n a lime-tree in summer, and
whilst they talked the blue August sky became suddenly overcast. Dense
and heavy clouds hid up its face, a cold and fitful wind began to blow,
increasing presently to a gale which caused the planted standards,
blazoned with lions rampant and with fleurs-de-lis, and the pennons of a
hundred knights set here and there among the long battle lines, first to
flap and waver and then to stand out straight as though they were cut of
iron.

A word of command was called from rank to rank.

"Sheath bows!" it said, and instantly thousands of slender points were
lifted and sank again, vanishing into the leathern cases which the
archers bore.

Scarcely were these snug when the storm broke. First fell a few heavy
drops, to be followed by such a torrent that all who had cloaks were
glad to wear them. From the black clouds above leapt lightnings that
were succeeded by the deep and solemn roll of thunder. A darkness fell
upon the field so great that men wondered what it might portend, for
their minds were strained. That which at other times would have passed
without remark, now became portentous. Indeed, afterward some declared
that through it they had seen angels or demons in the air, and others
that they had heard a voice prophesying woe and death, to whom they knew
not.

"It is nothing but a harvest tempest," said Dick presently, as he shook
the wet from him like a dog and looked to the covering of his quiver.
"See, the clouds break."

As he spoke a single red ray from the westering sun shot through a
rift in the sky and lay across the English host like a sword of light,
whereof the point hung over the eastern plain. Save for this flaming
sword all else was dark, and silent also, for the rain and thunder had
died away. Only thousands of crows, frightened from the woods, wheeled
to and fro above, their black wings turning to the redness of blood as
they crossed and recrossed that splendid path of light, and their hoarse
cries filling the solemn air with clamour. The sight and sounds were
strange, nor did the thickest-headed fellow crouched upon Crecy's
fateful plain ever forget them till his dying day.

The sky cleared by slow degrees, the multitudes of crows wheeled off
toward the east and vanished, the sun shone out again in quiet glory.

"Pray God the French fight us to-day," said Hugh as he took off his
cloak and rolled it up.

"Why, master?"

"Because, Dick, it is written that the rain fall