Whilst the prince's council was sitting, Alleyne and Ford2 had remained in the outer hall, where they were soon surrounded by a noisy group of young Englishmen of their own rank, all eager to hear the latest news from England.
“How is it with the old man at Windsor?” asked one.
“And how with the good Queen Philippa?”
“And how with Dame3 Alice Perrers?” cried a third.
“The devil take your tongue, Wat!” shouted a tall young man, seizing the last speaker by the collar and giving him an admonitory shake. “The prince would take your head off for those words.”
“By God's coif! Wat would miss it but little,” said another. “It is as empty as a beggar's wallet.”
“As empty as an English squire4, coz,” cried the first speaker. “What a devil has become of the maitre-des-tables and his sewers5? They have not put forth6 the trestles yet.”
“Mon Dieu! if a man could eat himself into knighthood, Humphrey, you had been a banneret at the least,” observed another, amid a burst of laughter.
“And if you could drink yourself in, old leather-head, you had been first baron7 of the realm,” cried the aggrieved8 Humphrey. “But how of England, my lads of Loring?”
“I take it,” said Ford, “that it is much as it was when you were there last, save that perchance there is a little less noise there.”
“And why less noise, young Solomon?”
“Ah, that is for your wit to discover.”
“Pardieu! here is a paladin come over, with the Hampshire mud still sticking to his shoes. He means that the noise is less for our being out of the country.”
“They are very quick in these parts,” said Ford, turning to Alleyne.
“How are we to take this, sir?” asked the ruffling9 squire.
“You may take it as it comes,” said Ford carelessly.
“Here is pertness!” cried the other.
“Sir, I honor your truthfulness,” said Ford.
“Stint it, Humphrey,” said the tall squire, with a burst of laughter. “You will have little credit from this gentleman, I perceive. Tongues are sharp in Hampshire, sir.”
“And swords?”
“Hum! we may prove that. In two days' time is the vepres du tournoi, when we may see if your lance is as quick as your wit.”
“All very well, Roger Harcomb,” cried a burly, bull-necked young man, whose square shoulders and massive limbs told of exceptional personal strength. “You pass too lightly over the matter. We are not to be so easily overcrowed. The Lord Loring hath given his proofs; but we know nothing of his squires10, save that one of them hath a railing tongue. And how of you, young sir?” bringing his heavy hand down on Alleyne's shoulder.
“And what of me, young sir?”
“Ma foi! this is my lady's page come over. Your cheek will be browner and your hand harder ere you see your mother again.”
“If my hand is not hard, it is ready.”
“Ready? Ready for what? For the hem11 of my lady's train?”
“Ready to chastise12 insolence13, sir,” cried Alleyne with flashing eyes.
“Sweet little coz!” answered the burly squire. “Such a dainty color! Such a mellow14 voice! Eyes of a bashful maid, and hair like a three years' babe! Voila!” He passed his thick fingers roughly through the youth's crisp golden curls.
“You seek to force a quarrel, sir,” said the young man, white with anger.
“And what then?”
“Why, you do it like a country boor15, and not like a gentle squire. Hast been ill bred and as ill taught. I serve a master who could show you how such things should be done.”
“And how would he do it, O pink of squires?”
“He would neither be loud nor would he be unmannerly, but rather more gentle than is his wont16. He would say, 'Sir, I should take it as an honor to do some small deed of arms against you, not for mine own glory or advancement17, but rather for the fame of my lady and for the upholding of chivalry18.' Then he would draw his glove, thus, and throw it on the ground; or, if he had cause to think that he had to deal with a churl19, he might throw it in his face—as I do now!”
A buzz of excitement went up from the knot of squires as Alleyne, his gentle nature turned by this causeless attack into fiery20 resolution, dashed his glove with all his strength into the sneering21 face of his antagonist22. From all parts of the hall squires and pages came running, until a dense23, swaying crowd surrounded the disputants.
“Your life for this!” said the bully24, with a face which was distorted with rage.
“If you can take it,” returned Alleyne.
“Good lad!” whispered Ford. “Stick to it close as wax.”
“I shall see justice,” cried Norbury, Sir Oliver's silent attendant.
“You brought it upon yourself, John Tranter,” said the tall squire, who had been addressed as Roger Harcomb. “You must ever plague the new-comers. But it were shame if this went further. The lad hath shown a proper spirit.”
“But a blow! a blow!” cried several of the older squires. “There must be a finish to this.”
“Nay25; Tranter first laid hand upon his head,” said Harcomb. “How say you, Tranter? The matter may rest where it stands?”
“My name is known in these parts,” said Tranter, proudly, “I can let pass what might leave a stain upon another. Let him pick up his glove and say that he has done amiss.”
“I would see him in the claws of the devil first,” whispered Ford.
“You hear, young sir?” said the peacemaker. “Our friend will overlook the matter if you do but say that you have acted in heat and haste.”
“I cannot say that,” answered Alleyne.
“It is our custom, young sir, when new squires come amongst us from England, to test them in some such way. Bethink you that if a man have a destrier or a new lance he will ever try it in time of peace, lest in days of need it may fail him. How much more then is it proper to test those who are our comrades in arms.”
“I would draw out if it may honorably be done,” murmured Norbury in Alleyne's ear. “The man is a noted26 swordsman and far above your strength.”
Edricson came, however, of that sturdy Saxon blood which is very slowly heated, but once up not easily to be cooled. The hint of danger which Norbury threw out was the one thing needed to harden his resolution.
“I came here at the back of my master,” he said, “and I looked on every man here as an Englishman and a friend. This gentleman hath shown me a rough welcome, and if I have answered him in the same spirit he has but himself to thank. I will pick the glove up; but, certes, I shall abide27 what I have done unless he first crave28 my pardon for what he hath said and done.”
Tranter shrugged29 his shoulders. “You have done what you could to save him, Harcomb,” said he. “We had best settle at once.”
“So say I,” cried Alleyne.
“The council will not break up until the banquet,” remarked a gray-haired squire. “You have a clear two hours.”
“And the place?”
“The tilting-yard is empty at this hour.”
“Nay; it must not be within the grounds of the court, or it may go hard with all concerned if it come to the ears of the prince.”
“But there is a quiet spot near the river,” said one youth. “We have but to pass through the abbey grounds, along the armory30 wall, past the church of St. Remi, and so down the Rue31 des Apotres.”
“En avant, then!” cried Tranter shortly, and the whole assembly flocked out into the open air, save only those whom the special orders of their masters held to their posts. These unfortunates crowded to the small casements32, and craned their necks after the throng33 as far as they could catch a glimpse of them.
Close to the banks of the Garonne there lay a little tract34 of green sward, with the high wall of a prior's garden upon one side and an orchard35 with a thick bristle36 of leafless apple-trees upon the other. The river ran deep and swift up to the steep bank; but there were few boats upon it, and the ships were moored37 far out in the centre of the stream. Here the two combatants drew their swords and threw off their doublets, for neither had any defensive38 armor. The duello with its stately etiquette39 had not yet come into vogue40, but rough and sudden encounters were as common as they must ever be when hot-headed youth goes abroad with a weapon strapped41 to its waist. In such combats, as well as in the more formal sports of the tilting-yard, Tranter had won a name for strength and dexterity42 which had caused Norbury to utter his well-meant warning. On the other hand, Alleyne had used his weapons in constant exercise and practice on every day for many months, and being by nature quick of eye and prompt of hand, he might pass now as no mean swordsman. A strangely opposed pair they appeared as they approached each other: Tranter dark and stout43 and stiff, with hairy chest and corded arms, Alleyne a model of comeliness44 and grace, with his golden hair and his skin as fair as a woman's. An unequal fight it seemed to most; but there were a few, and they the most experienced, who saw something in the youth's steady gray eye and wary45 step which left the issue open to doubt.
“Hold, sirs, hold!” cried Norbury, ere a blow had been struck. “This gentleman hath a two-handed sword, a good foot longer than that of our friend.”
“Take mine, Alleyne,” said Ford.
“Nay, friends,” he answered, “I understand the weight and balance of mine own. To work, sir, for our lord may need us at the abbey!”
Tranter's great sword was indeed a mighty46 vantage in his favor. He stood with his feet close together, his knees bent47 outwards48, ready for a dash inwards or a spring out. The weapon he held straight up in front of him with blade erect49, so that he might either bring it down with a swinging blow, or by a turn of the heavy blade he might guard his own head and body. A further protection lay in the broad and powerful guard which crossed the hilt, and which was furnished with a deep and narrow notch50, in which an expert swordsman might catch his foeman's blade, and by a quick turn of his wrist might snap it across. Alleyne, on the other hand, must trust for his defence to his quick eye and active foot—for his sword, though keen as a whetstone could make it, was of a light and graceful51 build with a narrow, sloping pommel and a tapering52 steel.
Tranter well knew his advantage and lost no time in putting it to use. As his opponent walked towards him he suddenly bounded forward and sent in a whistling cut which would have severed53 the other in twain had he not sprung lightly back from it. So close was it that the point ripped a gash54 in the jutting55 edge of his linen56 cyclas. Quick as a panther, Alleyne sprang in with a thrust, but Tranter, who was as active as he was strong, had already recovered himself and turned it aside with a movement of his heavy blade. Again he whizzed in a blow which made the spectators hold their breath, and again Alleyne very quickly and swiftly slipped from under it, and sent back two lightning thrusts which the other could scarce parry. So close were they to each other that Alleyne had no time to spring back from the next cut, which beat down his sword and grazed his forehead, sending the blood streaming into his eyes and down his cheeks. He sprang out beyond sword sweep, and the pair stood breathing heavily, while the crowd of young squires buzzed their applause.
“Bravely struck on both sides!” cried Roger Harcomb. “You have both won honor from this meeting, and it would be sin and shame to let it go further.”
“You have done enough, Edricson,” said Norbury.
“You have carried yourself well,” cried several of the older squires.
“For my part, I have no wish to slay57 this young man,” said Tranter, wiping his heated brow.
“Does this gentleman crave my pardon for having used me despitefully?” asked Alleyne.
“Nay, not I.”
“Then stand on your guard, sir!” With a clatter58 and dash the two blades met once more, Alleyne pressing in so as to keep within the full sweep of the heavy blade, while Tranter as continually sprang back to have space for one of his fatal cuts. A three-parts-parried blow drew blood from Alleyne's left shoulder, but at the same moment he wounded Tranter slightly upon the thigh59. Next instant, however, his blade had slipped into the fatal notch, there was a sharp cracking sound with a tinkling60 upon the ground, and he found a splintered piece of steel fifteen inches long was all that remained to him of his weapon.
“Your life is in my hands!” cried Tranter, with a bitter smile.
“Nay, nay, he makes submission61!” broke in several squires.
“Another sword!” cried Ford.
“Nay, sir,” said Harcomb, “that is not the custom.”
“Throw down your hilt, Edricson,” cried Norbury.
“Never!” said Alleyne. “Do you crave my pardon, sir?”
“You are mad to ask it.”
“Then on guard again!” cried the young squire, and sprang in with a fire and a fury which more than made up for the shortness of his weapon. It had not escaped him that his opponent was breathing in short, hoarse62 gasps63, like a man who is dizzy with fatigue64. Now was the time for the purer living and the more agile65 limb to show their value. Back and back gave Tranter, ever seeking time for a last cut. On and on came Alleyne, his jagged point now at his foeman's face, now at his throat, now at his chest, still stabbing and thrusting to pass the line of steel which covered him. Yet his experienced foeman knew well that such efforts could not be long sustained. Let him relax for one instant, and his death-blow had come. Relax he must! Flesh and blood could not stand the strain. Already the thrusts were less fierce, the foot less ready, although there was no abatement66 of the spirit in the steady gray eyes. Tranter, cunning and wary from years of fighting, knew that his chance had come. He brushed aside the frail67 weapon which was opposed to him, whirled up his great blade, sprang back to get the fairer sweep—and vanished into the waters of the Garonne.
So intent had the squires, both combatants and spectators, been on the matter in hand, that all thought of the steep bank and swift still stream had gone from their minds. It was not until Tranter, giving back before the other's fiery rush, was upon the very brink68, that a general cry warned him of his danger. That last spring, which he hoped would have brought the fight to a bloody69 end, carried him clear of the edge, and he found himself in an instant eight feet deep in the ice-cold stream. Once and twice his gasping70 face and clutching fingers broke up through the still green water, sweeping71 outwards in the swirl72 of the current. In vain were sword-sheaths, apple-branches and belts linked together thrown out to him by his companions. Alleyne had dropped his shattered sword and was standing73, trembling in every limb, with his rage all changed in an instant to pity. For the third time the drowning man came to the surface, his hands full of green slimy water-plants, his eyes turned in despair to the shore. Their glance fell upon Alleyne, and he could not withstand the mute appeal which he read in them. In an instant he, too, was in the Garonne, striking out with powerful strokes for his late foeman.
Yet the current was swift and strong, and, good swimmer as he was, it was no easy task which Alleyne had set himself. To clutch at Tranter and to seize him by the hair was the work of a few seconds, but to hold his head above water and to make their way out of the current was another matter. For a hundred strokes he did not seem to gain an inch. Then at last, amid a shout of joy and praise from the bank, they slowly drew clear into more stagnant74 water, at the instant that a rope, made of a dozen sword-belts linked together by the buckles75, was thrown by Ford into their very hands. Three pulls from eager arms, and the two combatants, dripping and pale, were dragged up the bank, and lay panting upon the grass.
John Tranter was the first to come to himself, for although he had been longer in the water, he had done nothing during that fierce battle with the current. He staggered to his feet and looked down upon his rescuer, who had raised himself upon his elbow, and was smiling faintly at the buzz of congratulation and of praise which broke from the squires around him.
“I am much beholden to you, sir,” said Tranter, though in no very friendly voice. “Certes, I should have been in the river now but for you, for I was born in Warwickshire, which is but a dry county, and there are few who swim in those parts.”
“I ask no thanks,” Alleyne answered shortly. “Give me your hand to rise, Ford.”
“The river has been my enemy,” said Tranter, “but it hath been a good friend to you, for it has saved your life this day.”
“That is as it may be,” returned Alleyne.
“But all is now well over,” quoth Harcomb, “and no scath come of it, which is more than I had at one time hoped for. Our young friend here hath very fairly and honestly earned his right to be craftsman76 of the Honorable Guild of the Squires of Bordeaux. Here is your doublet, Tranter.”
“Alas for my poor sword which lies at the bottom of the Garonne!” said the squire.
“Here is your pourpoint, Edricson,” cried Norbury. “Throw it over your shoulders, that you may have at least one dry garment.”
“And now away back to the abbey!” said several.
“One moment, sirs,” cried Alleyne, who was leaning on Ford's shoulder, with the broken sword, which he had picked up, still clutched in his right hand. “My ears may be somewhat dulled by the water, and perchance what has been said has escaped me, but I have not yet heard this gentleman crave pardon for the insults which he put upon me in the hall.”
“What! do you still pursue the quarrel?” asked Tranter.
“And why not, sir? I am slow to take up such things, but once afoot I shall follow it while I have life or breath.”
“Ma foi! you have not too much of either, for you are as white as marble,” said Harcomb bluntly. “Take my rede, sir, and let it drop, for you have come very well out from it.”
“Nay,” said Alleyne, “this quarrel is none of my making; but, now that I am here, I swear to you that I shall never leave this spot until I have that which I have come for: so ask my pardon, sir, or choose another glaive and to it again.”
The young squire was deadly white from his exertions77, both on the land and in the water. Soaking and stained, with a smear78 of blood on his white shoulder and another on his brow, there was still in his whole pose and set of face the trace of an inflexible79 resolution. His opponent's duller and more material mind quailed80 before the fire and intensity81 of a higher spiritual nature.
“I had not thought that you had taken it so amiss,” said he awkwardly. “It was but such a jest as we play upon each other, and, if you must have it so, I am sorry for it.”
“Then I am sorry too,” quoth Alleyne warmly, “and here is my hand upon it.”
“And the none-meat horn has blown three times,” quoth Harcomb, as they all streamed in chattering82 groups from the ground. “I know not what the prince's maitre-de-cuisine will say or think. By my troth! master Ford, your friend here is in need of a cup of wine, for he hath drunk deeply of Garonne water. I had not thought from his fair face that he had stood to this matter so shrewdly.”
“Faith,” said Ford, “this air of Bordeaux hath turned our turtle-dove into a game-cock. A milder or more courteous83 youth never came out of Hampshire.”
“His master also, as I understand, is a very mild and courteous gentleman,” remarked Harcomb; “yet I do not think that they are either of them men with whom it is very safe to trifle.”
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1
guild
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| n.行会，同业公会，协会 | |
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Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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dame
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| n.女士 | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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sewers
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| n.阴沟，污水管，下水道( sewer的名词复数 ) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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aggrieved
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| adj.愤愤不平的，受委屈的；悲痛的；（在合法权利方面）受侵害的v.令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式)；令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式和过去分词) | |
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ruffling
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| 弄皱( ruffle的现在分词 )； 弄乱； 激怒； 扰乱 | |
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squires
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| n.地主，乡绅( squire的名词复数 ) | |
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hem
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| n.贴边，镶边；vt.缝贴边；(in)包围，限制 | |
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chastise
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| vt.责骂，严惩 | |
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insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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boor
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| n.举止粗野的人；乡下佬 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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advancement
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| n.前进，促进，提升 | |
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chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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churl
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| n.吝啬之人；粗鄙之人 | |
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fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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sneering
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| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
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antagonist
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| n.敌人，对抗者，对手 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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crave
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| vt.渴望得到，迫切需要，恳求，请求 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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armory
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| n.纹章，兵工厂，军械库 | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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casements
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| n.窗扉( casement的名词复数 ) | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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tract
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| n.传单，小册子，大片(土地或森林) | |
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orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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bristle
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| v.（毛发）直立，气势汹汹，发怒；n.硬毛发 | |
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moored
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| adj. 系泊的 动词moor的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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defensive
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| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
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etiquette
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| n.礼仪，礼节；规矩 | |
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Vogue
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| n.时髦，时尚；adj.流行的 | |
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strapped
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| adj.用皮带捆住的，用皮带装饰的；身无分文的；缺钱；手头紧v.用皮带捆扎(strap的过去式和过去分词)；用皮带抽打；包扎；给…打绷带 | |
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dexterity
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| n.(手的)灵巧，灵活 | |
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comeliness
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| n. 清秀, 美丽, 合宜 | |
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wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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outwards
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| adj.外面的，公开的，向外的；adv.向外；n.外形 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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notch
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| n.(V字形)槽口，缺口，等级 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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tapering
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| adj.尖端细的 | |
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severed
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| v.切断，断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 )；断，裂 | |
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gash
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| v.深切，划开；n.(深长的)切(伤)口；裂缝 | |
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jutting
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| v.（使）突出( jut的现在分词 )；伸出；（从…）突出；高出 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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slay
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| v.杀死，宰杀，杀戮 | |
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clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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submission
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| n.服从，投降；温顺，谦虚；提出 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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agile
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| adj.敏捷的，灵活的 | |
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abatement
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| n.减(免)税，打折扣，冲销 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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swirl
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| v.(使)打漩，(使)涡卷；n.漩涡，螺旋形 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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stagnant
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| adj.不流动的，停滞的，不景气的 | |
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buckles
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| 搭扣，扣环( buckle的名词复数 ) | |
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craftsman
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| n.技工，精于一门工艺的匠人 | |
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exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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smear
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| v.涂抹；诽谤，玷污；n.污点；诽谤，污蔑 | |
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inflexible
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| adj.不可改变的，不受影响的，不屈服的 | |
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quailed
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| 害怕，发抖，畏缩( quail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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intensity
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| n.强烈，剧烈；强度；烈度 | |
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chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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