登陆注册
14922300000043

第43章

IN THE HALL OF THE KNIGHT OF DUPLIN.

The King had come and had gone. Tilford Manor house stood once more dark and silent, but joy and contentment reigned within its walls. In one night every trouble had fallen away like some dark curtain which had shut out the sun. A princely sum of money had come from the King's treasurer, given in such fashion that there could be no refusal. With a bag of gold pieces at his saddle-bow Nigel rode once more into Guildford, and not a beggar on the way who had not cause to bless his name.

There he had gone first to the goldsmith and had bought back cup and salver and bracelet, mourning with the merchant over the evil chance that gold and gold-work had for certain reasons which only those in the trade could fully understand gone up in value during the last week, so that already fifty gold pieces had to be paid more than the price which Nigel had received. In vain the faithful Aylward fretted and fumed and muttered a prayer that the day would come when he might feather a shaft in the merchant's portly paunch. The money had to be paid.

Thence Nigel hurried to Wat the armorer's and there he bought that very suit for which he had yearned so short a time before. Then and there he tried it on in the booth, Wat and his boy walking round him with spanner and wrench, fixing bolts and twisting rivets.

"How is that, my fair sir?" cried the armorer as he drew the bassinet over the head and fastened it to the camail which extended to the shoulders. "I swear by Tubal Cain that it fits you as the shell fits the crab! A finer suit never came from Italy or Spain."Nigel stood in front of a burnished shield which served as a mirror, and he turned this way and that, preening himself like a little shining bird. His smooth breastplate, his wondrous joints with their deft protection by the disks at knee and elbow and shoulder, the beautifully flexible gauntlets and sollerets, the shirt of mail and the close-fitting greave-plates were all things of joy and of beauty in his eyes. He sprang about the shop to show his lightness, and then running out he placed his hand on the pommel and vaulted into Pommers' saddle, while Wat and his boy applauded in the doorway.

Then springing off and running into the shop again he clanked down upon his knees before the image of the Virgin upon the smithy wall. There from his heart he prayed that no shadow or stain should come upon his soul or his honor whilst these arms incased his body, and that he might be strengthened to use them for noble and godly ends. A strange turn this to a religion of peace, and yet for many a century the sword and the faith had upheld each other and in a darkened world the best ideal of the soldier had turned in some dim groping fashion toward the light. "Benedictus dominus deus meus qui docet manus meas ad Praelium et digitos meos ad bellum!" There spoke the soul of the knightly soldier.

So the armor was trussed upon the armorer's mule and went back with them to Tilford, where Nigel put it on once more for the pleasure of the Lady Ermyntrude, who clapped her skinny hands and shed tears of mingled pain and joy - pain that she should lose him, joy that he should go so bravely to the wars. As to her own future, it had been made easy for her, since it was arranged that a steward should look to the Tilford estate whilst she had at her disposal a suite of rooms in royal Windsor, where with other venerable dames of her own age and standing she could spend the twilight of her days discussing long-forgotten scandals and whispering sad things about the grandfathers and the grandmothers of the young courtiers all around them. There Nigel might leave her with an easy mind when he turned his face to France.

But there was one more visit to be paid and one more farewell to be spoken ere Nigel could leave the moorlands where he had dwelled so long. That evening he donned his brightest tunic, dark purple velvet of Genoa, with trimming of miniver, his hat with the snow-white feather curling round the front, and his belt of embossed silver round his loins. Mounted on lordly Pommers, with his hawk upon wrist and his sword by his side, never did fairer young gallant or one more modest in mind set forth upon such an errand. It was but the old Knight of Duplin to whom he would say farewell; but the Knight of Duplin had two daughters, Edith and Mary, and Edith was the fairest maid in all the heather-country.

Sir John Buttesthorn, the Knight of Duplin, was so called because he had been present at that strange battle, some eighteen years before, when the full power of Scotland had been for a moment beaten to the ground by a handful of adventurers and mercenaries, marching under the banner of no nation, but fighting in their own private quarrel. Their exploit fills no pages of history, for it is to the interest of no nation to record it, and yet the rumor and fame of the great fight bulked large in those times, for it was on that day when the flower of Scotland was left dead upon the field, that the world first understood that a new force had arisen in war, and that the English archer, with his robust courage and his skill with the weapon which he had wielded from his boyhood, was a power with which even the mailed chivalry of Europe had seriously to reckon.

Sir John after his return from Scotland had become the King's own head huntsman, famous through all England for his knowledge of venery, until at last, getting overheavy for his horses, he had settled in modest comfort into the old house of Cosford upon the eastern slope of the Hindhead hill. Here, as his face grew redder and his beard more white, he spent the evening of his days, amid hawks and hounds, a flagon of spiced wine ever at his elbow, and his swollen foot perched upon a stool before him. There it was that many an old comrade broke his journey as he passed down the rude road which led from London to Portsmouth, and thither also came the young gallants of the country to hear the stout knight's tales of old wars, or to learn, from him that lore of the forest and the chase which none could teach so well as he.

同类推荐
热门推荐
  • 终极狂龙

    终极狂龙

    【免费新文】天道不仁,以万物为刍狗,我本善良,奈何苍天不许,给我个契机,我就能颠覆整个世界!!超级大家族的天才少爷回归都市,掀起阵阵腥风血雨,商业帝国、世界顶级会场尽握在手,美女们也别想逃,清纯的、火辣的、高冷的、清新脱俗的,统统都逃不出少爷我的手掌心。【关注老步新浪微博:步含笑,更新会有同步,也欢迎和老步讨论剧情。】
  • 重启游戏人生

    重启游戏人生

    方凡莫名其妙的进入另一个时空的九七年,作为重生大军的一员,太跌份的事情肯定不能做,于是他选择引领世界游戏潮流。仙剑,红警,魔兽,星际,cs,传奇,dnf,英雄联盟,好吧!太多的经典游戏等着他去制作了。但这样就算游戏人生了?当然不……掌机,家用机,模拟游戏机,体感游戏机。极限运动,现代舞,跑酷,撩妹……您还想要那样?最后当然是二十一世纪谁也逃不开的“互联网”。
  • 穿越归来:惟我倾城

    穿越归来:惟我倾城

    10年前她被继母推下悬崖,堕入一个必须不停完成任务才能不被抹杀的世界。10年后她回来了,回到了她被推下山崖的那天。携带异世界修成的炼金术,看她如何在这个修仙世界做出一番成就!欠我的十倍偿还,辱我的百倍讨回。当昔日的名门贵女褪去淑女柔肠,仙祈大陆从此走向一个无法预测的方向。法器坏了?看我大炼金术!丹药坏了?看我大炼金术!世人有云:所谓伊人,雄霸一方——
  • 仙之源道

    仙之源道

    人道渺渺,仙道茫茫。求仙道?求人道?求己道!万物不能羁,逍遥于天地,这便是孙思源自己的道。无意间救得一个男子,百无一用的书生孙思源在命运的捉弄下走上了漫漫修仙路,然而神还是魔,仙还是鬼,一番乱世争斗后,谁能明白,又是谁站到了巅峰?
  • 鬼脸牌王

    鬼脸牌王

    一个奇遇,改变了一个平凡的生命,从此走上亡命生涯。
  • 半步成神

    半步成神

    这是一个集修真,魔法,异能为一体的世界。盘龙大陆尽管有不同国家与宗教,但是等级却有统一设定。赤橙黄绿青蓝紫,林觉却不属于其中任何一种,因为他拥有了一枚神格……
  • 流年易伤

    流年易伤

    每个人都有自己独特的故事,不管在被人眼里是多么微小的无聊,却是改变自己人生轨迹的原因。
  • 白骨精是怎么修炼的

    白骨精是怎么修炼的

    白领+骨干+精英,是现代女性人人追逐的对象。这些不甘活在男人光芒背后的大女人,是再怎么收服老公和家庭的呢?
  • 一诺之瑶草重生

    一诺之瑶草重生

    《一诺之瑶草重生》大结局了,多谢喜欢此书的朋友们,感谢你们的支持!敬请关注《一诺》的下部《一诺之王者归来》。此书是关于古代神话和现代生活结合的故事,情节更加跌宕起伏,希望大家喜欢!前世,瑶池初见,红线情牵,许一诺言,无奈天上人间。今生,女扮男装,背井离乡,怀揣希望,怎料硝烟灼眼。面对恩怨情仇,世事变迁,那曾经的一诺,还是永恒不变吗……
  • 双月齐舞

    双月齐舞

    他一朝穿越,却身为废物王爷,身怀壮志,却只能沦为他;他身为帝王,拥有治国的谋略,却只有他,他永远无可奈何,只因为两人前世今生的缘