CHAPTER XXXIV. HOW THE COMPANY MADE SPORT IN THE VALE OF PAMPELUNA.
Whilst the council was sitting in Pampeluna the White Company, havingencamped in a neighboring valley, close to the companies of La Nuit andof Black Ortingo, were amusing themselves with sword-play, wrestling,and shooting at the shields, which they had placed upon the hillsideto serve them as butts. The younger archers, with their coats of mailthrown aside, their brown or flaxen hair tossing in the wind, and theirjerkins turned back to give free play to their brawny chests and arms,stood in lines, each loosing his shaft in turn, while Johnston, Aylward,Black Simon, and half-a-score of the elders lounged up and down withcritical eyes, and a word of rough praise or of curt censure for themarksmen. Behind stood knots of Gascon and Brabant crossbowmen fromthe companies of Ortingo and of La Nuit, leaning upon their unsightlyweapons and watching the practice of the Englishmen.
"A good shot, Hewett, a good shot!" said old Johnston to a young bowman,who stood with his bow in his left hand, gazing with parted lips afterhis flying shaft. "You see, she finds the ring, as I knew she would fromthe moment that your string twanged."
"Loose it easy, steady, and yet sharp," said Aylward. "By my hilt! mongar., it is very well when you do but shoot at a shield, but when thereis a man behind the shield, and he rides at you with wave of sword andglint of eyes from behind his vizor, you may find him a less easy mark."
"It is a mark that I have found before now," answered the young bowman.
"And shall again, camarade, I doubt not. But hola! Johnston, who is thiswho holds his bow like a crow-keeper?"
"It is Silas Peterson, of Horsham. Do not wink with one eye and lookwith the other, Silas, and do not hop and dance after you shoot, withyour tongue out, for that will not speed it upon its way. Stand straightand firm, as God made you. Move not the bow arm, and steady with thedrawing hand!"
"I' faith," said Black Simon, "I am a spearman myself, and am morefitted for hand-strokes than for such work as this. Yet I have spent mydays among bowmen, and I have seen many a brave shaft sped. I will notsay but that we have some good marksmen here, and that this Companywould be accounted a fine body of archers at any time or place. Yet Ido not see any men who bend so strong a bow or shoot as true a shaft asthose whom I have known."
"You say sooth," said Johnston, turning his seamed and grizzled faceupon the man-at-arms. "See yonder," he added, pointing to a bombardwhich lay within the camp: "there is what hath done scath to goodbowmanship, with its filthy soot and foolish roaring mouth. I wonderthat a true knight, like our prince, should carry such a scurvy thing inhis train. Robin, thou red-headed lurden, how oft must I tell thee notto shoot straight with a quarter-wind blowing across the mark?"
"By these ten finger-bones! there were some fine bowmen at the intakingof Calais," said Aylward. "I well remember that, on occasion of anoutfall, a Genoan raised his arm over his mantlet, and shook it at us, ahundred paces from our line. There were twenty who loosed shafts at him,and when the man was afterwards slain it was found that he had takeneighteen through his forearm."
"And I can call to mind," remarked Johnston, "that when the greatcog 'Christopher,' which the French had taken from us, was moored twohundred paces from the shore, two archers, little Robin Withstaff andElias Baddlesmere, in four shots each cut every strand of her hempenanchor-cord, so that she well-nigh came upon the rocks."
"Good shooting, i' faith rare shooting!" said Black Simon. "But I haveseen you, Johnston, and you, Samkin Aylward, and one or two others whoare still with us, shoot as well as the best. Was it not you, Johnston,who took the fat ox at Finsbury butts against the pick of London town?"
A sunburnt and black-eyed Brabanter had stood near the old archers,leaning upon a large crossbow and listening to their talk, which hadbeen carried on in that hybrid camp dialect which both nations couldunderstand. He was a squat, bull-necked man, clad in the iron helmet,mail tunic, and woollen gambesson of his class. A jacket with hangingsleeves, slashed with velvet at the neck and wrists, showed that he wasa man of some consideration, an under-officer, or file-leader of hiscompany.
"I cannot think," said he, "why you English should be so fond of yoursix-foot stick. If it amuse you to bend it, well and good; but whyshould I strain and pull, when my little moulinet will do all for me,and better than I can do it for myself?"
"I have seen good shooting with the prod and with the latch," saidAylward, "but, by my hilt! camarade, with all respect to you and to yourbow, I think that is but a woman's weapon, which a woman can point andloose as easily as a man."
"I know not about that," answered the Brabanter, "but this I know,that though I have served for fourteen years, I have never yet seen anEnglishman do aught with the long-bow which I could not do better withmy arbalest. By the three kings! I would even go further, and say that Ihave done things with my arbalest which no Englishman could do with hislong-bow."
"Well said, mon gar.," cried Aylward. "A good cock has ever a bravecall. Now, I have shot little of late, but there is Johnston here whowill try a round with you for the honor of the Company."
"And I will lay a gallon of Jurancon wine upon the long-bow," said BlackSimon, "though I had rather, for my own drinking, that it were a quartof Twynham ale."
"I take both your challenge and your wager," said the man of Brabant,throwing off his jacket and glancing keenly about him with his black,twinkling eyes. "I cannot see any fitting mark, for I care not to wastea bolt upon these shields, which a drunken boor could not miss at avillage kermesse."
"This is a perilous man," whispered an English man-at-arms, plucking atAylward's sleeve. "He is the best marksman of all the crossbow companiesand it was he who brought down the Constable de Bourbon at Brignais. Ifear that your man will come by little honor with him."
"Yet I have seen Johnston shoot these twenty years, and I will notflinch from it. How say you, old war-hound, will you not have a flightshot or two with this springald?"
"Tut, tut, Aylward," said the old bowman. "My day is past, and it isfor the younger ones to hold what we have gained. I take it unkindly ofthee, Samkin, that thou shouldst call all eyes thus upon a broken bowmanwho could once shoot a fair shaft. Let me feel that bow, Wilkins! It isa Scotch bow, I see, for the upper nock is without and the lower within.By the black rood! it is a good piece of yew, well nocked, well strung,well waxed, and very joyful to the feel. I think even now that I mighthit any large and goodly mark with a bow like this. Turn thy quiver tome, Aylward. I love an ash arrow pierced with cornel-wood for a rovingshaft."
"By my hilt! and so do I," cried Aylward. "These three gander-wingedshafts are such."
"So I see, comrade. It has been my wont to choose a saddle-backedfeather for a dead shaft, and a swine-backed for a smooth flier. I willtake the two of them. Ah! Samkin, lad, the eye grows dim and the handless firm as the years pass."
"Come then, are you not ready?" said the Brabanter, who had watchedwith ill-concealed impatience the slow and methodic movements of hisantagonist.
"I will venture a rover with you, or try long-butts or hoyles," said oldJohnston. "To my mind the long-bow is a better weapon than the arbalest,but it may be ill for me to prove it."
"So I think," quoth the other with a sneer. He drew his moulinet fromhis girdle, and fixing it to the windlass, he drew back the powerfuldouble cord until it had clicked into the catch. Then from his quiver hedrew a short, thick quarrel, which he placed with the utmost care uponthe groove. Word had spread of what was going forward, and the rivalswere already surrounded, not only by the English archers of the Company,but by hundreds of arbalestiers and men-at-arms from the bands ofOrtingo and La Nuit, to the latter of which the Brabanter belonged.
"There is a mark yonder on the hill," said he; "mayhap you can discernit."
"I see something," answered Johnston, shading his eyes with his hand;"but it is a very long shoot."
"A fair shoot--a fair shoot! Stand aside, Arnaud, lest you find a boltthrough your gizzard. Now, comrade, I take no flight s
hot, and I giveyou the vantage of watching my shaft."
As he spoke he raised his arbalest to his shoulder and was about to pullthe trigger, when a large gray stork flapped heavily into view skimmingover the brow of the hill, and then soaring up into the air to pass thevalley. Its shrill and piercing cries drew all eyes upon it, and, as itcame nearer, a dark spot which circled above it resolved itself into aperegrine falcon, which hovered over its head, poising itself from timeto time, and watching its chance of closing with its clumsy quarry.Nearer and nearer came the two birds, all absorbed in their own contest,the stork wheeling upwards, the hawk still fluttering above it, untilthey were not a hundred paces from the camp. The Brabanter raised hisweapon to the sky, and there came the short, deep twang of his powerfulstring. His bolt struck the stork just where its wing meets the body,and the bird whirled aloft in a last convulsive flutter before fallingwounded and flapping to the earth. A roar of applause burst from thecrossbowmen; but at the instant that the bolt struck its mark oldJohnston, who had stood listlessly with arrow on string, bent his bowand sped a shaft through the body of the falcon. Whipping the other fromhis belt, he sent it skimming some few feet from the earth with so truean aim that it struck and transfixed the stork for the second time ereit could reach the ground. A deep-chested shout of delight burst fromthe archers at the sight of this double feat, and Aylward, dancing withjoy, threw his arms round the old marksman and embraced him with suchvigor that their mail tunics clanged again.
"Ah! camarade," he cried, "you shall have a stoup with me for this! Whatthen, old dog, would not the hawk please thee, but thou must have thestork as well. Oh, to my heart again!"
"It is a pretty piece of yew, and well strung," said Johnston with atwinkle in his deep-set gray eyes. "Even an old broken bowman might findthe clout with a bow like this."
"You have done very well," remarked the Brabanter in a surly voice."But it seems to me that you have not yet shown yourself to be a bettermarksman than I, for I have struck that at which I aimed, and, by thethree kings! no man can do more."
"It would ill beseem me to claim to be a better marksman," answeredJohnston, "for I have heard great things of your skill. I did but wishto show that the long-bow could do that which an arbalest could not do,for you could not with your moulinet have your string ready to speedanother shaft ere the bird drop to the earth."
"In that you have vantage," said the crossbowman. "By Saint James! itis now my turn to show you where my weapon has the better of you. I prayyou to draw a flight shaft with all your strength down the valley, thatwe may see the length of your shoot."
"That is a very strong prod of yours," said Johnston, shaking hisgrizzled head as he glanced at the thick arch and powerful strings ofhis rival's arbalest. "I have little doubt that you can overshoot me,and yet I have seen bowmen who could send a cloth-yard arrow furtherthan you could speed a quarrel."
"So I have heard," remarked the Brabanter; "and yet it is a strangething that these wondrous bowmen are never where I chance to be. Paceout the distances with a wand at every five score, and do you, Arnaud,stand at the fifth wand to carry back my bolts to me."
A line was measured down the valley, and Johnston, drawing an arrow tothe very head, sent it whistling over the row of wands.
"Bravely drawn! A rare shoot!" shouted the bystanders.
"It is well up to the fourth mark."
"By my hilt! it is over it," cried Aylward. "I can see where they havestooped to gather up the shaft."
"We shall hear anon," said Johnston quietly, and presently a youngarcher came running to say that the arrow had fallen twenty paces beyondthe fourth wand.
"Four hundred paces and a score," cried Black Simon. "I' faith, it is avery long flight. Yet wood and steel may do more than flesh and blood."
The Brabanter stepped forward with a smile of conscious triumph, andloosed the cord of his weapon. A shout burst from his comrades as theywatched the swift and lofty flight of the heavy bolt.
"Over the fourth!" groaned Aylward. "By my hilt! I think that it is wellup to the fifth."
"It is over the fifth!" cried a Gascon loudly, and a comrade camerunning with waving arms to say that the bolt had pitched eight pacesbeyond the mark of the five hundred.
"Which weapon hath the vantage now?" cried the Brabanter, struttingproudly about with shouldered arbalest, amid the applause of hiscompanions.
"You can overshoot me," said Johnston gently.
"Or any other man who ever bent a long-bow," cried his victoriousadversary.
"Nay, not so fast," said a huge archer, whose mighty shoulders and redhead towered high above the throng of his comrades. "I must have a wordwith you ere you crow so loudly. Where is my little popper? By saintedDick of Hampole! it will be a strange thing if I cannot outshoot thatthing of thine, which to my eyes is more like a rat-trap than a bow.Will you try another flight, or do you stand by your last?"
"Five hundred and eight paces will serve my turn," answered theBrabanter, looking askance at this new opponent.
"Tut, John," whispered Aylward, "you never were a marksman. Why must youthrust your spoon into this dish?"
"Easy and slow, Aylward. There are very many things which I cannot do,but there are also one or two which I have the trick of. It is in mymind that I can beat this shoot, if my bow will but hold together."
"Go on, old babe of the woods!" "Have at it, Hampshire!" cried thearchers laughing.
"By my soul! you may grin," cried John. "But I learned how to make thelong shoot from old Hob Miller of Milford." He took up a great blackbow, as he spoke, and sitting down upon the ground he placed his twofeet on either end of the stave. With an arrow fitted, he then pulledthe string towards him with both hands until the head of the shaft waslevel with the wood. The great bow creaked and groaned and the cordvibrated with the tension.
"Who is this fool's-head who stands in the way of my shoot?" said he,craning up his neck from the ground.
"He stands on the further side of my mark," answered the Brabanter, "sohe has little to fear from you."
"Well, the saints assoil him!" cried John. "Though I think he isover-near to be scathed." As he spoke he raised his two feet, with thebow-stave upon their soles, and his cord twanged with a deep rich humwhich might be heard across the valley. The measurer in the distancefell flat upon his face, and then jumping up again, he began to run inthe opposite direction.
"Well shot, old lad! It is indeed over his head," cried the bowmen.
"Mon Dieu!" exclaimed the Brabanter, "who ever saw such a shoot?"
"It is but a trick," quoth John. "Many a time have I won a gallon of aleby covering a mile in three flights down Wilverley Chase."
"It fell a hundred and thirty paces beyond the fifth mark," shouted anarcher in the distance.
"Six hundred and thirty paces! Mon Dieu! but that is a shoot! And yet itsays nothing for your weapon, mon gros camarade, for it was by turningyourself into a crossbow that you did it."
"By my hilt! there is truth in that," cried Aylward. "And now, friend,I will myself show you a vantage of the long-bow. I pray you to speeda bolt against yonder shield with all your force. It is an inch of elmwith bull's hide over it."
"I scarce shot as many shafts at Brignais," growled the man of Brabant;"though I found a better mark there than a cantle of bull's hide. Butwhat is this, Englishman? The shield hangs not one hundred paces fromme, and a blind man could strike it." He screwed up his string to thefurthest pitch, and shot his quarrel at the dangling shield. Aylward,who had drawn an arrow from his quiver, carefully greased the head ofit, and sped it at the same mark.
"Run, Wilkins," quoth he, "and fetch me the shield."
Long were the faces of the Englishmen and broad the laugh of thecrossbowmen as the heavy mantlet was carried towards them, for there inthe centre was the thick Brabant bolt driven deeply into the wood, whilethere was neither sign nor trace of the cloth-yard shaft.
"By the three kings!" cried the Brabanter, "this time at least there isno gai
nsaying which is the better weapon, or which the truer hand thatheld it. You have missed the shield, Englishman."
"Tarry a bit! tarry a bit, mon gar.!" quoth Aylward, and turning roundthe shield he showed a round clear hole in the wood at the back of it."My shaft has passed through it, camarade, and I trow the one which goesthrough is more to be feared than that which bides on the way."
The Brabanter stamped his foot with mortification, and was about to makesome angry reply, when Alleyne Edricson came riding up to the crowds ofarchers.
"Sir Nigel will be here anon," said he, "and it is his wish to speakwith the Company."
In an instant order and method took the place of general confusion.Bows, steel caps, and jacks were caught up from the grass. A long cordoncleared the camp of all strangers, while the main body fell into fourlines with under-officers and file-leaders in front and on either flank.So they stood, silent and motionless, when their leader came ridingtowards them, his face shining and his whole small figure swelling withthe news which he bore.
"Great honor has been done to us, men," cried he: "for, of all the army,the prince has chosen us out that we should ride onwards into the landsof Spain to spy upon our enemies. Yet, as there are many of us, and asthe service may not be to the liking of all, I pray that those will stepforward from the ranks who have the will to follow me."
There was a rustle among the bowmen, but when Sir Nigel looked up atthem no man stood forward from his fellows, but the four lines of menstretched unbroken as before. Sir Nigel blinked at them in amazement,and a look of the deepest sorrow shadowed his face.
"That I should live to see the day!" he cried. "What! not one----"
"My fair lord," whispered Alleyne, "they have all stepped forward."
"Ah, by Saint Paul! I see how it is with them. I could not think thatthey would desert me. We start at dawn to-morrow, and ye are to havethe horses of Sir Robert Cheney's company. Be ready, I pray ye, at earlycock-crow."
A buzz of delight burst from the archers, as they broke their ranks andran hither and thither, whooping and cheering like boys who have news ofa holiday. Sir Nigel gazed after them with a smiling face, when a heavyhand fell upon his shoulder.
"What ho! my knight-errant of Twynham!" said a voice, "You are off toEbro, I hear; and, by the holy fish of Tobias! you must take me underyour banner."
"What! Sir Oliver Buttesthorn!" cried Sir Nigel. "I had heard that youwere come into camp, and had hoped to see you. Glad and proud shall I beto have you with me."
"I have a most particular and weighty reason for wishing to go," saidthe sturdy knight.
"I can well believe it," returned Sir Nigel; "I have met no man who isquicker to follow where honor leads."
"Nay, it is not for honor that I go, Nigel."
"For what then?"
"For pullets."
"Pullets?"
"Yes, for the rascal vanguard have cleared every hen from thecountry-side. It was this very morning that Norbury, my squire,lamed his horse in riding round in quest of one, for we have a bag oftruffles, and nought to eat with them. Never have I seen such locusts asthis vanguard of ours. Not a pullet shall we see until we are in frontof them; so I shall leave my Winchester runagates to the care of theprovost-marshal, and I shall hie south with you, Nigel, with my trufflesat my saddle-bow."
"Oliver, Oliver, I know you over-well," said Sir Nigel, shaking hishead, and the two old soldiers rode off together to their pavilion.
The White Company Page 34