“I pray you, fair and honoured sir,” said Nigel, “that you will tell me what is the message that you bear.”
“The message, mon ami, is that your friend comes into these parts and would have a night’s lodging at the manor-house of Tilford for the love and respect that he bears your family.”
“Nay, he is most welcome,” said Nigel, “and yet I hope that he is one who can relish a soldier’s fare and sleep under a humble roof, for indeed we can but give our best, poor as it is.”
“He is indeed a soldier and a good one,” Chandos answered, laughing, “and I warrant he has slept in rougher quarters than Tilford Manor-house.”
“I have few friends, fair sir,” said Nigel, with a puzzled face. “I pray you give me this gentleman’s name.”
“His name is Edward.”
“Sir Edward Mortimer of Kent, perchance, or is it Sir Edward Brocas of whom the Lady Ermyntrude talks?”
“Nay, he is known as Edward only, and if you ask a second name it is Plantagenet, for he who comes to seek the shelter of your roof is your liege lord and mine, the King’s high majesty, Edward of England.”
VI
In Which Lady Ermyntrude Opens the Iron Coffer
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 obsequious sacrist, and of a band of archers 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 cloister, and in front, in the open archway of the great gate, was the broad yellow road between its borders of green meadowland. The spring air was the sweeter and the more fragrant for that chill dread of dishonour and captivity which had so recently frozen his ardent 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 archer who had interfered 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 stoutly.”
“Nay! but this is not enough.”
Nigel coloured 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 will understand that I am not blessed at this moment with much of this world’s gear. The black death and the monks 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 crave; 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 loyalty 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 stout fellows in your grandfather’s time; but which of them now would draw a bowstring 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 undone like a fretted bowstring.”
“Nay, there can be no difficulty there,” said Chandos. “Pardieu! a roistering, swaggering daredevil 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 Squire 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 rape 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 neighbour 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 scourge 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 salute, slung his great yellow bow over his back, and followed on some paces in the rear of his new
