Altogether there were not far short of eight hundred sail, assembled in less than fourteen days, to bear across the Channel the huge army destined for the conquest of France.
On Midsummer Day, the Feast of St. John the Baptist, the news came that the King had left the Queen in the care of his cousin, the Earl of Kent, and was on the road to Southampton.
Instantly the work of embarking the troops, horses, and baggage began, and never before did the good townsmen of Southampton behold such a fair and martial sight. Throughout the long June day the task proceeded, and a seemingly endless procession wended through the West Gate, each division having its appointed order.
The Portsmouth ships were to form the rearguard, so that it was the duty of the Constable of Portchester to embark last of all. From his quarters, close to the West Gate, Sir John watched the embarkation, pointing out to his squires the respective devices and banners of the various contingents.
From all parts of the kingdom, save the northern counties, whose men were required to watch the restive Scots, had this army foregathered, the flower of chivalry and the stoutest of the yeomen of England. There were the lions rampant of the Percies, Mowbrays, and d'Albini, each distinguishable by the "field," the ruddy chevrons of the de Claves, the gilded cockle-shell of the de Malets, and the more complicated devices of de Montfichet, Quince, Fortibus, de Bohun, de. Vere, and Fitz-Walter. Each baron had his following of men-at-arms and archers, the former having to lower the points of their long slender spears as they passed beneath the vaulted archway. After the feudal army, numbering four thousand men-at-arms and ten thousand archers, came a horde of fierce-eyed, hairy men of short stature, each armed with a long knife and a double-bladed axe.
"Ah," exclaimed Sir John, noting the look of inquiry on Raymond's face. "Heaven help the Frenchman who falls wounded in the field, for these are the Welsh levies. I have marked their method of fighting before to-day, and, certes, I am of no mind to praise them for it."
The Welshmen were succeeded by a straggling body of tall, gaunt-looking men, armed with a small shield and short spear. They lacked the grim stolidity of the Englishmen, and marched with merry laugh and careless jest uttered in a strange tongue.
"The Irish levies from Leinster," remarked the Constable, "good-natured in peace, honest fighting-men, yet terrible when roused. I can recall a little affair before Cadsand, but 'tis too long to relate at the moment. But hark!"
Redoubled cheering echoed down the narrow sloping street, and the knight and his squires strained their ears to ascertain the cause. The last of the troops had passed, yet still the archers who lined the route pushed back the excited townsmen with their six-foot staves.
"The King!" exclaimed the Constable.