We made but a short night of it at Hardiston. By three o’ the clock we were in saddle again, and pricking forward toward the plain of Wallingham. By sun-up we were within three leagues of the castle, and the Constable had sent forward light-armed scouts to bring us word of the siege. Then spake my father, with the freedom of an old comrade of the Constable’s and veteran of many a hard campaign:
“Methinks, my lord, that Rhys and his Welsh rabble will ne’er await our coming on Wallingham Plain where they must needs fight with the castle in their rear and the danger of a sortie of the garrison. Beshrew me if they do not fly again across the Marches when they hear of our coming in force, and await another time to strike at undefended lands.”
“By’r Lady! Mountjoy,” returned the Constable, “I believe thou’rt right, and Rhys will never risk his thieving crew on a good wide field where sword and lance decide the day. But what would’st thou suggest? Can we do aught but ride for Wallingham as hard as may be?”
“Aye, my lord. There is a fork o’ the road a bowshot hence where one track leads to Wallingham and the other to Egbert’s Ford o’er a wide stream a league from the castle. ’Tis on the road to the Marches; and if we ride and hold it, we may there intercept the Welsh and cut them off from their retreat. If they leave not Wallingham, we can ride from thence and take them at vantage.”
“Well said, Mountjoy, i’ faith!” cried De Lacey, “prithee, Sir Richard of Mountjoy, ride forward and give the word to the vanguard to take the right turning. We’ll come between the rogues and their retreat, and fight, mayhap, with the river at our backs. There’ll be full many of them, I trust, that will never ride again for robbery and burning.”
Mine errand with the vanguard was quickly done. Less than an hour thereafter we rode out of the forest in sight of Egbert’s Ford. Then were Lord Mountjoy’s words full justified for we saw before us, and but half a mile away, the whole army of the Welsh in full retreat on the road toward the Marches and the tangle of mountains and valleys beyond. Fortune smiled on our banners that morning; for indeed, had we foreknown our enemies’ movements and timed our coming to the minute, it could not have better fallen out. As we emerged from the greenwood, half of the Welsh army had already crossed the stream; the water at the ford was filled with mounted men and bullock carts, laden with spoil and making their difficult way through the swift-flowing current; and the remainder of their forces still stood on the hither side, awaiting their turn for the crossing.
It needed not the eye of a great captain to discern our vantage in such a posture. As our knights and men-at-arms came forth on the field they set up a shout of joy full like that of unleashed hounds that see the boar started from his covert. Almost without a word from their chiefs, and without a moment’s loss, they formed in line of battle. Then came the Constable’s ringing word: “Forward for Saint George!” and the line rolled forward down the hill with a rush and roar like that of the great downfall of rock and earth and full-grown trees that I had once seen in the Western mountains.
My father and I rode at the head of the Mountjoy knights and men-at-arms, and not far from the Constable. Sir Geoffrey full gallantly captained the chivalry of Carleton and Teramore, and Lionel of Montmorency rode just beyond him, leading a hundred lances. Lord Mountjoy had named Cedric to lead the Mountjoy archers, five score strong; and I could see o’er my shoulder that they were the first of the bowmen to form their line and follow in the wake of the men-at-arms. Thus the army of the Constable poured down upon the luckless Welshmen in two thunderous, onrushing waves.
THE WATER AT THE FORD WAS FILLED WITH MOUNTED MEN AND BULLOCK CARTS, LADEN WITH SPOIL AND MAKING THEIR DIFFICULT WAY THROUGH THE SWIFT-FLOWING CURRENT