In such talk as this the brothers wasted great part of the night. The impatient Hotspur was kept in suspense until next morning, when, much to his relief, the arrival of the wearied scouts was announced to him. He ordered them instantly into his presence, and having closely interrogated them, he soon gathered from them all the intelligence he wanted.
The Earl of Douglas had marched slowly and circumspectly, and although his little army had sufficiently marked his course, by plundering and burning whatever came in its way, the troops had not been suffered to spread far to the right or left. They halted at Pontland, and took and burnt the town and castle, making prisoner of Sir Aymer de Athele, who defended it. Thence they marched to Otterbourne, where they encamped, apparently with the intention of besieging the castle of that [[438]]name next day. The scouts also brought certain information that the Scots did not amount to more than three thousand men-at-arms, and three or four hundred lances, and that the main body of the army was nowhere in the neighbourhood, but still lying indolently on the Western Marches. Full of these particulars, Hotspur, with a bounding heart, again summoned the council of war, and bringing in his scouts, he made them tell their own story.
“What say ye now, gentlemen?” cried he with a triumphant air; “was I right, or not? By the Rood, I was at least wrong to listen to the cold caution of some few frozen heads here; for, an I mistake not the general voice of the council yesterday was with me. We mought have spared these Scots many a weary mile of march, I ween. By St. George, they were a mere handful for us, a mere handful; not a man of them should have escaped us; ay, and such a price should they have paid for the ruin they have wrought on these fine counties, that Scotland should have quaked for a century at the very thought of setting foot across the Border.”
“Frozen heads, didst thou say, Sir Harry Piersie?” demanded the Seneschal of York calmly; “methinks that thy meaning would be to accuse those frozen heads of being leagued with frozen hearts; but let me tell thee, Hotspur, where snow is shed on the poll we may look for a cool judgment; and if a cool, then probably a wise judgment.”
“Pshaw!” said Hotspur, half aside to his brother; “this fusty utterer of worn-out saws and everyday wisdom goadeth me beyond all bearing; yet must I temper mine answer. Trust me, I meant not to impeach thine ordinary judgment, Sir Seneschal,” continued he aloud, “though I do think that it did for once err grievously in our yesterday’s council. But let us not talk of this. I am now here to tell ye, gentlemen, that, by the faith I owe to God, and to my Lord my father, go who list with me, I shall now go seek for my pennon, and give Lord Douglas the camisado this night at Otterbourne; yea, by St. George, though I should do it without other aid than that of my brother Rafe, and the faithful vassals of the Piersie. What, am I to put up, think ye, with the loss of my pennon, and the disgrace of our house and name? By heaven, though it were but a hair’s-breadth of the hem of my Lady’s mantle, the Douglas should not carry it into Scotland. But if disgrace doth attend the losing of Hotspur’s pennon, depardieux, let it be borne by those who, calling themselves his friends, will not yield him their help to retake it; for Hotspur is resolved to wipe off shame from himself[[439]]—he will follow his pennon to the Orcades, yea, pluck it from their most northern cape, or fall in the attempt. Disgrace shall never cleave to Hotspur.”
“No, nor to Rafe Piersie neither,” cried his brother. “Let those who fear to follow stay at home. We shall on together, hand in hand, and seize the pennon, though grim death held its shaft; yea, paltry as it may be thought, it shall be the sun on whose beams our dying eyes shall close. Let us on then.”
The loud murmurs of applause which arose from among the younger knights manifested how much they sympathized with the feelings of the Piersies. But the old Seneschal of York again put in his word of prudence.
“Gentlemen,” said he, “I see that, in speaking as I must do, I shall have but few to agree with me, yet must I natheless freely speak my mind, more especially as I do perceive that those knights who, like myself, have seen more years of warfare than the rest, do seem disposed to think with me. I must confess, that, albeit some potent reasons do now cease to war with your opinion, mine is but little altered. Meseems it still is an especial risk to move so far from garrison after an uncertain enemy, for a mere shred of silk and gold.”
“A shred of silk and gold!” exclaimed Sir Walter de Selby. “What, dost thou not think that all England is disgraced by this triumph of the Scottish Douglas over the Hotspur? And dost thou regard nought but the shred of silk and gold? Talk not of the old ones, I pray thee, Sir Seneschal of York. Trust me, old as is Sir Walter de Selby, he shall never rest idle whilst gallant deeds are adoing to wipe off a foul stain from the name of England. Be it death or victory, he shall have his share on’t.”
“Thy hand, my brave old soldier,” cried both the Piersies at once.