'It is ill weather for bows,' remarked John at last, when, with a long sigh, he had 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 Crécy, 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 Crécy, 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 a very keen edge to my blade.'
'Well said, old war-dog!' cried Aylward. 'By my hilt! I pray that your dream may come true, for the prince hath not set us out here to drink broth or to gather whortleberries. One more fight, and I am ready to hang up my bow, marry a wife, and take to the fire corner. But how now, Robin? Whom is it that you seek?'
'The Lord Loring craves your attendance in his tent,' said a young archer to Alleyne.
The squire rose and proceeded to the pavilion, where he found the knight seated upon a cushion, with his legs crossed in front of him and a broad ribbon of parchment laid across his knees, over which he was poring with frowning brows and pursed lips.
'It came this morning by the prince's messenger,' said he, 'and was brought from England by Sir John Fallislee, who is new come from Sussex. What make you of this upon the outer side?'
'It is fairly and clearly written,' Alleyne answered, 'and it signifies "To Sir Nigel Loring, Knight, Constable of Twynham Castle, by the hand of Christopher, the servant of God at the Priory of Christchurch."'
