aze. There was Aylward squatting cross-legged in his shirt, while he
scrubbed away at his chain-mail brigandine, whistling loudly the while.
On one side of him sat old Johnston, who was busy in trimming the
feathers of some arrows to his liking; and on the other Hordle John, who
lay with his great limbs all asprawl, and his headpiece balanced upon
his uplifted foot. Black Simon of Norwich crouched amid the rocks,
crooning an Eastland ballad to himself, while he whetted his sword upon
a flat stone which lay across his knees; while beside him sat Alleyne
Edricson, and Norbury, the silent squire of Sir Oliver, holding out
their chilled hands towards the crackling faggots.

"Cast on another culpon, John, and stir the broth with thy
sword-sheath," growled Johnston, looking anxiously for the twentieth
time at the reeking pot.

"By my hilt!" cried Aylward, "now that John hath come by this great
ransom, he will scarce abide the fare of poor archer lads. How say you,
camarade? When you see Hordle once more, there will be no penny ale and
fat bacon, but Gascon wines and baked meats every day of the seven."

"I know not about that," said John, kicking his helmet up into the air
and catching it in his hand. "I do but know that whether the broth be
ready or no, I am about to dip this into it."

"It simmers and it boils," cried Johnston, pushing his hard-lined face
through the smoke. In an instant the pot had been plucked from the
blaze, and its contents had been scooped up in half a dozen steel
head-pieces, which were balanced betwixt their owners' knees, while,
with spoon and gobbet of bread, they devoured their morning meal.

"It is ill weather for bows," remarked John at last, when, with a long
sigh, he drained the last drop from his helmet. "My strings are as limp
as a cow's tail this morning."

"You should rub them with water glue," quoth Johnston. "You remember,
Samkin, that it was wetter than this on the morning of Crecy, and yet I
cannot call to mind that there was aught amiss with our strings."

"It is in my thoughts," said Black Simon, still pensively grinding his
sword, "that we may have need of your strings ere sundown. I dreamed of
the red cow last night."

"And what is this red cow, Simon?" asked Alleyne.

"I know not, young sir; but I can only say that on the eve of Cadsand,
and on the eve of Crecy, and on the eve of Nogent, I dreamed of a red
cow; and now the dream has come upon me again, so I am now setting