CHAPTER XIII.
HOW THE WHITE COMPANY SET FORTH TO THE WARS.
St. Luke's day had come and had gone, and it was in the season of
Martinmas, when the oxen are driven in to the slaughter, that the
White Company was ready for its journey. Loud shrieked the
brazen bugles from keep and from gateway, and merry was the
rattle of the war-drum, as the men gathered in the outer bailey,
with torches to light them, for the morn had not yet broken.
Alleyne, from the window of the armory, looked down upon the
strange scene--the circles of yellow flickering light, the lines
of stern and bearded faces, the quick shimmer of arms, and the
lean heads of the horses. In front stood the bow-men, ten deep,
with a fringe of under-officers, who paced hither and thither
marshalling the ranks with curt precept or short rebuke. Behind
were the little clump of steel-clad horsemen, their lances
raised, with long pensils drooping down the oaken shafts. So
silent and still were they, that they might have been
metal-sheathed statues, were it not for the occasional quick,
impatient stamp of their chargers, or the rattle of chamfron
against neck-plates as they tossed and strained.
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