what you can with her, and with

agatha my young tire-woman, and with dorothy pierpont."

and so alleyne found himself not only chosen as squire to a

knight but also as squire to three damosels, which was even

further from the part which he had thought to play in the world.

yet he could but agree to do what he might, and so went forth

from the castle hall with his face flushed and his head in a

whirl at the thought of the strange and perilous paths which his

feet were destined to tread.

chapter xii.

how alleyne learned more than he could teach.

and now there came a time of stir and bustle, of furbishing of

arms and clang of hammer from all the southland counties. fast

spread the tidings from thorpe to thorpe and from castle to

castle, that the old game was afoot once more, and the lions and

lilies to be in the field with the early spring. great news this

for that fierce old country, whose trade for a generation had

been war, her exports archers and her imports prisoners. for six

years her sons had chafed under an unwonted peace. now they flew

to their arms as to their birthright. the old soldiers of crecy,

of nogent, and of poictiers were glad to think that they might

hear the war-trumpet once more, and gladder still were the hot

youth who had chafed for years under the martial tales of their

sires. to pierce the great mountains of the south, to fight the

tawners of the fiery moors, to follow the greatest captain of the

age, to find sunny cornfields and vineyards, when the marches of

picardy and normandy were as rare and bleak as the jedburgh

forests--here was a golden prospect for a race of warriors. from

sea to sea there was stringing of bows in the cottage and clang

of steel in the castle.

nor did it take long for every stronghold to pour forth its

cavalry, and every hamlet its footmen. through the late autumn

and the early winter every road and country lane resounded with

nakir and trumpet, with the neigh of the war-horse and the

clatter of marching men. from the wrekin in the welsh marches to

the cotswolds in the west or butser in the south, there was no

hill-top from which the peasant might not have seen the bright

shimmer of arms, the toss and flutter of plume and of pensil.

from bye-path, from woodland clearing, or from winding moor-side

track these little rivulets of steel united in the larger roads

to form a broader stream, growing ever fuller and larger as it

approached the nearest or most commodious seaport. and there all

day, and day after day, there was bustle and crowding and labor,

while the great ships loaded up, and one after the other spread

their white pinions and darted off to the open sea, amid the

clash of cymbals and rolling of drums and lusty shouts of those

who went and of those who waited. from orwell to the dart there

was no port which did not send forth its little fleet, gay with

streamer and bunting, as for a joyous festival. thus in the

season of the waning days the might of england put forth on to

the waters.

in the ancient and populous county of hampshire there was no lack

of leaders or of soldiers for a service which promised either

honor or profit. in the north the saracen's head of the brocas

and the scarlet fish of the de roches were waving over a strong

body of archers from holt, woolmer, and harewood forests. de

borhunte was up in the east, and sir john de montague in the

west. sir luke de ponynges, sir thomas west, sir maurice de

bruin, sir arthur lipscombe, sir walter ramsey, and stout sir

oliver buttesthorn were all marching south with levies from

andover, arlesford, odiham and winchester, while from sussex came

sir john clinton, sir thomas cheyne, and sir john fallislee, with

a troop of picked men-at-arms, making for their port at

southampton. greatest of all the musters, however, was that of

twynham castle, for the name and the fame of sir nigel loring

drew towards him the keenest and boldest spirits, all eager to

serve under so valiant a leader. archers from the new forest and

the forest of bere, billmen from the pleasant country which is

watered by the stour, the avon, and the itchen, young cavaliers

from the ancient hampshire houses, all were pushing for

christchurch to take service under the banner of the five

scarlet roses.

and now, could sir nigel have shown the bachelles of land which

the laws of rank required, he might well have cut his forked

pennon into a square banner, and taken such a following into the

field as would have supported the dignity of a banneret.

but poverty was heavy upon him, his land was scant, his coffers

empty, and the very castle which covered him the holding of

another. sore was his heart when he saw rare bowmen and war-

hardened spearmen turned away from his gates, for the lack of the

money which might equip and pay them. yet th