“Thou shalt go with us,” exclaimed Hotspur; “though thine years might have well excused thee leaving thine own Castle of Norham, yet hast thou come hither; yea, and thou shalt now forward with us to the field, were it but to show how the noble fire of a warlike soul may burn through the thickest snows of age.”
“Nay, then,” said the Seneschal of York, “thou shalt see, Sir Harry Piersie, that albeit I do advise caution, yet shall I do my part as well as others, when my words do cease to avail aught; yet would I fain have thee tarry until thou art joined by the Bishop of Durham, who is looked for with his force this night.” [[440]]
“What, while we can muster eight thousand good soldiers without him, and six hundred gallant lances? Shall we wait for the Bishop, and so permit the Scots to ’scape from our vengeance? Nay, nay, let’s to horse, my brave friends; my heart swells at the thought of reaping so glorious a field. Let’s to horse without delay, if your blood be English.”
Hotspur’s call was hailed with loud approval, and the brave though cautious Seneschal, seeing that it was in vain to urge more, joined heartily with the rest in getting the army under arms, and in hastening the march.
The Scots had begun to sound their bugles at an early hour that morning, and to assault the Castle of Otterbourne, and they wasted the whole of the day in unsuccessful attempts against it. A council of war being held in the evening, it was found that there were cautious heads among the Scotch as well as among the English knights. Some of those who spoke were of opinion that they should abandon all further attempts against the Castle, and march forward towards Scotland. But the Earl of Douglas opposed this.
“What, my brave Lords and Knights of Scotland,” cried he with energy, “would ye give Harry Piersie cause to say that we have stolen this pennon of his? Let us not creep away with it like thieves in the dark; nay, rather let us show these Southerns that we do earnestly covet their promised visit to us. Let us, I pray ye, tarry here for some two or three days at least; we shall find occupation enough in beleaguering and taking of this Castle hard by, the which is assuredly pregnable to bold and persevering men, and will yield us the more honour that it be strong. Then shall Hotspur have leisure to bethink himself how he may best come to fetch his pennon; and if it should so list him to come, depardieux, he may take my banner too, if he can.”
The old and the cautious hardly in secret approved this counsel; but so much was the heroic Douglas the idol of all, that his wishes were of themselves enough to determine the resolution of those who heard him. Measures were accordingly taken for securing the army against surprise, and for rendering their camp as strong as circumstances would allow; and seeing that they were to remain for so much longer a time than they at first imagined, the soldiers hastily threw up huts, composed of sods and branches of trees, to give them better shelter. The baggage-wains and baggage, with the wainmen, sutlers, and other followers of the army, were stationed so as to block up the approach to the camp; and their position was so defended by [[441]]morasses and woods, flanking it on either side, as to render it almost unassailable. At some distance from this, the troops were encamped on the slope of a hill, and the wooded rising grounds on either hand contributed to form defences which left it open to attack nowhere but in front, and even there only after the outwork formed by the baggage at a distance in the meadow below should be broken through.
Earl Douglas said little to those around him, but made his various dispositions with the cool and skilful eye of an expert commander. He surveyed the ground with thoughtful attention, as the sun was setting bright on the hill. It glanced upon Piersie’s pennon, that fluttered as if idly impatient of its captivity beside the large banner of Scotland, the heavy drapery of which, drooping to the ground in ample folds, hung in silent and majestic dignity, unruffled by the gentle evening breeze. He thought on the Hotspur and his threats—on the violence and impotence of man’s passions—on the actual insignificance of the object which had so stirred up himself and Harry Piersie, compared with the number and value of the lives of those who might soon be called on to fight for it to the death. He mused on the peaceful quiet that now hung over the scene, and of the change that in a few short hours it might undergo; on the change, above all, that might affect many of those brave hearts which were now beating high with the pulses of life, eager to return to their native soil, and to fulfil schemes of future happiness, never, perhaps, to be realized.
“There is something solemn and grand in the stillness of this lovely evening,” said the Douglas at last to the Earl of Moray, who was with him. “The parting radiance of day in yonder western sky might make us fancy that the earth was yblent with heaven. Why might we not pass to that long-wished-for country on those slanting rays of glory, without intervening death, or the penitential pains of purgatory?”
“’Tis a whimsical conceit, brother,” replied Moray with a smile; “but why, I pray thee, are thy thoughts so employed at a time like this?”