CHAPTER XXIVTHE HOMECOMING
AFTER four days of light but favourable winds the little fleet, consisting of seven vessels, that bore the Hampshire men homewards arrived off the Isle of Wight. Battle and disease had thinned their ranks, but the survivors returned in high spirits, flushed with victory and rich with the loads of spoil that lay in the holds.
At Spithead the flotilla separated, Sir John Hacket's two ships making for Portsmouth Harbour, three heading for Southampton, and the remaining two setting a course down the Solent for Lepe and Lymington respectively. Amid a fanfare of trumpets and the farewell shouts of the troops to their former companions in arms, the Constable's vessels pointed to the north-west in the direction of the even lines of Portsdown, under the shadow of which lay the Castle of Portchester.
The shields of the three knights were displayed over the side of the leading ship, while from her truck floated the blue banner with the device of the crescent and star, and on the poop were gathered Sir John Hacket, Sir Reginald Scarsdale, and Sir Raymond Revyngton, engaged in joyous conversation at the prospect of a speedy landing on their native soil.
"And what dost thou purpose to do, Raymond?" inquired the Constable. "Surely there is little need to hasten westwards to thy newly-gained estates; 'twould be better far to wait the return of the Devonshire men. Tarry awhile at Portchester, for methinks there is much to be done here before setting out on thy travels. And thou, Sir Reginald? Wilt accept such hospitality that my poor castle can offer?"
"I must first seek out my daughter Audrey," quoth Sir Reginald. "And I have but little doubt that Raymond will bear me company."
"Doth she know of thy return?"
"Nay, and I'll warrant the maid will be taken aback when we arrive at the town of Farnham."
A strange smile flitted over Sir John's face.
"Well, Raymond, what are thy plans?"
"I bear Sir Reginald company; then, having won or lost my suit, I will return to the castle, Sir John. For there are several small matters I must give attention to at Hamble and at the Abbey of Netley, without which I cannot go to Churston."
The vessel was now slipping through the water with a fair wind and favouring tide, and already the low-lying island of Portsea lay abeam, and the Castle of Portchester was momentarily growing more distinct.
"By St. George, they expect us!" exclaimed Raymond excitedly. "See, thy banner floats above the keep, and the walls are thick with people. And the garlands over the water-gate! Of a surety they were not placed there at an hour's notice."
"Now that I bethink me," remarked Sir John drily, "I did send a messenger to Winchelsea, so perchance he hath taken a horse and ridden hot-foot to Portchester."
For awhile they watched in silence the grey outlines of the castle topped with its living fringe. The master-shipman gave an order, and the long yard, with its bellying sail, sank from the masthead; and the vessel, carried onward by its momentum and the rush of the tide, came abreast of the fortress. Another order, and the anchor with its hempen cable fell with a sudden plunge into the water; the ship snubbed at the tautened rope, swung round and brought up, riding easily to wind and tide. The voyage was over.
"See, Raymond," suddenly exclaimed Sir Reginald, "thine eyes are younger than mine, yet if I mistake not.... There, to the right of the water-gate!"
"Ay, the saints be praised. 'Tis the Lady Audrey!"
A small boat, manned by men wearing the Constable's livery, was quickly alongside, and Sir John and Sir Reginald stepped aboard, Raymond following with unknightly haste. Amidst the shouts of the excited throng of soldiers and villagers the boat's fore-foot grated on the shingle, and the three distinguished warriors again set foot on their native land.
"See, Audrey," said her father, after the paternal salute had been given and returned, "I bring thee an old acquaintance—not the squire, Raymond Buckland, who saved they life at Southampton, but the gallant and worthy knight, Sir Raymond Revyngton."
* * * * *
Within a week a wedding was celebrated in the little chapel of St. Mary within the castle walls, and Sir Raymond Revyngton and the Lady Audrey Scarsdale were made man and wife. After the ceremony the kindly Constable congratulated the bride, and it must be confessed that the bridegroom's eyes were opened by Lady Audrey Revyngton's reply.
"To thee, Sir John, I owe much of my happiness, for Raymond was ever a bashful lover. An he were but a simple squire I would have married him, but when thou toldest me that he had been made a knight I was filled with joy. And for thy kindly thought in sending a special messenger to bring me hither to await your arrival I deem myself ever indebted to thee!"
"Nay, thank me not, fair lady," replied the gallant old warrior. "Is it not the bounden duty of a true knight to help another? For Raymond, though ever first in the field of war, hath been a laggard in the lists of love. Yet I am but a feeble instrument in this case, for against thy charms he would be powerless but in my heart I thank God for the part I played in bringing together two noble families estranged by a fatal feud."
* * * * *
Little remains to be told. Sir Reginald Scarsdale, in spite of his old age and infirmities, died as he wished, falling in defence of the Border against a band of Scottish raiders, and in a quiet Yorkshire church he rests, his altar-tomb showing his effigy with the lions at his feet, making a fitting addition to the four crossed-legged images of his crusading ancestors.
Sir John Hacket, after seeing further service in France, acquiring additional glory and renown at Poictiers, died peacefully at a great age within sight of the castle whose Constableship he had held so worthily.
And as for Sir Raymond and the fair Lady Audrey, they lived a life of unalloyed happiness in their manor of Churston, in the midst of the hills of Devon. Yet when the call to arms sounded, the redoubtable Sir Raymond did not shrink from its summons, and at Poictiers and at the slaughter of Najera in the wilds of Spain he added to his laurels. And does not the prowess of the head of the Revyngtons at the repulse of the French descent upon Dartmouth in 1377 still linger amongst the annals of the sons of Devon?
From the union of the rival Revyngton and Scarsdale families descended the successors of a noble heritage—men courageous and generous in war, noble and law-abiding in peace, men whose names have helped to make the British Empire what it is to-day, and whose motto has been, and let us hope will ever be—
"Non sibi, sed patriae."
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THE END
Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & Co. Edinburgh & London