"Nay, nay! Far from it."
"Ah!" muttered the archer moodily, "'tis as I feared, though not for myself. Then, perchance he has had tidings?"
"That I cannot say."
"That being so, Nick, I had best be on the move overseas, under Sir John Hacket's banner once again. That I'll do, and take Raymond with me! Thanks, good Master Hobbes," he added in a louder tone. "'Tis as I said before, a goodly bundle. God speed you!"
And taking the arrows from the fletcher's hand, Redward called to his son to follow him and strode rapidly back to the boat.
During the return journey Raymond noticed that something was amiss. His sire relapsed into a stony silence, treating any question with an unusual disregard that showed that his thoughts were far away. This puzzled Raymond, and he strove to find some reason for this unlooked-for reticence, the reference to the mysterious "he" which he had overheard persistently coming uppermost in his mind. Yet never a word on the subject did the boy let fall, and it was in no little bewilderment that he followed his father from the Hard back to the house on the hill-top.
The interior of Buckland's home was plainly yet well furnished after the style of the age. Glass in the windows there was none, oiled linen doing duty for that then costly material. The floor of the living-room was strewn with rushes, the walls hung with woven material and skins of animals. Portions of armour such as were worn by men-at-arms, a few bucklers, and a medley of arms also found places on the walls, while in a corner was a bundle of bows and two cases of arrows. In the centre was a log fire, the sweet-smelling reek of the pine logs finding its way through a hole in the roof. The sleeping apartment opened out of this room, the building being but one-storeyed.
As darkness set in Redward secured the doors with a massive bar of wood, heaped more logs on the fire, and lighted a couple of rushlights.
His fit of depression had passed, and he resumed his usual cheerfulness of manner. Going into one of the adjoining rooms he caught hold of a huge oak chest, which, in spite of his strength, took all the power at his command to move. At length the chest was dragged across the threshold into the larger room; then, sitting down on a settle, the archer breathlessly gazed upon it with evident satisfaction.
"Since it is fated that we go to the wars together," said he, "'tis fitting that thou shouldst be properly attired and armed. Let us see what this chest will provide."