For Geoffrey of Carleton, for myself, the Heir of Mountjoy, and my squire and comrade, Cedric of Pelham Wood, this was the first sight and sound of war on such a scale; and we were fairly lifted up by the thought of what the morrow would bring. Cedric and I had each nineteen years at Candlemas, and Sir Geoffrey but six months less. Many bloody frays had we seen in the petty warfare of our countryside with robber baron and with banded forest outlaws; and each of us already knew the pang of hostile steel. Cedric, indeed, was but lately recovered from the wounds he had a year before at Morton where he had been accounted as one dead. But the tramp of an army of mounted men and the sweet music of their clinking armor and weapons we heard for the first time that day. We rode near the middle of the line; and, glancing forward and back at the gallant train, that seemed a whole crusade on the narrow roads, could scarce believe that there existed anywhere an enemy that could stand before its charge. Our mail-clad knights alone, riding under the lead of the stern old Constable, seemed invincible. The Welsh, we knew, fought without defensive armor, save their bull’s hide shields; and almost I pitied them for their nakedness when I thought of the terrible Norman spears and swords in the hands of men long trained in their skillful use and hardened by years of warfare. It seemed scarce fair indeed that knights and gentlemen should fight at such advantage. The arrows and javelins and e’en the sword strokes of their enemies would touch them not, while their own well-aimed blows would cleave through flimsy defenses and scatter wounds and death. Thus mused I in my youthful ignorance; but ere two days had passed I was both sadder and wiser. Never again will I pass such hasty judgment on the power of an enemy I have not surely tried. Though both Sir Geoffrey and I were as yet knights by courtesy only, not having won our spurs, we were armed and equipped for the expedition like the older knights about us. Cedric also, though a yeoman born, wore a coat of woven mail, and had a good broadsword at his side. But slung upon his back the while was his steel cross-bow—his first and favorite weapon and the one with which he had such wondrous skill. He could strike a running hare more surely than I could one that sat stock still beneath a bush; and he had managed to impart to a dozen and more of the Mountjoy archers some measure of his craft, so that ’twas acknowledged we had the best cross-bow men in the countryside.