Leaving Raymond standing in the gloom, the master-bowman went up and spoke to a man-at-arms who stood outside the tent.
"My master cannot hold converse with any one this night, especially an archer," exclaimed the man roughly.
"Convey my message to thy master and leave him to decide the point, sirrah!" replied Redward in a tone of authority, and, on seeing that a squire had joined him, the soldier obeyed.
Soon he reappeared, and holding open the flap of the tent, signed for the visitors to enter.
Following his father, Raymond saw a tall, well-built man, who in spite of his grey hairs and carefully-trimmed white beard, carried his years with ease. He had laid aside his armour, and, judging by the still lighted candles in front of a prie-dieu, he had but just risen from his orisons.
With a knightly courtesy he waited for the master-bowman to speak, thinking that one of his followers had come to ask a boon, when to his surprise Redward addressed him by name.
"Sir Maurice," he exclaimed. "Dost thou not know me? I am thy brother Redward!"
"Redward? Back from the dead after all these years? Nay, it cannot be! But yet——"
Drawing nearer he looked closely into the master-bowman's rugged and bronzed face, then, "Thank Heaven! I have found thee!" he exclaimed, and Raymond beheld the extraordinary sight of a belted knight and a surcoated archer falling on one another's necks in a transport of joy.
Then the squire had to be presented to his uncle. "A fine and gallant youth, and a credit to the old stock of Revyngtons," declared the knight. "But, tell me, Redward, why didst thou not seek me out ere now, knowing I was in the camp?"