At length the master-bowman gave a loud shout. "Look, comrades, the company of the Constable of Portchester! See the crescent or on a field azure!"
Marching four abreast, their white surcoats soiled with mud, water, and dust, came the Portchester garrison. For, save a few who remained to hold the castle and the adjacent town of Portsmouth, the whole of Sir John Hacket's men were with the army now encamped at Woolston, on the outskirts of Southampton.
At their head rode the fiery knight, attended by his squires, while at his bridle-arm, mounted on a white jennet, was Walter de Brakkeleye, the Bailiff of Southampton, whose men had already passed by. The two leaders were engaged in animated conversation, all traces of their bickering on the question of precedence having completely vanished.
Suddenly the knight caught sight of the little knot of men outside the Abbey gate.
"By the Rood, 'tis my old master-bowman and his party of villagers who held the Frenchmen at bay!" he exclaimed. "When I sent them to the Abbey I little thought to see any of them out and about so soon."
In obedience to an order, the company halted and faced about. Sir John rode up to the little band, who respectfully saluted him, following Redward's example in military etiquette.
"By St. George," said the knight, "'tis hard to do justice to your bravery; for I have only now had time to ponder over your deeds. But this I know—had ye not held the rascals in check the countryside would have been laid bare far more than it is."
"But," he went on reflectively, "ye are, for the most part, homeless men; why not serve under my banner? Francewards riches and honour await you. I'll warrant ye will gain more in one campaign than in a lifetime in England. Buckland, I have heard, will rejoin my company. He will be, as before, one of my sub-officers, and if ye come with him, in his division ye'll be placed. I am loth to lose any of you. So who's for an archer's life?"
With one accord Redward's companions signified their eagerness to follow the yellow crescent, and Sir John's face beamed with delight at their decision. "Then get ye back to the Abbey till ye be thoroughly healed of your wounds," he said, "and join the camp as soon as possible. I thought aright that the taste of fighting would but whet your appetites."
"And you, Hubert," he added, addressing one of his squires, "take this purse and present to the Abbot as a token of my esteem for the kindly treatment of these men. Also make excuses for me, as the night draws on apace."