He was accoutred _cap-a-pie_ in banded mail with aillettes, rerebraces, vambraces, and roundels, his richly embroidered surcoat being emblazoned with his arms.

By his left side hung a long falchion, while over the right hip was the _misericorde_, or dagger, with which a knight demanded his dismounted adversary's surrender or else gave him a _coup de grace_.

On his head he wore a flat cap of crimson velvet, his steel bascinet being carried by a squire; while a mounted man-at-arms bore his lance.

As he proceeded between the lines of armed men, noting with undisguised satisfaction their martial bearing, Sir John's glance fell upon Redward and his son as they stood, with a knot of spectators from the neighbouring village, a little way behind the archers.

"Certes," he cried to one of his attendant squires, "'tis my old master-bowman! Bring him hither."

Thus Redward, with doffed cap, found himself once again before his beloved chief.

"Ah, Buckland, I see the blood of a good old stock still flows in thy veins," he said, after questioning him over various matters pertaining to his welfare, "I trust I shall see thee again under my banner anon!" And setting spurs to his charger the knight rode to the edge of the river, leaving the old archer tormented with thoughts of the rival claims of home and camp.

The work of transporting the detachment across the Hamble river proceeded apace, the whole of the operations being under the personal supervision of the Constable; and, true to the usages of warfare, the task was carried out in strictly military fashion.

First a vanguard of archers and men-at-arms was ferried across, the party taking up an extended formation on the opposite sh.o.r.e. Then came the main body, with the mounted men-at-arms, the horses being conveyed across in a large flat-bottomed boat. Leaving only a rear-guard, Sir John and his personal attendants then crossed, and finally the rear-guard followed, leaving Redward Buckland and his son gazing wistfully after them from the other sh.o.r.e.

"Heart alive, Raymond," said his father. "We, too, must be on the move, for the tide will not serve much longer." And pushing off, they turned the boat's head up-stream and continued their journey.

"Didst hear what the archers said but now?" inquired Redward, resting on his oars, and looking doubtfully at his son, as if half afraid that the fighting strain would not manifest itself.

"Ay, father!"

"And what thinkest thou?"

"I would go Francewards with thee."

"Heaven be praised, my son! I was afraid that the monks of Netley had made thee fitted for nought but a life within a monastery; yet thou wouldst do well to ponder over this matter, for a life midst the sound of arms is not lightly taken up. Thou hast seen but little of the world, and look only on the glowing side of a soldier's life. The risks and hardships of forced marches, famine, sickness, ay, and possibly defeat, cannot be lightly put aside, though, when once pa.s.sed, one is apt to look back upon them as but trifling adventures."

"Nevertheless, I would fain go to France and fight for our King to help him in his just enterprise."

Poor Raymond! little did he think that there would be fighting in plenty in store for him ere he set foot on French soil!

There were nearly four miles to be covered ere their destination was reached, and, though favoured by the tide, the work of pulling a heavy boat began to tell even on the hardy frame of the archer, so, in reply to Raymond's entreaty to be allowed to take the oars, his sire consented and relinquished the heavy sticks.

But his son's attempt at rowing failed to please his exacting father, especially when the blades threw up showers of spray under the vigorous yet inexperienced efforts of the young man.

"Steady, Raymond! I would fain arrive at Botley with a dry skin, and methinks, a little less strength would avail better! Put thy back into it, my boy, rather than thine arms--so! I call to mind when I rowed down the Scheldt in a pitch-dark night, when the splash of an oar or the creaking of a thole would have loosened a hail of arrows from five hundred archers on either bank."

"Tell me about it, father?"

"Nay, lad; the story will keep. But look ahead. Dost mark a row of black posts standing above the water on yonder side?"

Raymond looked.

"Yes; but what are they?"

"All that is left of what was once a Danish galley, the scourge of our sh.o.r.e. There she lies, much the same as when burned by the great Alfred, now five hundred years or more ago. May a like fate befall every foreign craft that comes to harry our coasts!"

Soon the channel became yet narrower, till the trees on the opposite banks met overhead. Redward had resumed the oars, and bend after bend of the river soon slipped past.

"There's Botley Mill," said he, pointing to a low building, thatched-roofed and enclosed by walls of timber and mud, while above the rustle of the trees could be heard the dull roar of the stream as it swept under the water-wheel.

At a landing-place close to the road they left the boat and walked up a short, steep incline to where the houses of the town encompa.s.sed the market-place.

"Ah, there is Master Hobbes," said Redward, indicating a short, full-bodied man, clad in a suit of green cloth, who, surrounded by a crowd of yeomen and villagers, was disposing of his stock of arrows to the accompaniment of the latest news of the city of Winchester, and the prospects of the war against the French.

"Ho, gossip!" cried the archer. "Hast aught of thy stock left for me?"

"Ay, Master Buckland," replied the other, "'twould be an evil day for me if I failed to supply the good folk of Hamble with arrows--particularly thy n.o.ble self," he added with a servile bow.

"Tut! tut!" growled the archer deprecatingly. "A truce to such compliments. These the arrows? A goodly bundle! But--stand aside with me a moment--how fares it with him?" he added in a mysterious manner.

"As before no better, though perchance a trifle worse!"

"But has he ceased to----"

"Nay, nay! Far from it."

"Ah!" muttered the archer moodily, "'tis as I feared, though not for myself. Then, perchance he has had tidings?"

"That I cannot say."

"That being so, Nick, I had best be on the move overseas, under Sir John Hacket's banner once again. That I'll do, and take Raymond with me! Thanks, good Master Hobbes," he added in a louder tone. "'Tis as I said before, a goodly bundle. G.o.d speed you!"

And taking the arrows from the fletcher's hand, Redward called to his son to follow him and strode rapidly back to the boat.

During the return journey Raymond noticed that something was amiss.

His sire relapsed into a stony silence, treating any question with an unusual disregard that showed that his thoughts were far away. This puzzled Raymond, and he strove to find some reason for this unlooked-for reticence, the reference to the mysterious "he" which he had overheard persistently coming uppermost in his mind. Yet never a word on the subject did the boy let fall, and it was in no little bewilderment that he followed his father from the Hard back to the house on the hill-top.

The interior of Buckland's home was plainly yet well furnished after the style of the age. Gla.s.s in the windows there was none, oiled linen doing duty for that then costly material. The floor of the livingroom was strewn with rushes, the walls hung with woven material and skins of animals. Portions of armour such as were worn by men-at-arms, a few bucklers, and a medley of arms also found places on the walls, while in a corner was a bundle of bows and two cases of arrows. In the centre was a log fire, the sweet-smelling reek of the pine logs finding its way through a hole in the roof. The sleeping apartment opened out of this room, the building being but one-storeyed.

As darkness set in Redward secured the doors with a ma.s.sive bar of wood, heaped more logs on the fire, and lighted a couple of rushlights.

His fit of depression had pa.s.sed, and he resumed his usual cheerfulness of manner. Going into one of the adjoining rooms he caught hold of a huge oak chest, which, in spite of his strength, took all the power at his command to move. At length the chest was dragged across the threshold into the larger room; then, sitting down on a settle, the archer breathlessly gazed upon it with evident satisfaction.

"Since it is fated that we go to the wars together," said he, "'tis fitting that thou shouldst be properly attired and armed. Let us see what this chest will provide."

And, unlocking a strange yet strongly made clasp, Redward threw open the lid, and for a moment the boy's eyes were dazzled with the martial nature of its contents. There was a complete suit of armour, similar to that worn by the Constable of Portchester, though lacking the rich ornamentations, other portions of armour, and a small store of equipments such as were worn by mounted men-at-arms and soldiers of superior quality.

Redward noticed the flash of excitement in his son's eyes as they lighted upon the suit of armour.

"Nay, my son," said he, "'tis not for thee--at least, not till thou hast proved worthy of it. Here is a suitable garb, a quilted and padded coat--a trifle large for thee, perhaps, yet 'tis better to err on the generous side. This I found at the sack of Tournai, and 'tis warranted to turn a swordcut or to stop an arrow at two score paces.

This breast-plate will also serve--and this steel cap. Now as to thy arms Here is a sword, slightly heavy for thee, yet anon thou'lt become accustomed to the feel of it, though a bowman stands an ill chance should he suffer a troop of lances to come within striking distance! Now into yonder corner throw thy crossbow, for, as I have shown, 'tis but a clumsy and unwieldy tool for an Englishman. Here is a better--a full-sized English longbow; that is the king of weapons!

To-morrow we'll hie to the b.u.t.ts, and ere a week hath pa.s.sed a st.u.r.dy archer thou'lt be or thou art no son of mine!"

Raymond took the proffered articles and, with the pride of youth, fitted them on, to the no small satisfaction of his sire. Still garbed in his martial attire, he remained for a s.p.a.ce listening to his father's tales of past campaigns, till at length, worn out with excitement, he retired for the night.

When he had gone, Redward pored over the contents of the chest, handling each article with an almost reverent care, then replacing everything save Raymond's accoutrements, he relocked the heavy box, and was soon tossing uneasily on his rough couch.