This last argument, however, by no means commended itself to the pupil of Ockham, who plucked a great stick from the ground and signified his dissent by smiting the realist over the pate with it.
By good fortune, the wood was so light and rotten that it went to a thousand splinters, but Alleyne thought it best to leave the twain to settle the matter at their leisure, the more so as the sun was shining brightly once more.
Looking back down the pool-strewn road, he saw the two excited philosophers waving their hands and shouting at each other, but their babble soon became a mere drone in the distance, and a turn in the road hid them from his sight.
And now after passing Holmesley Walk and the Wooton Heath, the forest began to shred out into scattered belts of trees, with gleam of corn-field and stretch of pasture-land between.
Here and there by the wayside stood little knots of wattle-and-daub huts with shock-haired laborers lounging by the doors and red- cheeked children sprawling in the roadway.
Back among the groves he could see the high gable ends and thatched roofs of the franklin's houses, on whose fields these men found employment, or more often a thick dark column of smoke marked their position and hinted at the coarse plenty within.
By these signs Alleyne knew that he was on the very fringe of the forest, and therefore no great way from Christchurch.
The sun was lying low in the west and shooting its level rays across the long sweep of rich green country, glinting on the white-fleeced sheep and throwing long shadows from the red kine who waded knee-deep in the juicy clover.
Right glad was the traveller to see the high tower of Christchurch Priory gleaming in the mellow evening light, and gladder still when, on rounding a corner, he came upon his comrades of the morning seated astraddle upon a fallen tree.
They had a flat space before them, on which they alternately threw little square pieces of bone, and were so intent upon their occupation that they never raised eye as he approached them.
He observed with astonishment, as he drew near, that the archer's bow was on John's back, the archer's sword by John's side, and the steel cap laid upon the tree-trunk between them.
"Mort de ma vie!" Aylward shouted, looking down at the dice.
"Never had I such cursed luck.
A murrain on the bones!
I have not thrown a good main since I left Navarre.
A one and a three!
En avant, camarade!"
"Four and three," cried Hordle John, counting on his great fingers, "that makes seven.
Ho, archer, I have thy cap!
Now have at thee for thy jerkin!"
"Mon Dieu!" he growled,
"I am like to reach Christchurch in my shirt."
Then suddenly glancing up, "Hola, by the splendor of heaven, here is our cher petit!
Now, by my ten finger bones! this is a rare sight to mine eyes."
He sprang up and threw his arms round Alleyne's neck, while John, no less pleased, but more backward and Saxon in his habits, stood grinning and bobbing by the wayside, with his newly won steel cap stuck wrong side foremost upon his tangle of red hair.
"Hast come to stop?" cried the bowman, patting Alleyne all over in his delight.
"Shall not get away from us again!"
"I wish no better," said he, with a pringling in the eyes at this hearty greeting.
"Well said, lad!" cried big John.
"We three shall to the wars together, and the devil may fly away with the Abbot of Beaulieu!
But your feet and hosen are all besmudged.
Hast been in the water, or I am the more mistaken."
"I have in good sooth," Alleyne answered, and then as they journeyed on their way he told them the many things that had befallen him, his meeting with the villein, his sight of the king, his coming upon his brother, with all the tale of the black welcome and of the fair damsel.
They strode on either side, each with an ear slanting towards him, but ere he had come to the end of his story the bowman had spun round upon his heel, and was hastening back the way they had come, breathing loudly through his nose.
"What then?" asked Alleyne, trotting after him and gripping at his jerkin.
"I am back for Minstead, lad."
"And why, in the name of sense?"
"To thrust a handful of steel into the Socman.
What! hale a demoiselle against her will, and then loose dogs at his own brother!
Let me go!"
"Nenny, nenny!" cried Alleyne, laughing.
"There was no scath done.
Come back, friend"--and so, by mingled pushing and entreaties, they got his head round for Christchurch once more.
Yet he walked with his chin upon his shoulder, until, catching sight of a maiden by a wayside well, the smiles came back to his face and peace to his heart.
"But you," said Alleyne, "there have been changes with you also.
Why should not the workman carry his tools?
Where are bow and sword and cap--and why so warlike, John?"
"It is a game which friend Aylward hath been a-teaching of me."
"And I found him an over-apt pupil," grumbled the bowman.
"He hath stripped me as though I had fallen into the hands of the tardvenus.