IT was a bright July morning four months after that fatal fightin the Spanish batranca. A blue heaven stretched above, a greenrolling plain undulated below, intersected with hedge-rows andflecked with grazing sheep. The sun was yet low in the heaven,and the red cows stood in the long shadow of the elms, chewingthe cud and gazing with great vacant eyes at two horsemen whowere spurring it down the long white road which dipped and curvedaway back to where the towers and pinnacles beneath the flat-topped hill marked the old town of Winchester.

Of the riders one was young, graceful, and fair, clad in plaindoublet and hosen of blue Brussels cloth, which served to showhis active and well-knit figure. A flat velvet cap was drawnforward to keep the glare from his eyes, and he rode with lipscompressed and anxious face, as one who has much care upon hismind. Young as he was, and peaceful as was his dress, the daintygolden spurs which twinkled upon his heels proclaimed hisknighthood, while a long seam upon his brow and a scar upon histemple gave a manly grace to his refined and delicatecountenance. His comrade was a large, red-headed man upon agreat black horse, with a huge canvas bag slung from his saddle-bow, which jingled and clinked with every movement of his steed.His broad, brown face was lighted up by a continual smile, and helooked slowly from side to side with eyes which twinkled andshone with delight. Well might John rejoice, for was he not backin his native Hampshire, had he not Don Diego's five thousandcrowns rasping against his knee, and above all was he not himselfsquire now to Sir Alleyne Edricson, the young Socman of Minsteadlately knighted by the sword of the Black Prince himself, andesteemed by the whole army as one of the most rising of thesoldiers of England.

For the last stand of the Company had been told throughoutChristendom wherever a brave deed of arms was loved, and honorshad flowed in upon the few who had survived it. For two monthsAlleyne had wavered betwixt death and life, with a broken rib anda shattered head; yet youth and strength and a cleanly life wereall upon his side, and he awoke from his long delirium to findthat the war was over, that the Spaniards and their allies hadbeen crushed at Navaretta, and that the prince had himself heardthe tale of his ride for succor and had come in person to hisbedside to touch his shoulder with his sword and to insure thatso brave and true a man should die, if he could not live, withinthe order of chivalry. The instant that he could set foot toground Alleyne had started in search of his lord, but no wordcould he hear of him, dead or alive, and he had come home nowsad-hearted, in the hope of raising money upon his estates and sostarting upon his quest once more. Landing at London, he hadhurried on with a mind full of care, for he had heard no wordfrom Hampshire since the short note which had announced hisbrother's death.

"By the rood!" cried John, looking around him exultantly, "wherehave we seen since we left such noble cows, such fleecy sheep,grass so green, or a man so drunk as yonder rogue who lies in thegap of the hedge?"

"Ah, John," Alleyne answered wearily, "it is well for you, but Inever thought that my home-coming would be so sad a one. Myheart is heavy for my dear lord and for Aylward, and I know nothow I may break the news to the Lady Mary and to the Lady Maude,if they have not yet had tidings of it."

John gave a groan which made the horses shy. "It is indeed ablack business," said he. "But be not sad, for I shall give halfthese crowns to my old mother, and half will I add to the moneywhich you may have, and so we shall buy that yellow cog whereinwe sailed to Bordeaux, and in it we shall go forth and seek SirNigel."

Alleyne smiled, but shook his head. "Were he alive we shouldhave had word of him ere now," said he. "But what is this townbefore us?"

"Why, it is Romsey!" cried John. "See the tower of the old graychurch, and the long stretch of the nunnery. But here sits avery holy man, and I shall give him a crown for his prayers."

Three large stones formed a rough cot by the roadside, and besideit, basking in the sun, sat the hermit, with clay-colored face,dull eyes, and long withered hands. With crossed ankles andsunken head. he sat as though all his life had passed out ofhim, with the beads slipping slowly through his thin, yellowfingers. Behind him lay the narrow cell, clay-floored and damp,comfortless, profitless and sordid. Beyond it there lay amid thetrees the wattle-and-daub hut of a laborer, the door open, andthe single room exposed to the view. The man ruddy and yellow-haired, stood leaning upon the spade wherewith he had been atwork upon the garden patch. From behind him came the ripple of ahappy woman's laughter, and two young urchins darted forth fromthe hut, bare-legged and towsy, while the mother, stepping out,laid her hand upon her husband's arm and watched the gambols ofthe children. The hermit frowned at the untoward noise whichbroke upon his prayers, but his brow relaxed as he looked uponthe broad silver piece which John held out to him.

"There lies the image of our past and of our future," criedAlleyne, as they rode on upon their way. "Now, which is better,to till God's earth, to have happy faces round one's knee, and tolove and be loved, or to sit forever moaning over one's own soul,like a mother over a sick babe?"

"I know not about that," said John, "for it casts a great cloudover me when I think of such matters. But I know that my crownwas well spent, for the man had the look of a very holy person.As to the other, there was nought holy about him that I couldsee, and it would be cheaper for me to pray for myself than togive a crown to one who spent his days in digging for lettuces."

Ere Alleyne could answer there swung round the curve of the roada lady's carriage drawn by three horses abreast with a postilionupon the outer one. Very fine and rich it was, with beamspainted and gilt, wheels and spokes carved in strange figures,and over all an arched cover of red and white tapestry. Beneathits shade there sat a stout and elderly lady in a pink cote-hardie, leaning back among a pile of cushions, and plucking outher eyebrows with a small pair of silver tweezers. None couldseem more safe and secure and at her ease than this lady, yethere also was a symbol of human life, for in an instant, even asAlleyne reined aside to let the carriage pass, a wheel flew outfrom among its fellows, and over it all toppled--carving,tapestry and gilt--in one wild heap, with the horses plunging,the postilion shouting, and the lady screaming from within. Inan instant Alleyne and John were on foot, and had lifted herforth all in a shake with fear, but little the worse for hermischance.

"Now woe worth me!" she cried, "and ill fall on Michael Easoverof Romsey! for I told him that the pin was loose, and yet he mustneeds gainsay me, like the foolish daffe that he is."

"I trust that you have taken no hurt, my fair lady," saidAlleyne, conducting her to the bank, upon which John had alreadyplaced a cushion.

"Nay, I have had no scath, though I have lost my silver tweezers.Now, lack-a-day! did God ever put breath into such a fool asMichael Easover of Romsey? But I am much beholden to you, gentlesirs. Soldiers ye are, as one may readily see. I am myself asoldier's daughter," she added, casting a somewhat languishingglance at John, "and my heart ever goes out to a brave man."

"We are indeed fresh from Spain," quoth Alleyne.

"From Spain, say you? Ah! it was an ill and sorry thing that somany should throw away the lives that Heaven gave them. Insooth, it is bad for those who fall, but worse for those who bidebehind. I have but now bid farewell to one who hath lost all inthis cruel war."

"And how that, lady?"

"She is a young damsel of these parts, and she goes now into anunnery. Alack! it is not a year since she was the fairest maidfrom Avon to Itchen, and now it was more than I could abide towait at Rumsey Nunnery to see her put the white veil upon herface, for she was made for a wife and not for the cloister. Didyou ever, gentle sir, hear of a body of men called 'The WhiteCompany' over yonder?"

"Surely so," cried both the comrades.

"Her father was the leader of it, and her lover served under himas squire. News hath come that not one of the Company was leftalive, and so, poor lamb, she hath----"

"Lady!" cried Alleyne, with catching breath, "is it the LadyMaude Loring of whom you speak?"

"It is, in sooth."

"Maude! And in a nunnery! Did, then, the thought of herfather's death so move her?"

"Her father!" cried the lady, smiling. "Nay; Maude is a gooddaughter, but I think it was this young golden-haired squire ofwhom I have heard who has made her turn her back upon the world."

"And I stand talking here!" cried Alleyne wildly. "Come, John,come!"

Rushing to his horse, he swung himself into the saddle, and wasoff down the road in a rolling cloud of dust as fast as his goodsteed could bear him.

Great had been the rejoicing amid the Romsey nuns when the LadyMaude Loring had craved admission into their order--for was shenot sole child and heiress of the old knight, with farms andfiefs which she could bring to the great nunnery? Long andearnest had been the talks of the gaunt lady abbess, in which shehad conjured the young novice to turn forever from the world, andto rest her bruised heart under the broad and peaceful shelter ofthe church. And now, when all was settled, and when abbess andlady superior had had their will, it was but fitting that somepomp and show should mark the glad occasion. Hence was it thatthe good burghers of Romsey were all in the streets, that gayflags and flowers brightened the path from the nunnery to thechurch, and that a long procession wound up to the old archeddoor leading up the bride to these spiritual nuptials. There waslay-sister Agatha with the high gold crucifix, and the threeincense-bearers, and the two-and-twenty garbed in white, who castflowers upon either side of them and sang sweetly the while.Then, with four attendants, came the novice, her drooping headwreathed with white blossoms, and, behind, the abbess and hercouncil of older nuns, who were already counting in their mindswhether their own bailiff could manage the farms of Twynham, orwhether a reve would be needed beneath him, to draw the utmostfrom these new possessions which this young novice was about tobring them.

But alas! for plots and plans when love and youth and nature, andabove all, fortune are arrayed against them. Who is this travel-stained youth who dares to ride so madly through the lines ofstaring burghers? Why does he fling himself from his horae andstare so strangely about him? See how he has rushed through theincense-bearers, thrust aside lay-sister Agatha, scattered thetwo-and-twenty damosels who sang so sweetly--and he stands beforethe novice with his hands out-stretched, and his face shining,and the light of love in his gray eyes. Her foot is on the verylintel of the church, and yet he bars the way--and she, shethinks no more of the wise words and holy rede of the ladyabbess, but she hath given a sobbing cry and hath fallen forwardwith his arms around her drooping body and her wet cheek upon hisbreast. A sorry sight this for the gaunt abbess, an ill lessontoo for the stainless two-and-twenty who have ever been taughtthat the way of nature is the way of sin. But Maude and Alleynecare little for this. A dank, cold air comes out from the blackarch before them. Without, the sun shines bright and the birdsare singing amid the ivy on the drooping beeches. Their choiceis made, and they turn away hand-in-hand, with their backs to thedarkness and their faces to the light.

Very quiet was the wedding in the old priory church atChristchurch, where Father Christopher read the service, andthere were few to see save the Lady Loring and John, and a dozenbowmen from the castle. The Lady of Twynham had drooped andpined for weary months, so that her face was harsher and lesscomely than before, yet she still hoped on, for her lord had comethrough so many dangers that she could scarce believe that hemight be stricken down at last. It had been her wish to startfor Spain and to search for him, but Alleyne had persuaded herto let him go in her place. There was much to look after, nowthat the lands of Minstead were joined to those of Twynham, andAlleyne had promised her that if she would but bide with his wifehe would never come back to Hampshire again until he had gainedsome news, good or ill, of her lord and lover.

The yellow cog had been engaged, with Goodwin Hawtayne incommand, and a month after the wedding Alleyne rode down toBucklershard to see if she had come round yet from Southampton.On the way he passed the fishing village of Pitt's Deep, andmarked that a little creyer or brig was tacking off the land, asthough about to anchor there. On his way back, as he rodetowards the village, he saw that she had indeed anchored, andthat many boats were round her, bearing cargo to the shore.

A bow-shot from Pitt's Deep there was an inn a little back fromthe road, very large and wide-spread, with a great green bushhung upon a pole from one of the upper windows. At this windowhe marked, as he rode up, that a man was seated who appeared tobe craning his neck in his direction. Alleyne was still lookingup at him, when a woman came rushing from the open door of theinn, and made as though she would climb a tree, looking back thewhile with a laughing face. Wondering what these doings mightmean, Alleyne tied his horse to a tree, and was walking amid thetrunks towards the inn, when there shot from the entrance asecond woman who made also for the trees. Close at her heelscame a burly, brown-faced man, who leaned against the door-postand laughed loudly with his hand to his side, "Ah, mes belles!"he cried, "and is it thus you treat me? Ah, mes petites! Iswear by these finger-bones that I would not hurt a hair of yourpretty heads; but I have been among the black paynim, and, by myhilt! it does me good to look at your English cheeks. Come,drink a stoup of muscadine with me, mes anges, for my heart iswarm to be among ye again."

At the sight of the man Alleyne had stood staring, but at thesound of his voice such a thrill of joy bubbled up in his heartthat he had to bite his lip to keep himself from shoutingoutright. But a deeper pleasure yet was in store. Even as helooked, the window above was pushed outwards, and the voice ofthe man whom he had seen there came out from it. "Aylward,"cried the voice, "I have seen just now a very worthy person comedown the road, though my eyes could scarce discern whether hecarried coat-armor. I pray you to wait upon him and tell himthat a very humble knight of England abides here, so that if hebe in need of advancement, or have any small vow upon his soul,or desire to exalt his lady, I may help him to accomplish it."

Aylward at this order came shuffling forward amid the trees, andin an instant the two men were clinging in each other's arms,laughing and shouting and patting each other in their delight;while old Sir Nigel came running with his sword, under theimpression that some small bickering had broken out, only toembrace and be embraced himself, until all three were hoarse withtheir questions and outcries and congratulations.

On their journey home through the woods Alleyne learnt theirwondrous story: how, when Sir Nigel came to his senses, he withhis fellow-captive had been hurried to the coast, and conveyed bysea to their captor's castle; how upon the way they had beentaken by a Barbary rover, and how they exchanged their lightcaptivity for a seat on a galley bench and hard labor at thepirate's oars; how, in the port at Barbary, Sir Nigel had slainthe Moorish captain, and had swum with Aylward to a small coasterwhich they had taken, and so made their way to England with arich cargo to reward them for their toils. All this Alleynelistened to, until the dark keep of Twynham towered above themin the gloaming, and they saw the red sun lying athwart therippling Avon. No need to speak of the glad hearts at TwynhamCastle that night, nor of the rich offerings from out thatMoorish cargo which found their way to the chapel of FatherChristopher.

Sir Nigel Loring lived for many years, full of honor and ladenwith every blessing. He rode no more to the wars, but he foundhis way to every jousting within thirty miles; and the Hampshireyouth treasured it as the highest honor when a word of praisefell from him as to their management of their horses, or theirbreaking of their lances. So he lived and so he died, the mostrevered and the happiest man in all his native shire.

For Sir Alleyne Edricson and for his beautiful bride the futurehad also naught but what was good. Twice he fought in France,and came back each time laden with honors. A high place at courtwas given to him, and he spent many years at Windsor under thesecond Richard and the fourth Henry--where he received the honorof the Garter, and won the name of being a brave soldier, a true-hearted gentleman, and a great lover and patron of every art andscience which refines or ennobles life.

As to John, he took unto himself a village maid, and settled inLyndhurst, where his five thousand crowns made him the richestfranklin for many miles around. For many years he drank his aleevery night at the "Pied Merlin," which was now kept by hisfriend Aylward, who had wedded the good widow to whom he hadcommitted his plunder. The strong men and the bowmen of thecountry round used to drop in there of an evening to wrestle afall with John or to shoot a round with Aylward; but, though asilver shilling was to be the prize of the victory, it has neverbeen reported that any man earned much money in that fashion. Sothey lived, these men, in their own lusty, cheery fashion--rudeand rough, but honest, kindly and true. Let us thank God if wehave outgrown their vices. Let us pray to God that we may everhold their virtues. The sky may darken, and the clouds maygather, and again the day may come when Britain may have soreneed of her children, on whatever shore of the sea they be found.Shall they not muster at her call?