Neither of them, it seemed, very well knew. They would go to York if they could get there, and join Gospatrick and Marlesweyn. And certainly it was the most reasonable thing to be done.
“But if you mean to get to York, you must march after another fashion than this,” said Hereward. “See, Sir Earl, why you were broken by Gilbert; and why you will be broken again, if this order holds. If you march your men along one of these old Roman streets—By St. Mary! these Romans had more wits than we; for we have spoilt the roads they left us, and never made a new one of our own—”
“They were heathens and enchanters,”—and Waltheof crossed himself.
“And conquered the world. Well,—if you march along one of these streets, you must ride as I rode, when I came up to you. You must not let your knights go first, and your men-at-arms straggle after in a tail a mile long, like a scratch pack of hounds, all sizes but except each others’. You must keep your footmen on the high street, and make your knights ride in two bodies, right and left, upon the wold, to protect their flanks and baggage.”
“But the knights won’t. As gentlemen, they have a right to the best ground.”
“Then they may go to—whither they will go, if the French come upon them. If they are on the flanks, and you are attacked then they can charge in right and left on the enemy’s flank, while the footmen make a stand to cover the wagons.”
“Yes,—that is very good; I believe that is your French fashion?”
“It is the fashion of common-sense, like all things which succeed.”
“But, you see, the knights would not submit to ride in the mire.”
“Then you must make them. What else have they horses for, while honester men than they trudge on foot?”