The scholar thought a space, then bid me stay where I was, and took the rushlight and went down the passage. In a few minutes he was back, with a swathe of faded raiment upon his arm, and threw them down upon the bench.
“There, choose!” he cried. “It was like a young man to think of to-morrow’s clothing, between supper-time and bed.”
The raiment was as mysterious as everything else hereabout. It was all odds and ends, and quaint old fashions and tags of finery, the faded panoply of state and pride, the green vest of a forest ranger, the gaberdine of a marshal of the lists, suits for footmen with the devices I had seen upon the ruined gates worked on the front in golden thread, and some few courtly things, such as idle young lords will wear a day or two and then throw by to wear some newer.
Out of the latter I selected a suit that looked as though it would fit me, and, though a little crumpled, was still in reasonable condition. This vestment, after the fashion of the time, consisted of tight hose and much-puffed breeches, a fine silk waistcoat coming far down, and a loose and ample coat upon it, with wide shoulders and long, tight sleeves. When I add this suit was of amber velvet, lined and puffed with primrose satin, you will understand that, saving the certain moldiness about it I have mentioned, it was as good as any reasonable man could desire. I rolled it up, and put it under my arm, then turned to my host with something of a smile at the strangeness of it all.
“A supper, Sir,” I said, “and shelter; a suit of velvet; and then a bed! Why, surely, this is rare civility between two chance companions met on a country road!”
“Ah!” answered the old man, “and if you were as old as I am, you would know it is rare, but that such things must, somehow, be paid for,” and he eyed me curiously a moment from under those penthouse eyebrows. “Is there anything more you lack?” he continued. “To-night it is yours to ask, and mine to give.”
“Since you put it to me, worthy host,” I responded, “there is one other thing I need—something a soldier likes, whether it be in court or camp, in peaceful hall like this or on the ridges of dank battlefield—a straight, white comrade that I could keep close to me all day, a dear companion who would lie nigh by my side at night—believe me, I have never been without such.”
“And believe me, young man, I cannot humor you. Fie! if that’s your fancy, why did you leave yon wanton camp? Gads! but they would have lined you there civilly enough, but I——What, do you think I can conjure you a pretty, painted leman for a plaything out of these black shadows all about us?”
Whereat I answered seriously: “You mistake my meaning, Sir. It was no gentle damsel that I needed, but such a companion as I have ever had—in brief, a weapon, a sword. It was only this I thought of.”
I heard the old man mutter as he turned away—“A curse on young men and their wants—new suits, supper and wine, leman, weapons—oh! it’s just the same with all of them,” and he took the taper from the table and signed to me to follow.