n hour's time the
bugles shall summon you to depart for Burgos."

The Prince walked away towards his tent with the Captal de Buch, and
Eustace looked round for his horse, which he saw at no great distance
with Ingram, but Leonard Ashton was nowhere in sight. Eustace mounted,
and rode towards his own tent, desiring the yeoman to seek Ashton out,
while he himself proceeded slowly, musing, with feelings of
considerable disappointment and vexation, on the reception he had met
from Sir John Chandos, the man in the whole camp whose good opinion he
would have most valued. "This is folly," thought he, however, rousing
himself after a minute or two of such meditations. "What said the good
old Baron but what I know full well myself, that I am far from meriting
my new honours? On whom does it depend, but myself to win his praise?
And by our Lady's grace, I will make him confess at last, that, young
as I am, I can show that I deserve my spurs. What, ho! Ingram, where
is Master Ashton?"

"Where you will little like to hear of him, Sir Knight," said the
yeoman, galloping up on his tall Flemish horse. "At the wine-shop,
yonder, in the village, with that ill-favoured, one-eyed Squire that
you wot of. I called him as you desired, and all that I got for an
answer was, that he would come at his own time, and not at your
bidding."

"Said he so? the ungracious, headstrong fellow!" said Eustace, looking
back wistfully. "And what to do! To ride back myself might be the
means of getting the whole troop late in starting, and disorderly--yet,
to leave him!" Eustace looked at John Ingram's comely and stolid face,
and then almost smiled at himself for seeking counsel from him. "Ride
you on, John," said he; "tell Master d'Aubricour of the order to
depart--let all be in readiness by the time I return."

Then turning his horse quickly, Eustace rode back to the village. All
was haste and confusion there--horses were being led forth and saddled,
pages, grooms, and men-at-arms hurrying to and fro--bugles
sounding--everything in the bustle incident to immediate departure. He
could only make his way through the press slowly, and with difficulty,
which ill suited with his impatience and perplexity. In front of the
venta, a low white cottage, with a wooden balcony overspread with
vines, there was a still closer press, and loud vehement voices, as of
disputants, were heard, while the various men-at-arms crowded in so
closely to see the fray,