At last the army moved. Its composition was so heterogeneous that only a general of exceptional powers could hope to lead it to advantage, and Sussex was not such a general. The Keating kerne, the scourges of Wexford, did not agree with their Northern congeners: an affray took place, and blood was shed. There were small skirmishes with Shane's men. The soldiers chased a party to the edge of some bog or wood; then the wild horsemen appeared suddenly on all sides, or shots were fired from behind turf-ricks, and a retreat was beaten, seldom without loss. One day's work was exactly like another's. A few cows were taken, but no real service was done. For the first week the army lay encamped outside Armagh, and one dark night, while the rain was falling in torrents, a gang of thieves crept up to the lines and stole 300 pack-horses. This shameful negligence Sussex excused only by the fact that it was Easter Monday, and that it had been devoted to prayer, Sunday having been spent on the march. He forgot the natural connection between watchfulness and prayer. St. George's Day was spent by the Lord-Lieutenant in his tent, keeping the festival of the Garter; but the saint seems not to have been propitiated. Perhaps he thought the red cross should have been exhibited in the field. Three inglorious weeks passed away, and at the end the provisions were gone. The Blackwater had been crossed only for a few hours, and the baffled Viceroy returned to the Pale to bemoan his hard fate, and to lay the blame of failure upon every head but the right one--namely, his own.[65] [Sidenote: Treachery of Andrew Brereton against the MacDonnells.]