Arthur Conan Doyle
THE WHITE COMPANY
CONTENTS.
I. How the Black Sheep came forth from the Fold
II. How Alleyne Edricson came out into the World
III. How Hordle John cozened the Fuller of Lymington
IV. How the Bailiff of Southampton Slew the Two Masterless
Men IV. How a Strange Company Gathered at the "Pied Merlin"
VI. How Samkin Aylward Wagered his Feather-bed
VII. How the Three Comrades Journeyed through the Woodlands
VIII. The Three Friends
IX. How Strange Things Befel in Minsted Wood
X. How Hordle John Found a Man whom he Might Follow XI.
How a Young Shepherd had a Perilous Flock
XII. How Alleyne Learned More than he could Teach
XIII. How the White Company set forth to the Wars
XIV. How Sir Nigel sought for a Wayside Venture
XV. How the Yellow Cog sailed forth from Life
XVI. How the Yellow Cog fought the Two Rover Galleys
XVII. How the Yellow Cog crossed the Bar of Gironde
XVIII. How Sir Nigel Loring put a Patch upon his Eye
XIX. How there was Stir at the Abbey of St. Andrews
XX. How Alleyne Won his Place in an Honorable Guild
XXI. How Agostino Pisano Risked his Head
XXII. How the Bowmen held Wassail at the "Rose de Guienne"
XXIII. How England held the Lists at Bordeaux
XXIV. How a Champion came forth from the East
XXV. How Sir Nigel wrote to Twynham Castle
XXVI. How the Three Comrades Gained a Mighty Treasure
XXVII. How Roger Club-foot was Passed into Paradise
XXVIII. How the Comrades came over the Marshes of France
XXIX. How the Blessed Hour of Sight Came to the Lady Tiphaine
XXX. How the Brushwood Men came to the Chateau of Villefranche
XXXI. How Five Men held the Keep of Villefranche
XXXII. How the Company took Counsel Round the Fallen Tree
XXXIII. How the Army made the Passage of Roncesvalles
XXXIV. How the Company Made Sport in the Vale of Pampeluna
XXXV. How Sir Nigel Hawked at an Eagle
XXXVI. How Sir Nigel Took the Patch from his Eye
XXXVII. How the White Company came to be Disbanded
XXXVIII .Of the Home-coming to Hampshire
CHAPTER I.
HOW THE BLACK SHEEP CAME FORTH FROM THE FOLD.
THE great bell of Beaulieu was ringing. Far away through the
forest might be heard its musical clangor and swell, Peat-cutters
on Blackdown and fishers upon the Exe heard the distant throbbing
rising and falling upon the sultry summer air. It was a common
sound in those parts--as common as the chatter of the jays and
the booming of the bittern. Yet the fishers and the peasants
raised their heads and looked questions at each other, for the
angelus had already gone and vespers was still far off. Why
should the great bell of Beaulieu toll when the shadows were
neither short nor long?
All round the Abbey the monks were trooping in. Under the long
green-paved avenues of gnarled oaks and of lichened beeches the
white-robed brothers gathered to the sound, From the vine-yard
and the vine-press, from the bouvary or ox-farm, from the marlpits and salterns, even from the distant iron-works of Sowley and
the outlying grange of St. Leonard's, they had all turned their
steps homewards. It had been no sudden call. A swift messenger
had the night before sped round to the outlying dependencies of
the Abbey, and had left the summons for every monk to be back in
the cloisters by the third hour after noontide. So urgent a
message had not been issued within the memory of old lay-brother
Athanasius, who had cleaned the Abbey knocker since the year
after the Battle of Bannockburn.
A stranger who knew nothing either of the Abbey or of its immense
resources might have gathered from the appearance of the brothers
some conception of the varied duties which they were called upon
to perform, and of the busy, wide-spread life which centred in
the old monastery. As they swept gravely in by twos and by
threes, with bended heads and muttering lips there were few who
did not bear upon them some signs of their daily toil. Here were
two with wrists and sleeves all spotted with the ruddy grape
juice. There again was a bearded brother with a broad-headed axe
and a bundle of faggots upon his shoulders, while beside him
walked another with the shears under his arm and the white wool
still clinging to his whiter gown. A long, straggling troop
bore spades and mattocks while the two rearmost of all staggered
along under a huge basket o' fresh-caught carp, for the morrow
was Friday, and there were fifty platters to be filled and as
many sturdy trenchermen behind them. Of all the throng there was
scarce one who was not labor-stained and weary, for Abbot
Berghersh was a hard man to himself and to others.
Meanwhile, in the broad and lofty chamber set apart for occasions
of import, the Abbot himself was pacing impatiently backwards and
forwards, with his long white nervous hands clasped in front of
him. His thin, thought-worn features and sunken, haggard cheeks
bespoke one who had indeed beaten down that inner foe whom every
man must face, but had none the less suffered sorely in the
contest. In crushing his passions he had well-nigh crushed
himself. Yet, frail as was his person there gleamed out ever and
anon from under his drooping brows a flash of fierce energy,
which recalled to men's minds that he came of a fighting stock,
and that even now his twin-brother, Sir Bartholomew Berghersh,
was one of the most famous of those stern warriors who had
planted the Cross of St. George before the gates of Paris. With
lips compressed and clouded brow, he strode up and down the oaken
floor, the very genius and impersonation of asceticism, while the
great bell still thundered and clanged above his head. At last
the uproar died away in three last, measured throbs, and ere
their echo had ceased the Abbot struck a small gong which
summoned a lay-brother to his presence.
"Have the brethern come?" he asked, in the Anglo-French dialect
used in religious houses.
"They are here; "the other answered, with his eyes cast down and
his hands crossed upon his chest.
"All?"
"Two and thirty of the seniors and fifteen of the novices, most
holy father. Brother Mark of the Spicarium is sore smitten with
a fever and could not come. He said that--"
"It boots not what he said. Fever or no, he should have come at
my call. His spirit must be chastened, as must that of many more
in this Abbey. You yourself, brother Francis, have twice raised
your voice, so it hath come to my ears, when the reader in the
refectory hath been dealing with the lives of God's most blessed
saints. What hast thou to say?"
The lay-brother stood meek and silent, with his arms still
crossed in front of him.
"One thousand aves and as many credos, said standing with arms
outstretched before the shrine of the Virgin, may help thee to
remember that the Creator hath given us two ears and but one
mouth, as a token that there is twice the work for the one as for
the other. Where is the master of the novices?"
"He is without, most holy father."
"Send him hither."
The sandalled feet clattered over the wooden floor, and the ironbound door creaked upon its hinges. In a few moments it opened
again to admit a short square monk with a heavy, composed face
and an authoritative manner.
"You have sent for me, holy father?"
"Yes, brother Jerome, I wish that this matter be disposed of with
as little scandal as may be, and yet it is needful that the
example should be a public one." The Abbot spoke in Latin now,
as a language which was more fitted by its age and solemnity to
convey the thoughts of two high dignitaries of the order.
"It would, perchance, be best that the novices be not admitted,"
suggested the master. "This mention of a woman may turn their
minds from their pious meditations to worldly and evil thoughts."
"Woman! woman!" groaned the Abbot. "Well has the holy Chrysostom
termed them radix malorum. From Eve downwards, what good hath
come from any of them? Who brings the plaint?"
"It is brother Ambrose."
"A holy and devout young man."
"A light and a pattern to every novice."
"Let the matter be brought to an issue then according to our oldtime monastic habit. Bid the chancellor and the sub-chancellor
lead in the brothers according to age, together with brother
John, the accused, and brother Ambrose, the accuser. And the
novices?"
"Let them bide in the north alley of the cloisters. Stay! Bid
the sub-chancellor send out to them Thomas the lector to ...
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