"The king bade me make no haste," he replied, "but rather to be his newsman to all who would inquire of the army and of its deeds. So shall there be better content."
It was a grand feasting at the Town Hall. The archers from Crécy field were feasted by themselves ere they set out for home, and many a stout bowman who saw how well they were and heard their tales, was eager to march with them whenever the king again might send to bid them muster.
Of necessity the resting at Warwick was but brief, and then Sir Richard Neville and a party of men-at-arms rode northward. Not in haste, like his first journey, was this he was making now. Hard was it to pass by or to get away from any tower or town to which he came; but everywhere he did the errand upon which the king had sent him, and everywhere were all men readier than before in their loyalty and their service of the crown, whether they were barons or commons.
Even more than to the king was the praise they were willing to give the prince.
Once again, as he drew near, did Richard wonder at the spire of York Cathedral, and once more was he led on into the audience hall, and then into the oratory of the archbishop, that he might deliver privately the letters and the messages of the king. Pale somewhat was the face of the good prelate, but very calmly he read and he listened.
"My son," he said at last, "all is well. We will give God praise for the good news from France, but thou knowest that the Scottish host is in England?"
"I have heard much," said Richard.
"Then know also that ere this they are face to face with our own lines. A battle as great as that of Crécy——"
Loud shouts were heard in the street without, and then in the great hall.
"My son!" exclaimed the archbishop, listening with lifted hand.