Sir Aimand sang but s.n.a.t.c.hes to the jingle of scabbard and harness, but this was the poem at length:--

THE WHYTE LADYE.

I.

Sir Bors went riding past a shrine, And there a mayd her griefe did tyne.

_O sweet Marye!_ A lilye maid with cheekes all pale, And garments whyte, and snowy veil, Shee bitterly did weepe and wail.

_O dear Marye!_

II.

Sir Bors beheld, and straight hys brest For pitye 'gainst his hauberke prest.

_O sweet Marye!_ 'Ladye,' quod hee, 'I love thee soe, That I toe Deth wold gladlye goe, If I might ease thy cruel woe!'

_O dear Marye!_

III.

Shee answered, 'In a robber's hold Lies chained a comlye knight and bold.'

_O sweet Marye!_ 'Mine herte is fulle of dysmal dred Lest hee be foully done to dedde, For I have promised him to wedde!'

_O dear Marye!_

IV.

Then grew Sir Bors as white as shee, And never answer answered hee.

_O sweet Marye!_ A cruel stound didde pierce his brest, Yet soothly laid hee lance in rest, And parted instant on his quest.

_O dear Marye!_

V.

And whilom found the robber's hold, And freed the comlye knight and bold.

_O sweet Marye!_ And sette him on his own good steed (Though inwardly his wounds did bleed), And stript his hauberke for his need, That he might be in knight-like weed.

_O dear Marye!_

VI.

And ran before him in the mire, That hee might fitlye have a squire.

_O sweet Marye!_ Then when they reacht the lilye maid, 'Behold thy comlye knight!' he said, And saw her chaunge from white to redde, Then, smiling, at her feet fell dedde.

_O dear Marye!_

As Sir Aimand hummed his song, a secret joy came to his heart, for he felt that although his plight was sad, being distasteful to his lady for his country's sake, at least no 'comlye knight and bold' of any other nation, Saxon or Breton, had forestalled him in her regard; of that he felt doubly a.s.sured, for, in the first place, if it had been so, he felt convinced that Eadgyth would have frankly avowed it, when he begged her permission to show himself at the tourney as her knight; and secondly, the expression he had surprised on her face when he had refused to take the prize bracelet.

Suddenly these dreams were interrupted.

The soldier banished the lover.

Sir Aimand checked his horse, and stiffened into rigidity, like a pointer scenting game.

Trot! trot! trot! The beat of a horse's tread leaving the camp at a rapid pace sounded through the darkness.

Sir Aimand struck spurs into his own gallant destrier, and dashed forward in the direction he judged the horseman was taking, endeavouring to intercept him by cutting off an angle.

The trot changed into a gallop, and though the Norman knight even caught sight of a dark figure hurrying through the gloom, he soon found that his steed was no match for the one he was pursuing; but Judith's messenger had a narrow escape.

Returning to the camp, De Sourdeval questioned the sentries; but, finding that the horseman had issued from the quarter occupied by the Northumbrians in the retinue of Earl Waltheof, over which he had no jurisdiction, he was forced unwillingly to let the matter rest.

Meanwhile the camp had grown quiet. The sounds of revelry and the mighty chorus which from time to time had burst from the palace--Sir Aimand little guessed their dire import--had ceased, and the silence was only broken by the occasional neigh of a horse, or whinny from some of the mules belonging to the ecclesiastical guests, or the clash of a sentinel's spear against his shield and jingle of his harness as he paced his post, or perhaps some wandering owl hooting at the disturbers of his accustomed hunting-grounds.

The east grew red with dawn, and Sir Aimand was relieved from his watch by the knight next on duty, and went towards his own pavilion to rest.

As he pa.s.sed the quarters of the Breton knights in the East Anglian earl's following, he was hailed by a group who were still lingering at the entrance of one of the pavilions, and talking together rather noisily of the events of the evening. Some few of the Bretons were va.s.sals to Ralph de Guader, holding lands under him on his estates of Guader and Montfort, but the greater number were adventurers whom the earl had gathered round him, when he had determined to defy the mandate of William against his marriage. These men were under the leadership of one Alain de Gourin, a bold and reckless soldier of fortune, whose guiding principle was the lining of his own purse and the obtaining a full share of the fat of whatsoever land he might be living in. Between this swashbuckler and De Sourdeval but little love was lost, the Norman deeming the Breton a ruffian, and the Breton despising the Norman as a prig, so a smothered enmity was always between them.

Therefore it was with no great alacrity that Sir Aimand answered De Gourin's hail, especially as he guessed very shrewdly that the Bretons had not returned very steady-headed from the banquet.

'Gramercy, Sir Aimand! Thou hast been out of the world these six hours,' cried De Gourin, who had inherited the physical traits of his Welsh forefathers, having blue, bulging eyes, and light eyelashes, and truly Celtic flaming red hair, and was of a tall, wiry figure, and capable of immense endurance, his age being about fifty. 'Come hither, lad! We have such news for thee as will make thy heart beat faster, if thou hast the love of a true knight for the clash of steel and the hope of glory! Beshrew me! the man who knows how to wield his weapon will have a chance to carve his way to fortune e'er many months are past and gone!'

Here a knight whispered to him rather anxiously.

'Tush! Sir Aimand had been at the banquet save for the need of keeping ward on the camp,' answered Sir Alain. 'I would have the pleasure of seeing his delight!' he added, with a coa.r.s.e laugh, and half forced the Norman to enter the tent with him, when, pouring out a goblet of Gascon, he challenged Sir Aimand to pledge the enterprise.

'Nay! First I must know what it is,' said the Norman.

'To unseat that upstart and usurper, William the b.a.s.t.a.r.d, from his ill-gotten seat on the throne of England, and to put a better man in his place,' answered Sir Alain in a hectoring tone; 'and to win for ourselves such good shares of the lands as is due to our valorous lances.'

Sir Aimand started back, looking fixedly at the Breton, and his hand instinctively sought his sword-hilt; but in a moment he regained his composure.

'Methinks the earl's somewhat ponderous Saxon hospitality has turned thy hot brains a bit, Sir Alain,' he said contemptuously. 'Neither thou nor I are likely to drink that pledge!'

Sir Alain smiled at him with an evil smile, but he kept his temper.

'St. Nicholas! But every man here has drunk it this evening, and every man who sat at Ralph de Guader's marriage board; and, sooth to say, if thou hadst been present to hear the list of that same William's crimes that were brought up against him, methinks so virtuous a knight as thyself had drunk it too, with a rider to vow that such vermin were best exterminated from the earth.'

'It is true, De Sourdeval! All drank the pledge,--Normans, Bretons, and Saxons,' chorused the knights around. 'We are under oath to pull William from the throne and set up Waltheof in his stead.'

'It cannot be!' cried Sir Aimand, overwhelmed. 'It is treachery! The earl cannot be guilty of such baseness!'

'And who art thou to stigmatise as baseness what so many men as good as thee hold fit and good?' chorused the Bretons.

'By the rood! ye are scarcely fair to the lad,' said one somewhat more sober than his companions. 'The communication is sudden, to say the least. Neither did he hear the eloquent catalogue of William's faults which wrought our blood to the boiling point.'

'Nor would I have listened to a word of it!' cried Sir Aimand fiercely.

'I would have thrown down my gauntlet had it been the earl himself who traduced his liege lord and king! And what were ye for leal knights, fair sirs, that ye gave ear to such treason?'

'Look ye, my galliard,' said Alain de Gourin contemptuously, 'I should advise you to drop that hero of romaunt strain, for it is a little out of fashion here and now. By my halidom, thou wilt scarce find a foot-page in the whole camp that will support thee! The fell-monger's grandson has carried his tyrannies a little too far even for the patient stomachs of his servile Normans at last; and as for us Bretons, we have long bided our time to pay him out for those dishes of Italian soup to which he treated Counts Alain and Conan.'

'I will never drop the strain whilst I have breath in my body!' said Sir Aimand stoutly. 'Perhaps, when the morning comes, it will be you who will pipe to a different tune, fair sirs. Let me pa.s.s, gentlemen; I would go to my pavilion.'

'Not so fast!' answered Sir Alain, interposing his bulky person betwixt De Sourdeval and the door of the tent. 'Not until thou hast drunk the pledge! It would be scarce politic to let loose so puissant a knight while he declares himself hostile to our enterprise.'