Now it chanced that there was another young soldier of Hugh’s age enlisted in the company, and with this lad, whose name was Jocelyn, Hugh presently became the best of friends. This Jocelyn was a mountaineer and was slender and yellow-haired; whilst Hugh was a lad of the plain and was sturdy of frame and dark. And because these two lads were the youngest of the company and were loyal friends, they marched down the highway side by side and shared together the good and ill of life. Now it came to pass upon a summer’s night, as the soldiers lay encamped in fields by the royal city, that the great bell of the King’s palace broke the quiet of the stars with a loud and unending clangor of alarm. It was late, the watch fires had almost burned away, and the soldiers, waking in the dark, seized upon their arms and wondered at the din. All at once, with a thunder of hoofs, a messenger from the city came spurring in with the news that war was at hand, and that the regiment must break camp on the instant and speed to the borders of the realm. Presently fresh branches tossed upon the embers filled the camp with the light of flames, and bugle calls rang through the tumult and the clanging of the bell. Left! Right! Left! Right! And the soldiers were marching to the wars. They came to ancient hamlets in the night, and found soldiers of other companies already sleeping in the barns; they marched through lonely forests, and warmed their noonday meal with a blaze of twigs and fallen boughs; they marched singing through the fields of golden grain. Soon the villages and the fields grew rare, a silence fell upon the land, and the regiment found itself at the edge of a vast and lonely moor. Regiments without number were there encamped, and their bivouac fires gleamed at night like a thousand scattered stars. Leagues away, on barren hills rising to the north, were to be seen the fires of the foe. And now it was the morn of battle: a red sun was rising above the brown hills and hollows of the moor, the air was sluggish, and flat gray clouds lay motionless and low. Tarantara! Tarantara! went the bugles, regiment after regiment came marching to its post, the plain shook to the tramp of feet, the horsemen gathered behind, the drums began to sound, the men in red-and-white marched down to the moor, and presently the great hollow of the waste rang like a brazen cup with the beginning tumult of the fray. The soldiers of the enemy were clad in black-and-white, and wore shiny leather hats with shiny golden stars. The young comrades marched into battle side by side. And even as a branch, thrust gently from the bank of a racing river, first moves slowly in calm waters by the edge of the stream and then is caught up and tossed about by the wild mid-torrent, so did the great tide of the battle catch up Jocelyn and Hugh. They fought as in a dream, scarce knowing what they did.