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!