"That there will be," growled Sir Peter. "Thou art nimble enough, but other men are bigger in the bones. But it is said of thee that thou hast good fortune, and that is a grand thing in a fray. I will go to thy men with thee and learn what timber I am to build with."
So strong in the minds of all men was the belief that even more than lance or sword or counsel was the thing they called fortune. But better for the army and for the taking of Calais were the long preparation and the subtle wisdom of Edward the Third.
Few were the words of Sir Peter as they twain rode onward, save to give his youthful comrade full and clear directions as to the road by which he was to march. He knew, however, that the burly knight eyed him keenly from time to time, as if he were trying to read what value he might have as a soldier.
Then came they to the camp, and Sir Peter turned his eyes in like manner upon Guy the Bow and the men of Longwood.
"I ask the marshal's pardon," he grumbled testily. "If their chief be only a boy, his clansmen are long in the legs. Every man a pardoned outlaw, I am told, and half of kin to the Neville. Look you!" he spoke loudly to Guy the Bow, "ye all are to march with Richard of Wartmont."
"Aye, Sir Peter," said Guy. "He is our captain. We have fought for him ere this, shoulder to shoulder."
"Thou art malapert!" exclaimed Sir Peter. "Guard thou thy tongue, lest I teach thee a lesson thou needest. The lash is near thee!"
Hot as fire glowed the brown cheeks of Guy the Bow, and he strode one pace nearer.
"I know thee, Sir Peter Legh," he said. "Thou art a good lance enough, but who gave thee the ill wisdom to speak of the lash to the free archers of Arden?"
Right well astonished was Sir Peter, for at every side, as he looked beyond Guy, did the tall foresters spring to their feet, and full a score of them had arrows on the string. He heard rough speaking in a tongue which he did not fully understand, but one voice that was louder than the rest was of ordinary English.