AT early dawn the country inn was all alive, for it was rareindeed that an hour of daylight would be wasted at a time whenlighting was so scarce and dear. Indeed, early as it was whenDame Eliza began to stir, it seemed that others could be earlierstill, for the door was ajar, and the learned student ofCambridge had taken himself off, with a mind which was too intentupon the high things of antiquity to stoop to consider the four-pence which he owed for bed and board. It was the shrill out-cryof the landlady when she found her loss, and the clucking of thehens, which had streamed in through the open door, that firstbroke in upon the slumbers of the tired wayfarers.

Once afoot, it was not long before the company began to disperse.A sleek mule with red trappings was brought round from someneighboring shed for the physician, and he ambled away with muchdignity upon his road to Southampton. The tooth-drawer and thegleeman called for a cup of small ale apiece, and started offtogether for Ringwood fair, the old jongleur looking very yellowin the eye and swollen in the face after his overnight potations.The archer, however, who had drunk more than any man in the room,was as merry as a grig, and having kissed the matron and chasedthe maid up the ladder once more, he went out to the brook, andcame back with the water dripping from his face and hair.

"Hola! my man of peace," he cried to Alleyne, "whither are youbent this morning?"

"To Minstead," quoth he. "My brother Simon Edricson is socmanthere, and I go to bide with him for a while. I prythee, let mehave my score, good dame."

"Score, indeed!" cried she, standing with upraised hands in frontof the panel on which Alleyne had worked the night before. "Say,rather what it is that I owe to thee, good youth. Aye, this isindeed a pied merlin, and with a leveret under its claws, as I ama living woman. By the rood of Waltham! but thy touch is deftand dainty."

"And see the red eye of it!" cried the maid.

"Aye, and the open beak."

"And the ruffled wing," added Hordle John.

"By my hilt!" cried the archer, "it is the very bird itself."

The young clerk flushed with pleasure at this chorus of praise,rude and indiscriminate indeed, and yet so much heartier and lessgrudging than any which he had ever heard from the criticalbrother Jerome, or the short-spoken Abbot. There was, it wouldseem, great kindness as well as great wickedness in this world,of which he had heard so little that was good. His hostess wouldhear nothing of his paying either for bed or for board, while thearcher and Hordle John placed a hand upon either shoulder and ledhim off to the board, where some smoking fish, a dish of spinach,and a jug of milk were laid out for their breakfast.

"I should not be surprised to learn, mon camarade," said thesoldier, as he heaped a slice of fish upon Alleyne's tranchoir ofbread, "that you could read written things, since you are soready with your brushes and pigments."

"It would be shame to the good brothers of Beaulieu if I couldnot," he answered, "seeing that I have been their clerk this tenyears back."

The bowman looked at him with great respect. "Think of that!"said he. "And you with not a hair to your face, and a skin likea girl. I can shoot three hundred and fifty paces with my littlepopper there, and four hundred and twenty with the great war-bow;yet I can make nothing of this, nor read my own name if you wereto set 'Sam Aylward' up against me. In the whole Company therewas only one man who could read, and he fell down a well at thetaking of Ventadour, which proves what the thing is not suited toa soldier, though most needful to a clerk."

"I can make some show at it," said big John; "though I was scarcelong enough among the monks to catch the whole trick of it.

"Here, then, is something to try upon," quoth the archer, pullinga square of parchment from the inside of his tunic. It was tiedsecurely with a broad band of purple silk, and firmly sealed ateither end with a large red seal. John pored long and earnestlyover the inscription upon the back, with his brows bent as onewho bears up against great mental strain.

"Not having read much of late," he said, "I am loth to say toomuch about what this may be. Some might say one thing and someanother, just as one bowman loves the yew, and a second will notshoot save with the ash. To me, by the length and the look ofit, I should judge this to be a verse from one of the Psalms."

The bowman shook his head. "It is scarce likely," he said, "thatSir Claude Latour should send me all the way across seas withnought more weighty than a psalm-verse. You have clean overshotthe butts this time, mon camarade. Give it to the little one. Iwill wager my feather-bed that he makes more sense of it."

"Why, it is written in the French tongue," said Alleyne, "and ina right clerkly hand. This is how it runs: 'A le moult puissantet moult honorable chevalier, Sir Nigel Loring de Christchurch,de son tres fidele amis Sir Claude Latour, capitaine de laCompagnie blanche, chatelain de Biscar, grand seigneur deMontchateau, vavaseurde le renomme Gaston, Comte de Foix, tenantles droits de la haute justice, de la milieu, et de la basse.'Which signifies in our speech: 'To the very powerful and veryhonorable knight, Sir Nigel Loring of Christchurch, from his veryfaithful friend Sir Claude Latour, captain of the White Company,chatelain of Biscar, grand lord of Montchateau and vassal to therenowed Gaston, Count of Foix, who holds the rights of the highjustice, the middle and the low.' "

"Look at that now!" cried the bowman in triumph. "That is justwhat he would have said."

"I can see now that it is even so," said John, examining theparchment again. "Though I scarce understand this high, middleand low."

"By my hilt! you would understand it if you were JacquesBonhomme. The low justice means that you may fleece him, and themiddle that you may torture him, and the high that you may slayhim. That is about the truth of it. But this is the letterwhich I am to take; and since the platter is clean it is timethat we trussed up and were afoot. You come with me, mon grosJean; and as to you, little one, where did you say that youjourneyed?"

"To Minstead."

"Ah, yes. I know this forest country well, though I was bornmyself in the Hundred of Easebourne, in the Rape of Chichester,hard by the village of Midhurst. Yet I have not a word to sayagainst the Hampton men, for there are no better comrades ortruer archers in the whole Company than some who learned to loosethe string in these very parts. We shall travel round with youto Minstead lad, seeing that it is little out of our way."

"I am ready," said Alleyne, right pleased at the thought of suchcompany upon the road.

"So am not I. I must store my plunder at this inn, since thehostess is an honest woman. Hola! ma cherie, I wish to leavewith you my gold-work, my velvet, my silk, my feather bed, myincense-boat, my ewer, my naping linen, and all the rest of it.I take only the money in a linen bag, and the box of rose coloredsugar which is a gift from my captain to the Lady Loring. Wiltguard my treasure for me?"

"It shall be put in the safest loft, good archer. Come when youmay, you shall find it ready for you."

"Now, there is a true friend!" cried the bowman, taking her hand."There is a bonne amie! English land and English women, say I,and French wine and French plunder. I shall be back anon, monange. I am a lonely man, my sweeting, and I must settle some daywhen the wars are over and done. Mayhap you and I----Ah,mechante, mechante! There is la petite peeping from behind thedoor. Now, John, the sun is over the trees; you must be briskerthan this when the bugleman blows 'Bows and Bills.' "

"I have been waiting this time back," said Hordle John gruffly.

"Then we must be off. Adieu, ma vie! The two livres shallsettle the score and buy some ribbons against the next kermesse.Do not forget Sam Aylward, for his heart shall ever be thinealone--and thine, ma petite! So, marchons, and may St. Juliangrant us as good quarters elsewhere!"

The sun had risen over Ashurst and Denny woods, and was shiningbrightly, though the eastern wind had a sharp flavor to it, andthe leaves were flickering thickly from the trees. In the HighStreet of Lyndhurst the wayfarers had to pick their way, for thelittle town was crowded with the guardsmen, grooms, and yeomenprickers who were attached to the King's hunt. The King himselfwas staying at Castle Malwood, but several of his suite had beencompelled to seek such quarters as they might find in the woodenor wattle-and-daub cottages of the village. Here and there asmall escutcheon, peeping from a glassless window, marked thenight's lodging of knight or baron. These coats-of-arms could beread, where a scroll would be meaningless, and the bowman, likemost men of his age, was well versed in the common symbols ofheraldry.

"There is the Saracen's head of Sir Bernard Brocas," quoth he."I saw him last at the ruffle at Poictiers some ten years back,when he bore himself like a man. He is the master of the King'shorse, and can sing a right jovial stave, though in that hecannot come nigh to Sir John Chandos, who is first at the boardor in the saddle. Three martlets on a field azure, that must beone of the Luttrells. By the crescent upon it, it should be thesecond son of old Sir Hugh, who had a bolt through his ankle atthe intaking of Romorantin, he having rushed into the fray erehis squire had time to clasp his solleret to his greave. Theretoo is the hackle which is the old device of the De Brays. Ihave served under Sir Thomas de Bray, who was as jolly as a pie,and a lusty swordsman until he got too fat for his harness."

So the archer gossiped as the three wayfarers threaded their wayamong the stamping horses, the busy grooms, and the knots ofpages and squires who disputed over the merits of their masters'horses and deerhounds. As they passed the old church, whichstood upon a mound at the left-hand side of the village streetthe door was flung open, and a stream of worshippers wound downthe sloping path, coming from the morning mass, all chatteringlike a cloud of jays. Alleyne bent knee and doffed hat at thesight of the open door; but ere he had finished an ave hiscomrades were out of sight round the curve of the path, and hehad to run to overtake them."

"What!" he said, "not one word of prayer before God's own openhouse? How can ye hope for His blessing upon the day?"

"My friend," said Hordle John, "I have prayed so much during thelast two months, not only during the day, but at matins, lauds,and the like, when I could scarce keep my head upon my shouldersfor nodding, that I feel that I have somewhat over-prayedmyself."

"How can a man have too much religion?" cried Alleyne earnestly."It is the one thing that availeth. A man is but a beast as helives from day to day, eating and drinking, breathing andsleeping. It is only when he raises himself, and concernshimself with the immortal spirit within him, that he becomes invery truth a man. Bethink ye how sad a thing it would be thatthe blood of the Redeemer should be spilled to no purpose."

"Bless the lad, if he doth not blush like any girl, and yetpreach like the whole College of Cardinals," cried the archer.

"In truth I blush that any one so weak and so unworthy as Ishould try to teach another that which he finds it so passinghard to follow himself."

"Prettily said, mon garcon. Touching that same slaying of theRedeemer, it was a bad business. A good padre in France read tous from a scroll the whole truth of the matter. The soldierscame upon him in the garden. In truth, these Apostles of His mayhave been holy men, but they were of no great account as men-at-arms. There was one, indeed, Sir Peter, who smote out like atrue man; but, unless he is belied, he did but clip a varlet'sear, which was no very knightly deed. By these ten finger-bones!had I been there with Black Simon of Norwich, and but one scorepicked men of the Company, we had held them in play. Could we dono more, we had at least filled the false knight, Sir Judas, sofull of English arrows that he would curse the day that ever hecame on such an errand."

The young clerk smiled at his companion's earnestness. "Had Hewished help," he said, "He could have summoned legions ofarchangels from heaven, so what need had He of your poor bow andarrow? Besides, bethink you of His own words--that those wholive by the sword shall perish by the sword."

"And how could man die better?" asked the archer. "If I had mywish, it would be to fall so--not, mark you, in any mere skirmishof the Company, but in a stricken field, with the great lionbanner waving over us and the red oriflamme in front, amid theshouting of my fellows and the twanging of the strings. But letit be sword, lance, or bolt that strikes me down: for I shouldthink it shame to die from an iron ball from the hre-crake orbombard or any such unsoldierly weapon, which is only fitted toscare babes with its foolish noise and smoke."

"I have heard much even in the quiet cloisters of these new anddreadful engines," quoth Alleyne. "It is said, though I canscarce bring myself to believe it, that they will send a balltwice as far as a bowman can shoot his shaft, and with such forceas to break through armor of proof."

"True enough, my lad. But while the armorer is thrusting in hisdevil's-dust, and dropping his ball, and lighting his flambeau, Ican very easily loose six shafts, or eight maybe, so he hath nogreat vantage after all. Yet I will not deny that at theintaking of a town it is well to have good store of bombards. Iam told that at Calais they made dints in the wall that a manmight put his head into. But surely, comrades, some one who isgrievously hurt hath passed along this road before us."

All along the woodland track there did indeed run a scatteredstraggling trail of blood-marks, sometimes in single drops, andin other places in broad, ruddy gouts, smudged over the deadleaves or crimsoning the white flint stones.

"It must be a stricken deer," said John.

"Nay, I am woodman enough to see that no deer hath passed thisway this morning; and yet the blood is fresh. But hark to thesound!"

They stood listening all three with sidelong heads. Through thesilence of the great forest there came a swishing, whistlingsound, mingled with the most dolorous groans, and the voice of aman raised in a high quavering kind of song. The comradeshurried onwards eagerly, and topping the brow of a small risingthey saw upon the other side the source from which these strangenoises arose.

A tall man, much stooped in the shoulders, was walking slowlywith bended head and clasped hands in the centre of the path. Hewas dressed from head to foot in a long white linen cloth, and ahigh white cap with a red cross printed upon it. His gown wasturned back from his shoulders, and the flesh there was a sightto make a man wince, for it was all beaten to a pulp, and theblood was soaking into his gown and trickling down upon theground. Behind him walked a smaller man with his hair touchedwith gray, who was clad in the same white garb. He intoned along whining rhyme in the French tongue, and at the end of everyline he raised a thick cord, all jagged with pellets of lead, andsmote his companion across the shoulders until the blood spurtedagain. Even as the three wayfarers stared, however, there was asudden change, for the smaller man, having finished his song,loosened his own gown and handed the scourge to the other, whotook up the stave once more and lashed his companion with all thestrength of his bare and sinewy arm. So, alternately beating andbeaten, they made their dolorous way through the beautiful woodsand under the amber arches of the fading beech-trees, where thecalm strength and majesty of Nature might serve to rebuke thefoolish energies and misspent strivings of mankind.

Such a spectacle was new to Hordle John or to Alleyne Edricson;but the archer treated it lightly, as a common matter enough.

"These are the Beating Friars, otherwise called the Flagellants,"quoth he. "I marvel that ye should have come upon none of thembefore, for across the water they are as common as gallybaggers.I have heard that there are no English among them, but that theyare from France, Italy and Bohemia. En avant, camarades! that wemay have speech with them."

As they came up to them, Alleyne could hear the doleful dirgewhich the beater was chanting, bringing down his heavy whip atthe end of each line, while the groans of the sufferer formed asort of dismal chorus. It was in old French, and ran somewhat inthis way:

Or avant, entre nous tous freres Battons nos charognes bien fortEn remembrant la grant misere De Dieu et sa piteuse mort Qui futpris en la gent amere Et vendus et traia a tort Et bastu sachair, vierge et dere Au nom de se battons plus fort.

Then at the end of the verse the scourge changed hands and thechanting began anew.

"Truly, holy fathers," said the archer in French as they cameabreast of them, "you have beaten enough for to-day. The road isall spotted like a shambles at Martinmas. Why should yemishandle yourselves thus?"

"C'est pour vos peches--pour vos peches," they droned, looking atthe travellers with sad lack-lustre eyes, and then bent to theirbloody work once more without heed to the prayers and persuasionswhich were addressed to them. Finding all remonstrance useless,the three comrades hastened on their way, leaving these strangetravellers to their dreary task.

"Mort Dieu!" cried the bowman, "there is a bucketful or more ofmy blood over in France, but it was all spilled in hot fight, andI should think twice before I drew it drop by drop as thesefriars are doing. By my hilt! our young one here is as white asa Picardy cheese. What is amiss then, mon cher?"

"It is nothing," Alleyne answered. "My life has been too quiet,I am not used to such sights."

"Ma foi!" the other cried, "I have never yet seen a man who wasso stout of speech and yet so weak of heart."

"Not so, friend," quoth big John; "it is not weakness of heartfor I know the lad well. His heart is as good as thine or minebut he hath more in his pate than ever you will carry under thattin pot of thine, and as a consequence he can see farther intothings, so that they weigh upon him more."

"Surely to any man it is a sad sight," said Alleyne, "to seethese holy men, who have done no sin themselves, suffering so forthe sins of others. Saints are they, if in this age any maymerit so high a name."

"I count them not a fly," cried Hordle John; "for who is thebetter for all their whipping and yowling? They are like otherfriars, I trow, when all is done. Let them leave their backsalone, and beat the pride out of their hearts."

"By the three kings! there is sooth in what you say," remarkedthe archer. "Besides, methinks if I were le bon Dieu, it wouldbring me little joy to see a poor devil cutting the flesh off hisbones; and I should think that he had but a small opinion of me,that he should hope to please me by such provost-marshal work.No, by my hilt! I should look with a more loving eye upon a jollyarcher who never harmed a fallen foe and never feared a haleone."

"Doubtless you mean no sin," said Alleyne. "If your words arewild, it is not for me to judge them. Can you not see that thereare other foes in this world besides Frenchmen, and as much gloryto be gained in conquering them? Would it not be a proud day forknight or squire if he could overthrow seven adversaries in thelists? Yet here are we in the lists of life, and there come theseven black champions against us Sir Pride, Sir Covetousness, SirLust, Sir Anger, Sir Gluttony, Sir Envy, and Sir Sloth. Let aman lay those seven low, and he shall have the prize of the day,from the hands of the fairest queen of beauty, even from theVirgin-Mother herself. It is for this that these men mortifytheir flesh, and to set us an example, who would pamperourselves overmuch. I say again that they are God's own saints,and I bow my head to them."

"And so you shall, mon petit," replied the archer. "I have notheard a man speak better since old Dom Bertrand died, who was atone time chaplain to the White Company. He was a very valiantman, but at the battle of Brignais he was spitted through thebody by a Hainault man-at-arms. For this we had anexcommunication read against the man, when next we saw our holyfather at Avignon; but as we had not his name, and knew nothingof him, save that he rode a dapple-gray roussin, I have fearedsometimes that the blight may have settled upon the wrong man."

"Your Company has been, then, to bow knee before our holy father,the Pope Urban, the prop and centre of Christendom?" askedAlleyne, much interested. "Perchance you have yourself set eyesupon his august face?"

"Twice I saw him," said the archer. "He was a lean little rat ofa man, with a scab on his chin. The first time we had fivethousand crowns out of him, though he made much ado about it.The second time we asked ten thousand, but it was three daysbefore we could come to terms, and I am of opinion myself that wemight have done better by plundering the palace. His chamberlainand cardinals came forth, as I remember, to ask whether we wouldtake seven thousand crowns with his blessing and a plenaryabsolution, or the ten thousand with his solemn ban by bell, bookand candle. We were all of one mind that it was best to have theten thousand with the curse; but in some way they prevailed uponSir John, so that we were blest and shriven against our will.Perchance it is as well, for the Company were in need of it aboutthat time."

The pious Alleyne was deeply shocked by this reminiscence.Involuntarily he glanced up and around to see if there were anytrace of those opportune levin-flashes and thunderbolts which, inthe "Acta Sanctorum," were wont so often to cut short the loosetalk of the scoffer. The autumn sun streamed down as brightly asever, and the peaceful red path still wound in front of themthrough the rustling, yellow-tinted forest, Nature seemed to betoo busy with her own concerns to heed the dignity of an outragedpontiff. Yet he felt a sense of weight and reproach within hisbreast, as though he had sinned himself in giving ear to suchwords. The teachings of twenty years cried out against suchlicense. It was not until he had thrown himself down before oneof the many wayside crosses, and had prayed from his heart bothfor the archer and for himself, that the dark cloud rolled backagain from his spirit.