Spain.

It was on a Monday that the Duke of Lancaster's division passed safely
through the Pyrenees. On the Tuesday there was a bitter frost, and the
ground rung like iron beneath the feet of the horses; yet ere evening
the prince himself, with the main battle of his army, had passed the
gorge and united with his vanguard at Pampeluna. With him rode the King
of Majorca, the hostage King of Navarre, and the fierce Don Pedro of
Spain, whose pale blue eyes gleamed with a sinister light as they rested
once more upon the distant peaks of the land which had disowned him.
Under the royal banners rode many a bold Gascon baron and many a
hot-blooded islander. Here were the high stewards of Aquitaine, of
Saintonge, of La Rochelle, of Quercy, of Limousin, of Agenois, of
Poitou, and of Bigorre, with the banners and musters of their provinces.
Here also were the valiant Earl of Angus, Sir Thomas Banaster with his
garter over his greave, Sir Nele Loring, second cousin to Sir Nigel,
and a long column of Welsh footmen who marched under the red banner
of Merlin. From dawn to sundown the long train wound through the pass,
their breath reeking up upon the frosty air like the steam from a
cauldron.

The weather was less keen upon the Wednesday, and the rear-guard
made good their passage, with the bombards and the wagon-train. Free
companions and Gascons made up this portion of the army to the number of
ten thousand men. The fierce Sir Hugh Calverley, with his yellow mane,
and the rugged Sir Robert Knolles, with their war-hardened and veteran
companies of English bowmen, headed the long column; while behind them
came the turbulent bands of the Bastard of Breteuil, Nandon de Bagerant,
one-eyed Camus, Black Ortingo, La Nuit and others whose very names seem
to smack of hard hands and ruthless deeds. With them also were the
pick of the Gascon chivalry--the old Duc d'Armagnac, his nephew Lord
d'Albret, brooding and scowling over his wrongs, the giant Oliver de
Clisson, the Captal de Buch, pink of knighthood, the sprightly Sir
Perducas d'Albret, the red-bearded Lord d'Esparre, and a long train of
needy and grasping border nobles, with long pedigrees and short purses,
who had come down from their hill-side strongholds, all hungering for
the spoils and the ransoms of Spain. By the Thursday morning the whole
army was encamped in the Vale of Pampeluna, and the prince had called
his council to meet him in the old palace of the ancient city of
Navar