he clack of their voices and the merry prattling of
children, in strange contrast to the flash of arms and constant warlike
challenge from the walls above.

"Methinks a company of school lads could hold this place against an
army," quoth John.

"And so say I," said Alleyne.

"Nay, there you are wide of the clout," the bowman said gravely. "By my
hilt! I have seen a stronger fortalice carried in a summer evening.
I remember such a one in Picardy, with a name as long as a Gascon's
pedigree. It was when I served under Sir Robert Knolles, before the days
of the Company; and we came by good plunder at the sacking of it. I had
myself a great silver bowl, with two goblets, and a plastron of Spanish
steel. Pasques Dieu! there are some fine women over yonder! Mort de ma
vie! see to that one in the doorway! I will go speak to her. But whom
have we here?"

"Is there an archer here hight Sam Aylward?" asked a gaunt man-at-arms,
clanking up to them across the courtyard.

"My name, friend," quoth the bowman.

"Then sure I have no need to tell thee mine," said the other.

"By the rood! if it is not Black Simon of Norwich!" cried Aylward. "A
mon coeur, camarade, a mon coeur! Ah, but I am blithe to see thee!" The
two fell upon each other and hugged like bears.

"And where from, old blood and bones?" asked the bowman.

"I am in service here. Tell me, comrade, is it sooth that we shall have
another fling at these Frenchmen? It is so rumored in the guard-room,
and that Sir Nigel will take the field once more."

"It is like enough, mon gar., as things go."

"Now may the Lord be praised!" cried the other. "This very night will I
set apart a golden ouche to be offered on the shrine of my name-saint. I
have pined for this, Aylward, as a young maid pines for her lover."

"Art so set on plunder then? Is the purse so light that there is not
enough for a rouse? I have a bag at my belt, camarade, and you have but
to put your fist into it for what you want. It was ever share and share
between us."

"Nay, friend, it is not the Frenchman's gold, but the Frenchman's blood
that I would have. I should not rest quiet in the grave, coz, if I had
not another turn at them. For with us in France it has ever been fair
and honest war--a shut fist for the man, but a bended knee for the
woman. But how was it at Winchelsea when their galleys came down upon it
some few years back? I had an old mother there, lad, who had come down
thither from the Mi