to my sweet wife; for I hear that a messenger goes from the prince to Southampton within the week, and he would gladly take a packet for me. I pray you, Alleyne, to cast your eyes upon what I have written, and see if they are such words as my lady will understand. My fingers, as you can see, are more used to iron and leather than to the drawing of strokes and turning of letters. What then? Is there aught amiss, that you should stare so?'
'It is this first word, my lord. In what tongue were you pleased to write?'
'In English; for my lady talks it more than she doth French.'
'Yet this is no English word, my sweet lord. Here are four t's and never a letter betwixt them.'
'By Saint Paul! it seemed strange to my eye when I wrote it,' said Sir Nigel. 'They bristle up together like a clump of lances. We must break their ranks and set them farther apart. The word is "that." Now I will read it to you, Alleyne, and you shall write it out fair; for we leave Bordeaux this day, and it would be great joy to me to think that the Lady Loring had word from me.'
Alleyne sat down as ordered, with a pen in his hand and a fresh sheet of parchment before him, while Sir Nigel slowly spelled out his letter, running his forefinger on from word to word.
'That my heart is with thee, my dear sweeting, is what thine own heart will assure thee of. All is well with us here, save that Pepin hath the mange on his back, and Pommers hath scarce yet got clear of his stiffness from being four days on ship-board; and the more so because the sea was very high, and we were like to founder on account of a hole in her side, which was made by a stone cast at us by certain sea-rovers, who may the saints have in their keeping, for they have gone from amongst us, as has young Terlake and two score mariners and archers, who would be the more welcome here, as there is like to be a very fine war, with much honour and all hopes of advancement; for which I go to gather my
