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"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.


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