A little valley, wondrous green but very desolate-seeming, for here and there stood ruined walls and charred timbers that once had been fair dwellings; and in the midst of this small and ruined hamlet, a mighty tower uprose, hoary and weather-beaten, yet stark and grim against the sunset.  All about this tower a great camp lay, set well out of bow-shot, and ’twixt camp and tower were many men whose armour flashed, rank on rank, and archers who, kneeling behind mantlets, shot amain at battlement and loophole.  Against the tower were two great ladders, roughly fashioned and a-swarm with men; but ever as they strove to reach the battlement a mighty axe whirled and swung and a long sword flashed, and ever as they fell, so fell one of the besiegers.

“There stand Walkyn and Tall Orson!” quoth Ulf, biting his nails.  “Ha!—­ they be dour fighters—­would I stood with them!”

“We come in due season, methinks!” said Sir Benedict, stroking his square chin, “what is your counsel, my lords?”

Quoth young Sir John of Griswold: 

“Let us to horse and sally out on them, the hill is with us and we shall—­”

“Slay and be slain!” quoth Sir Benedict.

“Verily!” nodded grim Sir Bertrand, “dost speak like a very youth, John!”

“Here, methinks,” said Sir Benedict, “is work for pike and bow-string.  First break we their charge, then down on them in flank with shock and might of all our lances.”

“Ha! ’tis well be-thought, Benedict!” growled old Hubert of Erdington, “so let me march with the pikes.”

“Art silent, lord Beltane,” quoth Sir Hacon, “dost agree?”

“Aye, truly,” answered Beltane, rising, “but let our pikes march in V formation, our mightiest men at the point of the V, and with archers behind.  Then, ere the foe do engage, let the V become an L, so shall we oppose them two faces.  Now, when Sir Pertolepe’s chivalry charge, let Sir Benedict with two hundred knights and men-at-arms spur in upon their flank, driving them confused upon their main battle, what time I, yet hid within the green, will sound my rallying note that Walkyn knoweth of old, whereat he shall sally out upon their further flank.  Then will I, with my hundred horse, charge down upon their rear, so should we have them, methinks?  How say you, my lords?”

“Truly,” quoth Sir Bertrand, closing his vizor, “thy father liveth again in thee, methinks!”

Forthwith, pikemen and archers fell into array with Cnut at their head, while behind the spreading ranks of pikes Prat and his archers were ranged, bows strung and quivers slung before; and presently, at Beltane’s word, they swung forth of the sheltering green, fierce-eyed, grim-lipped, bascinet and pike-head a-twinkle.  Away they swung down the slope, a stalwart company swift-treading and light, and in their midst old Hubert of Erdington in his heavy armour, whose long sword flashed as he flourished his farewell.