In the Wars of the Roses: A Story for the Young

by Evelyn Everett-Green

  Chapter 9: The Tragedy Of Tewkesbury

  How the battle of Tewkesbury was lost and won is too well known toneed description in detail here. Whether the Lancastrian army couldhave held the field before the Yorkist veterans had they beenskilfully generalled will never now be known; but the fiery andimpetuous Duke of Somerset, whose ill-judged ardour had forced thebattle upon his followers, undoubtedly lost the day for them by hisintemperate and reckless disregard of the dictates of commonprudence. After opening the fight by a discharge of ordnance, hewas mad enough to leave his intrenched position on the Home Ground,and carry his men into the open for a charge upon the opposingarmy. Here they were not only confronted by Edward's compact army,but were taken in the flank and rear by a company of spearmen whohad been told off to guard against a possible ambush in a littlewood; which, however, the hot-headed Somerset had never thought toplace.

  Thrown into confusion, the Lancastrians were routed, and confusionwas rendered worse confounded by another impetuous act on the partof the fiery young duke. As he and his flying soldiers fell backupon the town of Tewkesbury, and reached the market place, theyfound Lord Wenlock and his men sitting idle and motionless there,as if there was no work for them to do.

  The reason for this extraordinary apathy on the part of one of theleaders will never now be known. It was the curse of the strife ofthe Roses that treachery and a change of sides was alwayssuspected, and too often with good cause, between men who had beenfriends and allies heretofore. The Duke of Somerset at onceconcluded that Lord Wenlock had turned traitor to the cause, andriding furiously up to him as he sat, he dashed out his brains withhis battle-axe, without so much as pausing to ask a singlequestion.

  The followers of both leaders who saw the deed were struck with newterror. With loud cries of "Treason, treason!" they threw downtheir arms and fled they knew not whither, and the retreat became aconfused rout, in which the thought of each man was to save his ownlife.

  Such, in brief, was the deplorable story of the battle ofTewkesbury. But we are concerned less with the main course of thefortunes of the day than with the individual adventures of certainpersons concerned, who, if isolated acts of gallantry and devotioncould have saved the day, would have turned the fortunes of eventhe fatal field of Tewkesbury.

  The prince was stationed in the main body of the army, under thecare, as was supposed by his anxious mother, of the military Priorof St. John's Longstruther. And by his side was his faithfulshadow, Paul, whose solemn purpose that day was to keep beside theprince throughout the course of the battle, and shield him fromharm even at the cost of his own life. Some strange foreboding hadfallen upon Paul, and he scarce expected to see the light ofanother day; but this presentiment of coming ill he bravely hidfrom his companion, and the two rode into the ranks with smilingfaces, and looked across at the opposing lines of the enemy with asteadfast and lofty courage. Then the prince turned to hiscompanion.

  "Our first battle, good Paul; for though as a child I saw fighting,I never took part in it before. I am glad that we ride side by sidethis day. Let us show our loyal people, whatever be the fortunes ofthe field, that Englishmen can strike hard blows, and that theynever turn their backs upon the foe. If we ride not to victory,Paul, let us ride to death with a courage that shall not disgracethe kingly blood that both of us can boast in some measure."

  Then they looked to their weapons, and sat very silent, waitingwhat would befall.

  Perhaps those that take part in a fierce fight know less about thedetails than any others. Paul was presently aware that he and themen about him, the prince still at his side, were charging down thelittle eminence upon which they had been posted, straight at theserried ranks of the Yorkist army, which kept its position, andawaited their coming with cool intrepidity. Paul had not time tothink or reason, or he would surely have wondered at the rashnessof quitting an advantageous position, and putting themselves tosuch disadvantage before the foe. All he knew was that the duke'scompany had moved first, and had charged upon the enemy, and thattheir military monk had given the word to follow and support theirfriends; which was done without a moment's hesitation, whether themovement were, strategically speaking, right or wrong.

  And then, all in a moment as it seemed, the prince and his comradefound themselves in a fierce melee, in which for a while they couldscarce move hand or foot, jammed in by the press of men and steeds,but surrounded by friends and comrades, who were eagerly pressingforward toward the foe. Cries and shouts rent the air, mingledsometimes with the shriek or groan which told that a well-directedblow had gone home to its mark. The press became denser, and thenless dense; some riderless horses from the front rank came tearingback through the crush, forcing their way in a sort of mad terror;and Edward, snatching his battle-axe from its resting place acrosshis saddle bow, swung it over his head, and shouted to hiscompanion:

  "Follow me, Paul! yonder lies the foe. I will strike a blow for myfather's liberty and crown this day, whether I live or die."

  The way was open now, and Paul saw plainly that they were close tothe ranks of the foe. But there was no drawing back, even had hewished it; his blood was up now, and not even fear for the possibleperil of the prince could withhold him from the charge. He knew notwhether the person of the prince was known, and whether youngEdward ran any especial danger in thus flinging himself upon theenemy. But it was no longer his place to think--the moment foraction had arrived; and following Edward's example, he dashed intothe thick of the fray, the impetuosity and fury of his chargebearing down all before him, and hewing down man and horse as heclave a passage through the ranks for the prince, who closelyfollowed.

  They were not alone. A gallant little company was following intheir track, and with cries of "An Edward, an Edward, a Prince ofWales!" smote down the rival warriors with a fury which for themoment nothing could withstand. There is surely something magneticin a war cry or in a patriotic song, for it inspires those who useit with an ardour and a strength which for the moment seeminvincible.

  To Paul and the prince it seemed as if the day were all but won.Wherever they turned they dealt death and destruction. The wing ofthe army upon which they charged was wavering and disorganized; theinfantry recoiled before the fierce charge of the horsemen, and theopposing cavalry was mostly in another part of the field.

  "Victory, victory!" shouted those about Paul and the prince; and tothe enthusiastic and excited lads it seemed as if the day wasalready theirs. The name of the Prince of Wales was in all mouths.It was shouted by each soldier as he fell upon his foe, and theenemy appeared to recoil before it. Onward and ever onward pressedthe eager little band, until it was entirely separated from themain body of the army; and so certain were all who took part inthat isolated skirmish that the fortunes of the day were with theHouse of Lancaster, that the peril of their position struck none ofthe prince's followers till, thinned by the blows of theiradversaries, and weary with the impetuosity of their own charge,they paused and drew together; whilst the foe, glad of a moment'sbreathing space, did not molest them.

  There are pauses even on the battlefield when a few words can beexchanged, and the prince, flushed with the foretaste (as it seemedto him) of a glorious victory, turned to Paul with kindling eyes.

  "War is a glorious game in all truth, Paul. I would not have beenelsewhere for all the world. But you bleed--you are wounded. Tellme where. I knew not that you were hurt. You must ride back to thetown and be tended there."

  "Nay, it is nought; I do not even feel it. I know not who struckme, nor when. I will bind this scarf about my arm, and all will bewell. And think you not, my liege, that it were well to return tothe lines ourselves? I promised your royal mother and the Lady Annethat you should not adventure yourself too much today within theenemy's lines. But all such charge passed from my memory in theheat of the fight."

  "Ay, and my place was here, in the midst of my good soldiers. Oh,it has been a glorious day! 'Lancaster will remember it ever. Andsee, Paul--see how they fly on yonder height! See how th
e battlerages and becomes a flight! It is the same everywhere. The Red Rosetriumphs. Proud York is forced to fly. Shall we join them, and leadagain to victory? They are chasing them to the very walls of thetown."

  Paul looked in the direction indicated, and a change came over hisface. He had the wonderful long, keen sight which often comes tothose who have grown up in the open air, and have been used fromchildhood to the exercise of hunting and hawking. The prince sawonly the flying rout, which he concluded to be the soldiers ofYork; but Paul could distinguish more. He could see the colours,and the badges they wore, and he recognized with a sinking heartthe terrible fact that it was the followers of the Red Rose whowere flying before the mailed warriors of Edward of York.

  The change in his countenance did not escape young Edward's keeneye, and he at once divined the cause, The bright flush faded fromhis own face, and his gaze was turned in the same direction again.

  Alas! it was but too plain now; for the rout was plainly in thedirection of the town, and it was easy to understand that had itbeen the Yorkists who had fled they would have taken an oppositedirection, in order to reach their own lines.

  For a moment prince and subject sat spellbound, watching thatterrible sight in deep silence. But then the peril of their ownposition, and the deadly danger that menaced the prince if thesituation should be realized by their foes surrounding them here,flashed across Paul like a vivid and terrible lightning gleam.

  He turned and laid his hand upon the shoulder of the prince.

  "My liege," he said, "we may not linger here. We must regain ourcomrades, and see if we may rally them yet. All may not be lost,but it were madness to remain here. Let me call our followerstogether, and we will charge back through the foe to our own lines.It is not safe to be here."

  Edward made no reply. The face that had been flushed with victoryand bright with hope was now set in those stern lines which seem tospeak of a forlorn hope. He saw their peril as clearly as Paul; butif the day were lost, what mattered it if his life were yet wholein him? The face he silently turned upon his companion seemed tohave grown years older whilst he had been speaking.

  And to make matters worse, the knowledge of the disaster to theirown side spread to the soldiers who had followed the prince, andthat instant demoralization which so often accompanies andaggravates defeat seized upon the men. They flung away theirheavier arms, and with a shout of "Treason, treason!"--for theywere assured there had been foul play somewhere--fled each man byhimself, without a thought for aught save his own life.

  Paul and the prince thus found themselves alone in the midst of ahostile host--alone save for the presence of some half-dozen stouttroopers attached to the service of Paul, who since his advance inworldly prosperity had been in a position to engage and retain theservices of some men-at-arms of his own. These faithful fellows,who had learned to love their young master, sat doggedly in theirsaddles, prepared to sell their lives dear, and to carry off ifpossible their master and the prince living from the field. Butthey, too, realized how desperate was the situation; and thethreatening and triumphant glances of their enemies, who now beganto close up round them, showed that others had realized that thebattle was already won by the Yorkist faction.

  "King Edward, King Edward!" shouted the fierce soldiers as theygrasped their weapons anew. "Down with the Red Rose! Down with allfalse princes! Down with the traitors who would disturb the peaceof the land! King Edward, King Edward!"

  The prince looked at Paul, and Paul looked at the prince. The samethought was in the minds of both.

  "We will at least sell our lives dear," said young Edward in lowtones. "My trusty comrade, your loyalty to the Red Rose has beenbut a sorry thing for you. I would I could have rewarded you withsuch honours as a prince has to give; but--"

  "It is honour enough for me, my liege, to die at your side--to die,if it may be, in saving your life," said Paul. "Talk not so, Ibeseech you. The happiness of my life has been in calling myselfyour servant. It will be a happy death that is died at your side."

  "Not servant--comrade, friend, brother," said Ed ward, holding outhis hand once again, with a look that Paul never forgot. "No more,Paul. I must play the man; and such words go deep, and bring thetears to mine eyes. Paul, there are strange chances in battle, andit may be that you will live through it, and that I may be slain:If such be so, tell my mother and my wife (for she is that to me,as I am her husband in love) that I died as a prince of the Houseof Plantagenet should do--sword in hand and face to the foe. Tellmy mother that such a death is better than an inglorious life ofexile, and bid her not weep for me. There is yet another world thanthis in which we shall meet, where the strife of war is not heardand the malice of foes pursues us not. Let her look forward to ourmeeting there. It were a better prospect, in all truth, than anearthly crown, which methinks sits heavy on the head of him thatwears it."

  Paul said nothing, for he could not trust himself to speak, andindeed the brief respite was at an end. With loud and threateningcries the foe was closing round the devoted little band, and fromthe other side of the field he could see that a knot of horsemenwere galloping in their direction, as though they had got some newsof the presence of the prince.

  Wounded as he was, and spent from having borne the brunt of thatfirst gallant charge, Paul yet set his teeth and nerved himself fora last desperate rally. If they could cut their way through theranks of the foes and gain the town, they might be safe at leastfor the moment; and that was the object of himself and hisservants. Placing the reluctant prince in the midst, so as ifpossible to save at least him from steel or lead, the gallantlittle band with axes and pikes commenced hewing its way throughthe living wall which surrounded it. And so gallantly did the goodsteeds respond to the urging of their riders, and so fierce werethe blows that rained down upon the heads of the footmen who barredtheir passage, that for a moment it seemed as if they would yet wintheir way back, and gain the protection of such of their comradesas had not shared in the general rout.

  But alas! though the footmen gave way before them, the mountedsoldiers, who were speeding across the field, saw at once the linethey were taking, and galloped headlong to intercept them. Paul, inthe fury of his hot young blood, dashed forward alone, and fellupon the foremost with so fierce a blow that his axe was wedged inthe head-piece of his opponent, so that he was unable to draw itout. The man reeled in his saddle and fell, almost dragging Paul,who still had hold of the axe, with him; and before he couldrecover himself or draw his sword, he was set upon by half a scoremounted riders.

  For one moment he was aware of merciless blows raining down uponhim, battering him to the earth; he felt suffocated, crushed, moreutterly helpless and powerless than he had ever done in his lifebefore. Quick thrills of pain were running through him, starsdanced before his eyes; and through all this confusion anddistress he was yet aware of some terrible danger menacing theprince--danger from which he had sworn to save him at the risk ofhis own life. He struggled fiercely and blindly with the foes whoseemed to be above and about him, knocking the wind from his body,and holding his throat in an iron clasp. Consciousness was fastdeserting him. The dancing stars had disappeared, leaving theblackest darkness behind them. He made one frantic effort to breakthe chain which seemed to be grinding his very life out of him, andthen followed a space of blankness that must surely have been likedeath itself.

  It might have been minutes, hours, days, or even years beforePaul opened his eyes to the light of day once more, for allconsciousness he had of the flight of time; but when he did so itwas to meet the solicitous glance of a pair of friendly eyes, andto feel himself supported by strong arms, whilst some potent spiritwas held to his lips, which, when he had drunk of it, seemed todrive away the mists and give him back his senses again.

  He looked round him, and found himself lying upon a bloody field,dead and wounded strewn about him. He was upheld by the arm of oneof his own stout servants; and no one else save a few wounded menor dead corpses was near. In a flash it all came back--the fight
,the supposed victory, the disastrous defeat; and he groaned aloud,and struggled to regain his feet.

  "The prince!" he cried, in tones sharpened by physical and mentalanguish, "the prince!--where is he?"

  "He is a prisoner; but he is unhurt. A gallant knight took him. Hisname, I learned from one of his men-at-arms, is Sir Richard Crofts;and he called out to his men, after you were down, that he wouldhave no hurt done to the prince. He was to be taken prisoner andbrought to the king--so he called him; and he had given out byproclamation that whoever brought to him the prince, alive or dead,should have a hundred pounds a year; and that the life of theprince should be spared. This I learned from the man-at-arms whostayed behind with me a while, to bind up a wound you had givenhim, and to help me to unlace your helmet, which was going nigh tochoke you as you lay.

  "Fear not for the prince, good master. His life is safe; anddoubtless his noble aspect will win him favour with him they nowcall king.

  "Nay, why do you struggle with me? you can scarce stand yet.Whither would you go? Let me catch some riderless steed and carryyou to the town. Methinks the leaders have taken sanctuary with thequeen in the church. You had better join them there."

  "Ay, get me a horse," said Paul, with faint but vehement command;and he leaned heavily upon his sword as his servant departed to dohis bidding.

  Battered, sore wounded as he felt himself to be, instinct told himthat he could act now as it would be impossible to do later, whenhis wounds began to stiffen and his muscles to refuse to obey hiswill. No bones were broken. He could still keep his feet and usehis arms; and when the faithful servant brought up a horse andhelped his master to mount, Paul felt that giddy and weak andsuffering as he was, he could yet make shift to ride as far as itwould be needful to do. The royal pennon floating over a certaintent not so very far away told him that his goal might yet bereached before his strength deserted him. The fiery spirit of whichhe again partook gave him temporary power. He scarce knew what hewished to do, save that he must stand beside his prince when he wasbrought to Edward's presence, and if harm befell him there, shareit with him, as he had shared his peril that fatal day.

  "Save yourself, good Adam," he said to his servant when he was oncemounted; "I am going to follow the prince. But come not near theenemy's lines yourself, lest mischief befall you."

  And before the astonished servant could speak a word ofremonstrance, Paul had set spurs to his horse and had galloped offin the direction of the enemy's camp.

  Within the lines there was the confusion incident to a battle, andno one heeded the battered rider, who, his helmet left behind andhis mail dinted and disfigured by the hard blows it had received,had nothing about him to show to which army he belonged. Soldierswere leaning on their swords and eagerly discussing the fortunes ofthe day; and round and about Edward's royal tent a dense crowd hadgathered, out of curiosity, it was said--and Paul heard thewords--to see what manner of reception would be met at themonarch's hands by the youthful Edward, called "Prince," who hadbeen brought into the lines by Sir Richard Crofts.

  The proclamation respecting him was widely known throughout thecamp, and it was said on all hands that the life of the princewould be safe; but whether he would share his father's captivity orbe banished the kingdom with his French mother were points no onecould answer.

  And Paul rode silently and swiftly by, glad that no one heeded himor challenged him to give an account of himself.

  Dismounting at last as he reached the outskirts of the crowd, andturning his horse loose to find its own master if it could, Paulwas about to push his way into the eager knot of spectators, when ahand was laid upon his arm; and turning suddenly, he found himselfconfronted by a delicate page boy, whose white face and dilatedeyes seemed to bespeak the extreme of emotion and distress. Beforehe had time to speak or to ask a question, the page addressed him;and as soon as the voice smote upon his ears Paul started andturned even paler than he had been; for he had heard those musicaltones before, and in the fair page before him he recognized, to hishorror and dismay, the gentle Lady Anne--young Edward'sbride--here, alone and unprotected, in the heart of the foe's camp.

  She saw that she was recognized, and laid her hand upon her lips intoken of silence. Paul choked back the words that were upon histongue, and looked at her in mute amaze.

  "I could not keep away," she whispered, "when they told me all waslost and he had not returned. It was the only way. No one hasheeded me in the tumult and strife. I heard all. I heard he wasprisoner--that he was to be brought before Edward of York. Paul, Iknew that you would be near him. I knew, if living, I should findyou. See, they heed us not. They care not whether we be friends orfoes. Take me through the crowd; take me to him. I am safe withyou. Let us all die together."

  Paul, utterly bewildered and astonished by this extraordinarymeeting, could only obey in silence. It was all like some hideous,oppressive dream. Little by little he and his companion made theirway through the throng until they reached the line of armedsentries who kept their stations outside the royal tent. Here theywould have had to pause, had not Paul made a step forward and saidboldly:

  "I am the servant squire of the prisoner, and I claim the right tostand at his side and share his fate, whatever it may be. Let meand this lad, I pray you, go to him. We desire nothing better thanto lay down our lives with him."

  The sentries eyed the pair doubtfully. Their unarmed condition andPaul's visibly battered state told that these were no dangerousconspirators; and devotion to a lost cause always stirs thegenerous feelings of brave men. It may, however, be doubted whetherthe pair would have gained their wish had it not been for the factthat at this moment Edward himself appeared, disarmed, butotherwise treated with due honour and courtesy, attended by hiscaptor, who was leading him to the king's tent in obedience to asummons just received.

  The moment that she saw her betrothed husband, no power on earthwould have been strong enough to hold back the fair-faced page,under whose boyish dress a faithful woman's heart was beating. Thedisguised maiden sprang forward and sank at the feet of hersupposed master, seizing his hand and covering it with kisses asshe tenderly murmured his name.

  Edward instantly recognized her--Paul saw that at once; but theshock of the discovery steadied his nerves, as he realized theperil in which she had placed herself, and he looked round for onewho might save her when he himself might be powerless to do so. Itwas at that moment--as the crowd stood speechless, touched andperplexed by the little scene, and reluctant to rough-handle sofair a boy, and one whose devotion was so bravely displayed--thatPaul took occasion to step forward and present himself beforeEdward.

  A look of relief instantly crossed the prince's face.

  "I might have known that you would have been here--ever nearest inthe hour of deadliest peril. Paul, whatever befalls me, take careof him." Low as the words were spoken, the prince dared not use theother pronoun. "Keep him safe. Take him to my mother; she willprotect him from the menaced peril."

  "I will, my liege, I will," said Paul; and it was he who raised theform of the trembling page, and together the three were pushed notungently into the royal presence--Sir Richard being a man of kindlynature, and having been touched by the devotion evinced by thesetwo youths (as he supposed them) in braving the dangers of the campin order to be with their prince when he was called upon to answerfor his life before the offended monarch.

  Edward was standing in his tent, surrounded by his nobles,brothers, and his wife's kinsmen, as the young Plantagenet princewas brought before him. Perhaps England hardly possessed a finerman than its present king, who was taller by the head than almostany of those who stood round him, his dress of mail adding to thedignity of his mien, and his handsome but deeply-lined features,now set in stern displeasure, showing at once the indications of anunusual beauty and a proud and relentless nature.

  The youthful Edward was brought a few paces forward by theattendants; whilst Paul stood in the background, longing to bebeside his prince, but obliged to support the trembling
form ofAnne, who had been his liege's last charge to him.

  "Is this the stripling they falsely call the Prince of Wales?"quoth Edward, stepping one pace nearer and regarding the noble ladwith haughty displeasure. "How dost thou dare to come thuspresumptuously to my realms with banners displayed against me?"

  "To recover my father's kingdom and mine own inheritance," was thebold but unhesitating answer of the kingly youth, who, fettered andprisoner as he was, had all the fearless Plantagenet blood runningin his veins.

  The eagle eye of Edward flashed ominously, and making one more steptoward his unarmed prisoner, he struck him in the face with hisiron gauntlet. In a moment a dozen swords flashed from theirscabbards. It seemed as if the bloodthirsty nobles awaited but thissignal for the ruthless attack upon the deposed monarch's son whichhas left so dark a stain upon one page of history.

  Paul, all unarmed as he was, would have sprung forward to die withhis prince, but was impeded by the senseless burden now lying adead weight in his arms. At the king's blow the page had uttered afaint cry; and as the first of those murderous weapons were plungedin the breast of her youthful lover, she fell to the earth like astone, or would have done, but that Paul flung his arm about her,and she lay senseless on his breast.

  For one awful moment the blackness returned upon him and swallowedhim up, and he knew not what terrible thing had happened; but whena loud voice proclaimed the fact that the prince had ceased tolive, a wild fury fell upon Paul, and he started to his feet torevenge that death by plunging his dagger into the breast of thehaughty monarch as he stood there, calm and smiling, in histerrible wrath and power.

  Had Paul attempted to carry out this wild act, a fateful murderwould have been enacted in the tent that day; but even as hereleased himself from the clinging clasp of Anne's unconsciousarms, there came to him the memory of those last words spoken byhis beloved prince. The young bride must be his first care. Shemust be carried to safe sanctuary; that done, he would stand forthto revenge his lord's death. But the prince's charge must befulfilled.

  Lifting the unconscious form in his arms, he walked unchallengedfrom the tent. The deed now done sent a thrill of horror throughthe camp, and men looked into each other's eyes, and were ashamedthat they had stood by to see it.

  Not an attempt was made to oppose the passage of the faithfulattendant, who carried in his arms the page boy, who had stood byhis master to the last. Room was made for them to pass through thecrowd; and staggering blindly along, Paul reached a spot where, tohis astonishment and relief, his own servant was waiting for himwith a horse ready caparisoned.

  "To the church, to the church," he whispered as Paul mountedmechanically, holding his still unconscious burden in his arms.

  And he made a mute sign of assent; for he knew that within thewalls of the church he should find the wretched Margaret, who wouldhave taken sanctuary there at first tidings of defeat.

  Silently, and as in a dream, the horsemen passed along, and at lastdrew rein at the door of the little church, where stood a priestwith the Host in his hand, ready, if need be, to stand betwixt thehelpless victims of the battle and their fierce pursuers.

  He knew Paul's face, he recognized that of the inanimate form hecarried in his arms, and he made way for him to pass with a mutesign of blessing.

  Paul passed in. There beside the altar he saw the queen, bowed downby the magnitude of her woe, for she had just heard the firstrumour of that terrible tragedy.

  As he approached someone spoke to her, and she turned, rose, andcame swiftly forward.

  "Paul," she said, "Paul--tell me--is it true?"

  Paul looked at her with dim eyes.

  "I have brought you his wife," he said. "It was his last charge.Now I am going back. They have killed him; let them kill me, too."

  He placed his helpless burden in the queen's arms, turned, and madea few uncertain steps, and then fell down helplessly. He hadfulfilled his life's purpose in living for the prince; but it wasnot given to him to die uselessly for him, too.