Nor, in truth, did Collingham very much regret the necessity under which he was of leaving the place associated with so many daring deeds. By the time, indeed, that he was menaced by Eveille-chiens and Hornmouth in company, he had received intelligence that Pembroke was preparing to renew the war in the heart of England, and he had resolved that his raven banner should flutter in the conflicts likely to ensue. The knight was eager, indeed, to take part in the opening war, and to give his aid to the royal cause where it was likely to be of most value.
However, Collingham resolved not to stake all upon the cast which was about to be made. He therefore divided his force into two bodies. One of them he left to harass the French garrisons in Sussex; at the head of the other he marched right northward, and, keeping to the woods and unfrequented places, so as to avoid coming in contact with the foreign and Anglo-Norman soldiers who held towns and castles for Prince Louis, he contrived, after many days’ journey, to reach the neighbourhood of Lincoln in the very nick of time—in fact, on the evening of Friday in Whitsuntide, when Pembroke and the king reached Stowe; and, learning that the protector intended on the morrow, without fail, to march upon the foe, Collingham halted and encamped on the verge of a wood to the north of the city, that his men might rest from their fatigue, and be in readiness and the best condition to join the royalist army on its march from Stowe. All were in strong health and spirits. None of the brave band were very magnificently arrayed; many of them, in truth, were almost in rags. But most of them were armed with bows or crossbows and short swords, and a few, like Oliver Icingla, had axes and shields. As for Collingham, he had a long sword, and that terrible iron club which had often served him well in times of need, and which on the morrow was likely to do its work thoroughly.
All went well with the bold yeomen and foresters, and with their leaders, who well-nigh twelve months earlier had vowed never to sleep under a roof till England was cleared of the invaders, and who rigidly kept their word. Under the May moon they reposed tranquilly till daybreak, and, having then risen and refreshed themselves with food, they awaited the approach of Pembroke and the army that was about to do battle for England.
And right glad at that crisis was the great Protector to have such an addition to his force, and infinite was the curiosity of nobles and knights and fighting men to see the rough and ragged warriors who, as “Collingham’s ravens,” had been celebrated in town and hamlet as the terror of the invaders. But none were more curious on the subject than the knights and squires of the Earl of Salisbury, who gasped and stared at the sight of Oliver Icingla—in other days, when at Salisbury, and in Spain and Flanders, the pink of youthful chivalry in his dress and equipments—with his shaggy beard, his tattered white jacket, and his battle-axe, so antique in appearance that one of Salisbury’s knights asked laughingly if it had been wielded by some of the Icinglas who were comrades of Hengist or of Cerdic.
However, the warriors who excited so much curiosity, and, it must be added, some ridicule, had a pride of their own, and felt a kind of satisfaction which few even in Pembroke’s army could know. When loyal earls and barons were submitting to the invaders, they had treated the invaders with defiance; they had attacked Prince Louis himself, and forced him to make an undignified flight to his ships—the first rough treatment he experienced in England—and, through good and evil reports, they had adhered to the cause of England and England’s king, enduring all hardships and despising all odds.
Verily such things might well make Collingham’s band a little proud under the circumstances; and proud they felt of their fidelity and their exploits as they marched towards Lincoln, their raven banner fluttering and their stalwart chief towering in front like some giant Dane of the days of Canute. Nor was Oliver Icingla idle. He was still much under the influence of his strange dream in the Sussex forest, for, like most of his race, he had the element of superstition largely in his composition, and considered dreams and omens too serious to be disregarded. This made him all the more joyous to go into battle, if only for change and excitement, moving from front to rear, talking pithily to all the men, stimulating their enthusiasm, and firing their courage and patriotism.
“Englishmen and freemen,” so ran the words of the heir of the Icinglas, “remember your vows as the hour of battle approaches; for a battle there will be, strong and obstinate, albeit not so bloody as some that have been fought on English soil; and that the men whom you are going to encounter are aliens and oppressors. So strike and spare not! Spare neither French count nor Norman baron! This is no day for dainty chivalry, as when a feudal sovereign takes the field against a refractory vassal about some petty dispute, to exchange a few blows, without inflicting a wound, and then feast together in the hall of the nearest castle or abbey, as if nothing had happened. This is, in truth, a very different kind of war. It is a war of Englishmen against foreign invaders—a war of true and loyal men against false men and traitors—a war for our homes which they have burned, and our hearths which they have rendered desolate. Wherefore I say to you, smite and spare not! Down with every ruffian Frank who crosses your path, and down, down with the traitors who invited the ruffian Franks hither! I myself will not fail, if opportunity serve me, to show you in this an example such as an Icingla should show to Englishmen fighting for their country, and may God and good St. Edward aid us in doing battle for our young king and our ancient rights!”
And as the boy-warrior thus spoke, on with Pembroke’s army Collingham’s band moved steadily and courageously till they reached the north gate of Lincoln, and stood, straining impatiently, like greyhounds in the leash, in their anxiety to enter and close, foot to foot and hand to hand, with foreign invaders and Anglo-Norman oppressors.
Meanwhile, under the auspices of Falco, a movement was taking place which caused within the walls of the city that yell which announced that the carnage had begun.