CHAPTER IX. HOW STRANGE THINGS BEFELL IN MINSTEAD WOOD.
The path which the young clerk had now to follow lay through amagnificent forest of the very heaviest timber, where the giant bowlsof oak and of beech formed long aisles in every direction, shootingup their huge branches to build the majestic arches of Nature's owncathedral. Beneath lay a broad carpet of the softest and greenest moss,flecked over with fallen leaves, but yielding pleasantly to the foot ofthe traveller. The track which guided him was one so seldom used that inplaces it lost itself entirely among the grass, to reappear as a reddishrut between the distant tree trunks. It was very still here in the heartof the woodlands. The gentle rustle of the branches and the distantcooing of pigeons were the only sounds which broke in upon the silence,save that once Alleyne heard afar off a merry call upon a hunting bugleand the shrill yapping of the hounds.
It was not without some emotion that he looked upon the scene aroundhim, for, in spite of his secluded life, he knew enough of the ancientgreatness of his own family to be aware that the time had been when theyhad held undisputed and paramount sway over all that tract of country.His father could trace his pure Saxon lineage back to that Godfrey Malfwho had held the manors of Bisterne and of Minstead at the time when theNorman first set mailed foot upon English soil. The afforestation of thedistrict, however, and its conversion into a royal demesne hadclipped off a large section of his estate, while other parts had beenconfiscated as a punishment for his supposed complicity in an abortiveSaxon rising. The fate of the ancestor had been typical of that of hisdescendants. During three hundred years their domains had graduallycontracted, sometimes through royal or feudal encroachment, andsometimes through such gifts to the Church as that with which Alleyne'sfather had opened the doors of Beaulieu Abbey to his younger son. Theimportance of the family had thus dwindled, but they still retained theold Saxon manor-house, with a couple of farms and a grove large enoughto afford pannage to a hundred pigs--"sylva de centum porcis," as theold family parchments describe it. Above all, the owner of the soilcould still hold his head high as the veritable Socman of Minstead--thatis, as holding the land in free socage, with no feudal superior, andanswerable to no man lower than the king. Knowing this, Alleyne feltsome little glow of worldly pride as he looked for the first timeupon the land with which so many generations of his ancestors had beenassociated. He pushed on the quicker, twirling his staff merrily, andlooking out at every turn of the path for some sign of the old Saxonresidence. He was suddenly arrested, however, by the appearance of awild-looking fellow armed with a club, who sprang out from behind a treeand barred his passage. He was a rough, powerful peasant, with cap andtunic of untanned sheepskin, leather breeches, and galligaskins roundlegs and feet.
"Stand!" he shouted, raising his heavy cudgel to enforce the order. "Whoare you who walk so freely through the wood? Whither would you go, andwhat is your errand?"
"Why should I answer your questions, my friend?" said Alleyne, standingon his guard.
"Because your tongue may save your pate. But where have I looked uponyour face before?"
"No longer ago than last night at the 'Pied Merlin,'" the clerkanswered, recognizing the escaped serf who had been so outspoken as tohis wrongs.
"By the Virgin! yes. You were the little clerk who sat so mum in thecorner, and then cried fy on the gleeman. What hast in the scrip?"
"Naught of any price."
"How can I tell that, clerk? Let me see."
"Not I."
"Fool! I could pull you limb from limb like a pullet. What would youhave? Hast forgot that we are alone far from all men? How can yourclerkship help you? Wouldst lose scrip and life too?"
"I will part with neither without fight."
"A fight, quotha? A fight betwixt spurred cock and new hatched chicken!Thy fighting days may soon be over."
"Hadst asked me in the name of charity I would have given freely," criedAlleyne. "As it stands, not one farthing shall you have with my freewill, and when I see my brother, the Socman of Minstead, he will raisehue and cry from vill to vill, from hundred to hundred, until you aretaken as a common robber and a scourge to the country."
The outlaw sank his club. "The Socman's brother!" he gasped. "Now,by the keys of Peter! I had rather that hand withered and tongue waspalsied ere I had struck or miscalled you. If you are the Socman'sbrother you are one of the right side, I warrant, for all your clerklydress."
"His brother I am," said Alleyne. "But if I were not, is that reason whyyou should molest me on the king's ground?"
"I give not the pip of an apple for king or for noble," cried the serfpassionately. "Ill have I had from them, and ill I shall repay them. Iam a good friend to my friends, and, by the Virgin! an evil foeman to myfoes."
"And therefore the worst of foemen to thyself," said Alleyne. "But Ipray you, since you seem to know him, to point out to me the shortestpath to my brother's house."
The serf was about to reply, when the clear ringing call of a bugleburst from the wood close behind them, and Alleyne caught sight foran instant of the dun side and white breast of a lordly stag glancingswiftly betwixt the distant tree trunks. A minute later came the shaggydeer-hounds, a dozen or fourteen of them, running on a hot scent, withnose to earth and tail in air. As they streamed past the silent forestaround broke suddenly into loud life, with galloping of hoofs, cracklingof brushwood, and the short, sharp cries of the hunters. Close behindthe pack rode a fourrier and a yeoman-pricker, whooping on the laggardsand encouraging the leaders, in the shrill half-French jargon which wasthe language of venery and woodcraft. Alleyne was still gazingafter them, listening to the loud "Hyke-a-Bayard! Hyke-a-Pomers!Hyke-a-Lebryt!" with which they called upon their favorite hounds, whena group of horsemen crashed out through the underwood at the very spotwhere the serf and he were standing.
The one who led was a man between fifty and sixty years of age, war-wornand weather-beaten, with a broad, thoughtful forehead and eyes whichshone brightly from under his fierce and overhung brows. His beard,streaked thickly with gray, bristled forward from his chin, and spokeof a passionate nature, while the long, finely cut face and firm mouthmarked the leader of men. His figure was erect and soldierly, and herode his horse with the careless grace of a man whose life had beenspent in the saddle. In common garb, his masterful face and flashingeye would have marked him as one who was born to rule; but now, with hissilken tunic powdered with golden fleurs-de-lis, his velvet mantle linedwith the royal minever, and the lions of England stamped in silver uponhis harness, none could fail to recognize the noble Edward, most warlikeand powerful of all the long line of fighting monarchs who had ruledthe Anglo-Norman race. Alleyne doffed hat and bowed head at the sightof him, but the serf folded his hands and leaned them upon his cudgel,looking with little love at the knot of nobles and knights-in-waitingwho rode behind the king.
"Ha!" cried Edward, reining up for an instant his powerful black steed."Le cerf est passe? Non? Ici, Brocas; tu parles Anglais."
"The deer, clowns?" said a hard-visaged, swarthy-faced man, who rode atthe king's elbow. "If ye have headed it back it is as much as your earsare worth."
"It passed by the blighted beech there," said Alleyne, pointing, "andthe hounds were hard at its heels."
"It is well," cried Edward, still speaking in French: for, though hecould understand English, he had never learned to express himself in sobarbarous and unpolished a tongue. "By my faith, sirs," he continued,half turning in his saddle to address his escort, "unless my woodcraftis sadly at fault, it is a stag of six tines and the finest that we haveroused this journey. A golden St. Hubert to the man who is the first tosound the mort." He shook his bridle as he spoke, and thundered away,his knights lying low upon their horses and galloping as hard as whipand spur would drive them, in the hope of winning the king's prize. Awaythey drove down the long green glade--bay horses, black and gray, ridersclad in every shade of velvet, fur, or silk, with glint of brazen hornand flash of knife and spear. One only lingered, the black-browed Ba
ronBrocas, who, making a gambade which brought him within arm-sweep ofthe serf, slashed him across the face with his riding-whip. "Doff, dog,doff," he hissed, "when a monarch deigns to lower his eyes to such asyou!"--then spurred through the underwood and was gone, with a gleam ofsteel shoes and flutter of dead leaves.
The villein took the cruel blow without wince or cry, as one to whomstripes are a birthright and an inheritance. His eyes flashed, however,and he shook his bony hand with a fierce wild gesture after theretreating figure.
"Black hound of Gascony," he muttered, "evil the day that you and thoselike you set foot in free England! I know thy kennel of Rochecourt. Thenight will come when I may do to thee and thine what you and your classhave wrought upon mine and me. May God smite me if I fail to smite thee,thou French robber, with thy wife and thy child and all that is underthy castle roof!"
"Forbear!" cried Alleyne. "Mix not God's name with these unhallowedthreats! And yet it was a coward's blow, and one to stir the blood andloose the tongue of the most peaceful. Let me find some soothing simplesand lay them on the weal to draw the sting."
"Nay, there is but one thing that can draw the sting, and that thefuture may bring to me. But, clerk, if you would see your brother youmust on, for there is a meeting to-day, and his merry men will await himere the shadows turn from west to east. I pray you not to hold him back,for it would be an evil thing if all the stout lads were there and theleader a-missing. I would come with you, but sooth to say I am stationedhere and may not move. The path over yonder, betwixt the oak and thethorn, should bring you out into his nether field."
Alleyne lost no time in following the directions of the wild, masterlessman, whom he left among the trees where he had found him. His heart wasthe heavier for the encounter, not only because all bitterness and wrathwere abhorrent to his gentle nature, but also because it disturbed himto hear his brother spoken of as though he were a chief of outlaws orthe leader of a party against the state. Indeed, of all the things whichhe had seen yet in the world to surprise him there was none morestrange than the hate which class appeared to bear to class. The talkof laborer, woodman and villein in the inn had all pointed to thewide-spread mutiny, and now his brother's name was spoken as though hewere the very centre of the universal discontent. In good truth, thecommons throughout the length and breadth of the land were heart-wearyof this fine game of chivalry which had been played so long at theirexpense. So long as knight and baron were a strength and a guard to thekingdom they might be endured, but now, when all men knew that the greatbattles in France had been won by English yeomen and Welsh stabbers,warlike fame, the only fame to which his class had ever aspired,appeared to have deserted the plate-clad horsemen. The sports of thelists had done much in days gone by to impress the minds of the people,but the plumed and unwieldy champion was no longer an object either offear or of reverence to men whose fathers and brothers had shot into thepress at Crecy or Poitiers, and seen the proudest chivalry in the worldunable to make head against the weapons of disciplined peasants. Powerhad changed hands. The protector had become the protected, and the wholefabric of the feudal system was tottering to a fall. Hence the fiercemutterings of the lower classes and the constant discontent, breakingout into local tumult and outrage, and culminating some years later inthe great rising of Tyler. What Alleyne saw and wondered at in Hampshirewould have appealed equally to the traveller in any other English countyfrom the Channel to the marches of Scotland.
He was following the track, his misgivings increasing with every stepwhich took him nearer to that home which he had never seen, when of asudden the trees began to thin and the sward to spread out onto a broad,green lawn, where five cows lay in the sunshine and droves of blackswine wandered unchecked. A brown forest stream swirled down the centreof this clearing, with a rude bridge flung across it, and on the otherside was a second field sloping up to a long, low-lying wooden house,with thatched roof and open squares for windows. Alleyne gazed acrossat it with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes--for this, he knew, mustbe the home of his fathers. A wreath of blue smoke floated up through ahole in the thatch, and was the only sign of life in the place, save agreat black hound which lay sleeping chained to the door-post. In theyellow shimmer of the autumn sunshine it lay as peacefully and as stillas he had oft pictured it to himself in his dreams.
He was roused, however, from his pleasant reverie by the sound ofvoices, and two people emerged from the forest some little way to hisright and moved across the field in the direction of the bridge. The onewas a man with yellow flowing beard and very long hair of the same tintdrooping over his shoulders; his dress of good Norwich cloth and hisassured bearing marked him as a man of position, while the sombre hueof his clothes and the absence of all ornament contrasted with the flashand glitter which had marked the king's retinue. By his side walkeda woman, tall and slight and dark, with lithe, graceful figure andclear-cut, composed features. Her jet-black hair was gathered back undera light pink coif, her head poised proudly upon her neck, and her steplong and springy, like that of some wild, tireless woodland creature.She held her left hand in front of her, covered with a red velvet glove,and on the wrist a little brown falcon, very fluffy and bedraggled,which she smoothed and fondled as she walked. As she came out into thesunshine, Alleyne noticed that her light gown, slashed with pink, wasall stained with earth and with moss upon one side from shoulder to hem.He stood in the shadow of an oak staring at her with parted lips, forthis woman seemed to him to be the most beautiful and graceful creaturethat mind could conceive of. Such had he imagined the angels, and suchhe had tried to paint them in the Beaulieu missals; but here there wassomething human, were it only in the battered hawk and discolored dress,which sent a tingle and thrill through his nerves such as no dream ofradiant and stainless spirit had ever yet been able to conjure up. Good,quiet, uncomplaining mother Nature, long slighted and miscalled, stillbides her time and draws to her bosom the most errant of her children.
The two walked swiftly across the meadow to the narrow bridge, he infront and she a pace or two behind. There they paused, and stood fora few minutes face to face talking earnestly. Alleyne had read andhad heard of love and of lovers. Such were these, doubtless--thisgolden-bearded man and the fair damsel with the cold, proud face. Whyelse should they wander together in the woods, or be so lost in talk byrustic streams? And yet as he watched, uncertain whether to advance fromthe cover or to choose some other path to the house, he soon cameto doubt the truth of this first conjecture. The man stood, tall andsquare, blocking the entrance to the bridge, and throwing out his handsas he spoke in a wild eager fashion, while the deep tones of his stormyvoice rose at times into accents of menace and of anger. She stoodfearlessly in front of him, still stroking her bird; but twice she threwa swift questioning glance over her shoulder, as one who is in searchof aid. So moved was the young clerk by these mute appeals, that he cameforth from the trees and crossed the meadow, uncertain what to do, andyet loth to hold back from one who might need his aid. So intent werethey upon each other that neither took note of his approach; until, whenhe was close upon them, the man threw his arm roughly round the damsel'swaist and drew her towards him, she straining her lithe, supple figureaway and striking fiercely at him, while the hooded hawk screamed withruffled wings and pecked blindly in its mistress's defence. Bird andmaid, however, had but little chance against their assailant who,laughing loudly, caught her wrist in one hand while he drew her towardshim with the other.
"The best rose has ever the longest thorns," said he. "Quiet, littleone, or you may do yourself a hurt. Must pay Saxon toll on Saxon land,my proud Maude, for all your airs and graces."
"You boor!" she hissed. "You base underbred clod! Is this your care andyour hospitality? I would rather wed a branded serf from my father'sfields. Leave go, I say----Ah! good youth, Heaven has sent you. Make himloose me! By the honor of your mother, I pray you to stand by me and tomake this knave loose me."
"Stand by you I will, and that blithely," said Alleyne. "Surely, sir,y
ou should take shame to hold the damsel against her will."
The man turned a face upon him which was lion-like in its strength andin its wrath. With his tangle of golden hair, his fierce blue eyes, andhis large, well-marked features, he was the most comely man whom Alleynehad ever seen, and yet there was something so sinister and so fell inhis expression that child or beast might well have shrunk from him. Hisbrows were drawn, his cheek flushed, and there was a mad sparkle in hiseyes which spoke of a wild, untamable nature.
"Young fool!" he cried, holding the woman still to his side, thoughevery line of her shrinking figure spoke her abhorrence. "Do you keepyour spoon in your own broth. I rede you to go on your way, lest worsebefall you. This little wench has come with me and with me she shallbide."
"Liar!" cried the woman; and, stooping her head, she suddenly bitfiercely into the broad brown hand which held her. He whipped it backwith an oath, while she tore herself free and slipped behind Alleyne,cowering up against him like the trembling leveret who sees the falconpoising for the swoop above him.
"Stand off my land!" the man said fiercely, heedless of the blood whichtrickled freely from his fingers. "What have you to do here? By yourdress you should be one of those cursed clerks who overrun the land likevile rats, poking and prying into other men's concerns, too caitiff tofight and too lazy to work. By the rood! if I had my will upon ye, Ishould nail you upon the abbey doors, as they hang vermin before theirholes. Art neither man nor woman, young shaveling. Get thee back to thyfellows ere I lay hands upon you: for your foot is on my land, and I mayslay you as a common draw-latch."
"Is this your land, then?" gasped Alleyne.
"Would you dispute it, dog? Would you wish by trick or quibble to juggleme out of these last acres? Know, base-born knave, that you have daredthis day to stand in the path of one whose race have been the advisersof kings and the leaders of hosts, ere ever this vile crew of Normanrobbers came into the land, or such half-blood hounds as you were letloose to preach that the thief should have his booty and the honest manshould sin if he strove to win back his own."
"You are the Socman of Minstead?"
"That am I; and the son of Edric the Socman, of the pure blood ofGodfrey the thane, by the only daughter of the house of Aluric, whoseforefathers held the white-horse banner at the fatal fight where ourshield was broken and our sword shivered. I tell you, clerk, that myfolk held this land from Bramshaw Wood to the Ringwood road; and, by thesoul of my father! it will be a strange thing if I am to be bearded uponthe little that is left of it. Begone, I say, and meddle not with myaffair."
"If you leave me now," whispered the woman, "then shame forever uponyour manhood."
"Surely, sir," said Alleyne, speaking in as persuasive and soothing away as he could, "if your birth is gentle, there is the more reason thatyour manners should be gentle too. I am well persuaded that you did butjest with this lady, and that you will now permit her to leave your landeither alone or with me as a guide, if she should need one, through thewood. As to birth, it does not become me to boast, and there is sooth inwhat you say as to the unworthiness of clerks, but it is none the lesstrue that I am as well born as you."
"Dog!" cried the furious Socman, "there is no man in the south who cansay as much."
"Yet can I," said Alleyne smiling; "for indeed I also am the son ofEdric the Socman, of the pure blood of Godfrey the thane, by the onlydaughter of Aluric of Brockenhurst. Surely, dear brother," he continued,holding out his hand, "you have a warmer greeting than this for me.There are but two boughs left upon this old, old Saxon trunk."
His elder brother dashed his hand aside with an oath, while anexpression of malignant hatred passed over his passion-drawn features."You are the young cub of Beaulieu, then," said he. "I might have knownit by the sleek face and the slavish manner too monk-ridden and cravenin spirit to answer back a rough word. Thy father, shaveling, with allhis faults, had a man's heart; and there were few who could look him inthe eyes on the day of his anger. But you! Look there, rat, on yonderfield where the cows graze, and on that other beyond, and on the orchardhard by the church. Do you know that all these were squeezed out ofyour dying father by greedy priests, to pay for your upbringing in thecloisters? I, the Socman, am shorn of my lands that you may snivel Latinand eat bread for which you never did hand's turn. You rob me first, andnow you would come preaching and whining, in search mayhap of anotherfield or two for your priestly friends. Knave! my dogs shall be set uponyou; but, meanwhile, stand out of my path, and stop me at your peril!"As he spoke he rushed forward, and, throwing the lad to one side, caughtthe woman's wrist. Alleyne, however, as active as a young deer-hound,sprang to her aid and seized her by the other arm, raising his iron-shodstaff as he did so.
"You may say what you will to me," he said between his clenchedteeth--"it may be no better than I deserve; but, brother or no, I swearby my hopes of salvation that I will break your arm if you do not leavehold of the maid."
There was a ring in his voice and a flash in his eyes which promisedthat the blow would follow quick at the heels of the word. For a momentthe blood of the long line of hot-headed thanes was too strong for thesoft whisperings of the doctrine of meekness and mercy. He was consciousof a fierce wild thrill through his nerves and a throb of mad gladnessat his heart, as his real human self burst for an instant the bondsof custom and of teaching which had held it so long. The socman sprangback, looking to left and to right for some stick or stone which mightserve him for weapon; but finding none, he turned and ran at the top ofhis speed for the house, blowing the while upon a shrill whistle.
"Come!" gasped the woman. "Fly, friend, ere he come back."
"Nay, let him come!" cried Alleyne. "I shall not budge a foot for him orhis dogs."
"Come, come!" she cried, tugging at his arm. "I know the man: he willkill you. Come, for the Virgin's sake, or for my sake, for I cannot goand leave you here."
"Come, then," said he; and they ran together to the cover of the woods.As they gained the edge of the brushwood, Alleyne, looking back, saw hisbrother come running out of the house again, with the sun gleaming uponhis hair and his beard. He held something which flashed in his righthand, and he stooped at the threshold to unloose the black hound.
"This way!" the woman whispered, in a low eager voice. "Through thebushes to that forked ash. Do not heed me; I can run as fast as you, Itrow. Now into the stream--right in, over ankles, to throw the dog off,though I think it is but a common cur, like its master." As she spoke,she sprang herself into the shallow stream and ran swiftly up thecentre of it, with the brown water bubbling over her feet and herhand out-stretched toward the clinging branches of bramble or sapling.Alleyne followed close at her heels, with his mind in a whirl at thisblack welcome and sudden shifting of all his plans and hopes. Yet, graveas were his thoughts, they would still turn to wonder as he looked atthe twinkling feet of his guide and saw her lithe figure bend this wayand that, dipping under boughs, springing over stones, with a lightnessand ease which made it no small task for him to keep up with her. Atlast, when he was almost out of breath, she suddenly threw herself downupon a mossy bank, between two holly-bushes, and looked ruefully at herown dripping feet and bedraggled skirt.
"Holy Mary!" said she, "what shall I do? Mother will keep me to mychamber for a month, and make me work at the tapestry of the nine boldknights. She promised as much last week, when I fell into Wilverley bog,and yet she knows that I cannot abide needle-work."
Alleyne, still standing in the stream, glanced down at the gracefulpink-and-white figure, the curve of raven-black hair, and the proud,sensitive face which looked up frankly and confidingly at his own.
"We had best on," he said. "He may yet overtake us."
"Not so. We are well off his land now, nor can he tell in this greatwood which way we have taken. But you--you had him at your mercy. Whydid you not kill him?"
"Kill him! My brother!"
"And why not?"--with a quick gleam of her white teeth. "He would havekilled you. I know him, a
nd I read it in his eyes. Had I had your staffI would have tried--aye, and done it, too." She shook her clenched whitehand as she spoke, and her lips tightened ominously.
"I am already sad in heart for what I have done," said he, sitting downon the bank, and sinking his face into his hands. "God help me!--allthat is worst in me seemed to come uppermost. Another instant, and Ihad smitten him: the son of my own mother, the man whom I have longed totake to my heart. Alas! that I should still be so weak."
"Weak!" she exclaimed, raising her black eyebrows. "I do not think thateven my father himself, who is a hard judge of manhood, would call youthat. But it is, as you may think, sir, a very pleasant thing for me tohear that you are grieved at what you have done, and I can but redethat we should go back together, and you should make your peace with theSocman by handing back your prisoner. It is a sad thing that so small athing as a woman should come between two who are of one blood."
Simple Alleyne opened his eyes at this little spurt of femininebitterness. "Nay, lady," said he, "that were worst of all. What manwould be so caitiff and thrall as to fail you at your need? I haveturned my brother against me, and now, alas! I appear to have given youoffence also with my clumsy tongue. But, indeed, lady, I am torn bothways, and can scarce grasp in my mind what it is that has befallen."
"Nor can I marvel at that," said she, with a little tinkling laugh. "Youcame in as the knight does in the jongleur's romances, between dragonand damsel, with small time for the asking of questions. Come," she wenton, springing to her feet, and smoothing down her rumpled frock, "let uswalk through the shaw together, and we may come upon Bertrand with thehorses. If poor Troubadour had not cast a shoe, we should not have hadthis trouble. Nay, I must have your arm: for, though I speak lightly,now that all is happily over I am as frightened as my brave Roland. Seehow his chest heaves, and his dear feathers all awry--the little knightwho would not have his lady mishandled." So she prattled on to her hawk,while Alleyne walked by her side, stealing a glance from time to time atthis queenly and wayward woman. In silence they wandered together overthe velvet turf and on through the broad Minstead woods, where theold lichen-draped beeches threw their circles of black shadow upon thesunlit sward.
"You have no wish, then, to hear my story?" said she, at last.
"If it pleases you to tell it me," he answered.
"Oh!" she cried tossing her head, "if it is of so little interest toyou, we had best let it bide."
"Nay," said he eagerly, "I would fain hear it."
"You have a right to know it, if you have lost a brother's favor throughit. And yet----Ah well, you are, as I understand, a clerk, so Imust think of you as one step further in orders, and make you myfather-confessor. Know then that this man has been a suitor for my hand,less as I think for my own sweet sake than because he hath ambition andhad it on his mind that he might improve his fortunes by dipping intomy father's strong box--though the Virgin knows that he would have foundlittle enough therein. My father, however, is a proud man, a gallantknight and tried soldier of the oldest blood, to whom this man'schurlish birth and low descent----Oh, lackaday! I had forgot that he wasof the same strain as yourself."
"Nay, trouble not for that," said Alleyne, "we are all from good motherEve."
"Streams may spring from one source, and yet some be clear and some befoul," quoth she quickly. "But, to be brief over the matter, my fatherwould have none of his wooing, nor in sooth would I. On that he sworea vow against us, and as he is known to be a perilous man, with manyoutlaws and others at his back, my father forbade that I should hawk orhunt in any part of the wood to the north of the Christchurch road. Asit chanced, however, this morning my little Roland here was loosed at astrong-winged heron, and page Bertrand and I rode on, with no thoughtsbut for the sport, until we found ourselves in Minstead woods. Smallharm then, but that my horse Troubadour trod with a tender foot upon asharp stick, rearing and throwing me to the ground. See to my gown, thethird that I have befouled within the week. Woe worth me when Agatha thetire-woman sets eyes upon it!"
"And what then, lady?" asked Alleyne.
"Why, then away ran Troubadour, for belike I spurred him in falling,and Bertrand rode after him as hard as hoofs could bear him. When I rosethere was the Socman himself by my side, with the news that I was onhis land, but with so many courteous words besides, and such gallantbearing, that he prevailed upon me to come to his house for shelter,there to wait until the page return. By the grace of the Virgin and thehelp of my patron St. Magdalen, I stopped short ere I reached hisdoor, though, as you saw, he strove to hale me up to it. Andthen--ah-h-h-h!"--she shivered and chattered like one in an ague-fit.
"What is it?" cried Alleyne, looking about in alarm.
"Nothing, friend, nothing! I was but thinking how I bit into his hand.Sooner would I bite living toad or poisoned snake. Oh, I shall loathe mylips forever! But you--how brave you were, and how quick! How meek foryourself, and how bold for a stranger! If I were a man, I should wish todo what you have done."
"It was a small thing," he answered, with a tingle of pleasure at thesesweet words of praise. "But you--what will you do?"
"There is a great oak near here, and I think that Bertrand will bringthe horses there, for it is an old hunting-tryst of ours. Then hey forhome, and no more hawking to-day! A twelve-mile gallop will dry feet andskirt."
"But your father?"
"Not one word shall I tell him. You do not know him; but I can tell youhe is not a man to disobey as I have disobeyed him. He would avenge me,it is true, but it is not to him that I shall look for vengeance. Someday, perchance, in joust or in tourney, knight may wish to wear mycolors, and then I shall tell him that if he does indeed crave my favorthere is wrong unredressed, and the wronger the Socman of Minstead. Somy knight shall find a venture such as bold knights love, and my debtshall be paid, and my father none the wiser, and one rogue the less inthe world. Say, is not that a brave plan?"
"Nay, lady, it is a thought which is unworthy of you. How can such asyou speak of violence and of vengeance. Are none to be gentle and kind,none to be piteous and forgiving? Alas! it is a hard, cruel world, and Iwould that I had never left my abbey cell. To hear such words from yourlips is as though I heard an angel of grace preaching the devil's owncreed."
She started from him as a young colt who first feels the bit. "Gramercyfor your rede, young sir!" she said, with a little curtsey. "As Iunderstand your words, you are grieved that you ever met me, and lookupon me as a preaching devil. Why, my father is a bitter man when he iswroth, but hath never called me such a name as that. It may be his rightand duty, but certes it is none of thine. So it would be best, since youthink so lowly of me, that you should take this path to the left whileI keep on upon this one; for it is clear that I can be no fit companionfor you." So saying, with downcast lids and a dignity which was somewhatmarred by her bedraggled skirt, she swept off down the muddy track,leaving Alleyne standing staring ruefully after her. He waited in vainfor some backward glance or sign of relenting, but she walked on witha rigid neck until her dress was only a white flutter among the leaves.Then, with a sunken head and a heavy heart, he plodded wearily down theother path, wroth with himself for the rude and uncouth tongue which hadgiven offence where so little was intended.
He had gone some way, lost in doubt and in self-reproach, his mind alltremulous with a thousand new-found thoughts and fears and wonderments,when of a sudden there was a light rustle of the leaves behind him, and,glancing round, there was this graceful, swift-footed creature, treadingin his very shadow, with her proud head bowed, even as his was--thepicture of humility and repentance.
"I shall not vex you, nor even speak," she said; "but I would fain keepwith you while we are in the wood."
"Nay, you cannot vex me," he answered, all warm again at the very sightof her. "It was my rough words which vexed you; but I have been thrownamong men all my life, and indeed, with all the will, I scarce know howto temper my speech to a lady's ear."
"Then unsay it," cried she q
uickly; "say that I was right to wish tohave vengeance on the Socman."
"Nay, I cannot do that," he answered gravely.
"Then who is ungentle and unkind now?" she cried in triumph. "How sternand cold you are for one so young! Art surely no mere clerk, but bishopor cardinal at the least. Shouldst have crozier for staff and mitrefor cap. Well, well, for your sake I will forgive the Socman and takevengeance on none but on my own wilful self who must needs run intodanger's path. So will that please you, sir?"
"There spoke your true self," said he; "and you will find more pleasurein such forgiveness than in any vengeance."
She shook her head, as if by no means assured of it, and then with asudden little cry, which had more of surprise than of joy in it, "Hereis Bertrand with the horses!"
Down the glade there came a little green-clad page with laughing eyes,and long curls floating behind him. He sat perched on a high bay horse,and held on to the bridle of a spirited black palfrey, the hides of bothglistening from a long run.
"I have sought you everywhere, dear Lady Maude," said he in apiping voice, springing down from his horse and holding the stirrup."Troubadour galloped as far as Holmhill ere I could catch him. I trustthat you have had no hurt or scath?" He shot a questioning glance atAlleyne as he spoke.
"No, Bertrand," said she, "thanks to this courteous stranger. And now,sir," she continued, springing into her saddle, "it is not fit that Ileave you without a word more. Clerk or no, you have acted this day asbecomes a true knight. King Arthur and all his table could not have donemore. It may be that, as some small return, my father or his kin mayhave power to advance your interest. He is not rich, but he is honoredand hath great friends. Tell me what is your purpose, and see if he maynot aid it."
"Alas! lady, I have now no purpose. I have but two friends in the world,and they have gone to Christchurch, where it is likely I shall jointhem."
"And where is Christchurch?"
"At the castle which is held by the brave knight, Sir Nigel Loring,constable to the Earl of Salisbury."
To his surprise she burst out a-laughing, and, spurring her palfrey,dashed off down the glade, with her page riding behind her. Not one worddid she say, but as she vanished amid the trees she half turned in hersaddle and waved a last greeting. Long time he stood, half hoping thatshe might again come back to him; but the thud of the hoofs had diedaway, and there was no sound in all the woods but the gentle rustle anddropping of the leaves. At last he turned away and made his way back tothe high-road--another person from the light-hearted boy who had left ita short three hours before.
The White Company Page 9