o their pouches or slung over their shoulders.
As they formed into ranks, each man dropping silently into his place,
Sir Nigel ran a questioning eye over them, and a smile of pleasure
played over his face. Tall and sinewy, and brown, clear-eyed,
hard-featured, with the stern and prompt bearing of experienced
soldiers, it would be hard indeed for a leader to seek for a choicer
following. Here and there in the ranks were old soldiers of the French
wars, grizzled and lean, with fierce, puckered features and shaggy,
bristling brows. The most, however, were young and dandy archers, with
fresh English faces, their beards combed out, their hair curling from
under their close steel hufkens, with gold or jewelled earrings gleaming
in their ears, while their gold-spangled baldrics, their silken belts,
and the chains which many of them wore round their thick brown necks,
all spoke of the brave times which they had had as free companions. Each
had a yew or hazel stave slung over his shoulder, plain and serviceable
with the older men, but gaudily painted and carved at either end with
the others. Steel caps, mail brigandines, white surcoats with the red
lion of St. George, and sword or battle-axe swinging from their belts,
completed this equipment, while in some cases the murderous maule or
five-foot mallet was hung across the bowstave, being fastened to their
leathern shoulder-belt by a hook in the centre of the handle. Sir
Nigel's heart beat high as he looked upon their free bearing and
fearless faces.

For two hours they marched through forest and marshland, along the left
bank of the river Aveyron; Sir Nigel riding behind his Company, with
Alleyne at his right hand, and Johnston, the old master bowman, walking
by his left stirrup. Ere they had reached their journey's end the knight
had learned all that he would know of his men, their doings and their
intentions. Once, as they marched, they saw upon the further bank of the
river a body of French men-at-arms, riding very swiftly in the direction
of Villefranche.

"It is the Seneschal of Toulouse, with his following," said Johnston,
shading his eyes with his hand. "Had he been on this side of the water
he might have attempted something upon us."

"I think that it would be well that we should cross," said Sir Nigel.
"It were pity to balk this worthy seneschal, should he desire to try
some small feat of arms."

"Nay, there is no ford nearer than Tourville," answered the old archer