CHAPTER XXXV. HOW SIR NIGEL HAWKED AT AN EAGLE.

ngitswayatagentletrotacrosstheplain,theycameasfarasthecampwithoutchallengeorhindrance.Onandontheypushedpasttheendlesslinesoftents,amidthedenseswarmsofhorsemenandoffootmen,untilthehugeroyalpavilionstretchedinfrontofthem.Theywerecloseuponitwhenofasuddentherebrokeoutawildhubbubfromadistantportionofthecamp,withscreamsandwar-criesandallthewildtumultofbattle.Atthesoundsoldierscamerushingfromtheirtents,knightsshoutedloudlyfortheirsquires,andtherewasmadturmoiloneveryhandofbewilderedmenandplunginghorses.Attheroyaltentacrowdofgorgeouslydressedservantsranhitherandthitherinhelplesspanicfortheguardofsoldierswhowerestationedtherehadalreadyriddenoffinthedirectionofthealarm.Aman-at-armsoneithersideofthedoorwaywerethesoleprotectorsoftheroyaldwelling. “Ihavecomefortheking,”whisperedSirNigel“and,bySaintPaul!hemustbackwithusorImustbidehere.” AlleyneandAylwardsprangfromtheirhorses,andflewatthetwosentries,whoweredisarmedandbeatendowninaninstantbysofuriousandunexpectedanattack.SirNigeldashedintotheroyaltent,andwasfollowedbyHordleJohnassoonasthehorseshadbeensecured.Fromwithincamewildscreamingsandtheclashofsteel,andthenthetwoemergedoncemore,theirswordsandforearmsreddenedwithblood,whileJohnboreoverhisshoulderthesenselessbodyofamanwhosegaysurcoat,adornedwiththelionsandtowersofCastile,proclaimedhimtobelongtotheroyalhouse.Acrowdofwhite-facedsewersandpagesswarmedattheirheels,thosebehindpushingforwards,whiletheforemostshrankbackfromthefiercefacesandreekingweaponsoftheadventurers.Thesenselessbodywasthrownacrossthesparehorse,thefoursprangtotheirsaddles,andawaytheythunderedwithloosereinsandbusyspursthroughtheswarmingcamp. ButconfusionanddisorderstillreignedamongtheSpaniardsforSirWilliamFeltonandhismenhadsweptthroughhalftheircamp,leavingalonglitterofthedeadandthedyingtomarktheircourse.Uncertainwhoweretheirattackers,andunabletotelltheirEnglishenemiesfromtheirnewly-arrivedBretonallies,theSpanishknightsrodewildlyhitherandthitherinaimlessfury.Themadturmoil,themixtureofraces,andthefadinglight,wereallinfavorofthefourwhoaloneknewtheirownpurposeamongthevastuncertainmultitude.Twiceeretheyreachedopengroundtheyhadtobreaktheirwaythroughsmallbodiesofhorses,andoncetherecameawhistleofarrowsandsingingofstonesabouttheirearsbut,stilldashingonwards,theyshotoutfromamongthetentsandfoundtheirowncomradesretreatingforthemountainsatnoverygreatdistancefromthem.Anotherfiveminutesofwildgallopingovertheplain,andtheywereallbackintheirgorge,whiletheirpursuersfellbackbeforetherollingofdrumsandblareoftrumpets,whichseemedtoproclaimthatthewholearmyoftheprincewasabouttoemergefromthemountainpasses. “Bymysoul!Nigel,”criedSirOliver,wavingagreatboiledhamoverhishead,“IhavecomebysomethingwhichImayeatwithmytruffles!Ihadahardfightforit,fortherewerethreeofthemwiththeirmouthsopenandtheknivesintheirhands,allsittingagaperoundthetable,whenIrushedinuponthem.Howsayyou,SirWilliam,willyounottrythesmackofthefamedSpanishswine,thoughwehavebutthebrookwatertowashitdown?” “Later,SirOliver,”answeredtheoldsoldier,wipinghisgrimedface.“Wemustfurtherintothemountainserewebeinsafety.Butwhathavewehere,Nigel?” “ItisaprisonerwhomIhavetaken,andinsooth,ashecamefromtheroyaltentandwearstheroyalarmsuponhisjupon,ItrustthatheistheKingofSpain.” “TheKingofSpain!”criedthecompanions,crowdingroundinamazement. “Nay,SirNigel,”saidFelton,peeringattheprisonerthroughtheuncertainlight,“IhavetwiceseenHenryofTranstamare,andcertesthismaninnowayresembleshim.” “Then,bythelightofheaven!Iwillridebackforhim,”criedSirNigel. “Nay,nay,thecampisinarms,anditwouldberankmadness.Whoareyou,fellow?”headdedinSpanish,“andhowisitthatyoudaretowearthearmsofCastile?” TheprisonerwasbentrecoveringtheconsciousnesswhichhadbeensqueezedfromhimbythegripofHordleJohn.“Ifitpleaseyou,”heanswered,“Iandnineothersarethebody-squiresoftheking,andmusteverwearhisarms,soastoshieldhimfromevensuchperilsashavethreatenedhimthisnight.ThekingisatthetentofthebraveDuGuesclin,wherehewillsuptonight.ButIamacaballeroofAragon,DonSanchoPenelosa,and,thoughIbenoking,Iamyetreadytopayafittingpriceformyransom.” “BySaintPaul!Iwillnottouchyourgold,”criedSirNigel.“GobacktoyourmasterandgivehimgreetingfromSirNigelLoringofTwynhamCastle,tellinghimthatIhadhopedtomakehisbetteracquaintancethisnight,andthat,ifIhavedisorderedhistent,itwasbutinmyeagernesstoknowsofamedandcourteousaknight.Spuron,comrades!forwemustcovermanyaleagueerewecanventuretolightfireortoloosengirth.Ihadhopedtoridewithoutthispatchto-night,butitseemsthatImustcarryityetalittlelonger.”