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HOW THE THREE COMRADES GAINED A MIGHTY TREASURE
IT was a bright, crisp winter's day when the little party set off from
Bordeaux on their journey to Montaubon, where the missing half of their Company
had last been heard of. Sir Nigel and Ford had ridden on in advance, the knight upon
his hackney, while his great war-horse trotted beside his squire.
Two hours later Alleyne Edricson followed; for he had the tavern
reckoning to settle, and many other duties which fell to him as squire of the
body. With him came Aylward and
Hordle John, armed as of old, but mounted for their journey upon a pair of
clumsy Landes horses, heavy-headed and shambling, but of great endurance, and
capable of jogging along all day, even when between the knees of the huge
archer, who turned the scale at two hundred and seventy pounds.
They took with them the sumpter mules, which carried in panniers the
wardrobe and table furniture of Sir Nigel; for the knight, though neither fop
nor epicure, was very dainty in small matters, and loved, however bare the board
or hard the life, that his napery should still be white and his spoon of silver.
There had been frost during the night, and the white hard road rang loud
under their horses' irons as they spurred through the east gate of the town,
along the same broad highway which the unknown French champion had traversed on
the day of the jousts. The three rode abreast, Alleyne Edricson with his eyes
cast down and his mind distrait, for his thoughts were busy with the
conversation which he had had with Sir Nigel in the morning. Had he done well to
say so much, or had he not done better to have said more?
What would the knight have said had he confessed to his love for the Lady
Maude? Would he cast him off in disgrace, or might he chide him as
having abused the shelter of his roof? It had been ready upon his tongue to tell
him all when Sir Oliver had broken in upon them. Perchance Sir Nigel, with his love of all the dying usages of
chivalry, might have contrived some strange ordeal or feat of arms by which his
love should be put to the test. Alleyne
smiled as he wondered what fantastic and wondrous deed would be exacted from
him. Whatever it was, he was ready
for it, whether it were to hold the lists in the court of the King of Tartary,
to carry a cartel to the Sultan of Baghdad, or to serve a term against the wild
heathen of Prussia. Sir Nigel had
said that his birth was high enough for any lady, if his fortune could but be
amended. Often had Alleyne curled
his lip at the beggarly craving for land or for gold which blinded man to the
higher and more lasting issues of life. Now
it seemed as though it were only by this same land and gold that he might hope
to reach his heart's desire. But
then, again, the Socman of Minstead was no friend to the Constable of Twynham
Castle. It might happen that,
should he amass riches by some happy fortune of war, this feud might hold the
two families aloof. Even if Maude
loved him, he knew her too well to think that she would wed him without the
blessing of her father. Dark and
murky was it all, but hope mounts high in youth, and it ever fluttered over all
the turmoil of his thoughts like a white plume amid the shock of horsemen.
If Alleyne Edricson had enough to ponder over as he rode through the bare
plains of Guienne, his two companions were more busy with the present and less
thoughtful of the future. Aylward
rode for half a mile with his chin upon his shoulder, looking back at a white
kerchief which fluttered out of the gable window of a high house which peeped
over the corner of the battlements. When
at last a dip of the road hid it from his view, he cocked his steel cap,
shrugged his broad shoulders, and rode on with laughter in his eyes, and his
weather-beaten face all ashine with pleasant memories.
John also rode in silence, but his eyes wandered slowly from one side of
the road to the other, and he stared and pondered and nodded his head like a
traveller who makes his notes and saves them up for the re-telling
"By the rood!" he broke out suddenly, slapping his thigh with
his great red hand, "I knew that there was something a-missing, but I could
not bring to my mind what it was."
"What was it then?" asked Alleyne, coming with a start out of
"Why, it is the hedgerows," roared John, with a shout of
laughter. "The country is all
scraped as clear as a friar's poll. But indeed I cannot think much of the folk
in these parts. Why do they not get to work and dig up these long rows of black
and crooked stumps which I see on every hand?
A franklin of Hampshire would think shame to have such litter upon his
"Thou foolish old John!" quoth Aylward.
"You should know better, since I have heard that the monks of
Beaulieu could squeeze a good cup of wine from their own grapes.
Know then that if these rows were dug up the wealth of the country would
be gone, and mayhap there would be dry throats and gaping mouths in England, for
in three months' time these black roots will blossom and snoot and burgeon, and
from them will come many a good ship-load of Medoc and Gascony which will cross
the narrow seas. But see the church
in the hollow, and the folk who cluster in the churchyard!
By my hilt! it is a burial, and there is a passing bell!" He pulled
off his steel cap as he spoke and crossed himself, with a muttered prayer for
the repose of the dead.
"There too," remarked Alleyne, as they rode on again,
"that which seems to the eye to be dead is still full of the sap of life,
even as the vines were. Thus God
hath written Himself and His laws very broadly on all that is around us, if our
poor dull eyes and duller souls could but read what He hath set before us."
"Ha! mon petit," cried the bowman, "you take me back to
the days when you were new fledged, as sweet a little chick as ever pecked his
way out of a monkish egg. I had feared that in gaining our debonair young man-at-arms
we had lost our soft-spoken clerk. In
truth, I have noted much change in you since we came from Twynham Castle."
"Surely it would be strange else, seeing that I have lived in a
world so new to me. Yet I trust that there are many things in which I have not
changed. If I have turned to serve
an earthly master, and to carry arms for an earthly king, it would be an ill
thing if I were to lose all thought of the great high King and Master of all,
whose humble and unworthy servant I was ere ever I left Beaulieu.
You, John, are also from the cloisters, but I trow that you do not feel
that you have deserted the old service in taking on the new."
"I am a slow-witted man," said John, "and, in sooth, when
l try to think about such matters it casts a gloom upon me.
Yet I do not look upon myself as a worse man in an archer's jerkin than I
was in a white cowl, if that be what you mean."
"You have but changed from one white company to the other,"
quoth Aylward. "But, by these
ten finger-bones! it is a passing strange thing to me to think that it was but
in the last fall of the leaf that we walked from Lyndhurst together, he so
gentle and maidenly, and you, John, like a great red-limbed overgrown moon-
calf; and now here you are as sprack a squire and as lusty an archer as ever
passed down the highway from Bordeaux, while I am still the same old Samkin
Aylward, with never a change, save that I have a few more sins on my soul and a
few less crowns in my pouch. But I have never yet heard, John, what the reason was why you
should come out of Beaulieu."
"There were seven reasons," said John thoughtfully.
"The first of them was that they threw me out."
"Ma foi! camarade, to the devil with the other six!
That is enough for me and for thee also.
I can see that they are very wise and discreet folk at Beaulieu.
Ah! mon ange, what have you in the pipkin?"
"It is milk, worthy sir," answered the peasant-maid, who stood
by the door of a cottage with a jug in her hand.
"Would it please you, gentles, that I should bring you out three
horns of it?"
"Nay, ma petite, but here is a two-sous piece for thy kindly tongue
and for the sight of thy pretty face. Ma
foi! but she has a bonne mine. I
have a mind to bide and speak with her."
"Nay, nay, Aylward," cried Alleyne.
"Sir Nigel will await us, and he in haste."
"True, true, camarade! Adieu,
ma cherie! mon coeur est toujours a toi. Her
mother is a well-grown woman also. See
where she digs by the wayside. Ma
foi! the riper fruit is ever the sweeter. Bon
jour, ma belle dame! God have you
in his keeping! Said Sir Nigel where he would await us?"
"At Marmande or Aiguillon. He
said that we could not pass him, seeing that there is but the one road."
"Aye, and it is a road that I know as I know the Midhurst parish
butts," quoth the bowman. "Thirty
times have I journeyed it, forward and backward, and, by the twang of string! I am wont to come back this way more laden than I went.
I have carried all that I had into France in a wallet, and it hath taken
four sumpter-mules to carry it back again.
God's benison on the man who first turned his hand to the making of war!
But there, down in the dingle, is the church of Cardillac, and you may see the
inn where three poplars grow beyond the village. Let us on, for a stoup of wine
would hearten us upon our way."
The highway had lain through the swelling vineyard country, which
stretched away to the north and east in gentle curves, with many a peeping spire
and feudal tower, and cluster of village houses, all clear cut and hard in the
bright wintry air. To their right stretched the blue Garonne, running swiftly
seawards, with boats and barges dotted over its broad bosom.
On the other side lay a strip of vineyard, and beyond it the desolate and
sandy region of the Landes, all tangled with faded gorse and heath and broom,
stretching away in unbroken gloom to the blue hills which lay low upon the
furthest sky-line. Behind them
might still be seen the broad estuary of the Gironde, with the high towers of
Saint Andre and Saint Remi shooting up from the plain.
In front, amid radiating lines of poplars, lay the riverside townlet of
Cardillac--gray walls, white houses, and a feather of blue smoke.
"This is the 'Mouton d'Or,' " said Aylward, as they pulled up
their horses at a whitewashed straggling hostel.
"What ho there!" he continued, beating upon the door with the
hilt of his sword. "Tapster,
ostler, varlet, hark hither, and a wannion on your lazy limbs!
Ha! Michel, as red in the
nose as ever! Three jacks of the wine of the country, Michel--for the air bites
shrewdly. I pray you, Alleyne, to
take note of this door, for I have a tale concerning it."
"Tell me, friend," said Alleyne to the portly red-faced inn-
keeper, "has a knight and a squire passed this way within the hour?"
"Nay, sir, it would be two hours back.
Was he a small man, weak in the eyes, with a want of hair, and speaks
very quiet when he is most to be feared?"
"The same," the squire answered.
"But I marvel how you should know how he speaks when he is in wrath,
for he is very gentle- minded with those who are beneath him."
"Praise to the saints! it was not I who angered him," said the
"It was young Sieur de Crespigny of Saintonge, who chanced to be
here, and made game of the Englishman, seeing that he was but a small man and
hath a face which is full of peace. But
indeed this good knight was a very quiet and patient man, for he saw that the
Sieur de Crespigny was still young and spoke from an empty head, so he sat his
horse and quaffed his wine, even as you are doing now, all heedless of the
clacking tongue." And what then, Michel?"
"Well, messieurs, it chanced that the Sieur de Crespigny, having
said this and that, for the laughter of the varlets, cried out at last about the
glove that the knight wore in his coif, asking if it was the custom in England
for a man to wear a great archer's glove in his cap.
Pardieu! I have never seen a man get off his horse as quick as did
that stranger Englishman. Ere the
words were past the other's lips he was beside him, his face nigh touching, and
his breath hot upon his cheeks. 'I
think, young sir,' quoth he softly, looking into the other's eyes, 'that now
that I am nearer you will very clearly see that the glove is not an archer's
glove.' 'Perchance not,' said the Sieur de Crespigny with a twitching lip.
'Nor is it large, but very small,' quoth the Englishman.
'Less large than I had thought,' said the other, looking down, for the
knight's gaze was heavy upon his eyelids. 'And in every way such a glove as
might be worn by the fairest and sweetest lady in England,' quoth the
Englishman. 'It may be so,' said the Sieur de Crespigny, turning his face from
him. 'I am myself weak in the eyes,
and have often taken one thing for another,' quoth the knight, as he sprang back
into his saddle and rode off, leaving the Sieur de Crespigny biting his nails
before the door. Ha! by the five
wounds, many men of war have drunk my wine, but never one was more to my fancy
than this little Englishman."
"By my hilt! he is our master, Michel," quoth Aylward,
"and such men as we do not serve under a laggart.
But here are four deniers, Michel, and God be with you!
En avant, camarades! for we
have a long road before us."
At a brisk trot the three friends left Cardillac and its wine- house
behind them, riding without a halt past St. Macaire, and on by ferry over the
river Dorpt. At the further side
the road winds through La Reolle, Bazaille, and Marmande, with the sunlit river
still gleaming upon the right, and the bare poplars bristling up upon either
side. John and Alleyne rode silent
on either side, but every inn, farm-steading, or castle brought back to Aylward
some remembrance of love, foray, or plunder, with which to beguile the way.
"There is the smoke from Bazas, on the further side of
Garonne," quoth he. "There
were three sisters yonder, the daughters of a farrier, and, by these ten
finger-bones! a man might ride for a long June day and never set eyes upon such
maidens. There was Marie, tall and
grave, and Blanche petite and gay, and the dark Agnes, with eyes that went
through you like a waxed arrow. I
lingered there as long as four days, and was betrothed to them all; for it
seemed shame to set one above her sisters, and might make ill blood in the
family. Yet, for all my care,
things were not merry in the house, and I thought it well to come away. There,
too, is the mill of Le Souris. Old
Pierre Le Caron, who owned it, was a right good comrade, and had ever a seat and
a crust for a weary archer. He was
a man who wrought hard at all that he turned his hand to; but he heated himself
in grinding bones to mix with his flour, and so through over-diligence he
brought a fever upon himself and died."
"Tell me, Aylward," said Alleyne, "what was amiss with the
door of yonder inn that you should ask me to observe it."
"Pardieu! yes, I had well-nigh forgot.
What saw you on yonder door?"
"I saw a square hole, through which doubtless the host may peep when
he is not too sure of those who knock."
"And saw you naught else?"
"I marked that beneath this hole there was a deep cut in the door,
as though a great nail had been driven in."
"And naught else?"
"Had you looked more closely you might have seen that there was a
stain upon the wood. The first time that I ever heard my comrade Black Simon laugh
was in front of that door. I heard
him once again when he slew a French squire with his teeth, he being unarmed and
the Frenchman having a dagger."
"And why did Simon laugh in front of the inn-door!" asked John.
"Simon is a hard and perilous man when he hath the bitter drop in
him; and, by my hilt! he was born for war, for there is little sweetness or rest
in him. This inn, the 'Mouton
d'Or,' was kept in the old days by one Francois Gourval, who had a hard fist and
a harder heart. It was said that many and many an archer coming from the wars
had been served with wine with simples in it, until he slept, and had then been
stripped of all by this Gourval. Then on the morrow, if he made complaint, this
wicked Gourval would throw him out upon the road or beat him, for he was a very
lusty man, and had many stout varlets in his service. This chanced to come to Simon's ears when we were at Bordeaux
together, and he would have it that we should ride to Cardillac with a good
hempen cord, and give this Gourval such a scourging as he merited.
Forth we rode then, but when we came to the Mouton d'Or,' Gourval had had
word of our coming and its purpose, so that the door was barred, nor was there
any way into the house. 'Let us in,
good Master Gourval!' cried Simon, and 'Let us in, good Master Gourval!' cried
I, but no word could we get through the hole in the door, save that he would
draw an arrow upon us unless we went on our way.
'Well, Master Gourval,' quoth Simon at last, 'this is but a sorry
welcome, seeing that we have ridden so far just to shake you by the hand.'
'Canst shake me by the hand without coming in,' said Gourval.
'And how that?' asked Simon. 'By
passing in your hand through the hole,' said he. 'Nay, my hand is wounded,'
quoth Simon, 'and of such a size that I cannot pass it in.' 'That need not
hinder,' said Gourval, who was hot to be rid of us, 'pass in your left hand.'
'But I have something for thee, Gourval,' said Simon.
'What then?' he asked. 'There was an English archer who slept here last
week of the name of Hugh of Nutbourne.' 'We have had many rogues here,' said
Gourval. 'His conscience hath been
heavy within him because he owes you a debt of fourteen deniers, having drunk
wine for which he hath never paid. For
the easing of his soul, he asked me to pay the money to you as I passed.' Now
this Gourval was very greedy for money, so he thrust forth his hand for the
fourteen deniers, but Simon had his dagger ready and he pinned his hand to the
door. 'I have paid the Englishman's
debt, Gourval!' quoth he, and so rode away, laughing so that he could scarce sit
his horse, leaving mine host still nailed to his door.
Such is the story of the hole which you have marked, and of the smudge
upon the wood. I have heard that
from that time English archers have been better treated in the auberge of
Cardillac. But what have we here by
"It appears to be a very holy man," said Alleyne.
"And, by the rood! he hath some strange wares," cried John.
"What are these bits of stone, and of wood, and rusted nails, which are set
out in front of him?"
The man whom they had remarked sat with his back against a cherry-tree,
and his legs shooting out in front of him, like one who is greatly at his ease.
Across his thighs was a wooden board, and scattered over it all manner of
slips of wood and knobs of brick and stone, each laid separate from the other,
as a huckster places his wares. He
was dressed in a long gray gown, and wore a broad hat of the same color, much
weather-stained, with three scallop-shells dangling from the brim.
As they approached, the travellers observed that he was advanced in
years, and that his eyes were upturned and yellow.
"Dear knights and gentlemen," he cried in a high crackling
voice, "worthy Christian cavaliers, will ye ride past and leave an aged
pilgrim to die of hunger? The sight hast been burned from mine eyes by the sands of the
Holy Land, and I have had neither crust of bread nor cup of wine these two days
"By my hilt! father," said Aylward, looking keenly at him,
"it is a marvel to me that thy girdle should have so goodly a span and clip
thee so closely, if you have in sooth had so little to place within it."
"Kind stranger," answered the pilgrim, "you have
unwittingly spoken words which are very grievous to me to listen to. Yet I
should be loth to blame you, for I doubt not that what you said was not meant to
sadden me, nor to bring my sore affliction back to my mind.
It ill becomes me to prate too much of what I have endured for the faith,
and yet, since you have observed it, I must tell you that this thickness and
roundness of the waist is caused by a dropsy brought on by over-haste in
journeying from the house of Pilate to the Mount of Olives."
"There, Aylward," said Alleyne, with a reddened cheek,
"let that curb your blunt tongue. How
could you bring a fresh pang to this holy man, who hath endured so much and hath
journeyed as far as Christ's own blessed tomb?"
"May the foul fiend strike me dumb!" cried the bowman in hot
repentance; but both the palmer and Alleyne threw up their hands to stop him.
"I forgive thee from my heart, dear brother," piped the blind
man. "But, oh, these wild
words of thine are worse to mine ears than aught which you could say of
"Not another word shall I speak," said Aylward; "but here
is a franc for thee and I crave thy blessing."
"And here is another," said Alleyne.
"And another," cried Hordle John.
But the blind palmer would have none of their alms.
"Foolish, foolish pride!" he cried, beating upon his chest with
his large brown hand. "Foolish,
foolish pride! How long then will
it be ere I can scourge it forth? Am
I then never to conquer it? Oh, strong, strong are the ties of flesh, and hard
it is to subdue the spirit! I come,
friends, of a noble house, and I cannot bring myself to touch this money, even
though it be to save me from the grave."
"Alas! father," said Alleyne, "how then can we be of help
"I had sat down here to die," quoth the palmer; "but for
many years I have carried in my wallet these precious things which you see set
forth now before me. It were sin,
thought I, that my secret should perish with me.
I shall therefore sell these things to the first worthy passers-by, and
from them I shall have money enough to take me to the shrine of Our Lady at
Rocamadour, where I hope to lay these old bones."
"What are these treasures, then, father?" asked Hordle John.
"I can but see an old rusty nail, with bits of stone and slips of
"My friend," answered the palmer, "not all the money that
is in this country could pay a just price for these wares of mine. This
nail," he continued, pulling off his hat and turning up his sightless orbs,
"is one of those wherewith man's salvation was secured.
I had it, together with this piece of the true rood, from the
five-and-twentieth descendant of Joseph of Arimathea, who still lives in
Jerusalem alive and well, though latterly much afflicted by boils.
Aye, you may well cross yourselves, and I beg that you will not breathe
upon it or touch it with your fingers."
"And the wood and stone, holy father?" asked Alleyne, with
bated breath, as he stared awe-struck at his precious relics.
"This cantle of wood is from the true cross, this other from Noah
his ark, and the third is from the door-post of the temple of the wise King
Solomon. This stone was thrown at
the sainted Stephen, and the other two are from the Tower of Babel.
Here, too, is part of Aaron's rod, and a lock of hair from Elisha the
"But, father," quoth Alleyne, "the holy Elisha was bald,
which brought down upon him the revilements of the wicked children."
"It is very true that he had not much hair," said the palmer
quickly, "and it is this which makes this relic so exceeding precious.
Take now your choice of these, my worthy gentlemen, and pay such a price
as your consciences will suffer you to offer; for I am not a chapman nor a
huckster, and I would never part with them, did I not know that I am very near
to my reward."
"Aylward," said Alleyne excitedly, "This is such a chance
as few folk have twice in one life. The
nail I must have, and I will give it to the abbey of Beaulieu, so that all the
folk in England may go thither to wonder and to pray."
"And I will have the stone from the temple," cried Hordle John.
"What would not my old mother give to have it hung over her bed?"
"And I will have Aaron's rod," quoth Aylward.
"I have but five florins in the world, and here are four of
"Here are three more," said John.
"And here are five more," added Alleyne.
"Holy father, I hand you twelve florins, which is all that we can
give, though we well know how poor a pay it is for the wondrous things which you
"Down, pride, down!" cried the pilgrim, still beating upon his
chest. "Can I not bend myself
then to take this sorry sum which is offered me for that which has cost me the
labors of a life. Give me the dross! Here
are the precious relics, and, oh, I pray you that you will handle them softly
and with reverence, else had I rather left my unworthy bones here by the
With doffed caps and eager hands, the comrades took their new and
precious possessions, and pressed onwards upon their journey, leaving the aged
palmer still seated under the cherry-tree.
They rode in silence, each with his treasure in his hand, glancing at it
from time to time, and scarce able to believe that chance had made them sole
owners of relics of such holiness and worth that every abbey and church in
Christendom would have bid eagerly for their possession.
So they journeyed, full of this good fortune, until opposite the town of
Le Mas, where John's horse cast a shoe, and they were glad to find a wayside
smith who might set the matter to rights. To
him Aylward narrated the good hap which had befallen them; but the smith, when
his eyes lit upon the relics, leaned up against his anvil and laughed, with his
hand to his side, until the tears hopped down his sooty cheeks.
"Why, masters," quoth he, "this man is a coquillart, or
seller of false relics, and was here in the smithy not two hours ago. This nail
that he hath sold you was taken from my nail-box, and as to the wood and the
stones, you will see a heap of both outside from which he hath filled his
"Nay, nay," cried Alleyne, "this was a holy man who had
journeyed to Jerusalem, and acquired a dropsy by running from the house of
Pilate to the Mount of Olives,"
"I know not about that," said the smith; "but I know that
a man with a gray palmer's hat and gown was here no very long time ago, and that
he sat on yonder stump and ate a cold pullet and drank a flask of wine.
Then he begged from me one of my nails, and filling his scrip with
stones, he went upon his way. Look at these nails, and see if they are not the
same as that which he has sold you."
"Now may God save us!" cried Alleyne, all aghast.
"Is there no end then to the wickedness of humankind?
He so humble, so aged, so loth to take our money--and yet a villain and a
cheat. Whom can we trust or believe
"I will after him," said Aylward, flinging himself into the
saddle. "Come, Alleyne, we may
catch him ere John's horse be shod."
Away they galloped together, and ere long they saw the old gray palmer
walking slowly along in front of them. He
turned, however, at the sound of their hoofs, and it was clear that his
blindness was a cheat like all the rest of him, for he ran swiftly through a
field and so into a wood, where none could follow him.
They hurled their relics after him, and so rode back to the blacksmith's
the poorer both in pocket and in faith.
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