The Winning of the Golden Spurs

by Percy F. Westerman

  CHAPTER II

  THE SHADOW OF WAR

  A FEW strokes and the boat's keel grated on the shingle. Redwardsprang out, hastily secured the craft, and strode towards the crowdof armed men, Raymond following closely at his heels.

  Again a tucket sounded, and the ranks broke, most of the archersthrowing themselves down by the roadside, as if weary of foot; themounted men-at-arms led their horses to the grassy glades of thewood, while a couple of squires rode towards the water's edge tosummon the ferryman.

  On reaching the outskirts of the throng the old archer looked aroundto try and recognise some of his former comrades; nor did he look invain.

  "Red Buckland, by the Rood!" exclaimed a bronzed and beardedman-at-arms, seizing him vigorously by the hand. "Right glad am I tosee thee again. Ho, Giles, Wat, Dick!" he shouted to some of hiscomrades, "come hither and greet an old friend!"

  The pair were instantly surrounded by a mob of archers--burly,bearded men, rough in speech and coarse in manner, yet full-hearted,honest soldiers, the backbone of the feudalism of mediaeval England.

  Raymond stood at the edge of the circle of men, gazing open-mouthedat the unusual sight and listening with youthful eagerness, notunmixed with feelings of awe, as the archers talked, fighting theirbattles o'er again, or discussed their future movements.

  "'Twill be Francewards again ere long," remarked one, a man-at-arms,who, having removed his headpiece, disclosed a close crop of hairfurrowed by a long white mark, the legacy of a Norman's axe. "Wordcame yesternight that we had to repair to Hampton to join the armythat the King leads across the Channel."

  "Would I were with you, comrades," said Redward, wistfully gazing onthe accoutrements of the troops, the sight of which roused oldmemories of camp and battlefield.

  "And wherefore not," replied another. "There's more to be made in aweek's march in France than ten years' delving in Merry England. Ay,and I'll warrant that ere long there'll be nought but old men, women,and babes left to guard our hearths."

  "Then I must be reckoned amongst the old men," replied Redward, witha mirthful laugh. "Though, methinks, at two score and fifteen years,I am not yet too aged to strike a shrewd blow or to receive hardknocks!"

  "Then why tarry?"

  "Didst ever have a son, Dickon?"

  "Nay," replied the man, shaking his head. "Neither kith nor kin haveI in this world, save my comrades."

  "Then thou knowest not how a man's whole being can be wrapped up inhis child. I have a son--he stands yonder. How could I leave him--aboy of sixteen--to fare for himself while I follow the banners ofEngland in foreign parts?"

  "But thou hast done so aforetimes?"

  "Ay, but then the boy was in safe keeping in the abbey of Netley. Nowthat he is too old, seeing that it is my wish and his desire not toremain within the priory walls, I must needs stay with him."

  "Red Buckland, thou art becoming chicken-hearted in thine old age.The boy--a lusty youth he looks--cannot remain with thee for ever,"argued the soldier. "Now, what say you; join our company once again,and bring him with thee? Methinks there are many such, nay, evenyounger and of less frame and brawn, who have already set out for thewars. Come, now; again I ask thee, wilt join?"

  "Dickon, thou dost press me hard so that I can scarce refuse. Yet noanswer will I give till I have spoken with my boy."

  At that moment a trumpet sounded, and the men stood to their arms,forming up in two lines on either side of the road. The archers,armed with short swords or axes in addition to the deadly longbow,faced the men-at-arms, who, protected with breastplate, iron helmet,gorget and greaves, grasped their twelve-foot spears, gazingsteadfastly in front as their leader rode slowly between the lines.

  Sir John Hacket, Constable of the King's Castle at Portchester, andGovernor of the Town of Portsmouth (to give him his official title),was then in his fortieth year, yet, from the effects of campaigningunder exceptional circumstances in all parts of Western Europe, helooked considerably older, his hair being a snowy white, contrastingvividly with his brick-red complexion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  The work of transporting the detachment across the Hamble riverproceeded apace, the whole of the operations being under the personalsupervision of the Constable; and, true to the usages of warfare, thetask was carried out in strictly military fashion.

  First a vanguard of archers and men-at-arms was ferried across, theparty taking up an extended formation on the opposite shore. Thencame the main body, with the mounted men-at-arms, the horses beingconveyed across in a large flat-bottomed boat. Leaving only arear-guard, Sir John and his personal attendants then crossed, andfinally the rear-guard followed, leaving Redward Buckland and his songazing wistfully after them from the other shore.

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

  "Didst hear what the archers said but now?" inquired Redward, restingon his oars, and looking doubtfully at his son, as if half afraidthat 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 hadmade thee fitted for nought but a life within a monastery; yet thouwouldst do well to ponder over this matter, for a life midst thesound of arms is not lightly taken up. Thou hast seen but little ofthe world, and look only on the glowing side of a soldier's life. Therisks and hardships of forced marches, famine, sickness, ay, andpossibly defeat, cannot be lightly put aside, though, when oncepassed, one is apt to look back upon them as but triflingadventures."

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

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

  There were nearly four miles to be covered ere their destination wasreached, and, though favoured by the tide, the work of pulling aheavy 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, hissire 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 thevigorous yet inexperienced efforts of the young man.

  "Steady, Raymond! I would fain arrive at Botley with a dry skin, andmethinks, a little less strength would avail better! Put thy backinto it, my boy, rather than thine arms--so! I call to mind when Irowed down the Scheldt in a pitch-dark night, when the splash of anoar or the creaking of a thole would have loosened a hail of arrowsfrom five hundred archers on ei
ther bank."

  "Tell me about it, father?"

  "Nay, lad; the story will keep. But look ahead. Dost mark a row ofblack 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 ofour shore. There she lies, much the same as when burned by the greatAlfred, now five hundred years or more ago. May a like fate befallevery foreign craft that comes to harry our coasts!"

  Soon the channel became yet narrower, till the trees on the oppositebanks met overhead. Redward had resumed the oars, and bend after bendof 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 abovethe rustle of the trees could be heard the dull roar of the stream asit swept under the water-wheel.

  At a landing-place close to the road they left the boat and walked upa short, steep incline to where the houses of the town encompassedthe 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 acrowd of yeomen and villagers, was disposing of his stock of arrowsto 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 forme?"

  "Ay, Master Buckland," replied the other, "'twould be an evil day forme if I failed to supply the good folk of Hamble witharrows--particularly thy noble self," he added with a servile bow.

  "Tut! tut!" growled the archer deprecatingly. "A truce to suchcompliments. These the arrows? A goodly bundle! But--stand aside withme 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 formyself. Then, perchance he has had tidings?"

  "That I cannot say."

  "That being so, Nick, I had best be on the move overseas, under SirJohn Hacket's banner once again. That I'll do, and take Raymond withme! Thanks, good Master Hobbes," he added in a louder tone. "'Tis asI said before, a goodly bundle. God speed you!"

  And taking the arrows from the fletcher's hand, Redward called to hisson 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 anunusual disregard that showed that his thoughts were far away. Thispuzzled Raymond, and he strove to find some reason for thisunlooked-for reticence, the reference to the mysterious "he" which hehad overheard persistently coming uppermost in his mind. Yet never aword on the subject did the boy let fall, and it was in no littlebewilderment that he followed his father from the Hard back to thehouse on the hill-top.

  The interior of Buckland's home was plainly yet well furnished afterthe style of the age. Glass in the windows there was none, oiledlinen doing duty for that then costly material. The floor of thelivingroom was strewn with rushes, the walls hung with woven materialand skins of animals. Portions of armour such as were worn bymen-at-arms, a few bucklers, and a medley of arms also found placeson the walls, while in a corner was a bundle of bows and two cases ofarrows. In the centre was a log fire, the sweet-smelling reek of thepine logs finding its way through a hole in the roof. The sleepingapartment opened out of this room, the building being butone-storeyed.

  As darkness set in Redward secured the doors with a massive bar ofwood, heaped more logs on the fire, and lighted a couple ofrushlights.

  His fit of depression had passed, and he resumed his usualcheerfulness of manner. Going into one of the adjoining rooms hecaught 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 wasdragged across the threshold into the larger room; then, sitting downon a settle, the archer breathlessly gazed upon it with evidentsatisfaction.

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

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

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

  "Nay, my son," said he, "'tis not for thee--at least, not till thouhast proved worthy of it. Here is a suitable garb, a quilted andpadded coat--a trifle large for thee, perhaps, yet 'tis better to erron the generous side. This I found at the sack of Tournai, and 'tiswarranted 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 thyarms Here is a sword, slightly heavy for thee, yet anon thou'ltbecome accustomed to the feel of it, though a bowman stands an illchance should he suffer a troop of lances to come within strikingdistance! Now into yonder corner throw thy crossbow, for, as I haveshown, 'tis but a clumsy and unwieldy tool for an Englishman. Here isa better--a full-sized English longbow; that is the king of weapons!To-morrow we'll hie to the butts, and ere a week hath passed a sturdyarcher 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. Stillgarbed in his martial attire, he remained for a space listening tohis father's tales of past campaigns, till at length, worn out withexcitement, 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 replacingeverything save Raymond's accoutrements, he relocked the heavy box,and was soon tossing uneasily on his rough couch.

  For over an hour Redward lay awake pondering over the events of theday, but just as sleep was about to gain the mastery, a hoarse shoutfell upon his ear. Another followed, and a veritable babel of shrieksbetokened that something untoward was happening in the village.