“He is in camp, near Montpezat, two hours' march from here, my fair lord,” said Johnston, the grizzled bowman who commanded the archers.
“Then we shall march thither, for I would fain have you all back at Dax in time to be in the prince's vanguard.”
“My lord,” cried Alleyne, joyfully, “here are our chargers in the field, and I see your harness amid the plunder which these rogues have left behind them.”
“By Saint Ives! you speak sooth, young squire,” said Du Guesclin. “There is my horse and my lady's jennet. The knaves led them from the stables, but fled without them. Now, Nigel, it is great joy to me to have seen one of whom I have often heard. Yet we must leave you now, for I must be with the King of Spain ere your army crosses the mountains.”
“I had thought that you were in Spain with the valiant Henry of Trastamare.”
“I have been there, but I came to France to raise succor for him. I shall ride back, Nigel, with four thousand of the best lances of France at my back, so that your prince may find he hath a task which is worthy of him. God be with you, friend, and may we meet again in better times!”
“I do not think,” said Sir Nigel, as he stood by Alleyne's side looking after the French knight and his lady, “that in all Christendom you will meet with a more stout-hearted man or a fairer and sweeter dame. But your face is pale and sad, Alleyne! Have you perchance met with some hurt during the ruffle?”
“Nay, my fair lord, I was but thinking of my friend Ford, and how he sat upon my couch no later than yesternight.”
Sir Nigel shook his head sadly. “Two brave squires have I lost,” said he. “I know not why the young shoots should be plucked, and an old weed left standing, yet certes there must be some good reason, since God hath so planned it. Did you not note, Alleyne, that the Lady Tiphaine did give us warning last night that danger was coming upon us?”
“She did, my lord.”