Evening star., 1905-11-02
THE WHITE COMPANY
BY A. CONAN DOYLE.

that we could not pass him, seeing that
there is but the one road"
Ay, and 1t is road that I know as l
know the Midhurst parish butts quoth the
bowman. Thirty times have l journeyed
IL, forward and backward, and. by the
twang of string. / am wont to come back
TINS way more laden than went. I have
carried all that | had into France in a
wallet, and it hath taken four sumpter-
mules to carry 1t back again. Gods. benz
son 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
stoup of wine would hearten us upon
our way"
The highway had lain through the SWELL
ing vineyard country, which stretched away
TO the north and east in gentle curves. with
many peeping splre 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 seaward, 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 skyline. Behind them might
still be seen the broad estuary of the Gil
ronde. with the high towers of st. Andre
and St. Remi shooting up from the plain.
In 'front.' amid radiatifg lines of poplars,
lay the riverside towniet of Cardillac-gray
walls white houses and feather Of blue
smoke.
This is the Mouton dor" said Aylward
as they pulled up their horses at white
washed, struggling hostel. What no, there"
he continued, beating upon the door with
the hilt of his sword. '"Tapster. hostler,
varlet bark hither. and wannion on
your lazy limbs! Ha! Michel, as red in
the the win vine Of Of he'' the country, see Mchel-for
the air bites shrewdly.. pray you, AL
leyne. to take note of this door. for have
a tale concerning it,
portly red-faced innkeeper, has a knight
and a squire passed this way within the
hour?"
Nay, sir; 1T would be two hours back.
was he 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
l marvel how you should know how he
gentle minded with those who are beneath
him..
Praise to the saints! it was not 1 who
angered him." said the fat Michel.
Who, then?'
ut was young Sieur de Crespigny of
Saintonge, who CHANGED to be here, and
made game of the Englishman, seeing that
he was but a small man and hath face
which is full of peace. But indeed this
good knight was very quiet and patient
man, for he saw that the Sieur de Cres-
pigny was still young and spoke from an
empty head, so he sat his horse and
quafed his wine, even as you are doing
now, all needless of the clacking tongue"
And what then, Michel?"
We'll, messieurs it CHANGED 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 Gus
tom in England for man to wear
great archers glove in his cap Pardieui
have never seen man get off his horse
as quick as did that stranger Englishman.
Ere the words were past the others lips,
he was beside him, his face nigh touching,
and his breath hot upon his cheeks. 4
think, young sir. quoth he, softly, looking
into the others eyes, that now that 1 am
nearer you will very clearly see that the
not. said the Sieur de Crespigny, with a
twitching lip. Nor is 1t large, but very
small quoth the Engishman. Less large
than l had thought, said the other look
upon his eyelids. And in every way such
glove might be worn by the fairest
and sweetest lady in England. quoth the
Englishman 1t may be So, said the Sieur
de Crespigny- turning his face from him.
1 am myself weak in the eyes, and have
often taken one thing for another quoth
the knight, as he sprung back into his
saddle and rode off, leaving the Sieur de
Crespgny 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 Eng
lishman.'
by my hit! he is our master, Michel"
quoth Aylward, "and such men as we do
not serve under a laggart. But here are
four derniers, Michel, and God be with
you! En- avant, camarades! for we have
a long road before u.s."
At brisk trot the three friends left Car
dillac and its wine hous< uehind them, rid
ing without a halt past st: Macaire, and
on by ferry over the river Dorpt. At the
further side the road winds through La
Reole BaZaille, and Marmande, with the
sunlit river still cleaning upon the right.
and the bare poplars bristling up upon
either side. John and Alleyne rode silent
on either side, but every inn, farm-stead-
ing, or castle brought back to Aylward
some remembrance of love, foray, or plum
der, 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 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 waxed
arrow. l fingered there long as four
days and was betrotfed to them all; for it
seemed shame to set one above her sisters,
and might make i'll blood in the family.
Yet, for all my care, things were not merry
in the house, and l thought it well to come
away. There, too is the mill of LIE Souris
Old Pierre lie Caron, who owned it, was a
right good comrade and had ever a seat
and a crust for 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-diigence 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, l had well-nigh forgot.
What saw you on yonder door,"
II 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
great nail had been driven In
"And naught else?'
No
Had you looked more closely you might
have seen that there was stain upon the
wood The first time that / ever heard
nv comrade Black Simon laugh was
In front of that door, l heard him once
again when he slew a French squire with
his teeth he being unarmed and the French
man having 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 dor was kept in the old days by