Both Sides the Border: A Tale of Hotspur and Glendower

by G. A. Henty

  Chapter 18: Glendower.

  For the next ten days the weather was so bad that no operations couldbe carried on. Every little stream was swollen to a raging torrent.Horses, carrying men in full armour, could scarce keep their feet onthe slippery moor; and even the footmen had the greatest difficulty ingetting about; and all excursions were given up, for the Welsh,barefooted and unweighted with armour, would have been able to fallupon them to great advantage, and could then evade pursuit, with ease.

  The number of sick increased rapidly, and it became necessary to sendanother convoy back to Llanidloes; where the guard were to join theforce that had gone there, ten days before, and to escort some waggonsof flour and a number of cattle, that had been brought there fromWelshpool by a strong levy from Shropshire.

  Ten knights, a hundred mounted men-at-arms, as many on foot, and fiftyarchers were considered sufficient to escort the sick; who, to thenumber of two hundred, were closely packed in the ten waggons that wereto return with flour. Three of Lord Talbot's knights were to form partof the escort, and among these Oswald was chosen by the earl.

  It was hoped that the convoy would reach the town without beingattacked, for great pains had been taken to prevent the news of itsapproaching departure getting about; for there were many Welshmen inthe camp, employed in looking after the baggage animals, and in otheroffices. They had all been hired for the service on the other side ofthe border; but it was believed that some of them, at least, must be incommunication with the enemy; who were thereby enabled to gather inforce, to oppose any parties who sallied out from the camp.

  The consequence was that, until half an hour before it left, none savea few of the leaders were aware of the starting of the convoy. Thenorders were rapidly issued. The knights and men-at-arms who had beenselected for the service had but a few minutes to prepare themselves.The horses were harnessed to the waggons, and the sick and woundedcarried out and placed in them, with the greatest expedition, and theparty set out in less than half an hour after the first order had beengiven. It had gone but a quarter of a mile when the shouts among thewoods, on either side, showed that the Welsh were vigilant. Horns wereblown in all directions, the sound growing fainter and fainter, in thehills.

  "We shall not get through undisturbed," one of the knights said toOswald, who was riding next to him.

  "No, I think we shall have fighting. It would have been better had weand the men-at-arms been told to leave our horses behind. In this deepsoil they will be of little use in a fight, and we should do better onfoot."

  "It would be terrible, marching in our heavy armour."

  "Doubtless it would have been so, but I should not have minded that.The distance is but six miles; and although, in this slippery plain,the toil would have been great, methinks that we could have made abetter fight than on horseback; and as these waggons travel but slowly,we could have kept up with them."

  "We can dismount, if necessary," the knight said; "but, for my part, Iwould rather ride than tramp through this deep mud."

  Their progress was indeed slow, the waggons frequently sank almost upto their axles in the mud, and it needed all the efforts of thedismounted men to get them out. A deep silence had succeeded the outcryin the woods.

  "I like not this silence, Sir Oswald," the knight said; when, after anhour's hard work, they were still but two miles from the camp.

  "Nor do I," Oswald said. "It seems unnatural. Do you not think, SirWilliam, that it would be well if all were to take the picket ropesfrom their horses' necks, and knot them two and two, fastening one endto a waggon and the other to a horse's girth. In that way fiftymen-at-arms might be roped on to the waggons, and would aid thosedrawing them, greatly."

  "The idea is a very good one," the knight said.

  He rode forward to Sir Eustace de Bohun, who was in command, andinformed him of Oswald's suggestion, which was at once adopted. As soonas it was carried out, the dismounted men were ordered to push behindthe waggons, which now proceeded at a much faster rate than before.

  They were just half-way to the town, and beginning to entertain hopesthat they should get through without being attacked, when a hornsounded; and from the forest on both sides, a crowd of men rushed out,and poured a volley of arrows into the convoy. Hasty orders wereshouted by Sir Eustace, the ropes were thrown off, and the troopsformed up in a double line on each side of the waggons.

  The knights and mounted men formed the outside line, and the footmenstood a pace or two behind them; so as to cover them from attack,should the Welsh break through. Oswald's esquire was on one side ofhim, Roger on the other.

  The waggons continued to move forward, for at this point the road wasbetter, running across a bare rock, and the horses were therefore ableto draw them along without any assistance. Sir Eustace therefore gavethe order for the escort to continue their way, marching on each sideof the train.

  "We must fight our way through, men," he shouted; "every minute willdoubtless add to their numbers."

  For a short time the arrows flew fast. But the Welsh bows were not tobe compared, in point of strength, with those used by the Englisharchers; and the arrows fell harmlessly upon the armour of themen-at-arms, while on the other hand, the English archers shot sostrongly and truly that, after a short time, the Welsh bowmen fellback. As they did so, however, a crowd of footmen poured out from theforest; and, with loud shouts and yells, rushed forward.

  "Halt the waggons!" Sir Eustace cried. "Keep good order, men, and weshall soon drive this rabble off."

  The archers had time but to send three flights of arrows among theirassailants, when these threw themselves upon the line. They were armedwith short axes, heavy clubs, and other rough weapons; and for a time,the horsemen kept their order and beat them back; but as the hornscontinued to sound, the Welsh swarmed down in such numbers that theybroke in between their mounted foes; some trying to tear them fromtheir saddles, while others crept beneath the horses and drove theirlong knives into their stomachs, or tried to hamstring them with theiraxes.

  Then the dismounted men-at-arms joined in the fight, and drove theenemy back beyond the line. Many of the horsemen were, however,dismounted. These joined their mounted comrades when Sir Eustace gavethe word to charge the multitude, before they could rally for a freshattack.

  The Welsh went down in numbers before their lances, but so close wasthe throng that the horsemen were brought to a stand and, slingingtheir spears behind them, betook themselves to sword and mace. Greatwas the slaughter of their opponents, but these pursued their formertactics. Horse after horse rolled over in mortal agony and, as theyfell, the riders were stabbed before they could recover their feet.Soon they were broken up into knots; and their dismounted companions,with one accord, left the waggons and rushed into the fray, for a timebeating back the Welsh.

  "It were best to dismount," Oswald cried, and he swung himself from thesaddle, just as one of the enemy hamstrung his horse. Roger and thesquire did the same, and joined the ranks of the footmen.

  "Keep together!" Oswald shouted, to those within hearing; "we can cutourselves a passage through, in that way, while separately we shallperish."

  Ten or twelve men followed his orders and, gathering in a ring, for atime beat off every attack. Looking round, Oswald saw that scarce a manremained mounted. The shouts of the English, and the wild war cries ofthe Welsh, rang through the air. In a dozen places fierce contests wereraging--swords and axes rose and fell, on helmet and steel cap.

  In obedience to the shouts of Sir Eustace, who, with three or fourmen-at-arms around him, was still mounted, the English bands tried tojoin each other, and in several cases succeeded. Oswald had been nearthe rear of the convoy when the fight began, and the party with whom hefought were separated by some distance from the others, and theprospect became more and more hopeless. His squire had fallen, andfully half the men who had joined him; and although the loss of theWelsh had been many times as great, the number of their assailants hadin no way diminished.

  He and Roger stro
ve, in vain, to cut a way through; and their heightand strength enabled them to maintain a forward movement, theiropponents shrinking from the terrible blows of Roger's mace, and the noless destructive fall of Oswald's sword; but the men-at-arms behindthem fared worse, having to retreat with their face to the foe; andmore than one, falling over the bodies of those slain by their leaders,were stabbed before they could rise. Several times the two men turnedand covered the rear, but at last they stood alone.

  "Now, make one effort to break through, Roger;" and they flungthemselves with such fury upon the Welsh that, for some twenty yards,they cut their way through them.

  Then Roger exclaimed, "I am done for, master," and fell.

  Oswald stood over him and, for a time, kept a clear circle; then hereceived a tremendous blow on the back of his helmet, with a heavyclub, and fell prostrate over Roger.

  When he recovered his senses, the din of battle had moved far away. Theother groups had gathered together and, moving down, had joined thosewho still resisted on the other side of the road; and, keeping in aclose body, were fighting their way steadily along.

  A number of the Welsh were going over the battlefield, stabbing allwhom they found to be still living. The sick men in the waggons hadalready been murdered.

  A Welshman, whose appearance denoted a higher rank than the others,approached Oswald, as soon as he sat up, and called to four or five ofhis countrymen. Oswald, with difficulty, rose to his feet. He stillwore, round his wrist, the chain that Glendower's daughter had givenhim; and he now pulled this off and held it up, loudly calling out thename of Glendower, several times. The Welsh leader waved his followersback.

  Oswald was unarmed, and evidently incapable of defending himself. Hecame up to him. Oswald held out the chain:

  "Glendower, Glendower," he repeated.

  The man took the chain, and examined it carefully. Some Welsh wordswere engraved upon the clasp. Oswald was unaware what they were, butthe words were, "Jane Glendower, from her father."

  The Welshman looked much surprised, and presently called to another,some distance away. The man came up, and he spoke to him in Welsh.

  "How did you obtain this?" the man asked Oswald, in English.

  "It was given in token of service, rendered by me and my squire here,to Glendower's daughter. She told me that it would be of service if, atany time, I were taken prisoner by her father's followers."

  This was translated to the Welshman, who said:

  "These men must be taken to Glendower. The story may be true, or not.The chain may have been stolen. At any rate, the prince must decide asto their fate."

  He now bade the men round him take off Oswald's armour. As soon as thiswas done, the latter knelt down by Roger's side, and removed hishelmet.

  An arrow, shot from behind, had struck Roger just above the backpiece--which, being short for him, did not reach to his helmet--and hadgone through the fleshy part of his neck; while, at the same moment, ablow with an axe had cleft the helmet in sunder, and inflicted a deepgash on the back of the head.

  At a word from their leader, the men at once aided Oswald, who drew outthe arrow. The wound bled but slightly, and one of the Welshmen,tearing off a portion of his garment, bandaged it up. Water was fetchedfrom the stream below, and a pad of wet cloth laid on the wound at theback of the head, and kept in its place by bandages. As this was doneRoger gave a faint groan and, a minute after, opened his eyes.

  "Do not try to move, Roger," Oswald said. "You are wounded; but not, Itrust, to death. We are prisoners in the hands of the Welsh, but thatchain Glendower's daughter gave me has saved our lives."

  A rough litter was constructed of boughs. On this Roger, after hisarmour had been taken off, was laid. At their leader's orders sixWelshmen took it up, while two placed themselves, one on each side ofOswald. Then the leader took the head of the party, and moved away intothe forest.

  Oswald's head still swam from the effects of the blow, but as they wenton the feeling gradually ceased, and he was able to keep up with hiscaptors. Their course was ever uphill, and after an hour's walking theyarrived at a farmhouse, situated just at the upper edge of the forest.

  The litter was laid down outside the house. The Welshman went in,saying something to his men, who at once sat down on the ground; forthe journey, with Roger's weight, had been a toilsome one. He madesigns for Oswald to seat himself by the side of Roger. The latter wasnow perfectly sensible.

  "What has happened, master?" he asked.

  "We have been badly beaten, Roger; but when I last saw them our men hadgot together, and were fighting their way along the road. I fancy morethan half have been killed; but, as far as I could see of the field, Ishould say that three or four times as many Welsh had fallen."

  "That was a lucky thought of yours, Sir Oswald, about that chain."

  "I had always an idea that it might be found useful; and it at onceoccurred to me, as soon as I recovered my senses."

  "Are you wounded, too?" Roger asked anxiously.

  "No. I was beaten down by a heavy club, and my head still rings fromthe blow. Otherwise, I am uninjured."

  "What has happened to me, master?"

  "You had an arrow through your neck, Roger; but fortunately it was onone side. An inch to the right, and it would have struck your spine, orperhaps gone through your windpipe. As it is, it does not seem to havedone much harm. Very little blood flowed when I pulled the arrow out.You have got a bad gash on the back of the head, but your head piecebroke the force of the blow. It has laid your skull bare, but has not,so far as I can see, penetrated it."

  "Then we need think no more about it," Roger said.

  "Well, that was a fight! The one we had at Knighton was as nothing toit."

  "Yes, I think that even you could not want a harder one, Roger."

  "No; this was quite enough for one day's work. I should like a drink ofwater, if I could get one."

  Oswald made signs to one of the men, who went into the house andreturned with a large jug of water, of which Roger took a deep draught;and Oswald then finished the contents, for he, too, was parched withthirst.

  Half an hour later a tall man, in full armour, followed by a number ofWelsh chiefs, issued from the forest. He was some five-and-forty yearsold, and of noble presence. The leader of the party who had broughtOswald up advanced to meet him; and, saluting him most respectfully,spoke to him for a moment, and then produced the chain. Glendower--forit was the prince--examined it, and then at once walked up to Oswald,who had risen to his feet.

  "How became you possessed of this, Sir Knight?"

  "It was given me by one of your daughters, sir. I and my squire, here,were on guard round your house, on the night after the Earl of Talbottook it. We were at some distance from the other guards, when twofigures rose from the bushes near us. We pursued them and, coming up tothem, found they were two ladies; and they at once avowed that theywere your daughters. My instructions were to watch and see that noWelshmen approached the house; and nought had been said to me ofarresting any leaving it, seeing that it was not supposed that any werethere.

  "I war not with women. Being myself from Northumbria, I have no enmitywith your people. Therefore I let them proceed on their way--a breachof duty for which, doubtless, I should have suffered, had it beenknown. Happily, none but my follower here, who was then but aman-at-arms, and I a squire, knew of it; and to this moment I havespoken of it to no one. As they left us, one of the ladies gave me thischain, saying that some day it might be of use to me, should I everfall into the hands of their people. I have carried it on my wrist,ever since; and when your follower came up, and I saw the necessity hadarisen, I showed it to him."

  "I have heard the story from my daughters," Glendower said warmly,holding out his hand. "They told me how courteously you had treatedthem, and that you had refused to accept the jewels they offered you.They said that you had also declined to tell them your name, as itmight do you injury, should it become known; and I have often regrettedthat I did not know the name o
f the gentleman who had behaved so noblyto them, and had saved them from an English prison. Had they beencaptured, it would have been a sore blow to me, not only in myaffections but to my cause; for, had he held them in his power, Henrycould have put a heavy pressure upon me. May I ask, now, what is yourname, Sir Knight?"

  "Sir Oswald Forster. I was, at that time, a squire of Sir HenryPercy's."

  "Of Hotspur!" Glendower said, in surprise. "I did not know that we hadlevies from the north fighting against us."

  "You have not, sir. I had simply been sent, with twenty men-at-arms, bySir Henry to Sir Edmund Mortimer--who is, as you are doubtless aware,of kin to Sir Henry, who had married his sister--and was sent by SirEdmund to join the Earl of Talbot and Lord Grey, when they made thatforay upon your house. After that I returned to the north; but was,some months since, again sent to Ludlow, to keep Sir Henry informed ofthe doings on this border."

  "But I had heard that Mortimer had sent no troops to Henry's army."

  "That is so, sir. I am here by an accident. A despatch came from Londonto Ludlow for the king, and as there was no other way of forwarding it,I volunteered to carry it here, and succeeded in doing so: for whichservice the king conferred knighthood upon me, upon my arrival, tendays since."

  "Ah, then, it was you that I heard of! I was told that two great menhad been seen in the woods, some distance south of the camp; and thatthey had succeeded in making their escape, after slaying five of myfollowers; and that, though none knew for certain, it was supposed theyhad reached Henry's camp."

  "You are right, sir. The two men were my companion, here, and myself."

  "It was a notable feat. I think not that any other messenger has gotthrough my scouts, since the king left Welshpool. You must be swift offoot, as well as brave and courteous; for I heard that you had outrunthe greatest part of those who followed you."

  "We in the north have to be swift of foot," Oswald said, with a smile,"for the Scots keep us in practice; either in escaping them, when theycome in too great a force to be resisted; or in following them, when itis our turn to pursue.

  "I trust, sir, that you will put myself and my squire to ransom, andwill take my word for the payment; for, until I go north, I have nomeans of satisfying it."

  "That will I not," Glendower said. "Or rather, I will take a ransom;since, were I to release you without one, it might cause surprise andinquiry; and it were well that your noble conduct to my daughtersshould not be known, for Henry would not be likely to regard itfavourably. Therefore we will put you to ransom at the sum of a crownfor yourself, and a penny for your squire."

  "I thank you, indeed, sir, and shall ever feel beholden to you; and Iwill, moreover, give you my knightly word that, whatever service I mayhave to perform, I will never again war with the Welsh.

  "May I ask if any of our party succeeded in reaching Llanidloes?"

  "Yes, some sixty or seventy of them got in. They fought very well; andindeed, in close combat my Welshmen cannot, at present, hold their ownagainst your armour-clad men. Still, though it would have pleased mebetter had we annihilated the force, our success has been sufficient togive Henry another lesson that, though he may march through Wales, heholds only the ground on which he has encamped.

  "Now, Sir Oswald, I pray you to enter my abode. 'Tis a poor place,indeed, after my house in the Vale of the Bards; but it suffices for myneeds."

  Before entering, he gave orders that Roger should be carried to anupper room, and despatched a messenger to order his own leech, as soonas he had done with the wounded, to come up and attend to him. Then heled the way into a room, where a meal was prepared. In a few words inWelsh he explained to his chiefs, who had been much surprised at themanner in which he had received Oswald, that the young knight had, atone time, rendered a great service to his daughters, Jane and Margaret;but without mentioning its precise nature. His experience had taughthim that even those most attached to his cause might yet turn againsthim; and were they to relate the story, it might do serious injury toOswald.

  "You must, on your way back," he said presently to the young knight,"call and see my daughters; who are at present staying with theirsister, who is married to Adda ap Iorwerth Ddu. They would beaggrieved, indeed, if they heard that you had been here, and that I hadnot given them the opportunity of thanking you, in person."

  Oswald remained for a fortnight with Glendower, while Roger's wound washealing. At the end of that time he learned that Henry, having marchedinto Cardigan and ravaged the country there, was already retiring; hisarmy having suffered terribly from the effects of the weather, theimpossibility of obtaining supplies, and the constant and harassingattacks by the Welsh.

  Glendower was often absent, but when at the house he conversed freelywith Oswald, who was no longer surprised at the influence that he hadobtained over his countrymen. His manners were courteous in theextreme, and his authority over his followers absolute. They not onlyreverenced him as their prince, the representative of their ancientkings, and their leader in war, but as one endowed with supernaturalpower.

  The bards had fanned this feeling to the utmost, by their songs ofmarvels and portents at his birth, and by attributing to him a controleven over the elements. This belief was not only of great importance tohim, as binding his adherents closer to him; but it undoubtedlycontributed to his success, from the fact of its being fully shared inby the English soldiery; who assigned it as the cause of theexceptionally bad weather that had been experienced, in each of thethree expeditions into the country, and of the failure to accomplishanything of importance against him.

  This side of the character of Glendower puzzled Oswald. Several times,when talking to him, he distinctly claimed supernatural powers; andfrom the tone in which he spoke, and the strange expression his face atthis time assumed, Oswald was convinced that he sincerely believed thathe did possess these powers. Whether he originally did so; or whetherit had arisen from the adulation of the bards, the general belief init, and the successes he had gained; Oswald could not determine. Later,when Glendower sullied his fair fame by the most atrocious massacres,similar to that which had already taken place at the storming of NewRadnor--atrocities that seemed not only purposeless, but at uttervariance with the courtesy and gentleness of his bearing--Oswald cameto believe that his brain had, to some extent, become unhinged byexcitement, flattery, and superstition.

  At the end of the fortnight Roger's wound, although not completelyhealed, was in such a state that it permitted his sitting on horseback,and Oswald became anxious to be off. Glendower, who was about to setout to harass the rear of the army, as it retired from Cardiganshire,at once offered to send a strong escort with him; as it would have beendangerous, in the extreme, to have attempted to traverse the countrywithout such a protection. Two excellent horses, that had been capturedin the engagement with the English, were handed over to him, for hisown use and that of Roger. Oswald's own armour was returned to him, andhe was pleased to find that it had been carefully attended to, and wasas brightly burnished as when it came into his possession.

  When Glendower bid them adieu, he presented each of them with rings,similar to those he himself wore.

  "You have promised that you will not fight against me again; but it maybe that, on some errand or other, you may ride into Wales; or that youmay be staying, as you did before, at some castle or town near theborder, when we attack it. You have but to show these rings to anyWelshman you may come across, and you may be sure of being welltreated, as one of my friends.

  "I trust that, when we meet again, the war will be over; and that mytitle to the kingdom of Wales may be recognized, by your king andpeople, as it is on this side of the border."

  "Well, Sir Oswald," Roger said, as they rode away, accompanied bytwenty of Glendower's followers, under the orders of an officer; "wehave got out of that scrape better than could have been expected. Whenyou and I were alone, in the midst of that crowd of Welshmen, I thoughtthat it was all over with us."

  "So did I, Roger. You see, that matter
of our getting Glendower'sdaughters away, uninjured, has borne good fruit."

  "It has indeed," Roger agreed. "I thought it much more likely, too,that it would have gone the other way."

  "Be sure you keep a silent tongue as to that, Roger; and remember thatour story is, that I have been put at knightly ransom, and on thecondition that I will never serve in Wales again. When we once getacross the border we will ride straight for Northumberland, withoutgoing near Ludlow. I observed that the king much doubted the Mortimers,and were we to return there, and the news came to his ears, he mighttake it as a proof that there was an understanding between Glendowerand Mortimer; and that it was to this that leniency, such as had beenshown to no other prisoners, was due; whereas, if we go straight toPercy, 'tis not likely that the matter will ever come to his hearing,and at any rate, if it did so, he would scarce connect Mortimer withour escape."

  "I understand, Sir Oswald; and will, you may be sure, keep silent as toaught beyond what you have bade me say."

  Two days' journey brought them to the house of Glendower's marrieddaughter. On the officer stating that the knight with him had beensent, under his escort, by Glendower himself, she requested that heshould be shown in. Her husband was away.

  "What is the knight's name?" she asked.

  "Sir Oswald Forster, Lady."

  "I have never, so far as I know, heard it before. Methought that hemight be one whom I may have met, in the houses of my two sistersmarried to Englishmen, in Hereford; but I have no memory of the name.Show him in, sir."

  Roger had removed Oswald's helmet, while the officer was away.

  "Come with me, Roger," he said, "since we were both concerned in thisaffair."

  He bowed deeply to the Lady Isabel; who, as she returned his salute,saw with surprise that his face was quite strange to her.

  "It seems, Sir Oswald," she said, "from the tenor of the message givenme by the officer, that you have come to me as a visitor; and that 'tisas an escort, only, that he has been sent with you?"

  "That is so, Lady; but 'tis as a visitor rather to your sisters, theLadies Jane and Margaret, that I am here. I had, once, the pleasure ofmeeting them."

  Glendower's daughter at once told a maid, who was working with her whenthe officer had entered, to request her sisters to come to her; andthese entered the room a minute later.

  Isabel, seeing that they did not appear to recognize the young knight,said:

  "Our father has sent this gentleman, Sir Oswald Forster, whom you know,to visit you."

  The two girls looked with surprise at Oswald.

  "Do you not know this gentleman?" their sister asked, in equalsurprise.

  "He is not known to us," Jane replied. "I have never seen himbefore--at least, that I can remember."

  "We have met before, nevertheless, Lady," Oswald said, with a smile;"though it may well be that you do not remember my face, or that of mysquire there; seeing that we were together but a few minutes, and thatin the moonlight."

  The girls looked up at him puzzled, and then their eyes fell uponRoger.

  "Now I know!" Margaret exclaimed. "Look at the squire's height. Surely,Jane, these are the two soldiers who allowed us to pass them, thatnight when we fled from Sycharth."

  "That is so," Oswald said. "I thought that you were more likely torecognize my squire than myself, seeing that I have grown severalinches since then, and have but lately assumed this knightly armour inwhich you see me."

  "Oh, sir," Jane said, going swiftly up to him and holding out her hand,which he raised to his lips; as he did that of Margaret, as shefollowed her sister; "we have thought of you so often, and have prayedthat you should both be rewarded for your kindness to us! How glad I amto see you again, and have an opportunity of thanking you!

  "You have heard, Isabel, of our adventure, and how we escaped, by thekindness of two Englishmen on guard near the edge of the forest, frombeing carried as prisoners to London; where, but for them, we shouldnow be lodged in some dungeon of the usurper; but till now, I havenever known the name of our preserver.

  "Thanks also to you, good squire," she said, turning to Roger.

  "I but carried out the orders of my master," Roger said, colouring likea boy, as she held out her hand to him. "There is no credit due to me."

  "But how came you here?" Lady Isabel asked Oswald.

  "Your sisters have, although they know it not, more than repaid theirobligations to me; for while they may perhaps owe their liberty to me,I owe my life to them.

  "See, ladies," and he turned to Jane, "there is the chain you gave me.I have worn it, always, on my wrist. I and my squire were beaten downby, your father's followers; my squire grievously wounded andinsensible, while I had been left for dead, though but stunned from ablow. I luckily recovered my senses, just as those employed indespatching the wounded came up; and, happily remembering yourbracelet, I took it off and held it up, calling out your father's name.

  "Struck, I suppose, by the action and words, an officer examined thebracelet closely; and, making out the inscription on the clasp, had mysquire and myself taken to the house where your father lodged, so thatthe manner of my being possessed of the trinket might be explained. Onyour father's return he recognized it; and, having heard from you thecircumstances of our meeting, treated us with the greatest kindness andhospitality; and freed us without ransom, save a nominal one in orderthat, on my return, I could say that I had been put to ransom. On therecovery of my squire from his wounds, he restored our armour to us,presented us with horses, and sent us here under escort, deeming thatyou might be glad to see us."

  "There he was indeed right," Jane said. "We have oft regretted that youwould not accept a more valuable jewel than that little chain, whichwas given to me by my father, when I was but a child. But 'tis well,indeed, that you so withstood us; for had it been any other of ourjewels but this, it would not have been recognized."

  "That is so, Lady and, since my capture, I often thought that it wasstrange it so happened."

  After staying a day there, Oswald continued his journey; to the regretof the ladies, who were glad to hear that he would never again fightagainst the Welsh. His escort accompanied him, as near the border as itwas safe for them to go. The next day they rode into Chester, and then,by easy stages, up to Alnwick.

  Oswald went to Hotspur's apartments, as soon as he entered the castle.

  "I congratulate you heartily," Hotspur said, as he entered. "I see thatyou have won your spurs. I said to myself, when I received your letter,saying that you were starting to carry a letter to the king, that yourenterprise would bring you either death or a pair of gold spurs. I amglad, indeed, to see that it was the latter.

  "I hear that the king's army is falling back. A messenger brought menews from my kinsman. He said that it was but a rumour that had reachedhim; but that it seemed likely enough, for it was said that they hadsuffered terribly, both from the weather and the attacks of the Welsh."

  "That rumour is true, Sir Henry, and also that the army is retiring."

  "And they have done no more than they did before?"

  "No more, indeed, Sir Henry. They have burnt many villages, and slainmany Welshmen; but they have done nothing, whatever, towards subduingGlendower."