Chapter 3

The sands are number'd, that make up my life;
Here must I stay, and here my life must end.
HENRY VI. ACT. I. SCENE IV.

When Raymond Berenger had despatched his mission to the Prince of
Powys, he was not unsuspicious, though altogether fearless, of the
result. He sent messengers to the several dependants who held
their fiefs by the tenure of _cornage_, and warned them to be
on the alert, that he might receive instant notice of the approach
of the enemy. These vassals, as is well known, occupied the
numerous towers, which, like so many falcon-nests, had been built
on the points most convenient to defend the frontiers, and were
bound to give signal of any incursion of the Welsh, by blowing
their horns; which sounds, answered from tower to tower, and from
station to station, gave the alarm for general defence. But
although Raymond considered these precautions as necessary, from
the fickle and precarious temper of his neighbours, and for
maintaining his own credit as a soldier, he was far from believing
the danger to be imminent; for the preparations of the Welsh;
though on a much more extensive scale than had lately been usual,
were as secret, as their resolution of war had been suddenly
adopted.

It was upon the second morning after the memorable festival of
Castell-Coch, that the tempest broke on the Norman frontier. At
first a single, long, and keen bugle-blast, announced the approach
of the enemy; presently the signals of alarm were echoed from
every castle and tower on the borders of Shropshire, where every
place of habitation was then a fortress. Beacons were lighted upon
crags and eminences, the bells were rung backward in the churches
and towns, while the general and earnest summons to arms announced
an extremity of danger which even the inhabitants of that
unsettled country had not hitherto experienced.

Amid this general alarm, Raymond Berenger, having busied himself
in arranging his few but gallant followers and adherents, and
taken such modes of procuring intelligence of the enemy's strength
and motions as were in his power, at length ascended the watch-
tower of the castle, to observe in person the country around,
already obscured in several places by the clouds of smoke, which
announced the progress and the ravages of the invaders. He was
speedily joined by his favourite squire, to whom the unusual
heaviness of his master's looks was cause of much surprise, for
till now they had ever been blithest at the hour of battle. The
squire held in his hand his master's helmet, for Sir Raymond was
all armed, saving the head.

"Dennis Morolt," said the veteran soldier, "are our vassals and
liegemen all mustered?"

"All, noble sir, but