castle drawbridge dropupon my pate."

  "Tell me, Aylward," said Alleyne earnestly, with his hands outstretchedto keep the pair asunder, "what is the cause of quarrel, that we may seewhether honorable settlement may not be arrived at?"

  The bowman looked down at his feet and then up at the moon. "Parbleu!"he cried, "the cause of quarrel? Why, mon petit, it was
years ago inLimousin, and how can I bear in mind what was the cause of it? Simonthere hath it at the end of his tongue."

  "Not I, in troth," replied the other; "I have had other things to thinkof. There was some sort of bickering over dice, or wine, or was it awoman, coz?"

  "Pasques Dieu! but you have nicked it," cried Aylward. "It was indeedabout a woman; and the quarrel must go forward, for I am still of thesame mind as before."

  "What of the woman, then?" asked Simon. "May the murrain strike me if Ican call to mind aught about her."

  "It was La Blanche Rose, maid at the sign of the 'Trois Corbeaux' atLimoges. Bless her pretty heart! Why, mon gar., I loved her."

  "So did a many," quoth Simon. "I call her to mind now. On the very daythat we fought over the little hussy, she went off with Evan ap Price,a long-legged Welsh dagsman. They have a hostel of their own now,somewhere on the banks of the Garonne, where the landlord drinks so muchof the liquor that there is little left for the customers."

  "So ends our quarrel, then," said Aylward, sheathing his sword. "A Welshdagsman, i' faith! C'etait mauvais gout, camarade, and the more so whenshe had a jolly archer and a lusty man-at-arms to choose from."

  "True, old lad. And it is as well that we can compose our differenceshonorably, for Sir Nigel had been out at the first clash of steel; andhe hath sworn that if there be quarrelling in the garrison he wouldsmite the right hand from the broilers. You know him of old, and that heis like to be as good as his word."

  "Mort-Dieu! yes. But there are ale, mead, and wine in the buttery, andthe steward a merry rogue, who will not haggle over a quart or two.Buvons, mon gar., for it is not every day that two old friends cometogether."

  The old soldiers and Hordle John strode off together in all goodfellowship. Alleyne had turned to follow them, when he felt a touch uponhis shoulder, and found a young page by his side.

  "The Lord Loring commands," said the boy, "that you will follow me tothe great chamber, and await him there."

  "But my comrades?"

  "His commands were for you alone."

  Alleyne followed the messenger to the east end of the courtyard, where abroad flight of steps led up to the doorway of the main hall, the outerwall of which is washed by the waters of the Avon. As designed at first,no dwelling had been allotted to the lord of the castle and his familybut the dark and dismal basement story of the keep. A more civilized ormore effeminate generation, however, had refused to be pent up in sucha cellar, and the hall with its neighboring chambers had been added fortheir accommodation. Up the broad steps Alleyne went, still followinghis boyish guide, until at the folding oak doors the latter paused, andushered him into the main hall of the castle.

  On entering the room the clerk looked round; but, seeing no one, hecontinued to stand, his cap in his hand, examining with the greatestinterest a chamber which was so different to any to which he wasaccustomed. The days had gone by when a nobleman's hall was but abarn-like, rush-strewn enclosure, the common lounge and eating-room ofevery inmate of the castle. The Crusaders had brought back with themexperiences of domestic luxuries, of Damascus carpets and rugs ofAleppo, which made them impatient of the hideous bareness and want ofprivacy which they found in their ancestral strongholds. Still stronger,however, had been the influence of the great French war; for, howeverwell matched the nations might be in martial exercises, there could beno question but that our neighbors were infinitely superior to us in thearts of peace. A stream of returning knights, of wounded soldiers,and of unransomed French noblemen, had been for a quarter of a centurycontinually pouring into England, every one of whom exerted an influencein the direction of greater domestic refinement, while shiploads ofFrench furniture from Calais, Rouen, and other plundered towns, hadsupplied our own artisans with models on which to shape their work.Hence, in most English castles, and in Castle Twynham among the rest,chambers were to be found which would seem to be not wanting either inbeauty or in comfort.

  In the great stone fireplace a log fire was spurting and crackling,throwing out a ruddy glare which, with the four bracket-lamps whichstood at each corner of the room, gave a bright and lightsome air to thewhole apartment. Above was a wreath-work of blazonry, extending up tothe carved and corniced oaken roof; while on either side stood the highcanopied chairs placed for the master of the house and for his mosthonored guest. The walls were hung all round with most elaborate andbrightly colored tapestry, representing the achievements of Sir Bevisof Hampton, and behind this convenient screen were stored the tablesdormant and benches which would be needed for banquet or high festivity.The floor was of polished tiles, with a square of red and black diaperedFlemish carpet in the centre; and many settees, cushions, foldingchairs, and carved bancals littered all over it. At the further end wasa long black buffet or dresser, thickly covered with gold cups, silversalvers, and other such valuables. All this Alleyne examined withcurious eyes; but most interesting of all to him was a small ebonytable at his very side, on which, by the side of a chess-board and thescattered chessmen, there lay an open manuscript written in a rightclerkly hand, and set forth with brave flourishes and devices along themargins. In vain Alleyne bethought him of where he was, and of thoselaws of good breeding and decorum which should restrain him: thosecolored capitals and black even lines drew his hand down to them, asthe loadstone draws the needle, until, almost before he knew it, hewas standing with the romance of Garin de Montglane before his eyes, soabsorbed in its contents as to be completely oblivious both of where hewas and why he had come there.

  He was brought back to himself, however, by a sudden little ripple ofquick feminine laughter. Aghast, he dropped the manuscript among thechessmen and stared in bewilderment round the room. It was as empty andas still as ever. Again he stretched his hand out to the romance, andagain came that roguish burst of merriment. He looked up at the ceiling,back at the closed door, and round at the stiff folds of motionlesstapestry. Of a sudden, however, he caught a quick shimmer from thecorner of a high-backed bancal in front of him, and, shifting a paceor two to the side, saw a white slender hand, which held a mirror ofpolished silver in such a way that the concealed observer could seewithout being seen. He stood irresolute, uncertain whether to advance orto take no notice; but, even as he hesitated, the mirror was whippedin, and a tall and stately young lady swept out from behind the oakenscreen, with a dancing light of mischief in her eyes. Alleyne startedwith astonishment as he recognized the very maiden who had sufferedfrom his brother's violence in the forest. She no longer wore her gayriding-dress, however, but was attired in a long sweeping robe of blackvelvet of Bruges, with delicate tracery of white lace at neck and atwrist, scarce to be seen against her ivory skin. Beautiful as she hadseemed to him before, the lithe charm of her figure and the proud, freegrace of her bearing were enhanced now by the rich simplicity of herattire.

  "Ah, you start," said she, with the same sidelong look of mischief,"and I cannot marvel at it. Didst not look to see the distressed damoselagain. Oh that I were a minstrel, that I might put it into rhyme,with the whole romance--the luckless maid, the wicked socman, and thevirtuous clerk! So might our fame have gone down together for all time,and you be numbered with Sir Percival or Sir Galahad, or all the otherrescuers of oppressed ladies."

  "What I did," said Alleyne, "was too small a thing for thanks; and yet,if I may say it without offence, it was too grave and near a matterfor mirth and raillery. I had counted on my brother's love, but God haswilled that it should be otherwise. It is a joy to me to see you again,lady, and to know that you have reached home in safety, if this beindeed your home."

  "Yes, in sooth, Castle Twynham is my home, and Sir Nigel Loring myfather. I should have told you so this morning, but you said that youwere coming thither, so I bethought me that I might hold it back asa surprise to you. Oh dear, but it was brave to see you!" she cried,bursting out a-laughing once more, and standing with her hand pressed toher side, and her half-closed eyes twinkling with amusement. "You drewback and came forward with your eyes upon my book
there, like the mousewho sniffs the cheese and yet dreads the trap."

  "I take shame," said Alleyne, "that I should have touched it."

  "Nay, it warmed my very heart to see it. So glad was I, that I laughedfor very pleasure. My fine preacher can himself be tempted then, thoughtI; he is not made of another clay to the rest of us."

  "God help me! I am the weakest of the weak," groaned Alleyne. "I praythat I may have more strength."

  "And to what end?" she asked sharply. "If you are, as I understand, toshut yourself forever in your cell within the four walls of an abbey,then of what use would it be were your prayer to be answered?"

  "The use of my own salvation."

  She turned from him with a pretty shrug and wave. "Is that all?" shesaid. "Then you are no better than Father Christopher and the rest ofthem. Your own, your own, ever your own! My father is the king's man,and when he rides into the press of fight he is not thinking ever of thesaving of his own poor body; he recks little enough if he leave it onthe field. Why then should you, who are soldiers of the Spirit, beever moping or hiding in cell or in cave, with minds full of your ownconcerns, while the world, which you should be mending, is going on itsway, and neither sees nor hears you? Were ye all as thoughtless of yourown souls as the soldier is of his body, ye would be of more avail tothe souls of others."

  "There is sooth in what you say, lady," Alleyne answered; "and yet Iscarce can see what you would have the clergy and the church to do."

  "I would have them live as others and do men's work in the world,preaching by their lives rather than their words. I would have them comeforth from their lonely places, mix with the borel folks, feel the painsand the pleasures, the cares and the rewards, the temptings and thestirrings of the common people. Let them toil and swinken, and labor,and plough the land, and take wives to themselves----"

  "Alas! alas!" cried Alleyne aghast, "you have surely sucked this poisonfrom the man Wicliffe, of whom I have heard such evil things."

  "Nay, I know him not. I have learned it by looking from my own chamberwindow and marking these poor monks of the priory, their weary life,their profitless round. I have asked myself if the best which can bedone with virtue is to shut it within high walls as though it were somesavage creature. If the good will lock themselves up, and if the wickedwill still wander free, then alas for the world!"

  Alleyne looked at her in astonishment, for her cheek was flushed, hereyes gleaming, and her whole pose full of eloquence and conviction. Yetin an instant she had changed again to her old expression of merrimentleavened with mischief.

  "Wilt do what I ask?" said she.

  "What is it, lady?"

  "Oh, most ungallant clerk! A true knight would never have asked, butwould have vowed upon the instant. 'Tis but to bear me out in what I sayto my father."

  "In what?"

  "In saying, if he ask, that it was south of the Christchurch road that Imet you. I shall be shut up with the tire-women else, and have a weekof spindle and bodkin, when I would fain be galloping Troubadour upWilverley Walk, or loosing little Roland at the Vinney Ridge herons."

  "I shall not answer him if he ask."

  "Not answer! But he will have an answer. Nay, but you must not fail me,or it will go ill with me."

  "But, lady," cried poor Alleyne in great distress, "how can I say thatit was to the south of the road when I know well that it was four milesto the north."

  "You will not say it?"

  "Surely you will not, too, when you know that it is not so?"

  "Oh, I weary of your preaching!" she cried, and swept away with a tossof her beautiful head, leaving Alleyne as cast down and ashamed asthough he had himself proposed some infamous thing. She was back againin an instant, however, in another of her varying moods.

  "Look at that, my friend!" said she. "If you had been shut up in abbeyor in cell this day you could not have taught a wayward maiden to abideby the truth. Is it not so? What avail is the shepherd if he leaves hissheep."

  "A sorry shepherd!" said Alleyne humbly. "But here is your noblefather."

  "And you shall see how worthy a pupil I am. Father, I am much beholdento this young clerk, who was of service to me and helped me this verymorning in Minstead Woods, four miles to the north of the Christchurchroad, where I had no call to be, you having ordered it otherwise." Allthis she reeled off in a loud voice, and then glanced with sidelong,questioning eyes at Alleyne for his approval.

  Sir Nigel, who had entered the room with a silvery-haired old lady uponhis arm, stared aghast at this sudden outburst of candor.

  "Maude, Maude!" said he, shaking his head, "it is more hard for me togain obedience from you than from the ten score drunken archers whofollowed me to Guienne. Yet, hush! little one, for your fair lady-motherwill be here anon, and there is no need that she should know it. We willkeep you from the provost-marshal this journey. Away to your chamber,sweeting, and keep a blithe face, for she who confesses is shriven. Andnow, fair mother," he continued, when his daughter had gone, "sityou here by the fire, for your blood runs colder than it did. AlleyneEdricson, I would have a word with you, for I would fain that you shouldtake service under me. And here in good time comes my lady, withoutwhose counsel it is not my wont to decide aught of 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 onewho may be trusted," said the Lady Loring. "And in good sooth my dearlord hath need of such a one by his side, for he recks so little ofhimself that there should be one there to look to his needs and meet hiswants. You have seen the cloisters; it were well that you should see theworld too, ere you make choice for life between them."

  "It was for that very reason that my father willed that I should comeforth into the world at my twentieth year," said Alleyne.

  "Then your father was a man of good counsel," said she, "and you cannotcarry out his will better than by going on this path, where all that isnoble and gallant in England will be your companions."

  "You can ride?" asked Sir Nigel, looking at the youth with puckeredeyes.

  "Yes, I have ridden much at the abbey."

  "Yet there is a difference betwixt a friar's hack and a warrior'sdestrier. You can sing and play?"

  "On citole, flute and rebeck."

  "Good! You can read blazonry?"

  "Indifferent well."

  "Then read this," quoth Sir Nigel, pointing upwards to one of the manyquarterings which adorned the wall over the fireplace.

  "Argent," Alleyne answered, "a fess azure charged with three lozengesdividing three mullets sable. Over all, on an escutcheon of the first, ajambe gules."

  "A jambe gules erased," said Sir Nigel, shaking his head solemnly. "Yetit is not amiss for a monk-bred man. I trust that you are lowly andserviceable?"

  "I have served all my life, my lord."

  "Canst carve too?"

  "I have carved two days a week for the brethren."

  "A model truly! Wilt make a squire of squires. But tell me, I 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,seeing that the weight of my helmet for thirty years hath in some degreefrayed it upon the top." He pulled off his velvet cap of maintenance ashe spoke, and displayed a pate which was as bald as an egg, and shonebravely in the firelight. "You see," said he, whisking round, andshowing one little strip where a line of scattered hairs, like the lastsurvivors in some fatal field, still barely held their own against thefate which had fallen upon their comrades; "these locks need some littleoiling and curling, for I doubt not that if you look slantwise at myhead, when the light is good, you will yourself perceive that there areplaces where the hair is sparse."

  "It is for you also to bear the purse," said the lady; "for my sweetlord is of so free and gracious a temper that he would give it gayly tothe first who asked alms of him. All these things, with some knowledgeof venerie, and of the management of horse, hawk and hound, with
thegrace and hardihood and courtesy which are proper to your age, will makeyou a fit squire for Sir Nigel Loring."

  "Alas! lady," Alleyne answered, "I know well the great honor that youhave done me in deeming me worthy to wait upon so renowned a knight,yet I am so conscious of my own weakness that I scarce dare incur dutieswhich I might be so ill-fitted to fulfil."

  "Modesty and a humble mind," said she, "are the very first and rarestgifts in page or squire. Your words prove that you have these, andall the rest is but the work of use and time. But there is no call forhaste. Rest upon it for the night, and let your orisons ask for guidancein the matter. We knew your father well, and would fain help his son,though we have small cause to love your brother the Socman, who isforever stirring up strife in the county."

  "We can scare hope," said Nigel, "to have all ready for our start beforethe feast of St. Luke, for there is much to be done in the time. Youwill have leisure, therefore, if it please you to take service under me,in which to learn your devoir. Bertrand, my daughter's page, is hot togo; but in sooth he is over young for such rough work as may be beforeus."

  "And I have one favor to crave from you," 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."

  "Little enough, lady, compared with those who were my teachers."

  "Yet enough for my purpose, I doubt not. For I would have you givean hour or two a day whilst you are with us in discoursing with mydaughter, the Lady Maude; for she is somewhat backward, I fear, and hathno love for letters, save for these poor fond romances, which do butfill her empty head with dreams of enchanted maidens and of errantcavaliers. Father Christopher comes over after nones from the priory,but he is stricken with years and slow of speech, so that she gets smallprofit from his teaching. I would have you do what you can with her, andwith Agatha my young tire-woman, and with Dorothy Pierpont."

  And so Alleyne found himself not only chosen as squire to a knight butalso as squire to three damosels, which was even further from the partwhich he had thought to play in the world. Yet he could but agree todo what he might, and so went forth from the castle hall with hisface flushed and his head in a whirl at the thought of the strange andperilous paths which his feet were destined to tread.