by G. A. Henty
“He infects the lay brothers, with his talk,” he said. “He is a good instructor in arms, but he teaches not as one who feels that it is a dire necessity to carry arms, but as one who delights in it. Moreover, he causes scandals by his drinking bouts, and does not add to the harmony of the place. At a time like this, when the Scots may, at any moment, fall across the border, such a fellow may do good service to his country; and it is surely better that a man should be a good soldier, than that he should be a bad monk. Therefore I will let him go, my lord; but keep him away from here. It would be a grave scandal, were he to be brawling in the town where he is known. Therefore, I pray you, take him elsewhere. I have striven long to make him a worthy member of his order, but I feel that it is beyond me; and it would be best, therefore, that he should go his own way. He may come to be a worthy soldier, and so justify me in allowing him to unfrock himself.
“As he is abiding in your castle, I pray you bid him present himself here, tomorrow. I would fain speak to him, and give him such advice, concerning his future conduct, as may be of benefit to him.”
When Roger returned from the monastery, the next day, he wore a much more serious face than usual.
“The abbot has done me more good, by his talk this morning,” he said to Oswald, “than by all the lectures and penances he has ever imposed on me. In truth, he is a good man, and I had half a mind to say that I would return to the convent, and do my best to comport myself mildly and becomingly.
“But I felt that it would not do, Oswald. The thing is too strong for me and, however I might strive, I know that when the temptation came I should break out again; and so, I held my peace.”
“What did he say to you, Roger?”
“He said many things, but the gist of it was that there were as good men outside the walls of a monastery as there were within it, and that a soldier has as many opportunities—indeed many more opportunities—of showing himself a good man as a monk has. In battle, he said, a soldier must act as such, and fight stoutly against the enemy, and take life as well as risk his own; but after the fight is over he should show himself merciful, and if he cannot follow out the precept to love his enemies, he should at least be compassionate and kind to them. But above all, he should never oppress the helpless, should comport himself honourably and kindly to women and children, and, if necessary, draw sword in their defence against those who would ill use them. And, though the spoils of war were honourable and necessary, when captured in fair fight, yet the oppression and robbery of the poor were deadly crimes.
“‘Comport yourself always, Roger, as if, though a soldier in arms, you were still a monk at heart. You are brave and strong, and may rise to some honour; but, whether or no, you may bear yourself as if you were of gentle blood, and wore knightly spurs. Not all who are so are honourable and merciful, as they have vowed to be. Remember, I shall hear of you from time to time, through my Lord Percy; and that it will gladden me to have a good account of you, and to feel that I have not done wrong in letting you go forth, from this house of rest, to take part in the turmoil and strife of the world.’
“He said more than this, but this is the pith of it. I knelt down, and swore that I would strive, to the utmost in my power, to do as he bade me; and he put his hands on my head, and bade me go in peace; and I tell you, I mean to prove to him that his words have not been in vain.”
Two days later, Oswald started with Roger, and rode to Warkworth Castle, some ten miles away; bearing an order to the governor to add Roger to the strength of the garrison, telling him that he had shown himself to be a brave soldier, and a skilful one, and that he could place confidence in him, and appoint him to any sub-command that might become vacant.
On the way, they entered a wood. Here Roger took off his monastic garb, and clad himself in armour such as was worn by the garrison of Alnwick. The monk’s clothes were made up into a bundle, and left in the wood, Oswald saying:
“I will carry them back with me, on my return, Roger. It may be that they may come in useful, yet, if you and I travel together again in the Percys’ service.”
A month passed, and then the Earl of March came, by sea, to Alnwick. Douglas and the regent had marched against him with an overwhelming force; and, as they were both personal enemies, he knew that his fate would be sealed if he fell into their hands, and he had therefore been driven to declare himself, openly, as a vassal of the English king.
On the day after his arrival he happened to be in Hotspur’s room, when Oswald entered.
“Ah! ah!” he said, “This is your messenger, Percy.
“You left me with scant notice, sir.”
And he smiled.
“I was forced to do so, my lord earl; for, in truth, I was not sure that you would not prevent me from following my lord’s orders, to return after seeing you.”
“You were right. In the first place, I was not sure that you were a true messenger; and in the second place, I feared that you might, on return, fall into the hands of the Douglases; who would speedily find means to wring from you an account of your mission. Therefore, I thought that it were best that you should tarry a while with me, at Dunbar.
“The young fellow has a good head, Lord Percy, and is as hard to hold as a wildcat. I put the matter of watching him into the hands of two or three of my men, whose wits I have tried more than once, and know them to be among the most trustworthy of my followers. This lad, however, outwitted them. How, they have never been able to explain; but my fellows were found, trussed up like fowls for roasting, in an alley into which they had been thrown; having, as they declared, been knocked down by a giant fellow, who sprung from they knew not where, just as they were about to lay hands upon your messenger. After they had vanished, none had seen him pass the walls, and we judged that he must have started in a craft that sailed up the Forth. Fearing that, if they landed, he might speedily fall into the hands of Douglas, I sent a vessel in chase; but they missed him, and indeed, from that time to this I knew not, save by your letter to me, whether he had reached here safely.”
After a short stay, the Earl of March was about to return to Dunbar; when he heard that the king, himself, was coming north with an army for the invasion of Scotland, and would then confer with him, and consider the terms on which he proposed to transfer his allegiance to him. A month later the king arrived at Alnwick, and there George Dunbar, Earl of March, entered into an agreement with him; in which he renounced all fealty to the King of Scotland, in consideration for which he was granted an estate in Lincolnshire, and other revenues. It was also agreed that the subjects of the King of England should support the earl, in time of necessity; and should be supported by him, and received into his fortresses.
He was not, now, in a position to render any very efficient aid to the king; for Robert Maitland, his nephew, to whom he had committed the castle of Dunbar, had been summoned by Douglas, who had marched there with a strong force, by order of the king, and had surrendered the stronghold to him. However, he brought Dunbar’s wife and family, and a considerable force of his retainers, safely across the border.
He and Percy, together, then made a raid into the Douglas territory; and penetrated as far as Haddington, and collected much spoil from the country round. Douglas, however, came suddenly upon them in great force, and they were obliged to retreat hastily across the frontier again, abandoning their baggage and booty.
The king’s invasion was no more satisfactory. The Earl of March was unable to place Dunbar in his hands; and, as the Scots declined battle in the open, he laid siege to Edinburgh, but without success. Dunbar being closed to him, he was unable to obtain provisions, and was forced to fall back to England, having accomplished nothing.
During his invasion, he had shown much more leniency than had been the custom with his predecessors. He had taken what was necessary to support the army, but had abstained from wasting the country, destroying villages and towns, and slaughtering the country people; and, so far from embittering the animosity between the two
nations, he had produced a better state of feeling; and a truce was, in consequence, concluded for a year, at Kelso, by special commissioners from both kings, on the 21st of December, 1400.
CHAPTER 8
Ludlow Castle
Oswald Forster had not been present when, in June, 1400, the king arrived at Alnwick. A few days after the coming of the Earl of March, Hotspur received a letter from Sir Edmund Mortimer, the brother of his wife; asking him to send a body of men-at-arms, under an experienced captain who could aid him to drill newly-raised levies; for that one Owen Glendower had taken up arms against the Lord Grey de Ruthyn, and that turbulent men were flocking to his standard, and it was feared that serious trouble might ensue. Percy was in a position to send but few men, for with war with the Scotch imminent, he could not weaken himself by sending off a large force. However, he sent for Alwyn Forster.
“I need twenty picked men, for the service of Sir Edmund Mortimer, Alwyn. I would send more, were it not for the position of affairs here. What say you to taking the command of them?”
“I would gladly do so, my lord, if it be that there is a chance of something more lively than drilling hinds, and turning them into men-at-arms, which has been my business for years now, without a chance of striking a blow in earnest.”
“I think that there will be a certainty of fighting, Alwyn. The Welshmen are growing troublesome again, and Sir Edmund thinks that there may be tough work, on the Welsh marches, and has written to me for aid.
“With the king coming hither, there is a chance that the Earl of March, and myself, will open the war by harrying the Douglas’s lands. I can spare no great force, but even twenty tried men-at-arms would, no doubt, be welcome. As the king is going to march into Scotland, there is no fear that there will be any serious invasion by the Scots, and therefore you can be spared for a while. I think not that any of my knights would care to go in command of so small an array, but I thought that you might like to take it.”
“I shall be right glad to do so, my lord.”
“I shall send your nephew with you. He is a shrewd and gallant young fellow, and I know he would far rather be taking part in active service, against the Welsh, than spending his time in idleness, here. He has been too long used to a life on horseback to rest contented to be cooped up in a castle. Besides, there will be a good opportunity of distinguishing himself, and of learning something of a warfare even wilder, and more savage, than that in these northern marches.”
“I should like much to have him with me, my lord. Methinks that he has the making of a right good knight; and, young as he is, I am sure that his head is better than mine, and I should not be too proud to take counsel of him, if needs be.”
“That is settled then, Alwyn. Choose your men, and set off tomorrow morning. Ralph Peyton, your lieutenant, shall take the command of the garrison until you return.”
Oswald was delighted when his uncle told him of the mission with which he was charged, and that he himself was to accompany him.
“You are to have the choice of the men-at-arms, Uncle?”
“Yes, Oswald. I know what you are going to say. You would like to have that mad monk of yours, as one of them.”
“That should I, Uncle. You have no stouter man-at-arms in all your band, and he has proved that he can be discreet when he chooses, and did me good service in my last expedition.”
“Very well, lad, we will take him. I will send one of the men over, at once, for him to join us on the road tomorrow. I shall choose young and active fellows, of whom we have plenty. I have never fought against the Welsh; but they are light footed, and agile, and their country is full of hills and swamps. The older men would do as good service here, were the castle besieged in our absence; of which, however, there is but slight chance; but for work against the Welsh, they would be of little use.”
Hotspur himself spoke to Oswald, that evening.
“Here is a missive to give to Sir Edmund Mortimer. I have commended you to him, telling him that, though young, there is not one of my squires in whom I could more implicitly trust; and that you had carried out a delicate mission for me, with rare discretion and courage. Your uncle, as an old retainer, and a good fighter, and the captain of my garrison, goes in command of the men-at-arms, and in regular fighting one could need no better officer; but in such warfare as that against the Welsh is like to be, yours will be the better head to plan, and as my squire you will represent me. I have specially commended you to him, as one always to be depended upon.”
“I am greatly beholden to your lordship,” Oswald said, “and will try to justify the commendations that you have given me.”
At daybreak on the following morning, the little party rode out from the castle. Oswald with his uncle rode in front; the former in the highest spirits, while the sturdy old soldier was himself scarce less pleased, at this change from the monotony of life in garrison.
“Years seem to have fallen off my shoulders, lad,” he said, “and I feel as young as I did when I fought at Otterburn.”
“That was a bad business, Uncle; and I trust that no such misfortune as that will befall us, this time.”
“I hope not, indeed, Oswald. It was a sore fight, and we are scarce likely to have a pitched battle with these Welsh carls. They fight not much in our fashion, as I have heard; but dash down from their hills, and carry fire and sword through a district, and are off again before a force can be gathered to strike a blow. Then there are marches to and fro among their hills, but it is like chasing a will-o’-the-wisp; and like enough, just when you think you have got them cooped up, and prepare to strike a heavy blow, they are a hundred miles away, plundering and ravaging on our side of the frontier. They are half-wild men, short in stature, and no match for us when it comes to hand-to-hand fighting; but broad in the shoulder, tireless, and active as our shaggy ponies, and well-nigh as untamable. ’Tis fighting in which there is little glory, and many hard knocks to be obtained; but it is a good school for war. It teaches a man to be ever watchful and on his guard, prepared to meet sudden attacks, patient under difficulties; and, what is harder, to be able to go without eating or drinking for a long time, for they say that you might as well expect to find corn and ale on the crest of the Grampians, as you would on the Welsh hills.”
“The prospect doesn’t look very pleasant, Uncle,” Oswald laughed. “However, their hills can scarcely be more barren than ours, nor can they be quicker on the stroke than the border raiders; and for such work, we of the northern marches have proved far more useful than the beefy men of the south.”
“No doubt, no doubt; and maybe that, for that reason, Sir Edmund prayed Hotspur to send a detachment to his aid; for he would know that we are accustomed to a country as rough, and to a foe as active as he has now to meet.
“I wonder what has stirred up the Welsh now, knowing as they do that, although they may gain successes at first, it always ends in the harrying of their lands, and the burning of their castles and villages. They have been quiet for some years. But they are always like a swarm of bees. They will work, quietly enough, till they take offence at something; then they will pour out in a fury, attacking all they come across, and caring nothing about death, so that they can but prick an enemy with their stings. Maybe it is the report that the king is engaging in another Scotch war, and they think that it is a good time to gather spoil from their neighbours. They used to be mightily given to warring among themselves, but of late I have heard but little of this.
“It is a hundred years, now, since they were really troublesome, and rose under Morgan ap Madoc; and Edward the Second had himself to reduce them to submission, and build strong castles at Conway, Beaumaris, and other places. There have been one or two partial risings, since then, but nothing of much consequence. It may well be that the present generation, who have not themselves felt the power of English arms, may have decided to make another stroke for independence; and if so, it will need more than Mortimer’s force, or that of the other border barons, to bring
them to reason; and as for our little detachment, it will be but a drop in the ocean. However, it may be that this is a mere quarrel, between Mortimer and some of his neighbours.
“I have heard somewhat of the Welshman Owen Glendower, who lives in those parts. He has a grievance against Lord Grey of Ruthyn; who, as he says, unjustly seized a small estate of his. I know that he petitioned Parliament for redress, but that his petition was lately refused.”
“’Tis strange that such a man should have known enough of English law to have made a petition to our parliament.”
“Yes; but he is no common man. He went to England and studied at our universities, and even lived in the inns of court, and learned the laws of this country. Then, strangely enough, he became an esquire in the household of King Richard, and did good service to him; and when the court was broken up, on Richard being dethroned, he went away to his estate in Wales. Since then I have not heard of him, save as to this dispute with Lord Grey and his petition to Parliament thereon; but men who were at Richard’s court have told me that he was a courteous gentleman, of excellent parts and, it was said, of much learning.”
“Such a man might be a formidable enemy,” Oswald said; “and if he has been robbed by Lord Grey, he might well head an insurrection, to recover his estates from that noble.”
In the course of their ride they were joined by Roger, who warmly thanked Alwyn for having selected him as one of his band. The other soldiers received him heartily, for the fighting monk had been a familiar personage at Alnwick, and his mighty strength and jovial disposition rendered him very popular among the soldiers of the garrison. There had been general satisfaction among them, when it was known that he had laid aside his monk’s gown, and had become one of the Percys’ men-at-arms; and there had been many expressions of regret that he had been sent off, instead of forming one of the garrison of Alnwick. Two or three of them addressed him, as usual, as monk, but he said:
“Look here, comrades, I have been a monk, and a bad one, and the less said about it the better. I am no longer a monk, but a man-at-arms; and as I am not proud of my doings as a monk, I have given up the title, as I have given up the garb. Therefore I give fair notice that whosoever, in future, shall address me as monk, will feel the weight of my arm. My name is Roger, and as Roger let me be called, henceforth.”