Both Sides the Border: A Tale of Hotspur and Glendower

by G. A. Henty

  Chapter 9: The Welsh Rising.

  For a time the garrison at the castle had but little to do. Lord Greyhad taken no steps to recover the estates from which his retainers hadbeen so unceremoniously ejected. He had, indeed, marched a strong forcethrough them; but the Welsh had entirely withdrawn, and it would benecessary to keep so large a force unemployed, were he to reoccupy theland, that he abstained from taking any decisive action, prior to thereturn of the messenger whom he had despatched to inform the king ofthe forcible measures that Glendower had taken to recover the estate.It would have been no trifling step to take, to carry his arms intoWales, and so bring on a fresh struggle after so many years of peace;and he would not move in the matter, until he had the royal authority.

  Henry lost no time in replying. Glendower had been an open supporter ofRichard, and had retired from court rather than own his successor asking. He had made his complaints against Lord Grey before Parliament,and his appeal had been rejected by an overwhelming majority. Hisattack upon Lord Grey was, therefore, viewed in the light of an insultto the royal power; and, a fortnight after Oswald and his party arrivedat Sir Edmund's, a messenger arrived with a royal order, to all baronsholding castles on the border, to proclaim Owen Glendower an outlaw,and to take all measures necessary to capture him.

  Sir Edmund shook his head, as he read the proclamation, copies of whichwere to be fixed to the castle gate, and in other conspicuous places.

  "Lord Grey has stirred up a fire that it will be difficult toextinguish. It were as wise to kick over a hive of bees, when naked tothe waist, as to set Wales in a ferment again. Had this proclamationbeen sent to me, only, I would have taken it upon myself to hold itover until I had, myself, made a journey north to see the king, and tosubmit to him my views on the subject; and to point out how dire mightbe the consequences, to the inhabitants of our marches, and how greatwould be the effort required, if Glendower should be supported by thewhole of his countrymen, as I believe he will be. However, as it hasbeen sent to all the keepers of the marches this cannot be done; and Ishall, at once, send orders to the sheriffs of Shropshire, andHereford, to warn the militia that they may be called out at anymoment, and must hold themselves in preparedness, having every man hisarms and accoutrements in good condition, and fit for service,according to the law. I shall also issue orders to my own tenants to beready to take up arms, and to drive their herds away, and bring theirwives and families into the castle, as soon as the beacon fire islighted on the summit of the keep."

  This was said to Oswald, to whom Sir Edmund had taken a strong liking,and to whom he spoke more freely than he might have done to his ownknights and officers, as being in Earl Percy's service, and having nopersonal interest in the matters in debate.

  "You yourself have heard the tales that have been brought in to me,showing how greatly the people have been stirred by the belief inGlendower's powers of necromancy; how blue flames have been seen toissue from every window and loophole of his house; how red clouds, ofvarious strange shapes, hover over it; and mysterious sounds are heardthroughout the night. For myself, I believe not these tales, though Iwould not take upon myself to say they are false, since everyone knowsthat there are men who have dealings with the powers of darkness.Still, I should have, myself, to see these things, before I gavecredence to them. That, however, makes no difference in the matter;true or not, they seem to be believed by the Welsh, and cannot butincrease his power.

  "Well, we shall soon hear what reply he makes to the proclamation, ofwhich he will certainly hear, within a few hours of its posting."

  The answer, indeed, was not long in coming; for, within a week, a copyof the reply sent by Glendower to the king appeared, side by side withevery proclamation put up, none knowing who were daring enough to affixthem. In this, Glendower no longer spoke of his grievance against LordGrey; but declared that, with the will of the people, he had assumedthe sovereignty of Wales, to which he was legally entitled, by hisdescent from her kings. He called upon every Welshman in England toresort, at once, to his standard.

  "The die is cast, now," Sir Edmund said, as he read the paper affixedto the castle gate. "It is no longer a question whether Glendower iswrongfully treated by Lord Grey; it is a matter touching the safety ofthe realm, and the honour of our lord the king. There is, I have nowlearned, some foundation for Owen's claim to be the representative ofthe kings of Wales, through his mother, Elinor. She was the eldestdaughter of Elinor the Red, who was daughter and heiress of Catharine,one of the daughters of Llewellyn, the last Prince of Wales. For aughtI know, there may be others who have a better claim than he; but atleast he has royal blood in his veins.

  "At present, that matters little. He has usurped the title of King ofWales, and is evidently a most ambitious and dangerous fellow; and nonecan doubt that this scheme has not just sprung from his brain, but haslong been prepared, and that his quarrel with Lord Grey has buthastened the outbreak.

  "I shall myself ride to Ruthyn, and consult with Lord Grey as to themeasures to be taken. It may be that our forces may be sufficient tocrush the movement, ere it gains strength; though I greatly doubt it.Still, it would be well that we should act in concert.

  "Sir John Burgon and Sir Philip Haverstone, do you take half a dozenmen-at-arms, and ride through the country, bidding all the tenantsassemble here, next Saturday, in their arms and harness, that I myselfmay inspect them. You may tell them that a third of their number mustbe in readiness tonight, and must ride hither by morning. The othersmust, on an alarm being given, gather in strong houses, selected bythemselves as the most defensible in their district, with their wivesand families, so as to repel any attack the Welsh may make; leavingbehind them the boys and old men, to drive out their flocks and herds,either towards the nearest castle, or to Hereford or Shrewsbury, as maybe nearest to them."

  When the knights had left, messengers were sent out to all the ownersof castles in Radnor, Hereford, and Shropshire; bidding them assemble,in four days' time, at Ludlow. On the day of the meeting, nearly threehundred tenants and vassals presented themselves. To them Sir Edmund,having first inspected them and their arms, explained the situation.Then, each man was asked how many he could bring into the field, inaccordance with the terms of his holding, and it was found the totalamounted to nigh eight hundred men.

  "I know not when the affair is likely to begin; and will, therefore,call only for a quarter of your force. Send your sons and unmarriedmen. At the end of a month they can return to you and, if needs be, youcan send as many more in their places. It may be that I shall notrequire these; but, possibly, every man may have to come out; but youmust bear in mind it is not for the defence of this town and castlethat men are required, for the garrison and burghers can hold outagainst any attack, but to save your homesteads from destruction."

  The news had created a deep sensation. Although none of those presenthad experienced the horrors of border warfare, there was not one buthad heard, from their fathers, tales of burning, massacre, andwholesale destruction by the Welsh forays. But so long a time hadpassed, since the last serious insurrection, that the news that Walesmight shortly be in arms, again, came as a terrible blow to them. Allagreed to send in their proportion of men, at once, and to see that therest were all ready to assemble, immediately the summons came.

  The next day some forty knights, owners of the castles thicklyscattered through the border counties, assembled in Ludlow Castle.There was a long consultation. Arrangements were made for the despatchof messengers, by those nearest to the frontier, with news of any Welshraid. Points were fixed upon where each should assemble, with whatforce he could gather; thence to march to any threatened place, or toassemble at Ludlow Castle, Mortimer being the warden of the marchesalong that line of the border.

  On the following day Sir Edmund rode, with two of his knights, to holdcouncil with Lord Grey, at Ruthyn. The distance was considerable, andhe was absent six days from his castle. Before he returned, an eventhappened that showed Glendower was in earnest, and intended to m
aintainhis pretensions by the sword.

  At daybreak, on the third day after Mortimer had left, a messengerarrived at the castle; with news that a large body of Welsh had, theevening before, entered Radnor by the road across the hills fromLlanidloes, and were marching towards Knighton, burning the villages asthey went, and slaying all who fell into their hands.

  The horn was at once sounded, and Sir John Wyncliffe and the otherknights hastily assembled in the courtyard. Here, after a shortconsultation, it was determined that a mounted party should be, atonce, despatched to endeavour to harass the advance of the Welsh; thetroop consisting of Alwyn's men-at-arms, twenty men of the garrison,and fifty mounted men who formed part of the new levy. Four hundredfootmen were to follow, at once.

  Sir John Wyncliffe at first thought of taking the command himself, butit was pointed out to him that his presence would be required, inLudlow, to marshal the forces that would speedily arrive from all thecountry round. Sir John Burgon, therefore, a valiant knight, who hadgreatly distinguished himself against the French, was unanimouslychosen by his companions as leader of the whole party; while with himrode Sir Philip Haverstone, and Sir William Bastow.

  "This reminds one of one's doings at home, Oswald," his uncle said, ashe formed up his little troop. "I trust the Welsh will not retreat,until we have had a taste of their quality; but I doubt much if theywill prove as formidable foes as the Scotch borderers."

  For a considerable portion of the distance, the roads led throughforests, which at that time covered the greater part of the country.Oswald, at the invitation of the knights, rode with them at the head ofthe cavalcade. The way was beguiled by anecdotes, that had been passeddown from mouth to mouth, of the last Welsh war.

  They reached Knighton by nine o'clock. The enemy had not, as yet, comewithin sight of the town; but, throughout the night, the sky to thewest had been red with the flames of the burning villages andhomesteads.

  The male inhabitants were all under arms. Many had already sent theirwives and children, in waggons, towards Ludlow; but, as the town had astrong wall, the men were determined upon making a stout defence.

  They crowded round the newly arrived troops, with loud cheers; whichwere raised, again and again, when they heard that, by midday, fourhundred footmen would arrive to their assistance. It had been arrangedthat Sir Philip Haverstone should remain in the town, to take charge ofthe defence; and that the mounted men should, under Sir John Burgon,endeavour to check the Welsh plundering parties in the open. SirWilliam Bastow was to remain, to assist Haverstone in the defence ofthe town. There was no great fear of this falling; as, before the daywas out, four or five thousand men would be assembled at Ludlow, andwould be able to march to its relief. These matters being arranged, SirJohn Burgon led his little troop out of the town.

  The accounts of the Welsh forces were very conflicting, but the balanceof opinion was that there were not less than four or five thousand ofthem. Beyond the fact that they were skirting the hills, and advancingtowards Knighton, the terrified fugitives could say nothing, save oftheir own experiences. It was evident, however, that the Welsh forcewas not keeping together; but, after crossing the border, had broken upand scattered over the country, burning and slaying. Some of the bandshad approached to within five miles of the town; and they might, notimprobably, come in contact with fresh bands of the enemy, crossing thehills near the source of the Severn. As soon as they had sallied fromthe castle, and left the town behind them, Sir John halted his party.

  "Now, men," he said, "there is one thing that you shouldremember--these Welshmen are not to be despised. Doubtless you will beable to ride over them, but do not think that, when you have done so,you have defeated them. They will throw themselves down on the ground,leap up as you pass over them, stab your horses from below, seize yourlegs and try to drag you from your saddles, leap up on to the crupperbehind you, and stab you to the heart. This is what makes them sodangerous a foe to horsemen, and at Crecy they did terrible executionamong the French chivalry.

  "Therefore be careful, and wary. Spit all you see on the ground, withyour lances; and hold your swords ever in readiness, to strike themdown as they rise up beside you. Keep in as close order as you can, forthus you will make it more difficult for them to rise from the ground,as you pass over."

  He then formed his troop into two lines. In the centre of the frontline he placed the twenty men-at-arms from the castle, with fifteen ofthe tenants on either hand. Oswald's troop formed the centre of thesecond line, with ten of the tenants on either flank. Another of theknights was in command in this line. They were to ride some fifty pacesbehind the first, to cut down all who rose to their feet after thefirst line had passed; and if the resistance were strong, and the firstline brought to a stand, they were to ride up and reinforce them.

  They had ridden some three miles, when they saw a column of smoke rise,half a mile away. The pace was quickened, and they had gone but a shortdistance when some panic-stricken men came running down the road.

  "How many Welshmen have attacked your village?" Sir John asked.

  "Hundreds of them, Sir Knight," one of the men panted out; "at least,so it seemed to me; but indeed, we were this side of the village whenthey rushed into it; and, seeing that nought could be done to resistthem, we fled at once."

  When within three hundred yards of the village they entered openground, and at once formed up in the order the knight had directed.Oswald took his place by the side of his uncle, a couple of lengths inadvance of their own troop.

  Scarce a word was spoken in the ranks. Here and there dead bodies werescattered over the ground, showing that the pursuit of the fugitiveshad been maintained thus far. From the village the wild shouts of thetriumphant Welsh sounded plainly; but mingled with these came,occasionally, a cry of pain, that seemed to show that either the workof slaughter was not yet completed, or that some of the villagers stillheld one of the houses, and were defending themselves until the last.

  Every face was set and stern. The tenants knew that, at any moment,similar scenes might be enacted in their own villages; while themen-at-arms were eager to get at the foe, and take vengeance for themurders they had perpetrated.

  "Be sure you keep your ranks," Sir John said; "remember that any whostraggle may be attacked by a score of these wild men, and slain beforeothers can come to their help. Ride forward in perfect silence, till weare within striking distance."

  At a gallop, the troop swept down upon the village. As they reached thefirst houses, they saw that the road was full of wild figures. Somewere emerging from the houses, laden with such spoil as could begathered there, chiefly garments; others, with torches, were settingfire to the thatched roofs; while, in the middle of the village, anumber were attacking a house somewhat larger and more massively builtthan the rest.

  Sir John raised his sword, with the shout of "A Mortimer! A Mortimer!"

  The shout was re-echoed by his followers, and a moment later theydashed into the midst of the Welsh. At first they swept all beforethem; but speedily the mountaineers, running out from the houses,gathered thickly on each side of the road and, as the first linepassed, closed in behind it; and, running even more swiftly than thecharging horses, strove to leap up behind. Some struck at the horseswith their swords, hamstringing several of them, and slaying theirriders as they fell.

  "Ride, ride!" the knight in command of the second line shouted, and ateven greater speed than before his followers rode hotly forward; andcame, ere long, on the struggling mass, for the first line were nowendeavouring to turn, so as to face their assailants.

  With a great shout, the second line fell upon them, the war cries of "APercy! A Percy!" being mingled with those of "A Mortimer!" Theirapproach had been unnoticed by the Welsh, and their onslaught wasirresistible. The Welsh were hurled to the ground by the impetus of thecharge, and the two lines joined hands.

  "Forward again!" Sir John shouted, and the troop, dashing forward, weresoon hotly engaged with the enemy, who were in strong force at thepoint wh
ere they were attacking the house. The orders of theircommander were now impossible to follow. It was a fierce melee, whereeach fought for himself.

  "Face round!" Oswald shouted. "Now, men, lay about you.

  "A Percy! A Percy!"

  The active little horses swung round instantly, and faced the crowdsurging up against them. This was the style of fighting to which theborder men were accustomed. Active as the Welsh were, the border ponieswere as quick in their movements, wheeling and turning hither andthither, but keeping ever within a short distance of each other. Thetroopers hewed down the foe with their heavy swords; and, being partlyprotected by their armour, they possessed a great advantage over theiropponents.

  Oswald and his uncle fought slightly in advance of the others, lendinga helping hand to each other, when the pressure was greatest. On oneoccasion a Welshman seized Alwyn's leg, while he was engaged with afoeman on the other side, and strove to throw him from his horse.Oswald wheeled his pony, and with a sweeping blow rid his uncle of hisfoe; but, at the same moment, a man leapt up behind him, while twoothers assailed him in front.

  The Welshman's sinewy arms prevented him from again raising his sword,and he would have been slain by those in front, had he not, at themoment, slipped his right foot from his stirrup and thrown himself fromhis horse, his leg sweeping off the man who held him behind, and hurledhim to the ground beneath him.

  The Welshman's grasp instantly relaxed; but, as Oswald tried to rise, ablow fell upon his helmet, and four Welshmen threw themselves upon him.He threw his arms around two of them, and rolled over and over withthem, thereby frustrating the efforts of their companions to strike orstab him, through some unguarded point in his armour; when suddenlythere was a mighty shout, two tremendous blows were struck in quicksuccession, then there was a shout, "Hold them still, Master Oswald,hold them still!"

  Oswald tightened his grasp on his assailants, who were now striving torise. There was another crashing blow, and then his last opponentslipped from his grasp, and fled.

  "Thanks, Roger," he said, as he leapt to his feet, "you were but justin time; another minute, and those fellows would have got their knivesinto me."

  "I have had my eye upon you, master, all the time; and while doing alittle on my own account, have kept myself in readiness to come to youraid, if need be."

  Roger was fighting with a heavy mace, and the number of men lyinground, with their skulls crushed in, showed with what terrible effecthe had been using it. Oswald again leapt on to his horse, which hadbeen too well trained to leave his master's side; and had indeed in nosmall degree aided him, by kicking furiously at the Welsh, as theystrove to aid their comrades on the ground.

  By this time the combat was well-nigh over. The protection afforded byAlwyn's band, against any attack on their rear, had enabled Sir John'smen-at-arms and the tenants to clear the street in front of them; butthe Welsh, though unable to hold their own in open fight, had nowbetaken themselves to their bows and arrows, and from behind everyhouse shot fast.

  The door of the house that had still resisted had been thrown open, andeight men had come out, followed by some twenty women and children.

  "Do each of you leap up behind one of us!" Sir John shouted.

  "Help the women up, men, then right-about, and ride out of the village.It is getting too hot for us, here."

  The order was quickly obeyed and, placing the horses carrying a doubleburden in the centre, the troop rode out in a compact body. The Welshpoured out into the road behind them.

  "Level your spears!" Alwyn shouted to his men; who had, by his orders,fallen in in the rear of the others.

  The long spears were levelled and, with a shout, the twenty men rodedown on their pursuers, bursting their way through them as if they hadbeen but a crowd of lay figures; then, wheeling, they returned again,none venturing to try to hinder them, and rejoined the main body.

  "Well done, indeed!" Sir John Burgon exclaimed, "and in knightlyfashion. Verily, those long border spears of yours are right goodweapons, when so stoutly used."

  Once outside the village, the troop rode quietly on to the spot atwhich they had first charged. Then the villagers dismounted.

  "You made a stout defence, men," Sir John said. "It was well that youhad time to gain that house."

  "It was agreed that all should take to it, Sir Knight," one of the mensaid; "but the attack was so sudden that only we, and these women, hadtime to reach it before they were on us; and, had it not been for yourarrival, they must soon have mastered us, for they were bringing up atree to burst in the door; and as none of us had time to catch up ourbows and arrows, we had no way of hindering them. Still, methinks manywould have fallen, before they forced their way in."

  The men now fell in again. Their numbers were counted. The losses wereby far the heaviest in the front line. Five of the castle men-at-arms,and fourteen of the levy were killed. Several others had gashes fromthe long knives and light axes of the Welsh. Five of the tenants in thesecond line had fallen, but none of Alwyn's band, although most of thelatter had received wounds, more or less serious, in their combat withthe Welsh.

  "The loss is heavy," Sir John said, "but it is as nought to thatinflicted upon the Welsh. I did not count them, as we rode back, butassuredly over a hundred have fallen, not counting those who were slainin that last charge of yours, Alwyn. Truly your men have foughtgallantly, as was shown by the pile of dead, where your men-at-armsdefended our rear.

  "The Welsh will be moving, ere long. Half the village is alreadyburning, and you may be sure that there is nothing left to sack, in theother houses. If they come this way we must fall back, for in theforest we shall be no match for them. If they move across the opencountry, we may get an opportunity of charging them, again."

  He told two of his men to dismount, and to crawl cautiously along, oneon each side of the burning village; and to bring back news, the momentthe Welsh began to leave it. In twenty minutes both returned, sayingthat the enemy were streaming out at the other end of the village,laden with plunder of all kinds. There seemed to be no order ordiscipline among them, each trooping along at his pleasure.

  "Good!" the knight said. "We will give them another lesson, and thistime on more favourable terms than the last."

  The troops formed into column, and galloped at a canter through theburning village. At the other end they came upon a number ofstragglers, who were at once killed. Then they emerged into the fieldsbeyond, and formed line. The plain was dotted with men, the nearest buta hundred yards away, the farthest nearly half a mile.

  In a single line the horsemen swept along. The rearmost Welshmen turnedround at the tramp of the horses, and at once, throwing to the groundthe bundles that they carried, took to their heels with shouts ofwarning. As these were heard, the alarm spread among the rest, who,believing that their foes had ridden away through the forest, weretaken completely by surprise.

  A panic seized them. Leaders in vain shouted orders, their voices wereunheard among the cries of the men. Some, indeed, gathered together asthey ran; but the greater portion fled in various directions, to escapethe line of spears vengefully following them.

  Those unable to avoid the charge stood at bay, like wild animals. Firstshooting their arrows, they drew their short axes or their knives, asthe horsemen came within a short distance of them. Few had a chance ofstriking, most of them falling, pierced through and through by thespears. Those who, by swiftness of eye, escaped this fate, sprung atthe horses like wildcats, clinging to the saddles, while they strove tobury their knives in the riders' bodies.

  Their back pieces now served the troopers in good stead, as did theirsuperior personal strength. Some beat their assailants down on to thepommel of their saddles, and throttled or stabbed them; while in manycases, where they were hard pressed, the sword of a comrade rid themfrom their foes.

  So the line held on its way, until they reached the head of the body offugitives. Then in obedience to the shout of Sir John Burgon theyturned, broke up into small bodies, and scour
ed the plain, cutting downthe flying foe; and did not draw bridle, until what remained of theenemy had gained the shelter of the wood. Then, at the sound of theirleader's trumpet, they gathered around him in the centre of the plain.

  Two or three had fallen from the Welsh arrows, and not a few hadreceived ugly slashes from their knives; but, with these exceptions,all had come scatheless through the fray. At least two hundred deadWelshmen were scattered on the plain.

  "You have done your work well, men," Sir John said, "and taught them alesson that they will not forget. Now, let us ride back to Knighton,and see how matters go there."

  On arriving at the little town, they found that all was quiet, and thatno bodies of Welsh had approached the town. The party of horse wereagain sent out, in various directions, the smoke serving them as aguide. The villages were found to be entirely deserted; but, pushingfarther on, many fugitives came out from hiding places.

  Their reports were all of the same character. The Welsh were in fullretreat for their own country.

  By the time the troops returned with the news to Knighton, the footmenfrom Ludlow had marched in, and were being entertained by theinhabitants; who, now that the danger had passed, had returned.

  "Retired have they, Sir John?" his two fellow knights said, as hearrived with his following. "It was but a raid for plunder, then, andnot an invasion. Doubtless, Glendower merely wished to warm theirblood, and to engage them so far in his enterprise that they could nolonger draw back. They must have carried off some hundreds of cattleand sheep, to say nothing of other plunder; and, had it not been forour having the news soon enough to get here before they retired, theywould have got off scatheless. As it is, they have learned that even awell-planned foray cannot be carried out with impunity; but the loss ofthree hundred lives will not affect them greatly, when it is clear thatthey have murdered twice that number, as well as enriched themselveswith plunder."

  "I think not that we shall hear of them, again," Sir John said."Glendower has shown us, without doubt, what are his intentions; and hemay now wait to see what comes of last night's work. I expect that hewill keep among the hills, where he can fight to better advantage; forhorsemen are of little use, where there are mountains and forests."

  After a consultation between the knights, it was agreed that twohundred of the footmen were to remain, for two or three days, atKnighton; in case the retreat of the Welsh might be a feigned one,intended to lull the inhabitants into a state of security, and then tomake a sudden night attack upon the walls. The whole force remaineduntil the next morning, and then, leaving Sir Philip Haverstone incommand of the party remaining at Knighton, the rest, horse and foot,marched back to Ludlow.

  "Your band have indeed distinguished themselves, Oswald," Sir John hadsaid, on the previous evening, as they talked on the events of the day."Truly they are as stout men as I have ever seen fighting. And you haveescaped without a wound, though I marked that your armour and clotheswere covered with mire, as if you had been rolling in the road."

  "That is just what I have been doing, Sir John. One of them leaped onto the horse behind me, and pinioned my arms; while two or three othersmade at me, with axes and staves. The clasp of the fellow was like aniron band and, seeing that my only chance was to rid myself of him, Islung my leg over my horse, and we came down together, he undermost.Whether the fall killed him or not, I cannot say, but his arms relaxed.Half a dozen sprang on me, and in another minute I should have beenkilled, had not that big trooper of mine come to my aid, and with amighty mace dashed out their brains, well-nigh before they knew thatthey were attacked."

  "A stout fellow, indeed," Sir John said, "and one I should like to haveto ride behind me, on the day of battle. I had marked him before, andthought that I had never seen a more stalwart knave; though methinksthat he would look better, did he not crop his hair so wondrouslyshort."

  Oswald laughed.

  "He does it not to beautify himself, Sir John, but to hide the factthat the hair on his crown is but of six weeks' growth."

  And then he related the circumstances under which Roger came to be amember of his troop.

  "By my faith, he has done well!" Sir John said. "A man with such sinewsas that is lost in a cloister. He is a merry fellow, too. I have oftenmarked him at the castle, and his laugh is a veritable roar, that wouldsound strange echoing along the galleries of a monastery. The abbot didwell to let him go, for such a fellow might well disturb the peace andquiet of a whole convent.

  "You say that he has skill in war?"

  "Yes, Sir John. He has been the instructor in arms of the lay brothers,and of some of the monks, too; and he led the contingent of the abbeyat Otterburn; and, although the day went against the English, he andhis followers greatly distinguished themselves."

  "If you would part with him, I would better his condition, MasterOswald; for, on my recommendation, Sir Edmund would, I am sure, makehim captain of a company."

  "I should be sorry, indeed, to part with him, Sir John, and the more sosince he has saved my life today; but, even were I willing, I feel surehe would not leave me, as we have gone through some adventurestogether, and he believes that it is to me that he owes his escape fromthe convent."

  "What were these adventures, Oswald?"

  "It was a matter touching the Earl of March--not Sir Edmund's nephew,now in the care of the king, but the Scottish earl, George, Earl ofDunbar, also bearing the title of Earl of March. Now that he has takenthe oath to King Henry, there is no reason why I should not speak ofit."

  And he then gave them an account of his visit to Dunbar, and of hisescape.

  "And why did the earl wish to keep you?"

  "Maybe, sir, that he had not then made up his mind, and thought thataffairs might yet have been accommodated between himself, Douglas, andthe Scottish king."

  "Perhaps that was so," Sir John agreed. "He is a crafty, as well as abold man. However, you were well out of Dunbar, and you and your monkmanaged the affair well. Think you that the earl is to be trusted?"

  "I should say so. These great Scottish nobles deem themselves well-nighthe king's equal, and carry on their wars against each other asindependent lords. His castle of Dunbar is in the hands of hisbitterest enemy, and Douglas will come into no small portion of hisestates. Without the aid of England he could not hope to recover them,and his interests, therefore, are wholly bound up with ours."

  "'Tis strange that there should be two Earls of March, of differentfamilies and names; and, now that Dunbar has become a vassal of theking, it will make the matter stranger. However, at present no mistakescan arise, seeing that the one is an able warrior, and the other a mereboy. But in the future, were the two Earls of March at the same time atthe court of our king, mistakes might well be made, and strangecomplications take place.

  "Doubtless you are aware that Sir Edmund's nephew is, by right ofbirth, King of England. He was, you know, sprung from the Duke ofClarence, the elder brother of the Duke of Lancaster. The duke diedwithout male issue, and his rights fell to Edmund Mortimer, Earl ofMarch, the husband of his daughter Philippa. From their marriage wasborn the Roger Mortimer who was lord lieutenant of Ireland, during apart of King Richard's reign, and was killed in the wars of thatcountry. He left two sons, of whom the elder was but eight or nineyears old, when Richard was dethroned; and he and his brother are nowliving at Windsor, and are well treated there by the king.

  "Had my lord's nephew attained the age of manhood, at the deposition ofRichard, many would doubtless have supported his right to the throne;but for a child of eight to rule this realm, and keep in check theturbulence of the great lords, would be so absurd that no one evenmentioned his name; and Henry, of course, ascended the throne as if byright of conquest."

  "I have heard something of this before, Sir John; but as the Percyswere among the chief supporters of Henry, the fact that there was onewho had greater rights to the throne was never talked of, at Alnwick;although, by Percy's marriage with Sir Edmund's sister, he became uncleof the young Earl of March."<
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  "I can understand that, and indeed Sir Edmund himself has never, in themost intimate conversation with us, expressed any opinion that theyoung earl would, if he had his rights, be King of England."