Great indeed was the surprise and joy of John Forster and his wife, when they made out the two girls riding, with Oswald, towards the hold.

"What miracle is this, lad?" the former said, while his wife was embracing her nieces. "We heard, but two days since, of the raid on the Armstrongs, and how the girls were carried off by the Bairds."

Here Oswald put his finger to his lips, to stop him from saying aught of Jane Armstrong's death. He had, after dismounting, whispered in his mother's ear, before she had time to speak to the girls, that as yet they knew nought of their mother's death, and that he had left it to her to break it to them.

"I have been, since, scouring the country," his father went on, "to try to get my friends to take the matter up; but in truth, they were not over willing to do so. All know that it is no slight enterprise to attack the Bairds in their stronghold. We fared but badly, last time we went there, though that was but a blow and a retreat; but all know that the Bairds' hold is not to be taken like a country tower. 'Tis greatly bigger and stronger than ours, and scarce to be attempted save by a royal army; especially as the whole countryside would be swarming round us, in a few hours after we crossed the border. This time, too, it is no quarrel of my people; and, as they say, the risk would be indeed great, and the loss very heavy.

"I sent off a messenger this morning to Armstrong, to tell him that I feared I could not raise more than sixty spears; but with these I would ride to Hiniltie, and join any force he could collect, and try with him to surprise the Bairds' hold and rescue the girls, though it seemed to be a mighty dangerous enterprise."

"He will have learnt, yesterday morning, Father, that we have carried them off. We could have brought you the news last night, but to do so we must have ridden fast and, the girls being with us, we thought it were better to take two days over the journey. So we slept in Tynedale last night."

"And how did you manage it? For unless you and Roger flew into the Bairds' hold, and carried them off on your backs, I see not how it could be managed. Why, the place is so strong that even the Douglases have not cared to carry out the terms of the treaty, for the arrest of William Baird as a notorious breaker of the truce between the two countries."

"It was because I knew Armstrong deemed that it was scarce likely a force could be gathered, by you and his friends, strong enough to undertake such an enterprise, that we decided to rescue them by strategy. The affair turned out to be easy enough."

And he then related, in detail, the manner in which he and Roger had obtained entry into the hold, and had succeeded in rescuing his cousins.

"By the bones of Saint Oswald, from whom you got your name, lad," John Forster exclaimed, when he had finished his story, "you have carried out the matter marvellously well! Hotspur himself could not have contrived it better; and I own that I was wrong, and that that fancy of yours, to be able to read and write, has not done you the damage that I feared it would. Henceforth I will maintain, with all my might, that these things in no way tend to soften a man; but on the contrary, in some way sharpen his wits, and enable him to carry out matters with plans, and contrivances, such as would scarce be conceived by men who had not such advantage.

"But why do we not go inside?"

"I have been keeping you here, Father, because I doubt not that my mother has been breaking the news to the girls, of their mother's slaughter. I said nought to them about it. They knew the hold was burnt, and I told them that Allan was wounded; but I thought that, if I gave them the worst part of the news, it would throw them into such deep grief as to unfit them for the journey. It might not have been discovered till two hours after we had started that they had escaped, and in that case we should have been mounted before the Bairds overtook us, and it would have been a ride for life, and the girls would have needed all their strength and courage to keep them up."

"It was as well so, Oswald, and doubtless your mother will break it more easily to them than you could have done. Women are better at such things than men, who are given to speak, bluntly and straight, what has to be told."



Chapter 15: Another Mission To Ludlow.

While Oswald was talking with his father, Roger had taken the four horses round to the long shed, that ran along one side of the wall; and had there been telling the moss troopers the same story Oswald had been relating to his father, whom he now joined.

"Well, friend Roger," John Forster said as he came up, shaking him heartily by the hand; "by my faith, my son is fortunate in having so stout a fellow as his henchman."

"'Tis rather that I am fortunate in having him as a master," Roger replied. "I have but to strike as he bids me, and there is no need for me to think, for my brain bears no proportion to my bulk; and indeed, even in the matter of strength he bids fair to equal me, for he seems to me to grow taller and stronger every month; which is not surprising, seeing that you are, yourself, much beyond the common. In all this matter there is no credit due to me, save that I have, as faithfully as I could, carried out his orders."

"All men can try to carry out orders, Roger, but it is not all who can do it with intelligence. Doubtless, it has something to do with the book learning that you have, and in which you were his instructor."

"I think not that it is so, in any way, Master Forster," Roger replied quickly, for he liked not the thought that he had gained any advantage, whatever, from his stay in the convent. "It might likely be useful to a man of small stature, whose thoughts would naturally turn to being a scribe, and to making his living by such finicking ways instead of by bearing himself as a man should; but for one like myself, 'tis but time thrown away. Yet I say not that it may not be useful to Master Oswald, who will some day be a knight, and go to court, and have occasion to write letters, when he has no scribe at hand to do it for him; but a good downright blow is more advantage, to the man that strikes it, than all the book learning that he can get."

"I have done well enough without it, Roger; but I think that it must be of some use, else why is it that Oswald is so good at devising plans? Had I been in his place, when he heard the news of the harrying of Hiniltie, and the carrying off of Armstrong's daughters, I should never have thought of starting on such an adventure as he did."

"It may be that it may improve the mind, Master Forster, just as wielding a mace strengthens the muscles of the arm. I only speak from my own experience; and, so far as I can see, all the hours I spent on these matters have been as good as wasted."

"Nay, Roger," Oswald, who had been an amused listener to the conversation, broke in, "you have had evidence, but lately, that it is not so. Had you not been able to read the priest's missal, he would have seen, at once, that you were not a monk; but the fact that you did so, and that much better and more fluently than he could, himself, have read a strange manuscript, was to him a confirmation of your story; which not only enabled us to rescue my cousins, but probably saved your own skin, to say nothing of mine; for had Baird learned that you were deceiving him, he would as likely as not have hung us both over the gateway of his hold, as spies."

Roger scratched his head, in some embarrassment.

"I cannot gainsay it, Master Oswald, though I did not think of it before; and it is certainly a proof that the time I spent in learning was not thrown away; for, as you say, had I not been able to read that missal, doubtless it would have gone hard with both of us. I am not ashamed to own when I am wrong. It would not be English, or honest, not to do so. Reading certainly came in mightily useful, there."

"And you must also remember, Roger," Oswald said with a smile, "that if it had not been that you read and wrote, better than most of the other monks, the abbot would not have picked you out as my instructor, I should not have asked for you to come with me to Scotland, and Sir Henry Percy would never have begged the abbot to allow you to go forth into the world."

"Say no more, Master Oswald—never again will I say a word against reading and writing—I see that they are excellent things, and it never entered my thick head how greatly I have benefited by acquiring them—but will maintain, against all who say the contrary, that they are of great value; and that they in no way tend to soften a man, as I can prove in my own person, and also in yours."

At this moment, Mary Forster appeared at the top of the steps.

"Supper is ready," she said. "I have broken the news to the girls. They are quite broken hearted, poor things, and I have sent them to bed.

"I suppose you are not leaving us, tomorrow morning, Oswald?"

"No, I shall be off at daybreak, the next day. I must not stay longer, for I ought to have been back three days ago, and Sir Henry will be wondering what has befallen me."

Talking the matter over, that evening, as to what had best be done with the girls, Mary Forster said that they had expressed great anxiety to get back, as soon as they could, in order that they might try and comfort their father, and nurse Allan; and John Forster said that he would ride with them, with four of his men, to Hiniltie, in a day or two. The next evening, however, there was a knock at the outside gate; and on its being opened, Adam Armstrong himself entered.

"I could not rest, for thinking of the girls," he said, as he entered the house. "The man arrived safely, yesterday morning, after having, with great difficulty, made his way unobserved through the Bairds, who had some fifty or sixty men scattered, all over the hills."

"Do you go to them, Wife, and tell them that their father has arrived.

"They have been terribly upset," John went on, as his wife left the room. "They were only told of the loss of their mother after they arrived, yesterday. Oswald thought that they would need all their strength for the journey, and that it were better that Mary should break the news to them, when they got here. We have all felt for you sorely, Adam, since your messenger brought the news."

Armstrong pressed his hand, silently.

"She was a good wife to me, John, a right good wife. We buried what seemed to be her remains, yesterday morning. It was that, that kept me from starting the moment the man came in with the news that Oswald had got the girls out of the hands of the Bairds."

"And how is Allan?"

"I trust he will get right, now. He has come partly to his senses, though he is still dazed. We had him carried, in a litter, to the monastery where I obtained the monk's robe for your man; for I feared to leave him in the village, lest the Bairds, furious at the escape of the girls, might return to finish their work."

He was about to speak to Oswald, when the door opened, and the girls ran in, and it was some time before Adam Armstrong again turned to him.

"Now, lad," he said, "do not think, because I am a long time coming to the point, that I think lightly of the service you have rendered me. Ah, lad! I could scarce believe my ears, when Fergus told me that you and your henchman had got the lasses out of the Bairds' hands, and had gone off on horseback with them. I had to put the question, again and again, as to whether he was sure that it was really the girls you had with you. It seemed to me to be altogether impossible; but I had to believe him, at last, though how it came about he could not tell me."

"We had no time for talking," Oswald said. "Every moment was of importance. But the matter was simple enough, and worth but a few words' telling."

And he then related the manner in which he and Roger had obtained entrance to the hold, and had succeeded in getting the girls away.

"It sounds simple enough, in the telling," Armstrong said; "but it needed stout hearts, and good nerves, to enter the Bairds' den on such an errand. You carried your lives in your hands, and well must you have borne out your story, to have passed without suspicion. It was well thought of, indeed, and well carried out, and would have done credit to the boldest and craftiest leader on the border.

"What say you, John?"

"I am proud of him, Adam. As for myself, I should never have thought of such a plan. If I had had the matter in hand, I might have taken twenty stout fellows, and tried to scale the walls unseen, and to fall upon them with spear and sword, and in the confusion carry the girls off; but it would have been a desperate plan, with but small hope of success."

"Small indeed, John, small indeed," Armstrong said, shaking his head. "With prisoners in the hold, the Bairds were not likely to be caught sleeping; and had they been, accustomed to surprises as they are, the whole garrison would have been afoot in a minute, and not a man of ye would have lived to tell the story. Some such mad thought passed through my brain, when I first heard the news, but it was not for long. Even with your spears, and others you might gather, and all my friends in Tweeddale, we should have had but a small chance of capturing the Bairds' hold. We should have had all Annandale and Nithsdale down on us, before we could have done it. At any rate, we should have had to bide our time, and wait until the Bairds were away to England with all their dalesmen; and by that time, none could say what would have become of the girls. In fact, there was but one way of doing it, and that is the way Oswald hit upon.

"Well, lad, I fear I shall never have an opportunity of repaying the debt I owe you; but after this, there is not an Armstrong on the border, on our side or yours—for we are half English and half Scotch—but will hold you as among our closest of kin, and will give you welcome and aid, whensoever you may need it. And where is your man Roger?"

"I will call him," Oswald said and, stepping to the door, he shouted to his follower; who came out, at once, from one of the outhouses occupied by the retainers of the hold.

"Come up, Roger!" Oswald said; "Master Armstrong wishes to see you."

Roger came up and, as he entered, Adam grasped him by the hand.

"Whenever your time for fighting is over, my brave fellow, remember that there is a home for you at Hiniltie, so long as an Armstrong dwells there. I thought, when I fetched that monk's gown for you, that you and my nephew Oswald might be able to gather some news; and let me know, possibly, how the girls were faring; but little did I think that, alone and unaided, you would rescue them from the hands of the Bairds."

"It was a merry business, Master Armstrong, and pleased me hugely, save that it went against my heart to have this bald patch on my head again, just when the hair had so well grown and covered it; but it was well nigh as good as fighting, to trick the Bairds in their own hold, when they, as they thought, were so mightily sure that I was but a harmless brother of a monastery. For the rest, it was an easy business, and scarce worth talking of."

"It was done easily because it was done well, Roger. It was well planned, and well carried out."

"I had nought to do with the planning, and the carrying out was simple enough. There were those there who tested me, as to my knowledge of Dunbar, and of the monastery I came from, and who further tested my knowledge of reading. Once assured that my story was true, they paid no further attention to me, believing that I should stay but a day or two, to rest myself on my way south."

"You had occasion, however, to use that heavy staff you carried."

"Some slight occasion, but I would that I had had the chance to have used it on the heads of some of the Bairds. For what little I did, master Armstrong, your daughters thanked me very prettily, and more than enough; and therefore, I pray thee, say no more of it.

"And how is your son?"

"He is going on well, and both Meg Margetson and the monks, in whose hands I have put him, say that they hope he is out of danger."

The next morning Oswald and Roger mounted, soon after daybreak, and rode to Alnwick. It had, the night before, been arranged that the girls should, for the present, remain at Yardhope; until the hold at Hiniltie was repaired, and put in a state of stronger defence. It was agreed, too, that it was as well that no word should be said by Armstrong, on his return, as to the whereabouts of his daughters, as the Bairds might then, in their anger, make an attack on Yardhope; whereas, at present, they could have no reason whatever for suspecting that they were there, and, if they obtained news that they were not with their father at Hiniltie, would suppose that they had been lodged with some of the family elsewhere, or perhaps placed for safety in Jedburgh.

"I had wondered what had become of you," Hotspur said, when Oswald entered his apartments, to report his return. "I expected you two or three days since, and I indeed wanted you, for other business."

"I am sorry, my lord; but after having fulfilled the orders you gave me, to the governors of Roxburgh and Jedburgh, I became engaged in an affair of my uncle, Adam Armstrong, of so pressing a character that I deemed you would excuse me, when you heard its nature."

And he then briefly related how he had been occupied, since leaving Jedburgh.

"'Tis a good excuse, indeed," Hotspur said, "and you must tell me more of it this evening, when the earl and my wife can also hear it. As to the business I spoke of, it is of no consequence at all; it was but to carry a message to the Earl of Westmoreland. This I have now sent, by another hand."

The winter passed quietly. Oswald's work was light. He more than once rode home for a few days, and once paid a visit to Hiniltie.

Here a number of men were at work. The exterior walls had in no way suffered, and the shell of the central building had so far resisted the fire, that it was not necessary to rebuild it. The roof and floors had been replaced, and the defences considerably strengthened. A portcullis had been placed above the door; so that, in case of the outer wall being carried, or the gate forced, it could at once be lowered. A projecting battlement had been thrown out over this, with openings below, through which boiling lead and pitch could be poured on an enemy trying to break in. Flanking turrets, for archers, had been built at each corner of the house; and the exterior walls had been strengthened by towers, in the centre of each face, and on either side of the gateway.

"We shall be safe now, I think, Oswald," said Allan, who had almost recovered. "The place can hardly be taken by a sudden attack, even by all the forces the Bairds could bring against it; and we could get help from Jedburgh, long before they could gain even the outside wall. My father and I are going, in a fortnight, to fetch the girls. I rode over there a week or two since, and found them looking very well and happy, with your people; but of course they are anxious to get back again, especially as you are so seldom at home."

"If you will fix the day before I go, I will try to be there to meet you. I suppose, as soon as spring sets in fairly, we shall be having troubles again, and it is certainly as well that Janet and Jessie should be at home again before they begin; for although Yardhope is strong enough to resist any attack by the Bairds, or any other border rangers, it can scarcely hold out against a regular invasion."

Four days after his return to Alnwick, Oswald was sent for by Percy.

"The Scots do not seem to be moving yet," the latter said, "but Glendower is ever increasing in strength, and boldness. I have received startling news this morning. A party of Welshmen were seen near Ruthyn, and Earl Grey, with a body of mounted men, rode out against them. They retired at once, and he, briskly pursuing, fell into an ambush and was captured.

"'Twould have been thought that Glendower would have put his chief enemy to death, at once, but it was not so, and it is said he holds the earl to ransom. Glendower has plenty of men, but no doubt needs money sorely. He can draw no revenue from his estates in Denbigh, and those in South Wales cannot suffice for the expenses of feeding the body of men, always under arms. Doubtless he will ask for a great sum, and 'tis like that he will get it. Grey is a favourite of the king, and the latter will doubtless aid him, for he needs his services to hold Flint and Denbighshire against the Welsh.

"Moreover, methinks that the king would, for another reason, make every effort to buy Lord Grey's freedom; for it is no secret that he has no great love for Mortimer; for although he holds the young Earl of March a prisoner, at Windsor, he cannot forget that the lad is the rightful heir to the throne, and that the friends of Richard would place him there, had they the opportunity. Mortimer is the boy's uncle and, not only from his own estates, but as guardian of the young earl's wide possessions in Hereford and in Shropshire, is a very powerful noble.

"The king has no real reason for doubting him, for I know that Mortimer has no thought of supporting the Earl of March's claim to the throne; having held, with the rest of the kingdom, that Henry, who is wise and politic, is a far fitter ruler than the lad could be. Doubtless, Henry is well aware of this, but he sees that when the young earl grows to manhood he might become dangerous; and might supplant him, as he supplanted Richard. Thus, then, I have no doubt the king will use every effort to obtain the release of Lord Grey, in order that he may act as a counterpoise, in the Welsh marches, to the influence of Mortimer.

"However, that is not now the question. It is evident, by this daring deed of Glendower, that he will be busy this year; and the success of his first attempt will assuredly add to his following. Therefore, as the Scots are, at present, quiet, I would that you ride again to Ludlow, and sojourn there a while.

"Sir Edmund sends me but scant news, and I would fain know more closely how matters are going there, and how great this insurrection is like to grow. It may well be that the Scots, seeing how powerful Glendower is becoming, will enter into agreement with him, that while he invades the west country, they shall pour across the border with all their forces; in which case we should be hard pressed, for the king's power in the south might be fully engaged against the Welsh, and we should have to battle with the whole strength of Scotland, alone. Therefore, write at length, giving me full reports of the talk of the country as to the bearing of the Welsh, not only beyond the border, but those settled in the west counties.

"You will, of course, take the fighting monk with you; and he can aid you in this matter, being a good scholar, though a bad monk; so, when you are weary of holding the pen, you can dictate the matter to him. I will send two well-mounted couriers with you, and will have relays of horses placed on the road, so that you can despatch me a letter once a week; and they will also, of course, carry any letters Sir Edmund Mortimer may wish to send."

"Very well, Sir Henry. Shall I start today?"

"Nay, the matter is not so urgent as all that."

"Then I will ride tomorrow morning."

"Good.

"I am well pleased with you, Oswald. That affair, in which you rescued your cousins, showed that you have discretion and ability, as well as skill and courage; and you see, the knowledge that you gained at the monastery is coming in useful to you, now. As a mark of my approbation, I will order that one of my warhorses shall be saddled, and be in readiness for you, in the morning. The steed that Mortimer gave you is a good one, but you have need of another; for one may fall lame, or be killed or wounded, and 'tis well to have a second string to the bow. Moreover, riding as you do in my service, 'tis but meet that I should provide you with horseflesh.

"I marked you on your horse today, the one you rode when you came here; and in truth, you have outgrown it altogether; and though I doubt not that the sturdy little beast would, even yet, carry you for a long day's journey, 'tis scarce in accordance with your position as our representative."

Oswald thanked Hotspur heartily for the gift, for he, himself, had felt that he needed a second charger, but had been reluctant to ask his father for the money required to buy one; for the expenses of repairing the hold, after the last Scotch invasion, had been heavy, and gold was a scarce commodity at Yardhope.

He started at daybreak the next morning, riding the fine horse Hotspur had given him. Roger rode behind him, and was followed by the two lightly-armed men, who were to act as messengers. One of these led Oswald's second horse. As soon as they had left the castle, Oswald called Roger up to his side.

"Well, Roger, I dare say you are as pleased as I am, that we are on the move again. 'Tis nigh five months since we returned from Ludlow and, save for our adventure with the Bairds, we have had a quiet time, since."

"Think you there will be work with the Welsh again, master?"

"I think so, indeed, Roger. They say that Glendower's forces are greatly increasing, and he has captured Lord Grey, and holds him to ransom. The king must regret, now, that Parliament refused to listen to Glendower's complaints, because he had been one of Richard's men, and had perhaps spoken more hotly than was prudent, touching the king's murder."

"But they say that Richard is still alive, and that he is with the Scots."

"They may say so, Roger, but think you that it is likely? The king's figure was well known to hundreds of men. Why does he not show himself? Even in Scotland there are many nobles who, during the truces between the kingdoms, have been to London, and have known King Richard; and had this man been he, they would have recognized him, at once. Besides, think you that when the king had Richard caged, in Pomfret, there was any chance of his getting free again? It may suit Albany, at present, to set up some puppet or other, in order to cause uneasiness to Henry, and to render Richard's friends here unwilling to obey the orders of the king, and to take the field against the Scots; but had he been Richard, 'tis not in Scotland that he would have shown himself, but in France, where he would gladly have been received, as Anne of Bohemia's husband, and would have had aid and support to urge his claims."

"Well, master, I care not what takes us to Wales. At any rate, I am glad to journey thither; for it seems, at present, as if there, only, is there a chance of giving and taking hard knocks. How is it that you do not take a party of men-at-arms, as you did last time?"

"Mortimer has plenty of men, without them, and the handful that Percy can spare would be of little use. I am going principally because Hotspur is anxious to be kept well informed of what happens in the west, for he feels sure that, if Glendower's power increases, it will be needful to send a strong English army there. The Scots will make a great invasion, and it will behove all the northern counties, and lords, to hold themselves in readiness."

They travelled fast and, in five days after leaving Alnwick, arrived at Ludlow.

"Welcome back again, Master Oswald!" Sir Edmund said, when he arrived. "I thought that maybe Sir Henry Percy would send you hither. Matters here are becoming serious, and 'tis said that there have been Scotch emissaries with Glendower, though for the truth of this I cannot answer; but Percy will certainly wish to know, well, what passes in the west; and I am but a poor hand with the pen, and moreover, too much busied to write often. He knows that right well, and I doubt not you are instructed to inform him of all that passes."

"You are right, Sir Edmund. It is for that purpose that he has sent me hither, charging me to write to him, frequently, as to the situation and the power of Glendower; which must needs be on the increase, since nought has been done to bring him to reason. And I have also his commands, to place myself at your service, and to obey you, in all respects, as if I had been your squire."

"I shall be glad for you to ride with my knights," Sir Edmund replied, courteously. "I have not forgotten that you did good service, last year, and trust that you may find opportunity for winning your spurs."

"I shall be glad, indeed, to do so, Sir Edmund. May I ask where Glendower is supposed to be, at present?"

"He has his headquarters on the summit of Plinlimmon, a great hill on the borders of Montgomery; and thence ravages and plunders all the country round him, slaying all who are supposed to be attached to the English cause. Unfortunately, he meets with but little resistance, for the castles have, for the most part, been suffered to get into a bad state; since, for a hundred years, it has seemed that they would no longer be required against the Welsh, who appeared to have become as peaceful as the people in our own counties. Many of the knights have built themselves more convenient houses, and have let the castles become almost ruins.

"Then, too, the garrisons, where garrisons are kept, are for the most part composed of Welshmen. These can be no longer trusted, and it is no easy matter to obtain Englishmen in their places, for so great is the terror caused by the slaughter, by Glendower, of those who fall into his hands, that few even of adventurous spirit would, at present, care to leave their homes beyond the Severn, to take up such desperate service. Glendower's movements are so rapid that there is no notice of his coming, and it is not until he and his band suddenly appear, burning and slaughtering, that any know of his approach."

"Surely it must be difficult to victual so large a force, on the summit of a mountain?"

"It would assuredly be so, only he keeps but a hundred and fifty chosen men with him. But, were his beacon fires to be lighted, there would in a few hours be ten thousand men on the mountain. Then again, as the whole population are with him, were I to start with five hundred men from here, the news would reach him, by means of smokes on the hills, before I had marched five miles away. 'Tis a warfare in which there is no credit to be gained, and much loss to be sustained; and I see not that, with anything less than an army large enough to march through Wales from end to end, burning the towns and villages, and putting to the sword all who resist, the affair can be brought to an end.

"It was only thus that Harold brought Wales to reason, and that so strongly that it was two generations ere they ventured again to cross the border. It was so that Edward finally stamped out their rebellions, and methinks that the work will have to be done again, in the same manner. So far from doing good, the king's invasion last autumn has but encouraged them; for, though so numerous, his army effected nothing, and showed the Welsh how powerless the troops were to enter the mountains, or to take the offensive anywhere save on level ground."

Oswald's life, at Ludlow, differed in no way from that at Alnwick. He took his meals at the high table, sitting below the knights, with Sir Edmund's squires. He practised arms with them; tilted in the courtyard of the castle; occasionally rode out, hunting and hawking, with a party of knights and ladies; helped to drill the bodies of tenants who, a hundred at a time, came in to swell the garrison. Sometimes he carried Mortimer's orders to the governors of the castles, or rode with a strong party into Hereford or Radnor.

A short time after his arrival, Montgomery was taken by storm by Glendower; and all Englishmen, and Welshmen suspected of friendship for the English, slain. Shortly afterwards, the suburbs of Welshpool were burnt by him, to the great loss of the Earl of Powys; whose annoyance was all the greater, since most of his own tenants were under arms, with Glendower. Following hard upon these pieces of bad news came word that he had fallen upon the Abbey of Cwmhir, six miles from Rhayader, in Radnorshire, which he entirely destroyed. The news caused great indignation, and the reason for this sacrilegious act was warmly discussed at the castle.

"The reason, methinks," Sir Edmund said, after he had listened to the knights for some time, "is twofold. In the first place the ecclesiastics, for the most part, and the monks of all the orders save the Franciscans, favoured King Henry against Richard; but the chief reason is the long animosity between the Church and the Bards, of whom Glendower is a great patron; and who have done him great service, by stirring up the people with their songs. The bards have ever been foremost in instigating insurrections in Wales. Edward the First attempted to suppress them altogether, and his edict for executing them, by martial law, is still unrepealed; and they dare not venture to show themselves, in any castle or town held by us. But they have, to a man, rallied round Glendower. His house was always open to them, and he was even distinguished by some Welsh name, meaning the protector of the bards. Now, after being hunted fugitives for so many years, they have, no doubt, used their influence with him to stir him up against the religious houses."

But a heavier blow still was struck by Glendower, and the feeling at Ludlow was nothing short of consternation, when a fugitive arrived from the town of New Radnor, saying that the strong castle there had been carried by assault, the garrison of three-score men all beheaded, and the town laid in ashes. This was the heaviest blow yet struck by Glendower. The castle was of great strength, and the town had been walled by the Lords of the Marches. That such a place should have been carried by Welsh kerns seemed well-nigh incredible, and the execution of the whole of the garrison aroused the most lively indignation.

"This is war to the knife, indeed," Sir Edmund Mortimer said; "and yet, abhorrent as is this wholesale murder of the garrison, I cannot but own that it is a politic step, on the part of Glendower. The news will spread throughout Wales, and if so strong a place as New Radnor could not defend itself, how can lesser castles hope to do so? Nor, indeed, will garrisons care to man the walls, since resistance means death. Doubtless there were many Welsh among these men who were murdered, and you may be sure that their compatriots, in other castles, will hasten to desert and join Glendower."

This, indeed, proved to be the case, the garrisons of the castles dwindled away, and hold after hold fell without resistance. Even in Ludlow, every precaution was taken; all Welshmen were expelled from the town, and the garrison was also purged of them, although some of the men-at-arms had served for many years. These men were told that, after the troubles were over, they should again be taken into the service if they chose; but that, in the present state of things, one traitor might endanger the safety of the castle and town; and that, as it was impossible to tell who were true men and who had been corrupted by Glendower's agents, it was necessary that all should suffer, even if innocent.

Among the tenants of Mortimer's estate, and those of the young earl, were many Welsh. Against them no measures were taken. They and their fathers, sometimes indeed three generations of them, had lived peaceably; and had rendered military service, when required, in the troubles of England; and Mortimer was reluctant to treat them harshly, especially as all declared their readiness to serve, and prove their devotion to their English lord.

"They are not sufficiently numerous," he said, "to be a source of any danger. Were Glendower to invade England in great force doubtless they would join him, to save their lives and those of their families; but being but one to four or five of the English tenants, I see not that they can be a source of danger to us."



Chapter 16: A Letter For The King.

A large number of Flemings had settled in Wales, having left their own country in consequence of the constant troubles there; and many of these had set up cloth mills, at Welshpool and other places. Having suffered great destruction of property at the hands of Glendower, and seeing no hope of the insurrection being put down by the English, they resolved to take the matter into their own hands. Fifteen hundred of them gathered, secretly, and surrounded Glendower in one of his mountain intrenchments.

He repulsed their attacks, but the situation was desperate. Provisions ran short. He was unable to summon help, and at last determined, with his little body of followers, to endeavour to cut his way out through the besiegers. The attack was sudden and fierce. The Flemings, who, knowing the smallness of his force, had made no preparations to repel an attack, were seized with a panic at the fierce appearance and the wild cries of the Welsh, who fell upon them with such fury that two hundred of the Flemings were slain, and the Welsh cut their way through the beleaguering line.

The news of this feat was received with immense enthusiasm, throughout the principality. Great numbers flocked to Glendower's standard; the bards sung songs of his victory, at every village in Wales; and so formidable did his position become that the Lords of the Marches wrote to the king, saying that the matter had gone altogether beyond them, and that his presence, with an army, was urgently needed.

Even in Ludlow, extra sentries were placed upon the walls, the garrison was kept in a constant state of vigilance, and mounted men were stationed, miles out, to bring in the news of the approach of any hostile force.

"'Tis a thousand pities," Sir Edmund said, when the news of the defeat of the Flemings reached him, "that these fellows did not send news to me, a day or two before they undertook this business; for in that case I would have myself headed a force of a couple of hundred of my best men-at-arms, and joined them at some spot in the mountains; and had we been there, you may be sure that Glendower would never have fought his way out. The Flemings are doubtless stout fighters, as they have proved over and over again, in their own country; but they are all unused to mountain warfare, or to fight with wild men, and were doubtless scared by the shrill cries with which the Welsh always advance to battle. Doubtless, too, these men Glendower keeps with him are his best fighters, and they knew that, if they did not succeed in making their way out, no mercy would be shown to them, seeing that they have shown none themselves. Had the battle been on a plain, I doubt not that the Flemings would have stood against many times the number of Welshmen that Owen had with him; but this hill warfare was altogether strange to them, and of course they had not the habit of quickly rallying, and meeting the attack, that is second nature with our men-at-arms. The affair is serious, and unless the king comes hither with an army, Glendower is likely to have it all his own way on his side of the border; and, ere long, there won't be an Englishman left west of the Severn."

However Henry, when informed of the danger, lost no time in assembling another great army; and in the beginning of June advanced into Wales, and ravaged a wide extent of country, carrying his arms into Cardiganshire, and destroying the Abbey of Strata Florida, one of the most venerable and famous abbeys in Wales. Founded in 1164, it was burnt down in 1294, during the wars of King Edward the First with the Welsh, but was soon rebuilt. Here Llewellyn, in 1237, convened all the chieftains of Wales to take the oath of allegiance. There were two copies of the national records, one of which was kept at this abbey, and the other at that of Conway.

The abbey having fallen, Henry's army met with scarcely any resistance, Glendower knowing that his wild followers were no match for the royal troops. He therefore contented himself with harassing them continually, and the army suffered greatly by this continued annoyance, as well as from fatigue and famine. Thus the king returned across the border without having achieved any success, whatever.

The Lords of the Marches were not now ordered to contribute any troops, but were to hold their castles strongly; lest, when the army was fairly entangled among the mountains, Glendower should make a great incursion into England. The only advantage gained by the English invasion was that the king, by promises of pardon and rewards, drew away a number of the leading men who had hitherto acted with Glendower. Their defection, however, was more than made up by the enthusiasm excited by the spectacle of the second retirement of a great English army, without having effected anything of importance.

So evident was this, that in October Henry again advanced, with the contingents of no fewer than twenty-two counties. The season, however, was already unfavourable for operations and, after enduring great hardships and suffering, the army again fell back, having effected even less than the two which had preceded it.

Things, however, turned out fortunately for Oswald. The army had advanced a week across the border when a messenger arrived at Ludlow, with a letter from London for the king.

"It will be no easy matter to forward it," Sir Edmund said, as the despatch was handed to him. "Indeed, I see not how it is to be done. Beyond the fact that the king intended to march west, I know nothing whatever of his intentions, or of the exact road he was likely to take. His orders were strict, that we were to keep our forces well in hand; and to send the letter forward would need two hundred men, at least, as an escort. It places me in an awkward position, indeed."

"If it so please you, Sir Edmund," said Oswald, who was one of the group standing round, when the messenger handed the letter to Mortimer; "I will endeavour to carry the despatch for you. Methinks that, while fifty men would not succeed in getting through to the army, two might, perchance, manage to do so. I shall, of course, ride first to Shrewsbury, through which the king passed; and so follow up the course he took. There should be no great difficulty in doing that, for the march of so great a body of men must have left many traces behind. They will, doubtless, have harried the country, for some distance each side of the line they followed; and it is not likely that I should meet any of the Welsh, until I was near the army. Then, of course, great caution would have to be used; for it is like enough that there are parties of Glendower's men hanging on its skirts, to cut off stragglers, and plunder any waggons whose horses may have fallen by the way."

"'Tis a terribly dangerous service," Sir Edmund said, gravely; "but in truth, I see no other way of forwarding this letter; which, for aught I know, may be of high importance. But if this is a desperate enterprise, it is also one that will bring you great credit, if safely carried through. I will myself, if you go, give you a letter to the king, saying that you have volunteered for this desperate undertaking, from your loyalty to his person, and because it is possible that the letter may contain matter of the highest importance, to him and the realm in general. I shall add that you have already greatly distinguished yourself, in service against the Welsh, and are the trusty esquire of my brother-in-law, Sir Henry Percy."

"I quite feel, Sir Edmund, that the enterprise is a dangerous one; but I am nevertheless determined, with your permission, to undertake it. My henchman and myself have, together, gone through dangers as great; and may pass through this, as well."

"I will give you my answer in half an hour, Master Oswald, when I have talked it over with my knights, and heard their opinions as to whether any better plan can be devised."

Oswald bowed and retired and, seeking out Roger, told him of the offer that he had made.

"Well, master, if you are bent upon this enterprise, you will not find me backward; and indeed, I am so sick of this six months of idleness, and of seeing others marching to Wales to fight, while we do nothing here; that, by Saint Bride, were you to ask me to go into Glendower's stronghold, and pluck him by the beard, I would willingly go with you."

Oswald laughed.

"'Tis not so bad as that, Roger, and yet 'tis a service of great danger. How think you that we had best set about it, on horse or on foot?"

Roger looked surprised at the question.

"It would surely be better to go on horseback, master; for if we met too many Welshmen to fight, we might at least ride away from them."

"There is truth in that, Roger; but, on the other hand, our feet will carry us up and down mountains, and fells, where our horses could not go. If mounted, we must travel by beaten tracks, and might be seized by parties of Welsh, lurking in the woods, before we knew of their presence. Without horses, we could ourselves keep within shelter of the trees, and could so evade the observation of any who might be stationed on lofty hills, to watch if any body of troops were following the track of the army. Moreover, we should have no trouble about forage and water for our steeds."

"Enough, master, I see which way your inclinations lie; and as my legs have had a long holiday, it is but right that they should carry me for a bit; and assuredly, 'tis easier for footmen to hide than it is for horsemen."

"I should say, Roger, that it would be best to leave armour, as well as horses behind. If we are attacked by numbers, our armour will serve us but little; while if without it, we may be able, even if chased, to avoid the hands of these Welshmen. They say that they are swift of foot; but, as we can hold our own with the Northumbrian border men, we ought to be able to do so against these Welsh, especially as our legs are nigh a foot longer than those of the greater part of them."

"Very well, master. I myself have no great love for travelling in armour, and would almost as soon march in a monk's gown, again, as in breastplate and back piece."

"Very well, so we will arrange it. We shall have to carry our provisions, for you may be sure that we shall get nothing, whatever, while we are following the army. They will strip the country clean. You know how terribly they have suffered by famine, on the two previous expeditions; and it will assuredly be no better, now. Food, however, we can procure at Shrewsbury, from which point we shall take our start."

A retainer, at this moment, came out from the hall, and informed Oswald that Sir Edmund would speak with him. When he entered, Mortimer said:

"My knights and I agree that this letter ought to be sent forward to the king; for if it contains matters of importance, great harm might result from delay, and the king's anger be excited against us, for not having sent it to him. His orders to me were strict, that neither I nor any of my force should join him; therefore I accept your offer, with thanks. Have you formed any plan for your proceeding?"

Oswald repeated the substance of what he had said to Roger.

"I think, perhaps, you are right," Mortimer said, "and that you may have more chance of getting safely through, on foot, than if you rode with but a small force to escort you. When you are ready to start, I will speak to you in private, touching some things connected with your journey."

When Oswald returned, Mortimer said to him:

"You see, Master Oswald, the position is by no means simple. There can be no doubt that the king regards me with no favourable eye. He holds my nephews in his keeping, and doubtless imagines that I bear him ill will. As their uncle, he supposes that, should at any time a party be formed to place the Earl of March on the throne, I should be the leader in the matter; though assuredly I have never given him any reason to doubt my loyalty.

"I say not that I approved of the deposition of King Richard; and indeed I have not, like Lord Grey and many other nobles, among them the Percys, been a warm supporter of King Henry's cause. I hold myself altogether neutral, in that matter. I saw that nothing would be more ruinous, for the country, than that a boy like my nephew should mount the throne; and had a party been formed to make him king, instead of Henry, I would have taken no share in it. Nevertheless, there is no getting over the fact that, by right, the Earl of March is King of England, and there is no saying what may come about in the future; but assuredly, at the present time, I am as ready to do my duty towards King Henry as are those who are louder in their expressions of attachment to him.

"Nevertheless, I am well aware that the king distrusts me. As you see, he has not, these three times that he has invaded Wales, come near Ludlow. He has not summoned me to join his banner; nay, more, has strictly ordered me not to send a man-at-arms to join him.

"I own that this letter troubles me, somewhat. Why should it not have been carried to Shrewsbury, instead of being brought hither? It has, indeed, come from London, and those who sent it may not know that the king would move by Shrewsbury, and not by this line; which would, indeed, be more direct for him in advancing into Montgomery and Cardiganshire. On the other hand, it may be a snare. If I send it not forward, he might blame me greatly for holding it back. If I send it forward, and perchance it falls, on the way, into the hands of the Welsh, he might harbour the thought, even if he did not accuse me openly, of conniving with Glendower. One pretext is as good as another, however unlikely it may be, when a king desires to make a quarrel with one of his vassals. Your offer to carry it is, then, a very seasonable one, and goes far to get me out of the difficulty.

"In the first place, by sending it by you, I afford no ground for him to say that I have disobeyed his orders, to send no one of my following to his army; and in the next place, whatever suspicion he may have of me, assuredly he can have none of the Percys, to whom he so largely owes his crown; and that a trusted squire of Hotspur should be the bearer of the letter, is sufficient proof that all that could be done, was done, for its safe carriage. Should you fail to deliver it, he can, at least, not put it down to any fault of mine.

"Sir James Burgon and Sir Philip Haverstone both offered to carry it, urging that the danger should fall on them; and not upon you, who are still an esquire, and have no duty towards me in the affair; and that it were a shame that they should remain here, idle, while you rode, perhaps, to your death.

"Assuredly, my feelings were with them and, were it not for the circumstances in which I am placed, I should certainly intrust the enterprise to them; but on my laying the whole matter before them, and pointing out that the coming of two of my knights to him would be a breach of the king's orders, they saw that, since you were willing to undertake it, it were best that it should be so.

"I doubt not that Henry would, not unwillingly, fasten some quarrel on me. He has his army at hand and, did he march hither, he could seize my lands, and those of my nephew, and partition them out among his friends; for I am in no condition to strike a single blow in my defence. We know, well enough, that when a king wishes to get rid of one of his nobles, there is never any great difficulty in finding a pretext for his arrest, and execution."

"I quite understand, Sir Edmund; and for my part, I will assuredly do my best to place this letter in the hands of the king. I shall say that, being of Sir Henry Percy's household, and knowing that my lord would be glad that I should have the opportunity of striking a blow under the king's leading, I volunteered at once, when the letter arrived, to bear it to him; and that, seeing his majesty had laid his orders on you, to keep all your force in readiness to repel Glendower, should he issue out in this quarter, you granted my request that I should be its bearer."

"That will do well, Oswald. I know that the danger is by no means small, but I trust that you may surmount it. I shall send off a letter, today, to Hotspur. Doubtless you will, yourself, be writing to him, and explain to him why I have suffered you to undertake so dangerous an enterprise."

Two hours later, Oswald, having despatched the messenger to Hotspur with his own letter, and that of Mortimer, mounted, and with Roger rode to Shrewsbury. Here he was able to gather but little news, as to the present position of the army. For four days no messengers had arrived from the king.

The last news was to the effect that the army was marching forward, through Montgomeryshire. On first starting, they had made a long march to Welshpool, and thence had proceeded to Newtown. On the way, the Welsh had rushed down from the hills, and had fallen on the baggage, slain many of the drivers, and killed so many horses that it had been necessary to leave some of the waggons behind.

At Newtown they halted, and parties had been sent out in all directions to harry the country, while a part of the force left at Welshpool marched upon Llanfair. This was the last news that had come through from the king.

But from Welshpool they heard, next day, that there had been several skirmishes with the Welsh, and that heavy rains had made the roads all but impassable. No more messages had come. This was not surprising, as it was certain that the Welsh would close in behind the army, as it advanced; and as there would be no great occasion to send news back, the king would not care to weaken himself, by detaching escorts of sufficient strength to make their way down.

"If we could have been sure which way the king had been going, Roger, it would have been much shorter for us to have made direct for Llanidloes."

"Certainly it would, Master Oswald; but you see, he might have turned more to the north, in which case we should have, perhaps, been unable to gather news of his whereabouts, while we should have run no small risk of getting our throats cut."

"It is evident, Roger, that the king is marching, at present, in the direction of Plinlimmon. No doubt he hopes that Glendower will come down and give him battle, but methinks he will not be foolish enough to do so. The weather, and the hills, will fight far better for him than the Welsh, themselves, can do; and he has but to leave the army to wander about through the mountains and forests, as he did last time, to ensure that they must, ere long, fall back."

At daybreak the next morning, they set out and rode to Welshpool. This being a walled town, and the population almost entirely English, they could leave their horses here, in safety. They first went to the governor's, and upon Oswald's explaining that they were the bearers of a letter for the king, and asking whether he could give them any information as to the direction they had best take, he shook his head.

"No news has come hither, for the last five days," he said. "A herd of bullocks arrived here, three days since, and were to have been forwarded on to the army; but the Welsh are out in force, and every road beset. Parties have come down from the hills overlooking us, and have fired several houses, that escaped when they last attacked us. My force is sufficient to hold the town against any attacks, but I cannot spare so many men as would be required to convoy the cattle. I told the king so, before he went on; but he said that no Welshman would dare show himself, when the army had once passed on; and that every Welsh house and village would be destroyed, and all within them put to the sword, so that I should have no difficulty in sending forward cattle, and other supplies.

"That the villages have been destroyed I have no doubt, for the messengers who came in from Llanfair told me that, as they passed over the hills, they could see smoke rising from the forests in all directions; but whether the inhabitants remained, quietly awaiting the arrival of the troops, is more than doubtful. There were beacon fires on all the hills, the night before the army left Shrewsbury, and again on the next night. Since then, we have seen no more from here, but those who came from Llanfair told us that they were burning, on every hill, the night they got there; so I have no doubt that the old men, women, and children were at once sent off, probably to shelter in the Plinlimmon district, or mayhap in the forests of Cader Idris. At any rate, we may be sure that very few will be found at their villages. It was so the last time the king's army marched along, and the same when he made his way through Denbigh to Anglesey.

"The Welsh care little for the burning of their houses. It takes but two or three days' work to rebuild them. The harrying of the villages will not bring the matter a day nearer to a conclusion. It is by destroying the castles and houses of the better class that an effect will be produced. The peasants have little to lose. The Welsh gentry have houses and estates, and the fear of losing these may drive them to abandon Glendower, and to come over to us. Many did so, after the king's last invasion. Methinks the best policy would be to spare the villagers, and give the peasants no cause for complaint, and to war only against their leaders.

"But as to yourself, sir, there is not the most remote chance of your getting through; and you had best wait here until the army returns, or some levies, who may have arrived late at Shrewsbury, come up on their way to join the king."

"I inquired at Shrewsbury, last night, sir; but I heard that no more parties were expected, the contingents from all the counties having joined the king, at Worcester, on the day ordered. My intention is that I and my man-at-arms will leave our horses here, and go forward on foot. In that way we can travel, for the most part, through the forests; and may escape being seen. We have already left our armour behind us, at Ludlow, so as to be able to move more rapidly. We are both Northumbrians, and are accustomed to traverse moors and fells; and, even should we be seen by any straggling party of the enemy, we shall have a fair chance of outrunning them, and throwing them off our track. At any rate, it is my duty to endeavour to carry the letter to the king."

"Is it a matter of life and death?"

"That I know not, sir. A royal messenger brought it, from London, to Ludlow. He had ridden with relays of horses, but had no means of getting farther, and begged Sir Edmund Mortimer to forward it. I myself, an esquire of Sir Henry Percy, was staying as a guest with Sir Edmund—who is, as you know, my lord's brother-in-law—and I volunteered to carry it, being anxious to have an opportunity of doing service to the king."

"It was a bold offer, young man, and doubtless, when you made it, you were scarce aware how dangerous was the business that you undertook. Did I think that it would be of any use, I would furnish you with twenty men-at-arms to ride with you; but I know that such a force would, in no way, add to your safety. You might get as far as Llanidloes, or Llanfair, whichever route you might choose, though I think not that you would do so; but beyond that, it would be hopeless for any force, of less than five hundred good fighting men, to attempt to make their way through.

"From what I hear, there are at least fifteen thousand Welshmen in arms. Many, doubtless, are with Glendower himself. The rest will be scattered among the hills, ready to pounce upon any party who may be moving up the valleys to join the king; and there are plenty of places where a couple of hundred men could check the advance of an army."

"Then it is all the more necessary, sir, that we should trust to good fortune, and to making our way unseen. May I pray you to take care of our horses, till we return to claim them? Should we never do so, there are doubtless many upon whom you could bestow them; and they are both rarely good animals, for one was presented to me by Sir Henry Percy, and the other by Sir Edmund Mortimer."

"I will take care of them, willingly. If you do not return, before the king marches back; and I find, when he comes, that you did not reach him; I will use the horses myself, holding them always as your property should you, at any time, return to claim them. Is there aught else that I can do to help you?"

"No, sir; what would, of all other things, be most valuable to us would be a guide; but, from what I have seen and heard of the Welsh, I fear that no reliance, whatever, can be placed on one of them."

"Certainly not at present. Did you take one, he would but slip away at the first opportunity; and there is no Englishman, so far as I know, who could guide you through the mountains."

"In that case, sir, we must perforce travel close to the roads, so as to be sure that we do not wander from the track, but keeping in the shelter of the forest."

"That is the only possible course," the governor agreed; "to be lost, among those hills, would be certain death. If you failed to fall in with anyone, you would die of hunger. If you did meet anyone, you would be killed. Glendower spares no Englishman who falls into his hands."

"I don't know that he can be greatly blamed for that, sir," Oswald said with a smile, "seeing that the Welsh meet with such scant mercy, from us."

"'Tis a savage war," the governor said, shrugging his shoulders, "and it seems to me that it will continue, until the last Welshman is exterminated."

"That will be a difficult thing, indeed, to effect," Oswald laughed; "as difficult as was the extermination of wolves in England; but I hope that matters will arrange themselves, long before that. Surely, in time, the Welsh leaders will see that the struggle is a hopeless one; and that they will lose their homes, and their possessions, and their lives, if they continue it.

"Brave as the Welsh may be, they cannot withstand the whole strength of England. They may exist in the forests, for a time; but, with all the valleys and fertile lands in English hands, they will at last be forced to submit."

"It would seem so; but Edward said the same thing, of Scotland. He carried fire and sword through it, time after time; and yet Scotland has still its king, and holds its own on the border."

"That is so, sir; but Scotland is a large country, whereas Wales is a small one; and the towns and castles are English, as are all the ports; and the people themselves, although brave, are wholly without discipline, and are able to fight only in the mountains; while the Scots are strong enough to give battle to us on level ground, and have defeated us, more than once."

"My advice to you is to leave the town at night," the governor said, as Oswald rose to leave. "There may be many of the Welsh lying round us now; and doubtless they learn, from their countrymen here, all that is doing. I will give you a scroll, ordering that you are allowed to pass out at any time, by night or day."

"Thank you, sir. I had intended to start tomorrow morning, two hours before daybreak, so as to get well into the forest before sunrise. I shall, of course, go first to Llanidloes; where, doubtless, a strong guard will have been left. As far as that I cannot well miss my way, as I shall have but to keep along the side of the valley."

"That is so. Beyond that, the river is a mere streamlet, and you will have to make across the hills."

"Do you know, sir, whether the force that went to Llanfair was to effect a junction with the king?"

"No, I believe not; at any rate, not for the present. The party was to march west; the king's force was to move south of Plinlimmon; Lord Talbot's to cross the range of hills, and come down upon the river Dovey and, if possible, prevent Glendower, if he is still on Plinlimmon, from making his way to Dinas Mowddwy, or Cader Idris, or up to Snowdon again. The plan is doubtless as good as another, but I doubt whether Talbot's force, if ten times as numerous as it is, could prevent Glendower from slipping away."

That evening Oswald bought a supply of bread and meat, sufficient to last Roger and himself for three days. This was divided in halves and placed in bags, which would be slung over their shoulders. The horses had already been sent up to the castle and, after sleeping for a few hours, the two left the town and, turning to the right, ascended the hill.

Oswald carried his sword and dagger. Roger, in addition to these, had a heavy oaken quarterstaff.

"This," he said, "may be of service in mountain work, and may suffice to crack the skulls of any half-dozen Welshmen we may fall in with."

Both had put on plain leather jerkins and cloth caps, and wore, underneath, their own suits with the Percy cognizance embroidered on them, in order that they might present themselves in proper attire, should they arrive at the king's camp. The weather was already becoming cold, and the double suit was therefore not uncomfortable. As the dress of the Welsh, in the towns and valleys, was very similar to that worn by English villagers; they would attract but little attention, should they have cause to take to the road, for any short distance.

Keeping within the edge of the belt of trees, they followed the valley down past the ruins of Montgomery, and passed Newtown without entering it. Many times during the morning they heard loud shouts, from the woods in which they were, answered by similar cries from the other side of the valley; and were obliged to move with great caution, for it was evident that a considerable number of Welsh were in ambush in the woods, in readiness to attack any party who might be proceeding up or down the valley.

Towards noon, they were obliged to leave the edge of the forest, and to ascend to the brow of the hills; as it was certain that any parties of the enemy, who might be in the forest, would be assembled near its edge, in readiness to pour suddenly down.

More than once they heard voices, but a short distance away; and paused, for a time, to allow parties of men to cross ahead of them. Their greatest danger lay in crossing the side valleys, but as the Welsh would be expecting no one to come down these, they succeeded in crossing without being observed.

They were well content when, just as night was falling, they came down upon Llanidloes. Crossing the wooden bridge over the stream, they entered the town boldly; for, looking down upon it, they had seen many men in armour in the streets, and knew that the place was occupied by the English.

At the gate at the end of the bridge they were asked their business, but they replied that they could only answer that to the officer commanding, and were taken before him.

"Whence come you, friends?" the latter said. "Surely you must be English, by your height; but what you are doing here, in times like the present, I know not. Come you from the king's army, or from the north?"

"We left Welshpool before daybreak," Oswald said, "and have travelled through the forest."

"Then you must be as bold as you are tall, sirs, for the woods are full of these wild Welsh."

"Of that we are aware, sir, and we had some difficulty in making our way through them, unobserved. I would not answer the guard, when we entered; for we are going farther, and had it been mentioned, in the hearing of a Welshman, news might have been sent on ahead."

"I think not that you can reach the king. When we last heard, his foremost divisions were marching forward, and devastating the country on both sides of their line of march. We have heard reports that some of the parties have been attacked, and well-nigh destroyed; and certain it is that Glendower's men are scattered all over the country.

"We were three days without news, but this morning a strong party came, in escorting sick and wounded. They had to fight hard, but beat off their opponents, and got in with the loss of a third of their number. They had started at night, and fortunately arrived within five miles of here, before they were attacked."

"And where is the king now, sir?"

"The king himself is at Capel Bangor, and the army lies between that place and Yspetty Cynfyn."

"Then 'tis but a day's march from here!"

"It would be but a short day's march, could you follow the road; but it would be impossible to do so, for 'tis beset everywhere, and 'tis so rough and hilly that, in places, the men-at-arms had to dismount. You will have to wait here till a large force sets out, with provisions; for those who came in declare that they will not attempt to return, so great is the number of Welshmen along there, and so fierce and reckless are they.

"But you have not yet told me who you are, and why you would push on to the army thus rashly."

Oswald opened his jerkin, and showed the handsome attire beneath it, embroidered with the Percy cognizance.

"I am an esquire of Sir Henry Percy," he said, "and have been staying for a while with Sir Edmund Mortimer, whose sister is my lord's wife. A royal messenger arrived at Ludlow, with a letter for the king; and as there was no other way of bringing it forward, I volunteered to carry it, with my man-at-arms, here."

"It was a brave offer, young sir, but I fear that you will scarce be able to carry it into effect. The men who came here report that it is unsafe to stir a yard from the camp; for those who wander away, for however short a distance, are sure to be slain by the lurking Welshmen. No resistance is offered when strong parties go out, but less than two hundred men-at-arms cannot hope to move, unattacked."

"'Tis for that reason that I have come on foot," Oswald said. "I saw that it would be hopeless for two horsemen to get through, but on foot we may travel through the woods without being discovered; while if we are seen, methinks it would need speedy feet to catch us."

"Well, since you bear a royal letter I cannot stop you; but it seems to me that your chance of getting through is small, indeed."



Chapter 17: Knighted.

Rain was coming down in torrents, when Oswald and Roger started the next morning. On leaving the town they turned to the left, with the intention of making a considerable detour; keeping well away from the road, as it was near this that the Welsh would be most likely watching. They chose this side because, to the right of the road, the country was more broken, rising swell after swell towards Plinlimmon; and it was likely that the largest portion of the Welsh would be on that side, so that they could, at any time, retire to their fastnesses.

They were soon in the woods. The streams they met with were turbid, and full to the brim.

"We shall have trouble with this water, Roger," Oswald said, as they waded across one, waist deep. "This is but a little stream, but if there are larger ones, as is like enough, we shall have to swim before we are done. There is one advantage; in such weather as this, even the Welsh will scarce be active."

"They have not got much clothing to wet," Roger said. "Their dress is better suited than ours for such weather."

The way was a rough one. Hills, although of no great height, had to be crossed, and many streams to be waded. Fortunately, they met with few larger than that they had first crossed; for the water from that side of the hills made its way, for the most part, direct into the Severn; while that which came down from the slopes of Plinlimmon, towards the road, fell into a stream; dry in fine weather, but now a raging torrent, which ran past Llandulas and into the Severn, at Llanidloes.

"Do you think that we are going right, Roger?" Oswald said, after they had been walking for six or seven hours; "for, what with these ups and downs, and turnings and windings, there is no saying which is east and which is west. If the sun were shining we should be sure of our direction, but with these dull leaden clouds there is no saying."

"I have no idea, master. If we were out on a moor we should be able to judge, and to make a fairly straight course, keeping the wind and rain on one side of us; but in this thick forest, though most of the leaves have fallen, those that remain on the branches break up the rain, and it seems to come straight down upon us."

Presently they came to another watercourse.

"Why, Roger, the water is going in the other direction!"

"So it is, master. How can that be?"

"It is just possible that we have crossed some dividing point, and the water is making its way towards the south, and will fall into some other river; but I am very much afraid that the real explanation is, that we have entirely lost our way, and are going in the opposite direction to that in which we started. The question is, shall we cross it or shall we follow it down?"

"Just as you like," Roger said. "For myself, I think that the best way would be to find some place where we could shelter. Tomorrow the sun may be out again, and that will tell us which way to go. If we start at daybreak, and keep it to our back, we can't go far wrong."

"Except that we may pass the army altogether, Roger. They told us that the rearmost division was not more than ten miles ahead."

"We must have walked double that already, I should say, master."

"Not so much as that. We have been a long time over it, but it is slow travelling over this broken ground, and thick wood. I am sure I hope that we have not gone twenty miles, or anything like it; for in that case, if we have been keeping fairly in the right direction, we must have passed the army. If we have been going in the wrong direction, there is no saying where we may be.

"Still, I think that your suggestion is a good one. It is of no use our going on, when we may be getting farther away at every step. It is lucky that we bought these thick cloaks, at Welshpool; for without them we should have been soaked to the skin, hours ago."

"Well, as we have been wetted to the waist a score of times, in the streams, I don't see that it would have mattered much, if the rest of us had been wet through."

"Well, now let us look for a shelter."

After searching for half an hour, they found a spot where a wall of shaly rock barred their way. At one spot some of this had fallen in, forming a sort of shallow cave, some three feet deep.

"This is not a bad beginning, Roger, but we must try and make it a great deal more snug."

They first cut down some young fir poles, and placed them so as to form a sort of penthouse against the wall. On these they piled a number of branches, of the same trees, until it was over a foot in thickness.

"So far, so good," Oswald said. "Now, Roger, look about for a fallen tree. We have passed scores on our way. You must get a thoroughly rotten one, and cut away a portion of the under side; it will be dry enough, there."

"You might get a little of that to start with," Roger said; "but the ground is covered everywhere with fir cones, and there is no better stuff for fires."

Taking off his cloak he laid it down, and they both piled the fir cones on this, until a great heap was collected. This they carried into their shelter, through an opening they had left in the penthouse.

"We must have something dry to start it with. These cones are a great deal too wet to burn, without a good heat to start them. There is nothing better than the fir needles, master, if we can find some dry ones."

After some searching, a considerable number of these needles were collected; some lying under fallen trees, and others swept by the wind into rocky corners, where the rain had not reached them.

"Now I think that we shall do, Roger."

As soon as they were inside, Roger produced a large lump of dry fungus he had found, on the other side of the Severn; and, by the aid of his flint and steel, soon succeeded in striking sparks upon it. As soon as these began to spread, he put a little pile of fir needles on it; and, blowing gently, bright flames soon darted up. A few more handfuls of fuel were added, and fir cones placed at the top; and in a quarter of an hour, a clear, bright fire was burning.

The dripping cloaks were hung up to the fir poles, to dry; and the jerkins, which were also damp, although the water had not penetrated through them, were spread near the fire.

"It was well that I bought this little skin of wine, last night," Roger said. "You thought it was better to be without such a burden, but the weight of a gallon of wine doesn't count for much, and it makes all the difference in our comfort, here."

The rain had soaked through their provision bags, but the bread and meat in the centre were dry; and of these they made a hearty meal and, laying the wetted food round the fire to dry, they wound up the repast with a long draught of wine.

"Now, as soon as our breeches are dry, Master Oswald, we shall be thoroughly comfortable."

"Yes, one can wish for nothing better. But we must not forget that some Welshmen may come along, and if so, will be sure to want to know what is inside."

"Then, unless there happen to be more than a dozen of them, their curiosity may cost them dear," Roger said grimly. "I don't think there is much fear of it. We have neither seen nor heard of any, since we started; and it would be evil fortune, indeed, if a party happened to come along just at this spot."

"The fact that we have heard no one is a bad sign, Roger; for it would seem to show that we must have gone a long way out of our course."

The rain continued to fall heavily, all that afternoon and throughout the night, and no change of the weather was discernible the next morning.

"We had best stop here for another day, Roger, unless the sky clears; we are not likely to find so good a place for shelter, and it is of no use to wander about, when every step may be taking us farther away. However, we can climb up to the top of this hill, at whose foot we are, and endeavour to get a view over the country."

Roger shook his head.

"In this heavy mist we should not see a quarter of a mile away. We have got all our clothes dry, now, and it would be a pity to get them wet again, without need or profit. Anyhow, we will find some more of those fir cones. Our supply is nearly gone."

In half an hour they had got sufficient to last them all day. There was nothing for them then to do but sleep, one or other keeping watch, so as to prevent the chance of their being surprised.

Before lying down for the night, Roger looked out.

"Methinks that the rain has stopped, though it would be difficult to say, for the drops keep pattering down from the trees. Well, I mightily hope that it will be a fine morning."

Oswald was first upon his feet and, on going out, uttered an exclamation of satisfaction. The morning was breaking and, though light clouds were moving across the sky, glimpses of the blue were visible, here and there. Already the light showed where the sun would presently rise.

Food was hastily eaten, and they then started on their way again. There could be no mistake, now, as to the general direction; and, keeping the sun on their right hand, they made their way north. From the top of a hill, somewhat higher than the others, they caught a view of Plinlimmon.

"If we make straight for it," Oswald said, "we ought to come down on the road near the camp. We can go on fearlessly for some time, for the Welsh were hardly likely to be moving about, yesterday or the day before; and I have no doubt they sheltered themselves, as best they could, in arbours like ours."

After walking for another two hours, they heard the distant sound of a trumpet.

"That cannot be more than two or three miles away, Roger. Now, we shall have to be careful."

They had walked a mile when, as they descended into a glen, they came suddenly on a party of twenty Welshmen, sitting round a fire. These had been concealed from them by the thick undergrowth, and were not twenty yards away, when they first saw them. The Welsh had evidently heard them coming, by the rustle of leaves and the breaking of twigs; and two or three were standing up, looking in their direction, when they caught sight of them. These gave a loud yell, which brought the rest to their feet.

"Run, Roger, run. It is a question of legs, now;" and, turning, they darted up the hill they had just descended.

Looking back for a moment as, after running for about a mile, they reached the crest of a swell; Oswald saw that five of their pursuers had distanced their comrades, but were no nearer than when they started.

"I think we can hold them, Roger. Take it a little more easily now. We are all right as far as speed goes. It is simply a question of bottom."

Their pursuers, however, still stuck to them and, after running for another half-mile, the five men were still but some thirty yards behind; while their comrades' shouts could be heard through the forests and, from time to time, the men close behind them joined in a loud quavering cry.

"We must stand and rid ourselves of these fellows, Roger; or we shall have half the Welsh nation down on us."

"So I have been thinking, for some time."

"Don't stop suddenly. We will slacken our pace, and they will think that our strength is failing, and will redouble their efforts. Then, when they are close to us, we will turn suddenly."

They heard a yell of exultation, as their pursuers found that they were gaining upon them.

"Choose a clear space, Roger, with room to swing our weapons."

The Welsh were running in a close body, but ten yards behind them, when they arrived at a spot clear of trees.

"Now, Roger!"

As he spoke, Oswald drew his sword and swung round, facing his pursuers, while Roger did the same. The Welsh, taken by surprise, endeavoured to check themselves; but before they could do so, Roger's staff fell upon the head of one of them, while Oswald cleft another to the chin. With the quickness of an adroit player with the quarterstaff, Roger followed up his blow by almost instantaneously driving the other end of the staff, with all his force, against the chest of another, who was at the point of leaping upon him; and the man fell, as if struck with a thunderbolt. So swift had been the movements that the remaining two men were paralysed, by the sudden fall of their companions; but before they could turn to fly, the weapons descended again, with as fatal result as before.

"To the right!" Oswald exclaimed, and he dashed off into the forest again, at a right angle to the line that they had before taken. A minute later they heard an outburst of yells of fury, from the spot they had quitted.

"I don't think they will be quite so ready to follow, now," Roger said. "They are like to be some time, before they take up our track again."

"We will break into a walk, in a few minutes, Roger; and then go along quietly, and keep our ears open. Their yells will be bringing others down, from all directions, and we might run right into the middle of another party, if we kept on at this rate."

In another five minutes they dashed down a steep descent, at whose foot a streamlet, swelled now into a rushing stream, five or six feet wide, was running.

"We will follow this down," Oswald said, as he stepped into it.

It was a little over two feet deep, and they waded along it for a couple of hundred yards, and then stepped out, where some rock cropped out by the side of the stream. It had not yet dried after the rain, and their feet therefore left no marks on it.

"That was a sharp run, Roger," Oswald said as, with rapid but stealthy steps, they strode along.

"Ay, it was. My breath was coming short, when you gave the word to stop. Another half mile would have finished me. Those Welshmen run well."

"I have no doubt we should have beaten them, easily enough, on the open ground, Roger; but they are more accustomed to this forest work than we are.

"Mind where you tread, and don't put your foot on fallen sticks. There must be scores of them in the forest behind, yet, though I don't think that they have struck our track. The nearest must be a quarter of a mile away. I am not afraid of their overtaking us. It is the risk of falling in with other parties that I am afraid of."

They now bore away to the right again. More than once they heard parties moving near them, and stood quiet until their voices died away; which they quickly did, as all were hurrying towards the spot whence the shouting still continued.

For an hour they kept straight onward, and then the trees thinned; and as they stepped out from the edge of the forest they saw, to their delight, a few tents in front of them, and a large number of soldiers scattered about. As they were seen, some of the soldiers caught up their arms; but when they saw that but two men were approaching, they laid them down again, and proceeded with the work on which most of them were engaged; in polishing up their arms and armour, whose brightness had been grievously dimmed by the rain. A sub-officer with four men came up to them, as they reached the line.

"Who are you, sirs?" he asked.

"I am an esquire of Sir Henry Percy, and have brought hither a letter for the king."

The man looked doubtfully at him, and Oswald continued, "I know not whether the Earl of Talbot is in the camp, but if so he will, I think, recognize me."

"The earl arrived, with five hundred of his men, yesterday," the officer said, with a tone of more respect than he had before used. "I will take you to his tent;" and he led the way to a tent, pitched a short distance away from that before which the royal standard waved.

Oswald took off his cloak, which was rolled up over his shoulder, and handed it to Roger, and then opened his jerkin. As they came up to the tent the front opened, and the earl himself came out.

"Whom have we here?" he asked the officer.

"They have just come out of the forest, my lord, and this gentleman asked to be taken to you, saying that you would recognize him."

The earl looked scrutinizingly at Oswald.

"I seem to know your face, sir," he said, "but I cannot recall where I have seen it."

"My name is Oswald Forster, an esquire of Sir Henry Percy. I joined you at Chester, my Lord Talbot, with a band of his men; and some of Sir Edmund Mortimer's, led by one of his knights."

"I remember now," the earl said. "Yes, I see you wear the Percy badge; but how have you got here, and why have you come?"

"I come as a simple messenger, my lord. A royal courier arrived at Ludlow, with a letter from London for the king. His majesty had laid his commands on Sir Edmund Mortimer, that he was not to weaken his force by a single lance; and as, for aught Sir Edmund knew, the letter might be of great importance, I volunteered to endeavour to carry it through; taking with me only this man-at-arms, on whom I could wholly rely, whatever might happen, he having accompanied me on more than one dangerous expedition.

"Sir Edmund consented. We rode first to Shrewsbury, to obtain information as to the course the king had taken. At Welshpool we left our horses behind us, thinking it easier to make our way through the woods on foot, seeing that the roads were said to be beset by the Welsh. So we reached Llanidloes; and then, hearing where the king was then posted, from a convoy of wounded that had been brought in that day, and who had been attacked and very hardly treated as they came along, we thought to make a detour through the woods, so as to get behind any Welshmen who might be watching the road.

"Unfortunately, in the storm of rain, having no guide, we lost our way; and were so detained, near two days, in the forest. This morning, the weather having changed and the sun come out, we learned the direction that we must take. On the way we fell in with a party of some twenty Welshmen, who pursued us hotly. We outran all but five. As their shouts would have brought large numbers upon us, we stopped and slew them; and though search was hot for us, we succeeded in making our way through, without adventure, until we came out from the forest, close by."

"Truly it was an adventure of great peril," the earl said, "for the Welsh are swarming round us; though we see nought of them, when we are once in the saddle. Assuredly you would never have got through, even as far as Llanidloes, if you had followed the road on horseback; for the last party that came along brought word that the Welsh had felled trees across it, in many places, and had broken down the bridges.

"It was a gallant exploit, sir. I will, myself, take you in to the king."

Oswald took off his jerkin.

"I am but in poor plight to show myself before his majesty," he said, as he handed it to Roger.

"Ah! I remember this good fellow," the earl said. "He is not one easily forgotten, for 'tis seldom one sees so stout a man-at-arms.

"As to your dress, 'tis nought; and indeed, it is in better order than most in camp, for the soldiers have no tents, and have, for the last forty-eight hours, been over their ankles in mud and water.

"Have you been with Mortimer ever since we harried Glendower's valley?"

"No, my lord. I returned after that to the north, and was at Alnwick for nine months. Then Sir Henry sent me back again to Ludlow, in order that I might keep him well informed of the extent of this rebellion, concerning which but few tidings came to him."

They had, by this time, arrived at the entrance of the king's tent. The two sentries on duty there stood back and saluted, as the earl entered, followed by Oswald.

"This, sire, is a messenger, one Master Oswald Forster, an esquire of Sir Henry Percy's. He had been sent by his lord to Ludlow, to keep him acquainted with the extent of this rebellion. Some few days since, a royal messenger reached the town, with a letter for you; as doubtless, in London, they cannot have known which way you were marching, and directed it there, so that it might be forwarded to you thence. Sir Edmund, having your royal order not to send any force away, would have been at a loss how to forward it; deeming that it would need a strong body of men-at-arms to penetrate to you, as he knew, from what had happened on the two last expeditions, that the Welsh, being unable to oppose your advance, would swarm behind you, so as to prevent reinforcements or convoys of provisions from reaching you. He was, therefore, doubtful as to what course to adopt, when this gentleman volunteered to carry it to you; and this he has accomplished, attended by but a single follower. Knowing that he could only hope to reach you on foot, he and his man-at-arms left their horses at Welshpool; and have made their way through the woods on foot, not without adventure, having lost their way in the storm, and having slept in the wood for two days, and killed five Welshmen, scarcely escaping a crowd of others as they came in."