Who, said one of these gallants, who is that comely young fellow just below us, with the Nevile cognizance of the Bull on his hat? He has the air of one I should know.
I never saw him before, my Lord of Northumberland, answered one of the gentlemen thus addressed; but, pardieu, he who knows all the Neviles by eye must know half England. The Lord Montagufor though at that moment invested with the titles of the Percy, by that name Earl Warwicks brother is known to history, and by that, his rightful name, he shall therefore be designated in these pagesthe Lord Montagu smiled graciously at this remark, and a murmur through the crowd announced that the competition for the silver arrow was about to commence. The butts, formed of turf, with a small white mark fastened to the centre by a very minute peg, were placed apart, one at each end, at the distance of eleven score yards. At the extremity where the shooting commenced, the crowd assembled, taking care to keep clear from the opposite butt, as the warning word of Fast was thundered forth; but eager was the general murmur, and many were the wagers given and accepted, as some well-known archer tried his chance. Near the butt that now formed the target, stood the marker with his white wand; and the rapidity with which archer after archer discharged his shaft, and then, if it missed, hurried across the ground to pick it up (for arrows were dear enough not to be lightly lost), amidst the jeers and laughter of the bystanders, was highly animated and diverting. As yet, however, no marksman had hit the white, though many had gone close to it, when Nicholas Alwyn stepped forward; and there was something so unwarlike in his whole air, so prim in his gait, so careful in his deliberate survey of the shaft and his precise adjustment of the leathern gauntlet that protected the arm from the painful twang of the string, that a general burst of laughter from the bystanders attested their anticipation of a signal failure.
Fore Heaven! said Montagu, he handles his bow an it were a yard-measure. One would think he were about to bargain for the bow-string, he eyes it so closely.
And now, said Nicholas, slowly adjusting the arrow, a shot for the honour of old Westmoreland! And as he spoke, the arrow sprang gallantly forth, and quivered in the very heart of the white. There was a general movement of surprise among the spectators, as the marker thrice shook his wand over his head. But Alwyn, as indifferent to their respect as he had been to their ridicule, turned round and said, with a significant glance at the silent nobles, We springals of London can take care of our own, if need be.
These fellows wax insolent. Our good king spoils them, said Montagu, with a curl of his lip. I wish some young squire of gentle blood would not disdain a shot for the Nevile against the craftsman. How say you, fair sir? And with a princely courtesy of mien and smile, Lord Montagu turned to the young man he had noticed as wearing the cognizance of the First House in England. The bow was not the customary weapon of the well-born; but still, in youth, its exercise formed one of the accomplishments of the future knight; and even princes did not disdain, on a popular holiday, to match a shaft against the yeomans cloth-yard. [At a later period, Henry VIII. was a match for the best bowman in his kingdom. His accomplishment was hereditary, and distinguished alike his wise father and his pious son.] The young man thus addressed, and whose honest, open, handsome, hardy face augured a frank and fearless nature, bowed his head in silence, and then slowly advancing to the umpires, craved permission to essay his skill, and to borrow the loan of a shaft and bow. Leave given and the weapons lent, as the young gentleman took his stand, his comely person, his dress, of a better quality than that of the competitors hitherto, and, above all, the Nevile badge worked in silver on his hat, diverted the general attention from Nicholas Alwyn. A mob is usually inclined to aristocratic predilections, and a murmur of goodwill and expectation greeted him, when he put aside the gauntlet offered to him, and said, In my youth I was taught so to brace the bow that the string should not touch the arm; and though eleven score yards be but a boys distance, a good archer will lay his body into his bow [My father taught me to lay my body in my bow, etc., said Latimer, in his well-known sermon before Edward VI.,1549. The bishop also herein observes that it is best to give the bow so much bending that the string need never touch the arm. This, he adds, is practised by many good archers with whom I am acquainted, as much as if he were to hit the blanc four hundred yards away.
A tall fellow this! said Montagu; and one I wot from the North, as the young gallant fitted the shaft to the bow. And graceful and artistic was the attitude he assumed,the head slightly inclined, the feet firmly planted, the left a little in advance, and the stretched sinews of the bow-hand alone evincing that into that grasp was pressed the whole strength of the easy and careless frame. The public expectation was not disappointed,the youth performed the feat considered of all the most dexterous; his arrow, disdaining the white mark, struck the small peg which fastened it to the butts, and which seemed literally invisible to the bystanders.
Holy Saint Dunstan! theres but one man who can beat me in that sort that I know of, muttered Nicholas, and I little expected to see him take a bite out of his own hip. With that he approached his successful rival.
Well, Master Marmaduke, said he, it is many a year since you showed me that trick at your father, Sir GuysGod rest him! But I scarce take it kind in you to beat your own countryman!
Beshrew me! cried the youth, and his cheerful features brightened into hearty and cordial pleasure, but if I see in thee, as it seems to me, my old friend and foster-brother, Nick Alwyn, this is the happiest hour I have known for many a day. But stand back and let me look at thee, man. Thou! thou a tame London trader! Ha! ha! is it possible?
Hout, Master Marmaduke, answered Nicholas, every crow thinks his own baird bonniest, as they say in the North. We will talk of this anon an thou wilt honour me. I suspect the archery is over now. Few will think to mend that shot.
And here, indeed, the umpires advanced, and their chiefan old mercer, who had once borne arms, and indeed been a volunteer at the battle of Towtondeclared that the contest was over,unless, he added, in the spirit of a lingering fellow-feeling with the Londoner, this young fellow, whom I hope to see an alderman one of these days, will demand another shot, for as yet there hath been but one prick each at the butts.
Nay, master, returned Alwyn, I have met with my betters,and, after all, he added indifferently, the silver arrow, though a pretty bauble enough, is over light in its weight.
Worshipful sir, said the young Nevile, with equal generosity, I cannot accept the prize for a mere trick of the craft,the blanc was already disposed of by Master Alwyns arrow. Moreover; the contest was intended for the Londoners, and I am but an interloper, beholden to their courtesy for a practice of skill, and even the loan of a bow; wherefore the silver arrow be given to Nicholas Alwyn.
That may not be, gentle sir, said the umpire, extending the prize. Sith Alwyn vails of himself, it is thine, by might and by right.
The Lord Montagu had not been inattentive to this dialogue, and he now said, in a loud tone that silenced the crowd, Young Badgeman, thy gallantry pleases me no less than thy skill. Take the arrow, for thou hast won it; but as thou seemest a new comer, it is right thou shouldst pay thy tax upon entry,this be my task. Come hither, I pray thee, good sir, and the nobleman graciously beckoned to the mercer; be these five nobles the prize of whatever Londoner shall acquit himself best in the bold English combat of quarter-staff, and the prize be given in this young archers name. Thy name, youth?