So Ralph left his kinsfolk, sadder at heart than he had ever been in all his life, but resolved to bring back his lord in safety and glory to the Wight, or die with him in France.
As he rode back over St George's Down--for he took a longer way back, being in a dreamy and melancholy mood--the soft light of the young moon shone in the pale primrose of the western sky. The night-jar uttered its melancholy note, and flapped heavily past in the silence of the evening, while a distant owl raised its plaintive cry from the dark woods which faded in the grey and ghostly mist of the northern valley. This was his last night in England. How many would see their homes again of all that gallant band of high-spirited men?
But a step near at hand roused him from his reverie. Two figures passed him almost unobserved. The slighter one turned to look, gave a little sigh, and went on with its taller companion, who seemed to walk with difficulty.
CHAPTER XXIII.
HOW THEY LEFT THE WIGHT.
The stirring sound of trumpets awoke Ralph at an early hour the next morning. All the castle-yard was already busy with hurrying men-at-arms, archers, and varlets. Sir John Trenchard, Tom o' Kingston, and the other officers were giving orders and getting the men into their places.
The great gates of the castle were wide open, the drawbridge was lowered. Lady Trenchard and the domestics of the Captain's apartments were looking down from the oriel window. The chapel bell was ringing, and as many as could find room in the little building were reverently assisting at the Mass, the last they should ever hear in England performed by their worthy chaplain, who was going with them.
In another hour the troops were drawn up, and a fine body of men they looked. All those from the West Medene, or western division of the island, had mustered at the castle. Those from the East Medene were to muster at St Helens, where the embarkation was to take place. But in spite of being little more than half their strength, the small body of about two hundred and fifty men looked very smart and serviceable.
On the right of the line drawn up in the courtyard were the men-at-arms, a body of some forty cavaliers, armed from head to foot in complete plate armour, and wearing the picturesque white tabard with the red cross over their breastplates; behind these were the custrils and grooms, all armed also, but with less complete body armour. All this body of cavalry carried lances, daggers, and stout long swords, while the men-at-arms, in addition, had the formidable mace hanging from their saddle-bow.
Next to the men-at-arms, on their left, were the mounted archers--a most serviceable force--nearly all armed with back and breastpieces, over a stout leathern jerkin, with plates of steel strapped on their sleeves and thighs, and armed with round targets, crossbows, slung behind their backs, long swords and knives. On their heads they wore the salade, or open helmet, with the gorget and chin-piece to protect their necks and upper part of the chest. Many of them wore chain-shirts, or brigandines, under their steel breast-plates, while these, like the men-at-arms, wore the white tabard and red cross of St George.