THE 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."
THE END
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