"By St. George!" exclaimed I in amazement, "surely the archers and spearmen must lag behind and tail off as they go?"
"Ah," replied the Northumbrian, shaking his head wisely, "they are all mounted—the knights and esquires on large bay horses, the common people on little galloways; and they bring no carriages with them on account of the mountains they have to pass."
"Wonder upon wonders! But, then, how do they carry their provisions?"
"Oh, what provisions want they?—not bread and wine, I trow. Such are their habits of sobriety, in time of war, that they will live for a long time on flesh half sodden, without bread, and drink the river water without wine. Nor have they any occasion for pots or pans; for they dress the flesh of cattle in the skins, after they have taken them off; and, being certain of finding plenty of provisions in the country invaded, they bring none with them."
"Proceed."
"Well, every man carries a broad plate of metal under the flap of his saddle, and a little bag of oatmeal behind his saddle, and when they have eaten too much sodden flesh they put the plate over a fire, mix their oatmeal with water, and make a cake like a biscuit, which they eat to warm their stomachs; and such is their way of living while the war lasts."
"Well, sir squire," said I, "I am beholden to you for the information you have given me. I am a very young warrior, albeit I have seen sieges and a foughten field, and am curious about such matters. And beshrew me if it will not mortify me much if fortune does not favour me with an opportunity of crossing swords with some of these Scots, whose customs sound so barbarous; for I should like to prove what mettle there is in men who live on sodden flesh, and oatmeal, and river water."
"Fear not, youth," replied the squire, with a smile of encouragement; "when you mount, and take the north road in my company, you will be in a fair way of having your wish."