alone, and beat the pride out of their hearts."

"by the three kings! there is sooth in what you say," remarked

the archer. "besides, methinks if i were le bon dieu, it would

bring me little joy to see a poor devil cutting the flesh off his

bones; 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 jolly

archer who never harmed a fallen foe and never feared a hale

one."

"doubtless you mean no sin," said alleyne. "if your words are

wild, it is not for me to judge them. can you not see that there

are other foes in this world besides frenchmen, and as much glory

to be gained in conquering them? would it not be a proud day for

knight or squire if he could overthrow seven adversaries in the

lists? yet here are we in the lists of life, and there come the

seven black champions against us sir pride, sir covetousness, sir

lust, sir anger, sir gluttony, sir envy, and sir sloth. let a

man lay those seven low, and he shall have the prize of the day,

from the hands of the fairest queen of beauty, even from the

virgin-mother herself. it is for this that these men mortify

their flesh, and to set us an example, who would pamper

ourselves 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 not

heard a man speak better since old dom bertrand died, who was at

one time chaplain to the white company. he was a very valiant

man, but at the battle of brignais he was spitted through the

body by a hainault man-at-arms. for this we had an

excommunication read against the man, when next we saw our holy

father at avignon; but as we had not his name, and knew nothing

of him, save that he rode a dapple-gray roussin, i have feared

sometimes 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?" asked

alleyne, much interested. "perchance you have yourself set eyes

upon his august face?"

"twice i saw him," said the archer. "he was a lean little rat of

a man, with a scab on his chin. the first time we had five

thousand crowns out of him, though he made much ado about it.

the second time we asked ten thousand, but it was three days

before we could come to terms, and i am of opinion myself that we

might have done better by plundering the palace. his chamberlain

and cardinals came forth, as i remember, to ask whether we would

take seven thousand crowns with his blessing and a plenary

absolution, or the ten thousand with his solemn ban by bell, book

and candle. we were all of one mind that it was best to have the

ten thousand with the curse; but in some way they prevailed upon

sir john, so that we were blest and shriven against our will.

perchance it is as well, for the company were in need of it about

that time."

the pious alleyne was deeply shocked by this reminiscence.

involuntarily he glanced up and around to see if there were any

trace of those opportune levin-flashes and thunderbolts which, in

the "acta sanctorum," were wont so often to cut short the loose

talk of the scoffer. the autumn sun streamed down as brightly as

ever, and the peaceful red path still wound in front of them

through the rustling, yellow-tinted forest, nature seemed to be

too busy with her own concerns to heed the dignity of an outraged

pontiff. yet he felt a sense of weight and reproach within his

breast, as though he had sinned himself in giving ear to such

words. the teachings of twenty years cried out against such

license. it was not until he had thrown himself down before one

of the many wayside crosses, and had prayed from his heart both

for the archer and for himself, that the dark cloud rolled back

again from his spirit.

chapter viii.

the three friends.

his companions had passed on whilst he was at his orisons; but

his young blood and the fresh morning air both invited him to a

scamper. his staff in one hand and his scrip in the other, with

springy step and floating locks, he raced along the forest path,

as active and as graceful as a young deer. he had not far to go,

however; for, on turning a corner, he came on a roadside cottage

with a wooden fence-work around it, where stood big john and

aylward the bowman, staring at something within. as he came up

with them, he saw that two little lads, the one about nine years

of age and the other somewhat older, were standing on the plot in

front of the cottage, each holding out a round stick in their

left hands, with their arms stiff and straight from the shoulder,

as silent and still as two small statues. they were pretty,

blue-eyed, yellow-haired lads, well made and sturdy,