Almost unnoticed, the little force reached the camp, for in the excitement of the sack of the rich town of Caen the absence of the company on their successful raid was of small moment to the rest of the army intent as they were on the gain of booty.
There were two exceptions at least. One was Redward Buckland, who, being apprised of his son's safety, had left the Sussex company, only to find to his great disappointment that his comrades had departed on their raid.
The other was the great Chandos, who, recognising more than most Englishmen of his day the possibilities of artillery, showed the greatest interest in Sir John Hacket's report of the expedition, promising at the first available opportunity to inform the King of the great service rendered by the Constable of Portchester and his favourite squire.
But other events were taking place that effectually eclipsed for the time being the glory of the brilliant raid. Edward, having plundered Caen, described by Froissart as "large, strong, full of draperies and all sorts of merchandise; rich citizens, noble dames, damsels, and fine churches," had reserved for his own share all the plate, jewels, and choice cloths. The plunder, together with three hundred of the more opulent citizens, was placed on board the English ships and sent over the Channel; then, hoping to sack Rouen in a similar manner, the King advanced with his army up the fertile valley of the Seine.
Foiled in this attempt, he continued his march towards Paris, only to find the bridges broken down, with a strong hostile force on the nether bank, and Philip with a large army rapidly approaching from Guienne.
A desolate track, dotted with the ashes of countless towns and villages, marked the ruthless advance of the English, till at the very gates of Paris the flood-tide of invasion became the ebb of retreat, and Edward, hard pressed, was in danger of being cut off by overwhelming numbers.
One night, when lying near the village of Poissy, the camp was aroused, and orders given to prepare to march.
"Whither are we bound?" asked Raymond of his father as they met in the semi-darkness.
Redward shook his head. "'Tis not a soldier's part to question orders," quoth he. "I did hear that the King would try to reach Flanders, but methinks this way leadeth to Paris."
There was no occasion for silence, and, talking freely amongst themselves, the soldiers struck their tents, and at daybreak were well on the road to Paris, while the light-armed horsemen attached to the French army, who hovered around the flanks, wheeled about and galloped off to inform the French King of the advance of the invaders.