“My sweet ladye,” wrote Nigel in a script which it would take the eyes of love to read, “there hath been a most noble meeting in the fourth sennight of Lent betwixt some of our own people and sundry1 most worthy2 persons of this country, which ended, by the grace of our Lady, in so fine a joust3 that no man living can call to mind so fair an occasion. Much honor was gained by the Sieurde Beaumanoir and also by an Almain named Croquart, with whom I hope to have some speech when I am hale again, for he is a most excellent person and very ready to advance himself or to relieve another from a vow4. For myself I had hoped, with Godde's help, to venture that third small deed which might set me free to haste to your sweet side, but things have gone awry5 with me, and I early met with such scathe6 and was of so small comfort to my friends that my heart is heavy within me, and in sooth I feel that I have lost honor rather than gained it. Here I have lain since the Feast of the Virgin7, and here I am like still to be, for I can move no limb, save only my hand; but grieve not, sweet lady, for Saint Catharine hath been our friend since in so short a time I had two such ventures as the Red Ferret and the intaking of the Reaver's fortalice. It needs but one more deed, and sickerly when I am hale once more it will not be long ere I seek it out. Till then, if my eyes may not rest upon you, my heart at least is ever at thy feet.”
So he wrote from his sick-room in the Castle of Ploermel late in the summer, but yet another summer had come before his crushed head had mended and his wasted limbs had gained their strength once more. With despair he heard of the breaking of the truce8, and of the fight at Mauron in which Sir Robert Knolles and Sir Walter Bentley crushed the rising power of Brittany—a fight in which many of the thirty champions of Josselin met their end. Then, when with renewed strength and high hopes in his heart he went forth9 to search for the famous Croquart who proclaimed himself ever ready night or day to meet any man with any weapon, it was only to find that in trying the paces of his new horse the German had been cast into a ditch and had broken his neck. In the same ditch perished Nigel's last chance of soon accomplishing that deed which should free him from his vow.
There was truce once more over all Christendom, and mankind was sated with war, so that only in far-off Prussia, where the Teutonic knights11 waged ceaseless battle with the Lithuanian heathen, could he hope to find his heart's desire. But money and high knightly12 fame were needed ere a man could go upon the northern crusade, and ten years were yet to pass ere Nigel should look from the battlements of Marienberg on the waters of the Frische Haff, or should endure the torture of the hot plate when bound to the Holy Woden stone of Memel. Meanwhile, he chafed13 his burning soul out through the long seasons of garrison14 life in Brittany, broken only by one visit to the chateau15 of the father of Raoul, when he carried to the Lord of Grosbois the news of how his son had fallen like a gallant16 gentleman under the gateway17 of La Brohiniere.
And then, then at last, when all hope was well-nigh dead in his heart, there came one glorious July morning which brought a horseman bearing a letter to the Castle of Vannes, of which Nigel now was seneschal. It contained but few words, short and clear as the call of a war-trumpet. It was Chandos who wrote. He needed his Squire18 at his side, for his pennon was in the breeze once more. He was at Bordeaux. The Prince was starting at once for Bergerac, whence he would make a great raid into France. It would not end without a battle. They had sent word of their coming, and the good French King had promised to be at great pains to receive them. Let Nigel hasten at once. If the army had left, then let him follow after with all speed. Chandos had three other squires19, but would very gladly see his fourth once again, for he had heard much of him since he parted, and nothing which he might not have expected to hear of his father's son. Such was the letter which made the summer sun shine brighter and the blue sky seem of a still fairer blue upon that happy morning in Vannes.
It is a weary way from Vannes to Bordeaux. Coastwise ships are hard to find, and winds blow north when all brave hearts would fain be speeding south. A full month has passed from the day when Nigel received his letter before he stood upon the quay-side of the Garonne amid the stacked barrels of Gascon wine and helped to lead Pommers down the gang-planks. Not Aylward himself had a worse opinion of the sea than the great yellow horse, and he whinnied with joy as he thrust his muzzle20 into his master's outstretched hand, and stamped his ringing hoofs21 upon the good firm cobblestones. Beside him, slapping his tawny22 shoulder in encouragement, was the lean spare form of Back Simon who had remained ever under Nigel's pennon.
But Aylward, where was he? Alas23! two years before he and the whole of Knolles' company of archers24 had been drafted away on the King's service to Guienne, and since he could not write the Squire knew not whether he was alive or dead. Simon, indeed, had thrice heard of him from wandering archers, each time that he was alive and well and newly married, but as the wife in one case was a fair maid, and in another a dark, while in the third she was a French widow, it was hard to know the truth.
Already the army had been gone a month, but news of it came daily to the town, and such news as all men could read, for through the landward gates there rolled one constant stream of wagons26, pouring down the Libourne Road, and bearing the booty of Southern France. The town was full of foot-soldiers, for none but mounted men had been taken by the Prince. With sad faces and longing27 eyes they watched the passing of the train of plunder28-laden29 carts, piled high with rich furniture, silks, velvets, tapestries30, carvings31, and precious metals, which had been the pride of many a lordly home in fair Auvergne or the wealthy Bourbonnais.
Let no man think that in these wars England alone was face to face with France alone. There is glory and to spare without trifling32 with the truth. Two Provinces in France, both rich and warlike, had become English through a royal marriage, and these, Guienne and Gascony, furnished many of the most valiant33 soldiers under the island flag. So poor a country as England could not afford to keep a great force overseas, and so must needs have lost the war with France through want of power to uphold the struggle. The feudal34 system enabled an army to be drawn35 rapidly together with small expense, but at the end of a few weeks it dispersed36 again as swiftly, and only by a well-filled money-chest could it be held together. There was no such chest in England, and the King was forever at his wits' end how to keep his men in the field.
But Guienne and Gascony were full of knights and squires who were always ready to assemble from their isolated37 castles for a raid into France, and these with the addition of those English cavaliers who fought for honor, and a few thousand of the formidable archers, hired for fourpence a day, made an army with which a short campaign could be carried on. Such were the materials of the Prince's force, some eight thousand strong, who were now riding in a great circle through Southern France, leaving a broad wale of blackened and ruined country behind them.
But France, even with her southwestern corner in English hands, was still a very warlike power, far richer and more populous38 than her rival. Single Provinces were so great that they were stronger than many a kingdom. Normandy in the north, Burgundy in the east, Brittany in the west and Languedoc in the south were each capable of fitting out a great army of their own. Therefore the brave and spirited John, watching from Paris this insolent39 raid into his dominions40, sent messengers in hot haste to all these great feudatories as well as to Lorraine, Picardy, Auvergne, Hainault, Vermandois, Champagne41, and to the German mercenaries over his eastern border, bidding all of them to ride hard, with bloody42 spur, day and night, until they should gather to a head at Chartres.
There a great army had assembled early in September, whilst the Prince, all unconscious of its presence sacked towns and besieged43 castles from Bourges to Issodun, passing Romorautin, and so onward44 to Vierzon and to Tours. From week to week there were merry skirmishes at barriers, brisk assaults of fortresses45 in which much honor was won, knightly meetings with detached parties of Frenchmen and occasional spear-runnings where noble champions deigned46 to venture their persons. Houses, too, were to be plundered47, while wine and women were in plenty. Never had either knights or archers had so pleasant and profitable an excursion, so that it was with high heart and much hope of pleasant days at Bordeaux with their pockets full of money that the army turned south from the Loire and began to retrace48 its steps to the seaboard city.
But now its pleasant and martial49 promenade50 changed suddenly to very serious work of war. As the Prince moved south he found that all supplies had been cleared away from in front of him and that there was neither fodder51 for the horses nor food for the men. Two hundred wagons laden with spoil rolled at the head of the army, but the starving soldiers would soon have gladly changed it all for as many loads of bread and of meat. The light troops of the French had preceded then and burned or destroyed everything that could be of use. Now also for the first time the Prince and his men became aware that a great army was moving upon the eastern side of them, streaming southward in the hope of cutting off their retreat to the sea. The sky glowed with their fires at night, and the autumn sun twinkled and gleamed from one end of the horizon to the other upon the steel caps and flashing weapons of a mighty52 host.
Anxious to secure his plunder, and conscious that the levies53 of France were far superior in number to his own force, the Prince redoubled his attempts to escape; but his horses were exhausted54 and his starving men were hardly to be kept in order. A few more days would unfit them for battle. Therefore, when he found near the village of Maupertuis a position in which a small force might have a chance to hold its own, he gave up the attempt to outmarch his pursuers, and he turned at bay, like a hunted boar, all tusks55 and eyes of flame.
Whilst these high events had been in progress, Nigel with Black Simon and four other men-at-arms from Bordeaux, was hastening northward56 to join the army. As far as Bergerac they were in a friendly land, but thence onward they rode over a blackened landscape with many a roofless house, its two bare gable-ends sticking upward—a “Knolles' miter” as it was afterward57 called when Sir Robert worked his stern will upon the country. For three days they rode northward, seeing many small parties of French in all directions, but too eager to reach the army to ease their march in the search of adventures.
Then at last after passing Lusignan they began to come in touch with English foragers, mounted bowmen for the most part, who were endeavoring to collect supplies either for the army or for themselves. From them Nigel learned that the Prince, with Chandos ever at his side, was hastening south and might be met within a short day's march. As he still advanced these English stragglers became more and more numerous, until at last he overtook a considerable column of archers moving in the same direction as his own party. These were men whose horses had failed them and who had therefore been left behind on the advance, but were now hastening to be in time for the impending58 battle. A crowd of peasant girls accompanied them upon their march, and a whole train of laden mules59 were led beside them.
Nigel and his little troop of men-at-arms were riding past the archers when Black Simon with a sudden exclamation60 touched his leader upon the arm.
“See yonder, fair sir,” he cried, with gleaming eyes, “there where the wastrel61 walks with the great fardel upon his back! Who is he who marches behind him?”
Nigel looked, and was aware of a stunted62 peasant who bore upon his rounded back an enormous bundle very much larger than himself. Behind him walked a burly broad-shouldered archer25, whose stained jerkin and battered63 headpiece gave token of long and hard service. His bow was slung64 over his shoulder, and his arms were round the waists of two buxom65 Frenchwomen, who tripped along beside him with much laughter and many saucy66 answers flung back over their shoulders to a score of admirers behind them.
“Aylward!” cried Nigel, spurring forward.
The archer turned his bronzed face, stared for an instant with wild eyes, and then, dropping his two ladies, who were instantly carried off by his comrades, he rushed to seize the hand which his young master held down to him. “Now, by my hilt, Squire Nigel, this is the fairest sight of my lifetime!” he cried. “And you, old leather-face! Nay67, Simon, I would put my arms round your dried herring of a body, if I could but reach you. Here is Pommers too, and I read in his eye that he knows me well and is as ready to put his teeth into me as when he stood in my father's stall.”
It was like a whiff of the heather-perfumed breezes of Hankley to see his homely68 face once more. Nigel laughed with sheer joy as he looked at him.
“It was an ill day when the King's service called you from my side,” said he, “and by Saint Paul! I am right glad to set eyes upon you once more! I see well that you are in no wise altered, but the same Aylward that I have ever known. But who is this varlet with the great bundle who waits upon your movements?”
“It is no less than a feather-bed, fair sir, which he bears upon his back, for I would fain bring it to Tilford, and yet it is overlarge for me when I take my place with my fellows in the ranks. But indeed this war has been a most excellent one, and I have already sent half a wagonload of my gear back to Bordeaux to await my homecoming. Yet I have my fears when I think of all the rascal69 foot-archers who are waiting there, for some folk have no grace or honesty in their souls, and cannot keep their hands from that which belongs to another. But if I may throw my leg over yonder spare horse I will come on with you, fair sir, for indeed it would be joy to my heart to know that I was riding under your banner once again.”
So Aylward, having given instructions to the bearer of his feather-bed, rode away in spite of shrill70 protests from his French companions, who speedily consoled themselves with those of his comrades who seemed to have most to give. Nigel's party was soon clear of the column of archers and riding hard in the direction of the Prince's army. They passed by a narrow and winding71 track, through the great wood of Nouaille, and found before them a marshy72 valley down which ran a sluggish73 stream. Along its farther bank hundreds of horses were being watered, and beyond was a dense74 block of wagons. Through these the comrades passed, and then topped a small mound75 from which the whole strange scene lay spread before them.
Down the valley the slow stream meandered76 with marshy meadows on either side. A mile or two lower a huge drove of horses were to be seen assembled upon the bank. They were the steeds of the French cavalry77, and the blue haze78 of a hundred fires showed where King John's men were camping. In front of the mound upon which they stood the English line was drawn, but there were few fires, for indeed, save their horses, there was little for them to cook. Their right rested upon the river, and their array stretched across a mile of ground until the left was in touch with a tangled79 forest which guarded it from flank attack. In front was a long thick hedge and much broken ground, with a single deeply rutted country road cutting through it in the middle. Under the hedge and along the whole front of the position lay swarms80 of archers upon the grass, the greater number slumbering81 peacefully with sprawling82 limbs in the warm rays of the September sun. Behind were the quarters of the various knights, and from end to end flew the banners and pennons marked with the devices of the chivalry83 of England and Guienne.
With a glow in his heart Nigel saw those badges of famous captains and leaders and knew that now at last he also might show his coat-armor in such noble company. There was the flag of Jean Grailly, the Captal de Buch, five silver shells on a black cross, which marked the presence of the most famous soldier of Gascony, while beside it waved the red lion of the noble Knight10 of Hainault, Sir Eustace d'Ambreticourt. These two coats Nigel knew, as did every warrior84 in Europe, but a dense grove85 of pennoned lances surrounded them, bearing charges which were strange to him, from which he understood that these belonged to the Guienne division of the army. Farther down the line the famous English ensigns floated on the wind, the scarlet86 and gold of Warwick, the silver star of Oxford87, the golden cross of Suffolk, the blue and gold of Willoughby, and the gold-fretted scarlet of Audley. In the very center of them all was one which caused all others to pass from his mind, for close to the royal banner of England, crossed with the label of the Prince, there waved the war-worn flag with the red wedge upon the golden field which marked the quarters of the noble Chandos.
At the sight Nigel set spurs to his horse, and a few minutes later had reached the spot. Chandos, gaunt from hunger and want of sleep, but with the old fire lurking88 in his eye, was standing89 by the Prince's tent, gazing down at what could be seen of the French array, and heavy with thought. Nigel sprang from his horse and was within touch of his master when the silken hanging of the royal tent was torn violently aside and Edward rushed out.
He was without his armor and clad in a sober suit of black, but the high dignity of his bearing and the imperious anger which flushed his face proclaimed the leader and the Prince. At his heels was a little white-haired ecclesiastic90 in a flowing gown of scarlet sendal, expostulating and arguing in a torrent91 of words.
“Not another word, my Lord Cardinal92,” cried the angry prince. “I have listened to you overlong, and by God's dignity! that which you say is neither good nor fair in my ears. Hark you, John, I would have your counsel. What think you is the message which my Lord Cardinal of Perigord has carried from the King of France? He says that of his clemency93 he will let my army pass back to Bordeaux if we will restore to him all that we have taken, remit94 all ransoms95, and surrender my own person with that of a hundred nobles of England and Guienne to be held as prisoners. What think you, John?”
Chandos smiled. “Things are not done in that fashion,” said he.
“But my Lord Chandos,” cried the Cardinal, “I have made it clear to the Prince that indeed it is a scandal to all Christendom and a cause of mocking to the heathen, that two great sons of the Church should turn their swords thus upon each other.”
“Then bid the King of France keep clear of us,” said the Prince.
“Fair son, you are aware that you are in the heart of his country and that it standeth not aright that he should suffer you to go forth as you came. You have but a small army, three thousand bowmen and five thousand men-at-arms at the most, who seem in evil case for want of food and rest. The King has thirty thousand men at his back, of which twenty thousand are expert men-at-arms. It is fitting therefore that you make such terms as you may, lest worse befall.”
“Give my greetings to the King of France and tell him that England will never pay ransom96 for me. But it seems to me, my Lord Cardinal, that you have our numbers and condition very ready upon your tongue, and I would fain know how the eye of a Churchman can read a line of battle so easily. I have seen that these knights of your household have walked freely to and fro within our camp, and I much fear that when I welcomed you as envoys97 I have in truth given my protection to spies. How say you, my Lord Cardinal?”
“Fair Prince, I know not how you can find it in your heart or conscience to say such evil words.”
“There is this red-bearded nephew of thine, Robert de Duras. See where he stands yonder, counting and prying98. Hark hither, young sir! I have been saying to your uncle the Cardinal that it is in my mind that you and your comrades have carried news of our dispositions99 to the French King. How say you?”
The knight turned pale and sank his eyes. “My lord,” he murmured, “it may be that I have answered some questions.”
“And how will such answers accord with your honor, seeing that we have trusted you since you came in the train of the Cardinal?”
“My lord, it is true that I am in the train of the Cardinal, and yet I am liege man of King John and a knight of France, so I pray you to assuage100 your wrath101 against me.”
The Prince ground his teeth and his piercing eyes blazed upon the youth. “By my father's soul! I can scarce forbear to strike you to the earth! But this I promise you, that if you show that sign of the Red Griffin in the field and if you be taken alive in to-morrow's battle, your head shall most assuredly be shorn from your shoulders.”
“Fair son, indeed you speak wildly,” cried the Cardinal. “I pledge you my word that neither my nephew Robert nor any of my train will take part in the battle. And now I leave you, sire, and may God assoil your soul, for indeed in all this world no men stand in greater peril102 than you and those who are around you, and I rede you that you spend the night in such ghostly exercises as may best prepare you for that which may befall.” So saying the Cardinal bowed, and with his household walking behind him set off for the spot where they had left their' horses, whence they rode to the neighboring Abbey.
The angry Prince turned upon his heel and entered his tent once more, whilst Chandos, glancing round, held out a warm welcoming hand to Nigel.
“I have heard much of your noble deeds,” said he. “Already your name rises as a squire errant. I stood no higher, nor so high, at your age.”
Nigel flushed with pride and pleasure. “Indeed, my dear lord, it is very little that I have done. But now that I am back at your side I hope that in truth I shall learn to bear myself in worthy fashion, for where else should I win honor if it be not under your banner.”
“Truly, Nigel, you have come at a very good time for advancement103. I cannot see how we can leave this spot without a great battle which will live in men's minds forever. In all our fights in France I cannot call to mind any in which they have been so strong or we so weak as now, so that there will be the more honor to be gained. I would that we had two thousand more archers. But I doubt not that we shall give them much trouble ere they drive us out from amidst these hedges. Have you seen the French?”
“Nay, fair sir, I have but this moment arrived.”
“I was about to ride forth myself to coast their army and observe their countenance104, so come with me ere the night fall, and we shall see what we can of their order and dispositions.”
There was a truce betwixt the two forces for the day, on account of the ill-advised and useless interposition of the Cardinal of Perigord, Hence when Chandos and Nigel had pushed their horses through the long hedge which fronted the position they found that many small parties of the knights of either army were riding up and down on the plain outside. The greater number of these groups were French, since it was very necessary for them to know as much as possible of the English defenses; and many of their scouts105 had ridden up to within a hundred yards of the hedge, where they were sternly ordered back by the pickets106 of archers on guard.
Through these scattered107 knots of horsemen Chandos rode, and as many of them were old antagonists108 it was “Ha, John!” on the one side, and “Ha, Raoul!” “Ha, Nicholas!” “Ha, Guichard!” upon the other, as they brushed past them. Only one cavalier greeted them amiss, a large, red-faced man, the Lord Clermont, who by some strange chance bore upon his surcoat a blue virgin standing amid golden sunbeams, which was the very device which Chandos had donned for the day. The fiery109 Frenchman dashed across their path and drew his steed back on to its haunches.
“How long is it, my Lord Chandos,” said he hotly, “since you have taken it upon yourself to wear my arms?”
Chandos smiled. “It is surely you who have mine,” said he, “since this surcoat was worked for thee by the good nuns110 of Windsor a long year ago.”
“If it were not for the truce,” said Clermont, “I would soon show you that you have no right to wear it.”
“Look for it then in the battle to-morrow, and I also will look for yours,” Chandos answered. “There we can very honorably settle the matter.”
But the Frenchman was choleric111 and hard to appease112. “You English can invent nothing,” said he, “and you take for your own whatever you see handsome belonging to others.” So, grumbling113 and fuming114, he rode upon his way, while Chandos, laughing gayly, spurred onward across the plain.
The immediate115 front of the English line was shrouded116 with scattered trees and bushes which hid the enemy; but when they had cleared these a fair view of the great French army lay before them. In the center of the huge camp was a long and high pavilion of red silk, with the silver lilies of the King at one end of it, and the golden oriflamme, the battle-flag of old France, at the other. Like the reeds of a pool from side to side of the broad array, and dwindling117 away as far as their eyes could see, were the banners and pennons of high barons118 and famous knights, but above them all flew the ducal standards which showed that the feudal muster119 of all the warlike provinces of France was in the field before them.
With a kindling120 eye Chandos looked across at the proud ensigns of Normandy, or Burgundy, of Auvergne, of Champagne, of Vermandois, and of Berry, flaunting121 and gleaming in the rays of the sinking sun. Riding slowly down the line he marked with attentive122 gaze the camp of the crossbowmen, the muster of the German mercenaries, the numbers of the foot-soldiers, the arms of every proud vassal123 or vavasor which might give some guide as to the power of each division. From wing to wing and round the flanks he went, keeping ever within crossbow-shot of the army, and then at last having noted124 all things in his mind he turned his horse's head and rode slowly back, heavy with thought, to the English lines.
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sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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joust
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| v.马上长枪比武，竞争 | |
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vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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awry
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| adj.扭曲的，错的 | |
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scathe
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| v.损伤；n.伤害 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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truce
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| n.休战，(争执，烦恼等的)缓和；v.以停战结束 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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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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knightly
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| adj. 骑士般的 adv. 骑士般地 | |
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chafed
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| v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的过去式 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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garrison
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| n.卫戍部队；驻地，卫戍区；vt.派(兵)驻防 | |
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chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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gateway
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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squires
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| n.地主，乡绅( squire的名词复数 ) | |
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muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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tawny
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alas
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archers
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archer
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| n.射手，弓箭手 | |
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wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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plunder
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| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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30
tapestries
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| n.挂毯( tapestry的名词复数 )；绣帷，织锦v.用挂毯（或绣帷）装饰( tapestry的第三人称单数 ) | |
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31
carvings
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| n.雕刻( carving的名词复数 )；雕刻术；雕刻品；雕刻物 | |
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32
trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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33
valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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34
feudal
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| adj.封建的，封地的，领地的 | |
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35
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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36
dispersed
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| adj. 被驱散的, 被分散的, 散布的 | |
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37
isolated
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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38
populous
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| adj.人口稠密的，人口众多的 | |
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39
insolent
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| adj.傲慢的，无理的 | |
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40
dominions
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| 统治权( dominion的名词复数 )； 领土； 疆土； 版图 | |
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41
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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42
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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43
besieged
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| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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44
onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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45
fortresses
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| 堡垒，要塞( fortress的名词复数 ) | |
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46
deigned
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| v.屈尊，俯就( deign的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47
plundered
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| 掠夺，抢劫( plunder的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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48
retrace
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| v.折回；追溯，探源 | |
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49
martial
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| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
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50
promenade
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| n./v.散步 | |
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51
fodder
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| n.草料；炮灰 | |
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52
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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53
levies
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| （部队）征兵( levy的名词复数 )； 募捐； 被征募的军队 | |
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54
exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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55
tusks
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| n.（象等动物的）长牙( tusk的名词复数 )；獠牙；尖形物；尖头 | |
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56
northward
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| adv.向北；n.北方的地区 | |
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57
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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58
impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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59
mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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60
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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61
wastrel
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| n.浪费者；废物 | |
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62
stunted
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| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
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63
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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64
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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65
buxom
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| adj.（妇女）丰满的，有健康美的 | |
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66
saucy
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| adj.无礼的；俊俏的；活泼的 | |
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67
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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68
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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69
rascal
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| n.流氓；不诚实的人 | |
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70
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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71
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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72
marshy
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| adj.沼泽的 | |
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73
sluggish
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| adj.懒惰的，迟钝的，无精打采的 | |
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74
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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75
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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76
meandered
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| （指溪流、河流等）蜿蜒而流( meander的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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77
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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78
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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79
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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80
swarms
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| 蜂群，一大群( swarm的名词复数 ) | |
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81
slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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82
sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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83
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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84
warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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85
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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86
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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87
Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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88
lurking
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| 潜在 | |
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89
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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90
ecclesiastic
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| n.教士，基督教会；adj.神职者的，牧师的，教会的 | |
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91
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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92
cardinal
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| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
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93
clemency
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| n.温和，仁慈，宽厚 | |
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94
remit
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| v.汇款，汇寄；豁免（债务），免除（处罚等） | |
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95
ransoms
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| 付赎金救人，赎金( ransom的名词复数 ) | |
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96
ransom
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| n.赎金，赎身；v.赎回，解救 | |
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97
envoys
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| 使节( envoy的名词复数 )； 公使； 谈判代表； 使节身份 | |
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98
prying
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| adj.爱打听的v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的现在分词 )；撬开 | |
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99
dispositions
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| 安排( disposition的名词复数 )； 倾向； （财产、金钱的）处置； 气质 | |
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100
assuage
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| v.缓和，减轻，镇定 | |
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101
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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102
peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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103
advancement
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| n.前进，促进，提升 | |
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104
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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105
scouts
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| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
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106
pickets
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| 罢工纠察员( picket的名词复数 ) | |
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107
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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108
antagonists
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| 对立[对抗] 者，对手，敌手( antagonist的名词复数 )； 对抗肌； 对抗药 | |
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109
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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110
nuns
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| n.（通常指基督教的）修女， （佛教的）尼姑( nun的名词复数 ) | |
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111
choleric
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| adj.易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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112
appease
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| v.安抚，缓和，平息，满足 | |
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113
grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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114
fuming
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| 愤怒( fume的现在分词 )； 大怒； 发怒； 冒烟 | |
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115
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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116
shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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117
dwindling
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| adj.逐渐减少的v.逐渐变少或变小( dwindle的现在分词 ) | |
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118
barons
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| 男爵( baron的名词复数 )； 巨头； 大王； 大亨 | |
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119
muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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120
kindling
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| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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121
flaunting
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| adj.招摇的，扬扬得意的，夸耀的v.炫耀，夸耀( flaunt的现在分词 )；有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
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122
attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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123
vassal
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| n.附庸的；属下；adj.奴仆的 | |
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124
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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