AS in a dream Nigel heard these stupendous and incredible words. As in a dream also he had a vision of a smiling and conciliatory Abbot, of an obsequious1 sacrist, and of a band of archers3 who cleared a path for him and for the King's messenger through the motley crowd who had choked the entrance of the Abbey court. A minute later he was walking by the side of Chandos through the peaceful cloister4, and in front in the open archway of the great gate was the broad yellow road between its borders of green meadow-land. The spring air was the sweeter and the more fragrant5 for that chill dread6 of dishonor and captivity7 which had so recently frozen his ardent8 heart. He had already passed the portal when a hand plucked at his sleeve and he turned to find himself confronted by the brown honest face and hazel eyes of the archer2 who had interfered9 in his behalf.
“Well,” said Aylward, “what have you to say to me, young sir?”
“What can I say, my good fellow, save that I thank you with all my heart? By Saint Paul! if you had been my blood brother you could not have stood by me more stoutly10.”
Nigel colored with vexation, and the more so as Chandos was listening with his critical smile to their conversation. “If you had heard what was said in the court,” said he, “you would understand that I am not blessed at this moment with much of this world's gear. The black death and the monks13 have between them been heavy upon our estate. Willingly would I give you a handful of gold for your assistance, since that is what you seem to crave14; but indeed I have it not, and so once more I say that you must be satisfied with my thanks.”
“Your gold is nothing to me,” said Aylward shortly, “nor would you buy my loyalty15 if you filled my wallet with rose nobles, so long as you were not a man after my own heart. But I have seen you back the yellow horse, and I have seen you face the Abbot of Waverley, and you are such a master as I would very gladly serve if you have by chance a place for such a man. I have seen your following, and I doubt not that they were stout11 fellows in your grandfather's time; but which of them now would draw a bow-string to his ear? Through you I have left the service of the Abbey of Waverley, and where can I look now for a post? If I stay here I am all undone16 like a fretted17 bow-string.”
“Nay, there can be no difficulty there,” said Chandos. “Pardieu! a roistering, swaggering dare-devil archer is worth his price on the French border. There are two hundred such who march behind my own person, and I would ask nothing better than to see you among them.”
“I thank you, noble sir, for your offer,” said Aylward, “and I had rather follow your banner than many another one, for it is well known that it goes ever forward, and I have heard enough of the wars to know that there are small pickings for the man who lags behind. Yet, if the Squire18 will have me, I would choose to fight under the five roses of Loring, for though I was born in the hundred of Easebourne and the rape19 of Chichester, yet I have grown up and learned to use the longbow in these parts, and as the free son of a free franklin I had rather serve my own neighbor than a stranger.”
“My good fellow,” said Nigel, “I have told you that I could in no wise reward you for such service.”
“If you will but take me to the wars I will see to my own reward,” said Aylward. “Till then I ask for none, save a corner of your table and six feet of your floor, for it is certain that the only reward I would get from the Abbey for this day's work would be the scourge20 for my back and the stocks for my ankles. Samkin Aylward is your man, Squire Nigel, from this hour on, and by these ten finger-bones he trusts the Devil will fly away with him if ever he gives you cause to regret it!” So saying he raised his hand to his steel cap in salute21, slung22 his great yellow bow over his back, and followed on some paces in the rear of his new master.
“Pardieu! I have arrived a la bonne heure,” said Chandos. “I rode from Windsor and came to your manor23 house, to find it empty save for a fine old dame24, who told me of your troubles. From her I walked across to the Abbey, and none too soon, for what with cloth-yard shafts26 for your body, and bell, book and candle for your soul, it was no very cheerful outlook. But here is the very dame herself, if I mistake not.”
It was indeed the formidable figure of the Lady Ermyntrude, gaunt, bowed and leaning on her staff, which had emerged from the door of the manor-house and advanced to greet them. She croaked27 with laughter, and shook her stick at the great building as she heard of the discomfiture28 of the Abbey court. Then she led the way into the hall where the best which she could provide had been laid out for their illustrious guest. There was Chandos blood in her own veins29, traceable back through the de Greys, de Multons, de Valences, de Montagues and other high and noble strains, so that the meal had been eaten and cleared before she had done tracing the network of intermarriages and connections, with quarterings, impalements, lozenges and augmentations by which the blazonry of the two families might be made to show a common origin. Back to the Conquest and before it there was not a noble family-tree every twig30 and bud of which was not familiar to the Dame Ermyntrude.
And now when the trestles were cleared and the three were left alone in the hall, Chandos broke his message to the lady. “King Edward hath ever borne in mind that noble knight31 your son Sir Eustace,” said he. “He will journey to Southampton next week, and I am his harbinger. He bade me say, noble and honored lady, that he would come from Guildford in any easy stage so that he might spend one night under your roof.”
The old dame flushed with pleasure, and then turned white with vexation at the words. “It is in truth great honor to the house of Loring,” said she, “yet our roof is now humble32 and, as you have seen, our fare is plain. The King knows not that we are so poor. I fear lest we seem churlish and niggard in his eyes.”
But Chandos reasoned away her fears. The King's retinue33 would journey on to Farnham Castle. There were no ladies in his party. Though he was King, still he was a hardy34 soldier, and cared little for his ease. In any case, since he had declared his coming, they must make the best of it. Finally, with all delicacy35, Chandos offered his own purse if it would help in the matter. But already the Lady Ermyntrude had recovered her composure.
“Nay, fair kinsman36, that may not be,” said she. “I will make such preparation as I may for the King. He will bear in mind that if the house of Loring can give nothing else, they have always held their blood and their lives at his disposal.”
Chandos was to ride on to Farnham Castle and beyond, but he expressed his desire to have a warm bath ere he left Tilford, for like most of his fellow-knights37, he was much addicted38 to simmering in the hottest water that he could possibly endure. The bath therefore, a high hooped39 arrangement like a broader but shorter churn, was carried into the privacy of the guest-chamber, and thither40 it was that Nigel was summoned to hold him company while he stewed41 and sweltered in his tub.
Nigel perched himself upon the side of the high bed, swinging his legs over the edge and gazing with wonder and amusement at the quaint42 face, the ruffled43 yellow hair, and the sinewy44 shoulders of the famous warrior45, dimly seen amid a pillar of steam. He was in a mood for talk; so Nigel with eager lips plied46 him with a thousand questions about the wars, hanging upon every word which came back to him, like those of the ancient oracles47, out of the mist and the cloud. To Chandos himself, the old soldier for whom war had lost its freshness, it was a renewal48 of his own ardent youth to listen to Nigel's rapid questions and to mark the rapt attention with which he listened.
“Tell me of the Welsh, honored sir,” asked the Squire. “What manner of soldiers are the Welsh?”
“They are very valiant49 men of war,” said Chandos, splashing about in his tub. “There is good skirmishing to be had in their valleys if you ride with a small following. They flare50 up like a furzebush in the flames, but if for a short space you may abide51 the heat of it, then there is a chance that it may be cooler.”
“The Scotch knights have no masters in the world, and he who can hold his own with the best of them, be it a Douglas, a Murray or a Seaton, has nothing more to learn. Though you be a hard man, you will always meet as hard a one if you ride northward53. If the Welsh be like the furze fire, then, pardieu! the Scotch are the peat, for they will smolder54 and you will never come to the end of them. I have had many happy hours on the marches of Scotland, for even if there be no war the Percies of Alnwick or the Governor of Carlisle can still raise a little bickering55 with the border clans56.”
“No better in the world, for the spears are twelve foot long and they hold them in very thick array; but their archers are weak, save only the men of Ettrick and Selkirk who come from the forest. I pray you to open the lattice, Nigel, for the steam is overthick. Now in Wales it is the spearmen who are weak, and there are no archers in these islands like the men of Gwent with their bows of elm, which shoot with such power that I have known a cavalier to have his horse killed when the shaft25 had passed through his mail breeches, his thigh58 and his saddle. And yet, what is the most strongly shot arrow to these new balls of iron driven by the fire-powder which will crush a man's armor as an egg is crushed by a stone? Our fathers knew them not.”
“Then the better for us,” cried Nigel, “since there is at least one honorable venture which is all our own.”
Chandos chuckled59 and turned upon the flushed youth a twinkling and sympathetic eye. “You have a fashion of speech which carries me back to the old men whom I met in my boyhood,” said he. “There were some of the real old knight-errants left in those days, and they spoke60 as you do. Young as you are, you belong to another age. Where got you that trick of thought and word?”
“I have had only one to teach me, the Lady Ermyntrude.”
“Pardieu! she has trained a proper young hawk61 ready to stoop at a lordly quarry,” said Chandos. “I would that I had the first unhooding of you. Will you not ride with me to the wars?”
The tears brimmed over from Nigel's eyes, and he wrung62 the gaunt hand extended from the bath. “By Saint Paul! what could I ask better in the world? I fear to leave her, for she has none other to care for her. But if it can in any way be arranged—”
“The King's hand may smooth it out. Say no more until he is here. But if you wish to ride with me—”
“What could man wish for more? Is there a Squire in England who would not serve under the banner of Chandos! Whither do you go, fair sir? And when do you go? Is it to Scotland? Is it to Ireland? Is it to France? But alas63, alas!”
The eager face had clouded. For the instant he had forgotten that a suit of armor was as much beyond his means as a service of gold plate. Down in a twinkling came all his high hopes to the ground. Oh, these sordid64 material things, which come between our dreams and their fulfilment! The Squire of such a knight must dress with the best. Yet all the fee simple of Tilford would scarce suffice for one suit of plate.
Chandos, with his quick wit and knowledge of the world, had guessed the cause of this sudden change. “If you fight under my banner it is for me to find the weapons,” said he. “Nay, I will not be denied.”
But Nigel shook his head sadly. “It may not be. The Lady Ermyntrude would sell this old house and every acre round it, ere she would permit me to accept this gracious bounty65 which you offer. Yet I do not despair, for only last week I won for myself a noble war-horse for which I paid not a penny, so perchance a suit of armor may also come my way.”
“And how won you the horse?”
“It was given me by the monks of Waverley.”
“This is wonderful. Pardieu! I should have expected, from what I had seen, that they would have given you little save their malediction66.”
“They had no use for the horse, and they gave it to me.”
“Then we have only to find some one who has no use for a suit of armor and will give it to you. Yet I trust that you will think better of it and let me, since that good lady proves that I am your kinsman, fit you for the wars.”
“I thank you, noble sir, and if I should turn to anyone it would indeed be to you; but there are other ways which I would try first. But I pray you, good Sir John, to tell me of some of your noble spear-runnings against the French, for the whole land rings with the tale of your deeds and I have heard that in one morning three champions have fallen before your lance. Was it not so?”
“That it was indeed so these scars upon my body will prove; but these were the follies67 of my youth.”
“How can you call them follies? Are they not the means by which honorable advancement68 may be gained and one's lady exalted69?”
“It is right that you should think so, Nigel. At your age a man should have a hot head and a high heart. I also had both and fought for my lady's glove or for my vow70 or for the love of fighting. But as one grows older and commands men one has other things to think of. One thinks less of one's own honor and more of the safety of the army. It is not your own spear, your own sword, your own arm, which will turn the tide of fight; but a cool head may save a stricken field. He who knows when his horsemen should charge and when they should fight on foot, he who can mix his archers with his men-at-arms in such a fashion that each can support the other, he who can hold up his reserve and pour it into the battle when it may turn the tide, he who has a quick eye for boggy71 land and broken ground—that is the man who is of more worth to an army than Roland, Oliver and all the paladins.”
“Yet if his knights fail him, honored sir, all his head-work will not prevail.”
“True enough, Nigel; so may every Squire ride to the wars with his soul on fire, as yours is now. But I must linger no longer, for the King's service must be done. I will dress, and when I have bid farewell to the noble Dame Ermyntrude I will on to Farnham; but you will see me here again on the day that the King comes.”
So Chandos went his way that evening, walking his horse through the peaceful lanes and twanging his citole as he went, for he loved music and was famous for his merry songs. The cottagers came from their huts and laughed and clapped as the rich full voice swelled72 and sank to the cheery tinkling73 of the strings74. There were few who saw him pass that would have guessed that the quaint one-eyed man with the yellow hair was the toughest fighter and craftiest75 man of war in Europe. Once only, as he entered Farnham, an old broken man-at-arms ran out in his rags and clutched at his horse as a dog gambols76 round his master. Chandos threw him a kind word and a gold coin as he passed on to the castle.
In the meanwhile young Nigel and the Lady Ermyntrude, left alone with their difficulties, looked blankly in each other's faces.
“The cellar is well nigh empty,” said Nigel. “There are two firkins of small beer and a tun of canary. How can we set such drink before the King and his court?”
“We must have some wine of Bordeaux. With that and the mottled cow's calf77 and the fowls78 and a goose, we can set forth79 a sufficient repast if he stays only for the one night. How many will be with him?”
“A dozen, at the least.”
The old dame wrung her hands in despair. “Nay, take it not to heart, dear lady!” said Nigel. “We have but to say the word and the King would stop at Waverley, where he and his court would find all that they could wish.”
“Never!” cried the Lady Ermyntrude. “It would be shame and disgrace to us forever if the King were to pass our door when he has graciously said that he was fain to enter in. Nay, I will do it. Never did I think that I would be forced to this, but I know that he would wish it, and I will do it.”
She went to the old iron coffer, and taking a small key from her girdle she unlocked it. The rusty80 hinges, screaming shrilly81 as she threw back the lid, proclaimed how seldom it was that she had penetrated82 into the sacred recesses83 of her treasure-chest. At the top were some relics84 of old finery: a silken cloak spangled with golden stars, a coif of silver filigree85, a roll of Venetian lace. Beneath were little packets tied in silk which the old lady handled with tender care: a man's hunting-glove, a child's shoe, a love-knot done in faded green ribbon, some letters in rude rough script, and a vernicle of Saint Thomas. Then from the very bottom of the box she drew three objects, swathed in silken cloth, which she uncovered and laid upon the table. The one was a bracelet86 of rough gold studded with uncut rubies87, the second was a gold salver, and the third was a high goblet88 of the same metal.
“You have heard me speak of these, Nigel, but never before have you seen them, for indeed I have not opened the hutch for fear that we might be tempted89 in our great need to turn them into money. I have kept them out of my sight and even out of my thoughts. But now it is the honor of the house which calls, and even these must go. This goblet was that which my husband, Sir Nele Loring, won after the intaking of Belgrade when he and his comrades held the lists from matins to vespers against the flower of the French chivalry90. The salver was given him by the Earl of Pembroke in memory of his valor91 upon the field of Falkirk.”
“And the bracelet, dear lady?”
“You will not laugh, Nigel?”
“Nay, why should I laugh?”
“The bracelet was the prize for the Queen of Beauty which was given to me before all the high-born ladies of England by Sir Nele Loring a month before our marriage—the Queen of Beauty, Nigel—I, old and twisted, as you see me. Five strong men went down before his lance ere he won that trinket for me. And now in my last years—”
“Nay, dear and honored lady, we will not part with it.”
“Yes, Nigel, he would have it so. I can hear his whisper in my ear. Honor to him was everything—the rest nothing. Take it from me, Nigel, ere my heart weakens. To-morrow you will ride with it to Guildford; you will see Thorold the goldsmith; and you will raise enough money to pay for all that we shall need for the King's coming.” She turned her face away to hide the quivering of her wrinkled features, and the crash of the iron lid covered the sob92 which burst from her overwrought soul.
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1
obsequious
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| adj.谄媚的，奉承的，顺从的 | |
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archer
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| n.射手，弓箭手 | |
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archers
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| n.弓箭手，射箭运动员( archer的名词复数 ) | |
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cloister
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| n.修道院；v.隐退，使与世隔绝 | |
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fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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7
captivity
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| n.囚禁；被俘；束缚 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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stoutly
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| adv.牢固地，粗壮的 | |
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nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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monks
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| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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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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loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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undone
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| a.未做完的，未完成的 | |
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fretted
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| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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rape
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| n.抢夺，掠夺，强奸；vt.掠夺，抢夺，强奸 | |
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scourge
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| n.灾难，祸害；v.蹂躏 | |
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salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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manor
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| n.庄园，领地 | |
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dame
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| n.女士 | |
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shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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shafts
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| n.轴( shaft的名词复数 )；（箭、高尔夫球棒等的）杆；通风井；一阵（疼痛、害怕等） | |
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croaked
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| v.呱呱地叫( croak的过去式和过去分词 )；用粗的声音说 | |
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discomfiture
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| n.崩溃；大败；挫败；困惑 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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twig
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| n.小树枝，嫩枝；v.理解 | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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retinue
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| n.侍从；随员 | |
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hardy
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| adj.勇敢的，果断的，吃苦的；耐寒的 | |
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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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kinsman
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| n.男亲属 | |
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knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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addicted
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| adj.沉溺于....的，对...上瘾的 | |
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hooped
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| adj.以环作装饰的；带横纹的；带有环的 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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41
stewed
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| adj.焦虑不安的，烂醉的v.炖( stew的过去式和过去分词 )；煨；思考；担忧 | |
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42
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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43
ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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sinewy
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| adj.多腱的，强壮有力的 | |
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45
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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46
plied
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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oracles
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| 神示所( oracle的名词复数 )； 神谕； 圣贤； 哲人 | |
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48
renewal
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| adj.(契约)延期，续订，更新，复活，重来 | |
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49
valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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50
flare
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| v.闪耀，闪烁；n.潮红；突发 | |
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51
abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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52
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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53
northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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54
smolder
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| v.无火焰地闷烧；n.焖烧，文火 | |
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bickering
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| v.争吵( bicker的现在分词 )；口角；（水等）作潺潺声；闪烁 | |
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clans
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| 宗族( clan的名词复数 )； 氏族； 庞大的家族； 宗派 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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hawk
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| n.鹰，骗子；鹰派成员 | |
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wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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bounty
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| n.慷慨的赠予物，奖金；慷慨，大方；施与 | |
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malediction
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| n.诅咒 | |
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follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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advancement
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| n.前进，促进，提升 | |
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exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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boggy
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| adj.沼泽多的 | |
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swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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craftiest
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| 狡猾的，狡诈的( crafty的最高级 ) | |
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gambols
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| v.蹦跳，跳跃，嬉戏( gambol的第三人称单数 ) | |
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calf
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| n.小牛，犊，幼仔，小牛皮 | |
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fowls
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| 鸟( fowl的名词复数 )； 禽肉； 既不是这； 非驴非马 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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80
rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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82
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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83
recesses
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| n.壁凹( recess的名词复数 )；（工作或业务活动的）中止或暂停期间；学校的课间休息；某物内部的凹形空间v.把某物放在墙壁的凹处( recess的第三人称单数 )；将（墙）做成凹形，在（墙）上做壁龛；休息，休会，休庭 | |
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relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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filigree
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| n.金银丝做的工艺品；v.用金银细丝饰品装饰；用华而不实的饰品装饰；adj.金银细丝工艺的 | |
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bracelet
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| n.手镯，臂镯 | |
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87
rubies
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| 红宝石( ruby的名词复数 )； 红宝石色，深红色 | |
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goblet
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| n.高脚酒杯 | |
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89
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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90
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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valor
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| n.勇气，英勇 | |
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92
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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