The White Company

by Arthur Conan Doyle

  CHAPTER XXXVI. HOW SIR NIGEL TOOK THE PATCH FROM HIS EYE.

  It was a cold, bleak morning in the beginning of March, and the mist wasdrifting in dense rolling clouds through the passes of the Cantabrianmountains. The Company, who had passed the night in a sheltered gully,were already astir, some crowding round the blazing fires and othersromping or leaping over each other's backs for their limbs were chilledand the air biting. Here and there, through the dense haze whichsurrounded them, there loomed out huge pinnacles and jutting bouldersof rock: while high above the sea of vapor there towered up one giganticpeak, with the pink glow of the early sunshine upon its snow-cappedhead. The ground was wet, the rocks dripping, the grass and ever-greenssparkling with beads of moisture; yet the camp was loud with laughterand merriment, for a messenger had ridden in from the prince with wordsof heart-stirring praise for what they had done, and with orders thatthey should still abide in the forefront of the army.

  Round one of the fires were clustered four or five of the leading menof the archers, cleaning the rust from their weapons, and glancingimpatiently from time to time at a great pot which smoked over theblaze. There was Aylward squatting cross-legged in his shirt, while hescrubbed away at his chain-mail brigandine, whistling loudly the while.On one side of him sat old Johnston, who was busy in trimming thefeathers of some arrows to his liking; and on the other Hordle John, wholay with his great limbs all asprawl, and his headpiece balanced uponhis uplifted foot. Black Simon of Norwich crouched amid the rocks,crooning an Eastland ballad to himself, while he whetted his sword upona flat stone which lay across his knees; while beside him sat AlleyneEdricson, and Norbury, the silent squire of Sir Oliver, holding outtheir chilled hands towards the crackling faggots.

  "Cast on another culpon, John, and stir the broth with thysword-sheath," growled Johnston, looking anxiously for the twentiethtime at the reeking pot.

  "By my hilt!" cried Aylward, "now that John hath come by this greatransom, he will scarce abide the fare of poor archer lads. How say you,camarade? When you see Hordle once more, there will be no penny ale andfat bacon, but Gascon wines and baked meats every day of the seven."

  "I know not about that," said John, kicking his helmet up into the airand catching it in his hand. "I do but know that whether the broth beready or no, I am about to dip this into it."

  "It simmers and it boils," cried Johnston, pushing his hard-lined facethrough the smoke. In an instant the pot had been plucked from theblaze, and its contents had been scooped up in half a dozen steelhead-pieces, which were balanced betwixt their owners' knees, while,with spoon and gobbet of bread, they devoured their morning meal.

  "It is ill weather for bows," remarked John at last, when, with a longsigh, he drained the last drop from his helmet. "My strings are as limpas a cow's tail this morning."

  "You should rub them with water glue," quoth Johnston. "You remember,Samkin, that it was wetter than this on the morning of Crecy, and yet Icannot call to mind that there was aught amiss with our strings."

  "It is in my thoughts," said Black Simon, still pensively grinding hissword, "that we may have need of your strings ere sundown. I dreamed ofthe red cow last night."

  "And what is this red cow, Simon?" asked Alleyne.

  "I know not, young sir; but I can only say that on the eve of Cadsand,and on the eve of Crecy, and on the eve of Nogent, I dreamed of a redcow; and now the dream has come upon me again, so I am now setting avery keen edge to my blade."

  "Well said, old war-dog!" cried Aylward. "By my hilt! I pray that yourdream may come true, for the prince hath not set us out here to drinkbroth or to gather whortle-berries. One more fight, and I am ready tohang up my bow, marry a wife, and take to the fire corner. But how now,Robin? Whom is it that you seek?"

  "The Lord Loring craves your attendance in his tent," said a youngarcher to Alleyne.

  The squire rose and proceeded to the pavilion, where he found the knightseated upon a cushion, with his legs crossed in front of him and a broadribbon of parchment laid across his knees, over which he was poring withfrowning brows and pursed lips.

  "It came this morning by the prince's messenger," said he, "and wasbrought from England by Sir John Fallislee, who is new come from Sussex.What make you of this upon the outer side?"

  "It is fairly and clearly written," Alleyne answered, "and it signifiesTo Sir Nigel Loring, Knight Constable of Twynham Castle, by the hand ofChristopher, the servant of God at the Priory of Christchurch."

  "So I read it," said Sir Nigel. "Now I pray you to read what is setforth within."

  Alleyne turned to the letter, and, as his eyes rested upon it, his faceturned pale and a cry of surprise and grief burst from his lips.

  "What then?" asked the knight, peering up at him anxiously. "There isnought amiss with the Lady Mary or with the Lady Maude?"

  "It is my brother--my poor unhappy brother!" cried Alleyne, with hishand to his brow. "He is dead."

  "By Saint Paul! I have never heard that he had shown so much love foryou that you should mourn him so."

  "Yet he was my brother--the only kith or kin that I had upon earth.Mayhap he had cause to be bitter against me, for his land was given tothe abbey for my upbringing. Alas! alas! and I raised my staff againsthim when last we met! He has been slain--and slain, I fear, amidst crimeand violence."

  "Ha!" said Sir Nigel. "Read on, I pray you."

  "'God be with thee, my honored lord, and have thee in his holy keeping.The Lady Loring hath asked me to set down in writing what hath befallenat Twynham, and all that concerns the death of thy ill neighbor theSocman of Minstead. For when ye had left us, this evil man gatheredaround him all outlaws, villeins, and masterless men, until they werecome to such a force that they slew and scattered the king's men whowent against them. Then, coming forth from the woods, they laid siege tothy castle, and for two days they girt us in and shot hard against us,with such numbers as were a marvel to see. Yet the Lady Loring held theplace stoutly, and on the second day the Socman was slain--by his ownmen, as some think--so that we were delivered from their hands; forwhich praise be to all the saints, and more especially to the holyAnselm, upon whose feast it came to pass. The Lady Loring, and the LadyMaude, thy fair daughter, are in good health; and so also am I, save foran imposthume of the toe-joint, which hath been sent me for my sins. Mayall the saints preserve thee!'"

  "It was the vision of the Lady Tiphaine," said Sir Nigel, after a pause."Marked you not how she said that the leader was one with a yellowbeard, and how he fell before the gate. But how came it, Alleyne, thatthis woman, to whom all things are as crystal, and who hath not said oneword which has not come to pass, was yet so led astray as to say thatyour thoughts turned to Twynham Castle even more than my own?"

  "My fair lord," said Alleyne, with a flush on his weather-stainedcheeks, "the Lady Tiphaine may have spoken sooth when she said it; forTwynham Castle is in my heart by day and in my dreams by night."

  "Ha!" cried Sir Nigel, with a sidelong glance.

  "Yes, my fair lord; for indeed I love your daughter, the Lady Maude;and, unworthy as I am, I would give my heart's blood to serve her."

  "By St. Paul! Edricson," said the knight coldly, arching his eyebrows,"you aim high in this matter. Our blood is very old."

  "And mine also is very old," answered the squire.

  "And the Lady Maude is our single child. All our name and lands centreupon her."

  "Alas! that I should say it, but I also am now the only Edricson."

  "And why have I not heard this from you before, Alleyne? In sooth, Ithink that you have used me ill."

  "Nay, my fair lord, say not so; for I know not whether your daughterloves me, and there is no pledge between us."

  Sir Nigel pondered for a few moments, and then burst out a-laughing. "BySt. Paul!" said he, "I know not why I should mix in the matter; for Ihave ever found that the Lady Maud was very well able tolook to her own affairs. Since first she could stamp her little foot,she hath ever been able to get that for which she crav
ed; and if she sether heart on thee, Alleyne, and thou on her, I do not think that thisSpanish king, with his three-score thousand men, could hold you apart.Yet this I will say, that I would see you a full knight ere you go to mydaughter with words of love. I have ever said that a brave lance shouldwed her; and, by my soul! Edricson, if God spare you, I think that youwill acquit yourself well. But enough of such trifles, for we have ourwork before us, and it will be time to speak of this matter when we seethe white cliffs of England once more. Go to Sir William Felton, I prayyou, and ask him to come hither, for it is time that we were marching.There is no pass at the further end of the valley, and it is a perilousplace should an enemy come upon us."

  Alleyne delivered his message, and then wandered forth from the camp,for his mind was all in a whirl with this unexpected news, and with histalk with Sir Nigel. Sitting upon a rock, with his burning brow restingupon his hands, he thought of his brother, of their quarrel, of the LadyMaude in her bedraggled riding-dress, of the gray old castle, of theproud pale face in the armory, and of the last fiery words with whichshe had sped him on his way. Then he was but a penniless, monk-bred lad,unknown and unfriended. Now he was himself Socman of Minstead, the headof an old stock, and the lord of an estate which, if reduced from itsformer size, was still ample to preserve the dignity of his family.Further, he had become a man of experience, was counted brave amongbrave men, had won the esteem and confidence of her father, and, aboveall, had been listened to by him when he told him the secret of hislove. As to the gaining of knighthood, in such stirring times it was nogreat matter for a brave squire of gentle birth to aspire to that honor.He would leave his bones among these Spanish ravines, or he would dosome deed which would call the eyes of men upon him.

  Alleyne was still seated on the rock, his griefs and his joys driftingswiftly over his mind like the shadow of clouds upon a sunlit meadow,when of a sudden he became conscious of a low, deep sound which camebooming up to him through the fog. Close behind him he could hear themurmur of the bowmen, the occasional bursts of hoarse laughter, and thechamping and stamping of their horses. Behind it all, however, came thatlow-pitched, deep-toned hum, which seemed to come from every quarter andto fill the whole air. In the old monastic days he remembered tohave heard such a sound when he had walked out one windy night atBucklershard, and had listened to the long waves breaking upon theshingly shore. Here, however, was neither wind nor sea, and yet the dullmurmur rose ever louder and stronger out of the heart of the rolling seaof vapor. He turned and ran to the camp, shouting an alarm at the top ofhis voice.

  It was but a hundred paces, and yet ere he had crossed it every bowmanwas ready at his horse's head, and the group of knights were out andlistening intently to the ominous sound.

  "It is a great body of horse," said Sir William Felton, "and they areriding very swiftly hitherwards."

  "Yet they must be from the prince's army," remarked Sir Richard Causton,"for they come from the north."

  "Nay," said the Earl of Angus, "it is not so certain; for the peasantwith whom we spoke last night said that it was rumored that Don Tello,the Spanish king's brother, had ridden with six thousand chosen men tobeat up the prince's camp. It may be that on their backward road theyhave come this way."

  "By St. Paul!" cried Sir Nigel, "I think that it is even as you say, forthat same peasant had a sour face and a shifting eye, as one who bore uslittle good will. I doubt not that he has brought these cavaliers uponus."

  "But the mist covers us," said Sir Simon Burley. "We have yet time toride through the further end of the pass."

  "Were we a troop of mountain goats we might do so," answered Sir WilliamFelton, "but it is not to be passed by a company of horsemen. If thesebe indeed Don Tello and his men, then we must bide where we are, and dowhat we can to make them rue the day that they found us in their path."

  "Well spoken, William!" cried Sir Nigel, in high delight. "If there beso many as has been said, then there will be much honor to be gainedfrom them and every hope of advancement. But the sound has ceased, and Ifear that they have gone some other way."

  "Or mayhap they have come to the mouth of the gorge, and are marshallingtheir ranks. Hush and hearken! for they are no great way from us."

  The Company stood peering into the dense fog-wreath, amidst a silence soprofound that the dripping of the water from the rocks and the breathingof the horses grew loud upon the ear. Suddenly from out the sea of mistcame the shrill sound of a neigh, followed by a long blast upon a bugle.

  "It is a Spanish call, my fair lord," said Black Simon. "It is used bytheir prickers and huntsmen when the beast hath not fled, but is stillin its lair."

  "By my faith!" said Sir Nigel, smiling, "if they are in a humor forvenerie we may promise them some sport ere they sound the mort over us.But there is a hill in the centre of the gorge on which we might takeour stand."

  "I marked it yester-night," said Felton, "and no better spot could befound for our purpose, for it is very steep at the back. It is but abow-shot to the left, and, indeed, I can see the shadow of it."

  The whole Company, leading their horses, passed across to the small hillwhich loomed in front of them out of the mist. It was indeed admirablydesigned for defence, for it sloped down in front, all jagged andboulder-strewn, while it fell away in a sheer cliff of a hundred feet ormore. On the summit was a small uneven plateau, with a stretch across ofa hundred paces, and a depth of half as much again.

  "Unloose the horses!" said Sir Nigel. "We have no space for them, and ifwe hold our own we shall have horses and to spare when this day's workis done. Nay, keep yours, my fair sirs, for we may have work for them.Aylward, Johnston, let your men form a harrow on either side of theridge. Sir Oliver and you, my Lord Angus, I give you the right wing, andthe left to you, Sir Simon, and to you, Sir Richard Causton. I and SirWilliam Felton will hold the centre with our men-at-arms. Now orderthe ranks, and fling wide the banners, for our souls are God's and ourbodies the king's, and our swords for Saint George and for England!"

  Sir Nigel had scarcely spoken when the mist seemed to thin in thevalley, and to shred away into long ragged clouds which trailed fromthe edges of the cliffs. The gorge in which they had camped was a merewedge-shaped cleft among the hills, three-quarters of a mile deep, withthe small rugged rising upon which they stood at the further end, andthe brown crags walling it in on three sides. As the mist parted, andthe sun broke through, it gleamed and shimmered with dazzling brightnessupon the armor and headpieces of a vast body of horsemen who stretchedacross the barranca from one cliff to the other, and extended backwardsuntil their rear guard were far out upon the plain beyond. Line afterline, and rank after rank, they choked the neck of the valley witha long vista of tossing pennons, twinkling lances, waving plumes andstreaming banderoles, while the curvets and gambades of the chargerslent a constant motion and shimmer to the glittering, many-colored mass.A yell of exultation, and a forest of waving steel through the lengthand breadth of their column, announced that they could at last see theirentrapped enemies, while the swelling notes of a hundred bugles anddrums, mixed with the clash of Moorish cymbals, broke forth into a proudpeal of martial triumph. Strange it was to these gallant and sparklingcavaliers of Spain to look upon this handful of men upon the hill, thethin lines of bowmen, the knots of knights and men-at-arms with armorrusted and discolored from long service, and to learn that these wereindeed the soldiers whose fame and prowess had been the camp-fire talkof every army in Christendom. Very still and silent they stood, leaningupon their bows, while their leaders took counsel together in front ofthem. No clang of bugle rose from their stern ranks, but in the centrewaved the leopards of England, on the right the ensign of their Companywith the roses of Loring, and on the left, over three score of Welshbowmen, there floated the red banner of Merlin with the boars'-heads ofthe Buttesthorns. Gravely and sedately they stood beneath the morningsun waiting for the onslaught of their foemen.

  "By Saint Paul!" said Sir Nigel, gazing with puckered eye down thevalley, "there a
ppear to be some very worthy people among them. What isthis golden banner which waves upon the left?"

  "It is the ensign of the Knights of Calatrava," answered Felton.

  "And the other upon the right?"

  "It marks the Knights of Santiago, and I see by his flag that theirgrand-master rides at their head. There too is the banner of Castileamid yonder sparkling squadron which heads the main battle. There aresix thousand men-at-arms with ten squadrons of slingers as far as I mayjudge their numbers."

  "There are Frenchmen among them, my fair lord," remarked Black Simon."I can see the pennons of De Couvette, De Brieux, Saint Pol, and manyothers who struck in against us for Charles of Blois."

  "You are right," said Sir William, "for I can also see them. There ismuch Spanish blazonry also, if I could but read it. Don Diego, you knowthe arms of your own land. Who are they who have done us this honor?"

  The Spanish prisoner looked with exultant eyes upon the deep and serriedranks of his countrymen.

  "By Saint James!" said he, "if ye fall this day ye fall by no meanhands, for the flower of the knighthood of Castile ride under the bannerof Don Tello, with the chivalry of Asturias, Toledo, Leon, Cordova,Galicia, and Seville. I see the guidons of Albornez, Cacorla, Rodriguez,Tavora, with the two great orders, and the knights of France and ofAragon. If you will take my rede you will come to a composition withthem, for they will give you such terms as you have given me."

  "Nay, by Saint Paul! it were pity if so many brave men were drawntogether, and no little deed of arms to come of it. Ha! William, theyadvance upon us; and, by my soul! it is a sight that is worth comingover the seas to see."

  As he spoke, the two wings of the Spanish host, consisting of theKnights of Calatrava on the one side and of Santiago upon the other,came swooping swiftly down the valley, while the main body followed moreslowly behind. Five hundred paces from the English the two great bodiesof horse crossed each other, and, sweeping round in a curve, retiredin feigned confusion towards their centre. Often in bygone wars had theMoors tempted the hot-blooded Spaniards from their places of strength bysuch pretended flights, but there were men upon the hill to whom everyruse and trick of war were as their daily trade and practice. Again andeven nearer came the rallying Spaniards, and again with cry of fearand stooping bodies they swerved off to right and left, but the Englishstill stood stolid and observant among their rocks. The vanguard halteda long bow shot from the hill, and with waving spears and vauntingshouts challenged their enemies to come forth, while two cavaliers,pricking forward from the glittering ranks, walked their horses slowlybetween the two arrays with targets braced and lances in rest like thechallengers in a tourney.

  "By Saint Paul!" cried Sir Nigel, with his one eye glowing like anember, "these appear to be two very worthy and debonair gentlemen. I donot call to mind when I have seen any people who seemed of so great aheart and so high of enterprise. We have our horses, Sir William: shallwe not relieve them of any vow which they may have upon their souls?"

  Felton's reply was to bound upon his charger, and to urge it down theslope, while Sir Nigel followed not three spears'-lengths behind him.It was a rugged course, rocky and uneven, yet the two knights, choosingtheir men, dashed onwards at the top of their speed, while the gallantSpaniards flew as swiftly to meet them. The one to whom Felton foundhimself opposed was a tall stripling with a stag's head upon his shield,while Sir Nigel's man was broad and squat with plain steel harness, anda pink and white torse bound round his helmet. The first struck Feltonon the target with such force as to split it from side to side, but SirWilliam's lance crashed through the camail which shielded the Spaniard'sthroat, and he fell, screaming hoarsely, to the ground. Carried away bythe heat and madness of fight, the English knight never drew rein, butcharged straight on into the array of the knights of Calatrava. Longtime the silent ranks upon the hill could see a swirl and eddy deep downin the heart of the Spanish column, with a circle of rearing chargersand flashing blades. Here and there tossed the white plume of theEnglish helmet, rising and falling like the foam upon a wave, with thefierce gleam and sparkle ever circling round it until at last it hadsunk from view, and another brave man had turned from war to peace.

  Sir Nigel, meanwhile, had found a foeman worthy of his steel for hisopponent was none other than Sebastian Gomez, the picked lance ofthe monkish Knights of Santiago, who had won fame in a hundred bloodycombats with the Moors of Andalusia. So fierce was their meeting thattheir spears shivered up to the very grasp, and the horses rearedbackwards until it seemed that they must crash down upon their riders.Yet with consummate horsemanship they both swung round in a long curvet,and then plucking out their swords they lashed at each other like twolusty smiths hammering upon an anvil. The chargers spun round eachother, biting and striking, while the two blades wheeled and whizzed andcircled in gleams of dazzling light. Cut, parry, and thrust followedso swiftly upon each other that the eye could not follow them, until atlast coming thigh to thigh, they cast their arms around each otherand rolled off their saddles to the ground. The heavier Spaniard threwhimself upon his enemy, and pinning him down beneath him raised hissword to slay him, while a shout of triumph rose from the ranks of hiscountrymen. But the fatal blow never fell, for even as his arm quiveredbefore descending, the Spaniard gave a shudder, and stiffening himselfrolled heavily over upon his side, with the blood gushing from hisarmpit and from the slit of his vizor. Sir Nigel sprang to his feet withhis bloody dagger in his left hand and gazed down upon his adversary,but that fatal and sudden stab in the vital spot, which the Spaniard hadexposed by raising his arm, had proved instantly mortal. The Englishmanleaped upon his horse and made for the hill, at the very instant that ayell of rage from a thousand voices and the clang of a score of buglesannounced the Spanish onset.

  But the islanders were ready and eager for the encounter. With feetfirmly planted, their sleeves rolled back to give free play to theirmuscles, their long yellow bow-staves in their left hands, and theirquivers slung to the front, they had waited in the four-deep harrowformation which gave strength to their array, and yet permitted everyman to draw his arrow freely without harm to those in front. Aylward andJohnston had been engaged in throwing light tufts of grass into the airto gauge the wind force, and a hoarse whisper passed down the ranks fromthe file-leaders to the men, with scraps of advice and admonition.

  "Do not shoot outside the fifteen-score paces," cried Johnston. "We mayneed all our shafts ere we have done with them."

  "Better to overshoot than to undershoot," added Aylward. "Better tostrike the rear guard than to feather a shaft in the earth."

  "Loose quick and sharp when they come," added another. "Let it be theeye to the string, the string to the shaft, and the shaft to the mark.By Our Lady! their banners advance, and we must hold our ground now ifever we are to see Southampton Water again."

  Alleyne, standing with his sword drawn amidst the archers, saw a longtoss and heave of the glittering squadrons. Then the front ranks beganto surge slowly forward, to trot, to canter, to gallop, and in aninstant the whole vast array was hurtling onward, line after line, theair full of the thunder of their cries, the ground shaking with the beatof their hoofs, the valley choked with the rushing torrent of steel,topped by the waving plumes, the slanting spears and the flutteringbanderoles. On they swept over the level and up to the slope, ere theymet the blinding storm of the English arrows. Down went the whole ranksin a whirl of mad confusion, horses plunging and kicking, bewildered menfalling, rising, staggering on or back, while ever new lines of horsemencame spurring through the gaps and urged their chargers up the fatalslope. All around him Alleyne could hear the stern, short orders of themaster-bowmen, while the air was filled with the keen twanging of thestrings and the swish and patter of the shafts. Right across the footof the hill there had sprung up a long wall of struggling horses andstricken men, which ever grew and heightened as fresh squadrons pouredon the attack. One young knight on a gray jennet leaped over his fallencomrades and galloped swiftly up the hill
, shrieking loudly upon SaintJames, ere he fell within a spear-length of the English line, with thefeathers of arrows thrusting out from every crevice and joint of hisarmor. So for five long minutes the gallant horsemen of Spain and ofFrance strove ever and again to force a passage, until the wailingnote of a bugle called them back, and they rode slowly out of bow-shot,leaving their best and their bravest in the ghastly, blood-mottled heapbehind them.

  But there was little rest for the victors. Whilst the knights hadcharged them in front the slingers had crept round upon either flank andhad gained a footing upon the cliffs and behind the outlying rocks.A storm of stones broke suddenly upon the defenders, who, drawn up inlines upon the exposed summit, offered a fair mark to their hiddenfoes. Johnston, the old archer, was struck upon the temple and fell deadwithout a groan, while fifteen of his bowmen and six of the men-at-armswere struck down at the same moment. The others lay on their faces toavoid the deadly hail, while at each side of the plateau a fringe ofbowmen exchanged shots with the slingers and crossbowmen among therocks, aiming mainly at those who had swarmed up the cliffs, andbursting into laughter and cheers when a well-aimed shaft brought one oftheir opponents toppling down from his lofty perch.

  "I think, Nigel," said Sir Oliver, striding across to the little knight,"that we should all acquit ourselves better had we our none-meat, forthe sun is high in the heaven."

  "By Saint Paul!" quoth Sir Nigel, plucking the patch from his eye,"I think that I am now clear of my vow, for this Spanish knight was aperson from whom much honor might be won. Indeed, he was a very worthygentleman, of good courage, and great hardiness, and it grieves me thathe should have come by such a hurt. As to what you say of food, Oliver,it is not to be thought of, for we have nothing with us upon the hill."

  "Nigel!" cried Sir Simon Burley, hurrying up with consternation upon hisface, "Aylward tells me that there are not ten-score arrows left in alltheir sheaves. See! they are springing from their horses, and cuttingtheir sollerets that they may rush upon us. Might we not even now make aretreat?"

  "My soul will retreat from my body first!" cried the little knight."Here I am, and here I bide, while God gives me strength to lift asword."

  "And so say I!" shouted Sir Oliver, throwing his mace high into the airand catching it again by the handle.

  "To your arms, men!" roared Sir Nigel. "Shoot while you may, and thenout sword, and let us live or die together!"