After him came others of his especial escort of light cavalry, then more priests and more women (so well-provided for soul and body did Philip's armies go forth to crush the unbeliever), then another pause, and finally the rearguard of Lombard and Sardinian regiments, commanded by Sancho de Lodrovo and Gonzalo de Braccamonte.
These veterans, less fine, perhaps, than the glittering ranks of Sicily and Naples, were, nevertheless, magnificent men handsomely armed:
By the time they passed, the moon was fading, and the dawn was creeping in pale streams of light through the forest.
The charcoal-burner crouched lower down among the foxgloves and crossed himself fearfully.
By the time the whole sky had changed from the soft violet of night to the pale azure of the dawn, the last of Alva's army had disappeared, and there remained on the road only the straggling followers—the peasants, who hoped to sell their produce, eagerly whipping along their mules; the poor who hoped for charity; the idle who hoped for stray plunder; boys who had marched miles from their homes in sheer aimless excitement.
The charcoal-burner, encouraged by the sight of his own kind, called out softly to one of the men with the mules—
"Who are they, those great and wonderful fellows who have just passed?"
The other answered with some pride in his knowledge—
"That is the mighty army of the King of Spain."
"May the angels all preserve us! And where are they going?"