"Ay! Buckland," said Will, "'tis not every archer who hath the good fortune to rescue a noble lady such as the Lady Audrey Scarsdale!"
"Scarsdale?" repeated Redward.
"Ay Scarsdale—daughter of Sir Reginald Scarsdale."
The master-bowman staggered as if struck by an invisible blow; then, recovering himself by an effort, asked Lightfoot if there were any tidings of Sir John Hacket.
Even Will Lightfoot could not fail to notice the change in Redward's appearance; but, putting it down to the fearful strain of the fight, suggested adjourning to partake of refreshment.
The task of laying to rest the bodies of their comrades was next proceeded with. Then Raymond, with two of his fellow-archers, entered the ill-fated house of the Lady Scarsdale, and removed the bodies of the three Genoese.
Placing the corpse of the Lady Hilda reverently on a bed, they locked up the house and gave the keys into the custody of the Sheriff, who, knowing the Scarsdale family, took the necessary steps to ensure a fitting burial of the knight's wife, while Lady Audrey was taken care of by some relatives who resided in another part of Hampshire.
Early the following morning Sir John Hacket, having assured himself that the enemy had made for the Channel and were not likely to return to raid some other coast town, rode into Southampton from Portsmouth, attended by his squires and a troop of lances and mounted archers.
Proudly, yet sadly, the stern old knight gazed upon the sorry remnant of the detachment he had left at Southampton but a week before.
"By St. George!" he exclaimed, "ye are a credit to me, and the one bright jewel in the sable field of incompetence and neglect! The King shall hear of your deeds! Ye see," he added aside to his squires, "what that ranter, Walter de Brakkeleye, and his co-bailiff, de la Barre, have done. Had they given more thought to the safe keeping of the town, instead of bickering, as Brakkeleye did with me respecting the jurisdiction of his bailiwick, not a house in Southampton would have been touched by foreign foemen, not one of the townsfolk harmed. Should the King think fit to hang them on the battlements 'twould be but their deserts!"