Such was the throng which set the old road smoking in a haze
of white dust from Winchester to the narrow sea.
But of all the wayfarers those which interested Nigel most were
the soldiers. Several times they passed little knots of archers
or men-at-arms, veterans from France, who had received their
discharge and were now making their way to their southland homes.
They were half drunk all of them, for the wayfarers treated them
to beer at the frequent inns and ale-stakes which lined the road,
so that they cheered and sang lustily as they passed. They roared
rude pleasantries at Aylward, who turned in his saddle and shouted
his opinion of them until they were out of hearing.
Once, late in the afternoon, they overtook a body of a hundred
archers all marching together with two knights riding at their
head. They were passing from Guildford Castle to Reigate Castle,
where they were in garrison. Nigel rode with the knights for some
distance, and hinted that if either was in search of honorable
advancement, or wished to do some small deed, or to relieve
himself of any vow, it might be possible to find some means of
achieving it. They were both, however, grave and elderly men,
intent upon their business and with no mind for fond wayside
adventures, so Nigel quickened his pace and left them behind.
They had left Boxhill and Headley Heath upon the left, and the
towers of Reigate were rising amid the trees in front of them,
when they overtook a large, cheery, red-faced man, with a forked
beard, riding upon a good horse and exchanging a nod or a merry
word with all who passed him.
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