"A very gallant deed, sir," the king said to Oswald, as the latter bent upon one knee and handed the letter to him. "By Our Lady, it was no slight thing to venture through the woods, swarming with these wild Welshmen. How long have you been an esquire to Percy?"

"Over three years, sire."

"I met Master Forster at Chester," the earl said. "He commanded a score of Percy's men, and rode with us when we captured Glendower's house. The knights with him told me that he and his little band had done excellent service, in the fight when the Welsh made their first irruption; and that Sir Henry Percy had written in the warmest terms to Mortimer, saying that the gentleman stood high in his regard, and that he had the most perfect confidence in him, and had selected him for the service since he was able to write well, and could, therefore, communicate freely with him as to the troubles on the Welsh border."

"And have you been at Mortimer's ever since that time?" the king asked.

Oswald noticed that each time Mortimer's name was mentioned, the king's brow was somewhat clouded.

"Not so, your majesty. I returned to the north, with Percy's men, a few days after the capture of Glendower's house. I came back to Ludlow in the spring."

"Why did Sir Henry Percy despatch you there again?" the king asked, sharply.

"From what he said, sire, it was because he was anxious to know whether the rebellion was growing, fearing that there might be some correspondence between Glendower and the Scots; and that, if it should come to a point when you might have to lead the whole force of the south to put the Welsh down, the Scots might make a great irruption into the northern counties, and it would be needful for him to keep a larger body of men than usual under arms; as the earl, his father, and the Earl of Westmoreland, would have to stand the whole brunt of the matter, for a time, without aid from the south."

The king's brow cleared.

"It was a thoughtful act of Sir Henry," he said; "and 'tis like enough that the Scots will, as you say, take advantage of our troubles here; and it is well, therefore, that the Lords of the Northern Marches should hold themselves in readiness.

"What think you, Talbot? It seems to me that the bold service this esquire has performed merits reward."

"I think so, indeed," the earl said. "It was a singular act of courage."

The king drew his sword from his scabbard.

"Kneel, sir," he said.

And, as Oswald knelt, the king laid the sword across his shoulder, and said, "Rise, Sir Oswald Forster."

Oswald rose.

"I thank you, my Lord King," he said, "and trust that I may live for many years to do worthy knightly service to my liege, who has so highly honoured me."

"My lord," the king said to Talbot, "I leave it to you to see that this young knight is provided with horse and armour. Unfortunately there is more than one suit without an owner, at present. You will do well to wait with me while I open this letter; which, maybe, contains matter of moment."

Feeling that his audience was over, Oswald bowed deeply, and left the tent to rejoin Roger.

"What said the king, master?"

"He spoke much more highly of what we had done, Roger, than it deserved; and as a reward for the service, he has just knighted me."

"I think that he has done well, master!" Roger exclaimed, joyously. "I had hoped that Hotspur would have done it, after that adventure with the Bairds; of which, as Alwyn told me, he spoke to him in tones of wondrous praise."

"That was a private business, Roger, and he would know that I would much rather that, when knighthood came, I should receive it for service in the field. The king regards our coming here as a service to himself, and therefore rewarded me; but I would rather that it should have been for service in the field, against the enemy, than for tramping through the forest."

"Yes, but a forest full of Welshmen," Roger said, "who are more to be feared, in that way, than when met in open fight."

"Earl Talbot spoke very kindly of me, and said that he had heard that, with Percy's men, I had done good service in that fight with the Welsh, near Knighton."

"That was certainly pretty hot work, master—I shall get to say Sir Oswald, in time; but at present my tongue is not used to it. What are we to do now?"

"The king asked Lord Talbot to provide me with armour, and a horse; so we must wait until he comes this way."

It was half an hour before the earl came out.

"The letter was of importance," he said, "and it is well that it was brought on.

"Now, Sir Oswald, let us see to your matter. Two days ago Sir William Baxter was killed, by a sudden attack of the Welsh, while he was burning a village. His men rallied, beat off the Welsh, and brought his body in; and methinks his armour will fit you, though he was shorter, by two or three inches, than yourself."

He accompanied Oswald to one of a small group of tents, standing a quarter of a mile farther down the road.

"Is Sir William Baxter's squire here?"

A young man at once came up.

"I was his esquire, my lord."

"I have the king's orders," the earl said, "that his arms, armour, and horses are to be handed over, forthwith, to Sir Oswald Forster here, who will take command of his troop. He will take over all the other belongings of the knight."

The young squire bowed.

"I will hand them over to you, sir."

"You will, of course, take possession of the tent also, Sir Oswald. Sir William was one of my knights. He was unwedded, and has no male kin; therefore, you need have no hesitation in taking his belongings; which indeed we should, in any case, have little chance of taking back with us, for our waggons are but few, and will daily become fewer: for on such roads as these, both waggons and horses break down, and it will be as much as we can do to carry even necessities with us.

"Come to my tent at noon, it lacks but an hour of it, and I will present you at dinner to some of my knights; among whom, for the present, I shall rank you."

So saying, he turned away. The young squire held open the entrance of the tent, for Oswald to enter, and followed him in.

"It seems a strange thing to be thus possessed of another man's goods," he said.

"It is often so," the squire said, "and sometimes even his estates go with them, also. As the earl said, Sir William Baxter had none to whom these things could have been given; seeing that he had, so far as I know, only one sister, to whom armour and horses could be of no use. She is one of the Countess of Talbot's ladies."

"And what are you going to do, yourself?"

"For the present, I know not," the squire said. "I had been with Sir William Baxter but three years. The knight I served with, before, was thrown from his horse and killed; and Sir William, who had been just knighted, took me into his service."

"How long have you been a squire?"

"Six years, and I hoped that, in this campaign, I might have done something to win my spurs."

"I am but a poor knight, Master—" and he paused.

"Henry Pemberton," the squire said.

"And being but knighted today, and having no lands to keep up my knighthood, it may be that the earl will appoint you to another of his knights; but should he not do so, I shall be glad if, for the rest of this campaign, you will ride with me; and trust that you, too, may have an opportunity of gaining knighthood, before it is over. But whether or no, as soon as we cross the border again, I doubt not that you will be able to find some lord under whom you may gain advancement."

"I will gladly do so, Sir Oswald. 'Tis strange that I should not have seen your face before; for, since we left Worcester, I have come to know the greater part of the esquires here."

"I arrived but an hour ago," Oswald replied, "having made my way through the Welsh, on foot, with that tall fellow you saw without."

"That was a dangerous deed, truly," Pemberton said, in tones of surprise. "May I ask why you essayed so perilous a feat?"

"I was the bearer of a despatch for the king. I was an esquire to Sir Henry Percy, but have for some time been staying with his brother-in-law, Sir Edmund Mortimer.

"Had Sir William a man-at-arms, who served as his servant? For I shall make my man-at-arms, who has gone through many adventures with me, has fought by my side, and saved my life, my second squire."

"Yes, a very good and trusty fellow."

"Then of course I shall keep him on. Now, will you tell my man to come in?

"Roger," he said, "You doubtless heard the earl's words, and I am now master of this tent, together with the armour, horses, and clothes of Sir William Baxter. Master Henry Pemberton will act as my squire, during the campaign. You will be my second squire."

"Well, master, I never looked so high as to become an esquire; and would rather remain a simple man-at-arms, were it not that it will keep me near you."

"You will find Roger a good comrade, Master Pemberton. He has been a man-at-arms at his own choice; for, as he can read and write as well as any clerk, he might have done better for himself."

Pemberton looked, with some surprise, at Roger. He himself had not these accomplishments, and he was surprised at finding a man-at-arms so well endowed.

"As you may tell by his speech," Oswald went on, "he is, like myself, a Northumbrian; and has done good service in the wars with the Scots."

"That I can well imagine," the squire said, with a smile. "I would certainly wish for no stouter comrade."

"We must see about arms and armour for you, Roger," Oswald said.

"There will be no difficulty about that. None whatever, Sir Oswald. We have lost fully three hundred men, since we crossed the border, and a hundred and fifty since we came here, four days since. There is a pile of harness and arms, lying by the roadside; and there, methinks, it is likely it will lie. You have but to go with him, when you have attired yourself and buckled on spurs, and you can pick and choose among it. Assuredly, no one will gainsay you."

Oswald now changed his attire. The clothes were handsome, and fitted him well. Then he buckled on the golden spurs, put on the knightly armour—for he had observed that the earl, and the knights that he had seen in the camp, all kept on full armour, being ever in expectation of sudden attack.

"Truly you make a handsome figure, Sir Oswald," said Roger, who had been assisting him. "Little did I think, when I used to rail at you at your books, that you would grow into so stalwart a man; and that I should follow you in the field, as your squire. Your armour fits you as if made for you, save that these cuishes scarce meet your body armour. In truth, though bad for him, it was lucky for you that the master of this tent came to his death when he did."

"I like a steel cap better than this helmet, though I say not that it looks so well."

"Not by a long way," Roger said. "Nought could become you better. What cognizance do you mean to take?"

"I have not thought about it, yet. There will be time enough for that, after the war is over."

"Well, at any rate, master, I will today set about getting Sir William Baxter's off the shield. Methinks that, with some sand from the river bed, I shall be able to manage it with an hour's rubbing."

"Now, come along, Roger. There is no time to be lost, for I dine at midday with the Earl of Talbot. Master Pemberton will show us where the armour is lying."

There was, indeed, a large pile.

Oswald then said, "As you are known, Master Pemberton, you had better stop here; for it will take some picking before Roger is suited. As it is but two minutes to twelve, I must hurry back to Lord Talbot's tent."

Some seven or eight knights were already there. Lord Talbot introduced him to them and, as they dined, Oswald related, at their request, more particularly how he had got through the Welsh—a task that seemed to them well-nigh impossible, since the soldiers dared not venture even to the edge of the forest, so thickly were the Welsh posted there.

"That man-at-arms must be a stalwart fellow, indeed," said one, "to kill three Welshmen with nought but a quarterstaff."

"If you had seen the man, and the staff, Sir Victor, you would not be surprised," Lord Talbot said. "He stands some six feet four, and has shoulders that might rival Samson's. As to his quarterstaff, I marked it. It was of oak, and full two inches across; and a blow with it, from such arms, would crack an iron casque, to say nothing of a Welsh skull."



Chapter 18: Glendower.

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

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

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

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

The consequence was that, until half an hour before it left, none save a few of the leaders were aware of the starting of the convoy. Then orders were rapidly issued. The knights and men-at-arms who had been selected for the service had but a few minutes to prepare themselves. The horses were harnessed to the waggons, and the sick and wounded carried out and placed in them, with the greatest expedition, and the party set out in less than half an hour after the first order had been given. It had gone but a quarter of a mile when the shouts among the woods, on either side, showed that the Welsh were vigilant. Horns were blown in all directions, the sound growing fainter and fainter, in the hills.

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

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

"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 a better 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, I would rather ride than tramp through this deep mud."

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

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

"Nor do I," Oswald said. "It seems unnatural. Do you not think, Sir William, that it would be well if all were to take the picket ropes from their horses' necks, and knot them two and two, fastening one end to a waggon and the other to a horse's girth. In that way fifty men-at-arms might be roped on to the waggons, and would aid those drawing them, greatly."

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

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

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

The knights and mounted men formed the outside line, and the footmen stood 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 of him, Roger on the other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Welsh went down in numbers before their lances, but so close was the throng that the horsemen were brought to a stand and, slinging their spears behind them, betook themselves to sword and mace. Great was the slaughter of their opponents, but these pursued their former tactics. Horse after horse rolled over in mortal agony and, as they fell, 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 time beating back the Welsh.

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

"Keep together!" Oswald shouted, to those within hearing; "we can cut ourselves a passage through, in that way, while separately we shall perish."

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

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

He and Roger strove, in vain, to cut a way through; and their height and strength enabled them to maintain a forward movement, their opponents shrinking from the terrible blows of Roger's mace, and the no less destructive fall of Oswald's sword; but the men-at-arms behind them fared worse, having to retreat with their face to the foe; and more than one, falling over the bodies of those slain by their leaders, were stabbed before they could rise. Several times the two men turned and covered the rear, but at last they stood alone.

"Now, make one effort to break through, Roger;" and they flung themselves 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 he received a tremendous blow on the back of his helmet, with a heavy club, and fell prostrate over Roger.

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

A number of the Welsh were going over the battlefield, stabbing all whom they found to be still living. The sick men in the waggons had already 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 of his countrymen. Oswald, with difficulty, rose to his feet. He still wore, round his wrist, the chain that Glendower's daughter had given him; and he now pulled this off and held it up, loudly calling out the name of Glendower, several times. The Welsh leader waved his followers back.

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

"Glendower, Glendower," he repeated.

The man took the chain, and examined it carefully. Some Welsh words were engraved upon the clasp. Oswald was unaware what they were, but the 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, at any 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 as to their fate."

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

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

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

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

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

Oswald's head still swam from the effects of the blow, but as they went on the feeling gradually ceased, and he was able to keep up with his captors. Their course was ever uphill, and after an hour's walking they arrived 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; for the journey, with Roger's weight, had been a toilsome one. He made signs for Oswald to seat himself by the side of Roger. The latter was now perfectly sensible.

"What has happened, master?" he asked.

"We have been badly beaten, Roger; but when I last saw them our men had got together, and were fighting their way along the road. I fancy more than half have been killed; but, as far as I could see of the field, I should 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 once occurred 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 from the blow. Otherwise, I am uninjured."

"What has happened to me, master?"

"You had an arrow through your neck, Roger; but fortunately it was on one side. An inch to the right, and it would have struck your spine, or perhaps gone through your windpipe. As it is, it does not seem to have done 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 piece broke 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 to it."

"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 of water, if I could get one."

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

Half an hour later a tall man, in full armour, followed by a number of Welsh chiefs, issued from the forest. He was some five-and-forty years old, and of noble presence. The leader of the party who had brought Oswald up advanced to meet him; and, saluting him most respectfully, spoke to him for a moment, and then produced the chain. Glendower—for it 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 Talbot took it. We were at some distance from the other guards, when two figures rose from the bushes near us. We pursued them and, coming up to them, found they were two ladies; and they at once avowed that they were your daughters. My instructions were to watch and see that no Welshmen approached the house; and nought had been said to me of arresting any leaving it, seeing that it was not supposed that any were there.

"I war not with women. Being myself from Northumbria, I have no enmity with your people. Therefore I let them proceed on their way—a breach of duty for which, doubtless, I should have suffered, had it been known. Happily, none but my follower here, who was then but a man-at-arms, and I a squire, knew of it; and to this moment I have spoken of it to no one. As they left us, one of the ladies gave me this chain, saying that some day it might be of use to me, should I ever fall 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 had arisen, 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 treated them, 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 it might do you injury, should it become known; and I have often regretted that I did not know the name of the gentleman who had behaved so nobly to them, and had saved them from an English prison. Had they been captured, it would have been a sore blow to me, not only in my affections but to my cause; for, had he held them in his power, Henry could have put a heavy pressure upon me. May I ask, now, what is your name, Sir Knight?"

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

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

"You have not, sir. I had simply been sent, with twenty men-at-arms, by Sir 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 Sir Edmund to join the Earl of Talbot and Lord Grey, when they made that foray upon your house. After that I returned to the north; but was, some months since, again sent to Ludlow, to keep Sir Henry informed of the 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 London to 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 which service the king conferred knighthood upon me, upon my arrival, ten days since."

"Ah, then, it was you that I heard of! I was told that two great men had been seen in the woods, some distance south of the camp; and that they had succeeded in making their escape, after slaying five of my followers; and that, though none knew for certain, it was supposed they had 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 got through my scouts, since the king left Welshpool. You must be swift of foot, as well as brave and courteous; for I heard that you had outrun the 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 they come in too great a force to be resisted; or in following them, when it is our turn to pursue.

"I trust, sir, that you will put myself and my squire to ransom, and will take my word for the payment; for, until I go north, I have no means 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 and inquiry; and it were well that your noble conduct to my daughters should not be known, for Henry would not be likely to regard it favourably. Therefore we will put you to ransom at the sum of a crown for yourself, and a penny for your squire."

"I thank you, indeed, sir, and shall ever feel beholden to you; and I will, moreover, give you my knightly word that, whatever service I may have 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; and indeed, in close combat my Welshmen cannot, at present, hold their own against your armour-clad men. Still, though it would have pleased me better had we annihilated the force, our success has been sufficient to give Henry another lesson that, though he may march through Wales, he holds 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 my needs."

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

"You must, on your way back," he said presently to the young knight, "call and see my daughters; who are at present staying with their sister, who is married to Adda ap Iorwerth Ddu. They would be aggrieved, indeed, if they heard that you had been here, and that I had not given them the opportunity of thanking you, in person."

Oswald remained for a fortnight with Glendower, while Roger's wound was healing. At the end of that time he learned that Henry, having marched into Cardigan and ravaged the country there, was already retiring; his army having suffered terribly from the effects of the weather, the impossibility of obtaining supplies, and the constant and harassing attacks by the Welsh.

Glendower was often absent, but when at the house he conversed freely with Oswald, who was no longer surprised at the influence that he had obtained over his countrymen. His manners were courteous in the extreme, and his authority over his followers absolute. They not only reverenced him as their prince, the representative of their ancient kings, and their leader in war, but as one endowed with supernatural power.

The bards had fanned this feeling to the utmost, by their songs of marvels and portents at his birth, and by attributing to him a control even over the elements. This belief was not only of great importance to him, as binding his adherents closer to him; but it undoubtedly contributed to his success, from the fact of its being fully shared in by the English soldiery; who assigned it as the cause of the exceptionally bad weather that had been experienced, in each of the three expeditions into the country, and of the failure to accomplish anything of importance against him.

This side of the character of Glendower puzzled Oswald. Several times, when talking to him, he distinctly claimed supernatural powers; and from the tone in which he spoke, and the strange expression his face at this time assumed, Oswald was convinced that he sincerely believed that he did possess these powers. Whether he originally did so; or whether it had arisen from the adulation of the bards, the general belief in it, 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 New Radnor—atrocities that seemed not only purposeless, but at utter variance with the courtesy and gentleness of his bearing—Oswald came to believe that his brain had, to some extent, become unhinged by excitement, flattery, and superstition.

At the end of the fortnight Roger's wound, although not completely healed, was in such a state that it permitted his sitting on horseback, and Oswald became anxious to be off. Glendower, who was about to set out 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 been dangerous, in the extreme, to have attempted to traverse the country without such a protection. Two excellent horses, that had been captured in the engagement with the English, were handed over to him, for his own use and that of Roger. Oswald's own armour was returned to him, and he was pleased to find that it had been carefully attended to, and was as 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 may be that, on some errand or other, you may ride into Wales; or that you may be staying, as you did before, at some castle or town near the border, when we attack it. You have but to show these rings to any Welshman you may come across, and you may be sure of being well treated, as one of my friends.

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

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

"So did I, Roger. You see, that matter of our getting Glendower's daughters 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 that our story is, that I have been put at knightly ransom, and on the condition that I will never serve in Wales again. When we once get across the border we will ride straight for Northumberland, without going 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 might take it as a proof that there was an understanding between Glendower and Mortimer; and that it was to this that leniency, such as had been shown to no other prisoners, was due; whereas, if we go straight to Percy, '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 with our escape."

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

Two days' journey brought them to the house of Glendower's married daughter. On the officer stating that the knight with him had been sent, under his escort, by Glendower himself, she requested that he should 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 he might be one whom I may have met, in the houses of my two sisters married 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 this affair."

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 given me by the officer, that you have come to me as a visitor; and that 'tis as an escort, only, that he has been sent with you?"

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

Glendower's daughter at once told a maid, who was working with her when the officer had entered, to request her sisters to come to her; and these 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 equal surprise.

"He is not known to us," Jane replied. "I have never seen him before—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 my squire there; seeing that we were together but a few minutes, and that in the moonlight."

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

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

"That is so," Oswald said. "I thought that you were more likely to recognize my squire than myself, seeing that I have grown several inches since then, and have but lately assumed this knightly armour in which 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 she followed her sister; "we have thought of you so often, and have prayed that you should both be rewarded for your kindness to us! How glad I am to see you again, and have an opportunity of thanking you!

"You have heard, Isabel, of our adventure, and how we escaped, by the kindness of two Englishmen on guard near the edge of the forest, from being carried as prisoners to London; where, but for them, we should now be lodged in some dungeon of the usurper; but till now, I have never 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 like a 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 their obligations 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 down by, your father's followers; my squire grievously wounded and insensible, while I had been left for dead, though but stunned from a blow. I luckily recovered my senses, just as those employed in despatching the wounded came up; and, happily remembering your bracelet, 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 the bracelet closely; and, making out the inscription on the clasp, had my squire and myself taken to the house where your father lodged, so that the manner of my being possessed of the trinket might be explained. On your father's return he recognized it; and, having heard from you the circumstances of our meeting, treated us with the greatest kindness and hospitality; and freed us without ransom, save a nominal one in order that, on my return, I could say that I had been put to ransom. On the recovery of my squire from his wounds, he restored our armour to us, presented us with horses, and sent us here under escort, deeming that you might be glad to see us."

"There he was indeed right," Jane said. "We have oft regretted that you would not accept a more valuable jewel than that little chain, which was 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 our jewels but this, it would not have been recognized."

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

After staying a day there, Oswald continued his journey; to the regret of the ladies, who were glad to hear that he would never again fight against the Welsh. His escort accompanied him, as near the border as it was 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 that you 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 your enterprise would bring you either death or a pair of gold spurs. I am glad, indeed, to see that it was the latter.

"I hear that the king's army is falling back. A messenger brought me news from my kinsman. He said that it was but a rumour that had reached him; but that it seemed likely enough, for it was said that they had suffered 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 slain many Welshmen; but they have done nothing, whatever, towards subduing Glendower."



Chapter 19: The Battle Of Homildon Hill.

"But how have you made your way back, ahead of the army?" Hotspur asked, after Oswald had given him full information as to the military operations.

"Roger and I were left for dead, in that fight I have told you of, near Llanidloes; and we fell into the hands of the Welsh, and were taken before Glendower, who treated us well, and put me to ransom, with the engagement that I was not again to bear arms, in Wales."

"That was a strange leniency, on his part," Hotspur exclaimed; "for I hear he puts to the sword all who fall into his hands, without any regard for the rules of civilized war."

"He is a strange man, Sir Henry, and subject, I fancy, to changeable moods. When I was brought before him he was in a happy one, over the success he had gained; and it may be that he took a liking for me. At any rate, he fixed my ransom at a very small sum."

"Which I will, of course, pay," Hotspur said, "since you were my squire, and were at Ludlow on my service."

"I thank you much, Sir Henry, but 'tis so small a sum that I myself discharged it, without difficulty."

"'Tis strange, most strange, that you should have gone into the lion's den, and have come out unscathed. Strange, indeed, that Glendower, who, as we know, is greatly in want of money, should have fixed your ransom at a low sum. How much was it, Sir Oswald?"

"I will tell you the story, Sir Henry, though I would tell no one else; for my freedom is due to something that happened, nigh two years ago, when I was first with Sir Edmund Mortimer. I failed in what was my strict duty, although I disobeyed no orders that I had received, and my conscience altogether acquits me of wrong."

"You may be sure, Sir Oswald, that the matter will go no further; and knowing you as I do, I feel sure that, whatever the matter was, it was not to your discredit."

"So I trust, myself, my lord; but it might have cost me my head, had the king come to know it. I will first tell you that my ransom was fixed at a crown, and that of Roger at a penny."

Hotspur, who had been looking a little grave, laughed.

"Surely never before was so much bone and sinew appraised at so small a sum."

"It was so put, simply that I might, with truth, avow that I was put to ransom. However, I paid the crown and the penny, and have so discharged my obligations.

"This was how the matter came about;" and he related the whole circumstances to Sir Henry; and the manner in which the little chain, given to him by Glendower's daughter, had been the means of saving his life.

"I blame you in no way, Sir Oswald," Hotspur said cordially, when he had heard the story; "though I say not that the king would have viewed the matter in the same light. Still, you held to the letter of your orders. You were placed there to give warning of the approach of any hostile body, and naught was said to you as to letting any man, still less any women, depart from the place. But indeed, how could I blame you? Since heaven itself has assoiled you. For assuredly it was not chance that placed on your arm the little trinket that, alone, could have saved your life from the Welsh.

"Now to yourself, Sir Oswald. You will, I hope, continue my knight, as you have been my squire."

"Assuredly, Sir Henry, I have never thought of anything else."

"Very well, then; I will, as soon as may be, appoint to you a double knight's feu. I say a double feu, because I should like to have you as one of the castle knights, and so have much larger service from you, than that which a knight can be called upon to render, for an ordinary feu. I will bid Father Ernulf look through the rolls, and see what feus are vacant. One of these I will make an hereditary feu, to pass down from you to your heirs, irrevocably; the other will be a service feu, to support the expenses caused by your extra services, and revocable under the usual conditions."

A week later there was a formal ceremonial at the castle, and in the presence of the earl, Hotspur, and the knights and gentlemen of their service, Oswald took the oath of allegiance to Sir Henry Percy; and afterwards, as required by law, to the king; and received from Hotspur deeds appointing him to two knight's feus, including the villages of Stoubes and Rochester, in Reddesdale. There were, at the time, six knight's feus vacant; and as Percy had left it to him to choose which he liked, he had selected these, as they lay but a twelve miles' ride, over the hills, from his father's place in Coquetdale.

The oath of allegiance to the king, as well as to the feudal lord, was enacted by Henry the Second; with the intention of curbing, to some extent, the power of the great vassals; but although taken by all knights, on being presented with a feu, it was deemed of no effect in the case of the immediate lord being at war with the king; and whenever troubles arose, the lord's vassals always sided with him, it being universally understood that the oath to him, from whom they had received their land, was paramount over that to the king.

There having been several formalities to be observed, and matters to be discussed, Oswald was unable to ride home until after this ceremony had taken place; but upon the following morning he and Roger started early, and arrived, that evening, at Yardhope. His welcome was a warm one, and the satisfaction of his father, and the delight of his mother, at seeing him in knightly armour was great, indeed; and it increased when he told them that he had received knighthood at the hands of the king himself, and that Hotspur had granted him the feus of Stoubes and Rochester.

"Then we shall have you within a ride of us," his mother exclaimed. "That will be pleasant, indeed."

"The feus have always gone together," John Forster said, "and Stoubes castle, although small, is a strong one. How many tenants will you have?"

"Twenty-three. That, at least, was the number of names set down in the parchments."

"That is not bad, as a beginning. Of course, you will keep some ten or twelve retainers in the castle; and with such men as will come in from the villages, at the approach of danger, you will be able to muster fifty or sixty in all for the defence."

"I shall live chiefly at Alnwick, Father. Rochester is given to me as an hereditary feu, but I shall hold Stoubes for extra service at the castle; and I have little doubt that Percy will, if I do him good service, make it also hereditary. He as much as said so."

"It will make a good portion, lad. Yardhope is a knight's feu, though I have never taken up the knighthood; and the Percys know that I should fight just as stoutly, as John Forster, as if I wore knightly armour; but though the lands are wide they are poor, while yours are fertile, lying down by the river. Moreover, Coquetdale is more liable to Scotch incursions than Reddesdale, as the road into Scotland runs along it. If needs be we can lend a hand to each other; though, both together, we could not hold either your place or mine against a strong invasion.

"Now, tell us how it was that you won your spurs; and how it was that the king, himself, knighted you."

"After I have eaten and drank I will do so, Father; for indeed, Roger and I are well-nigh famishing."

After the meal, he related the whole story of his adventures.

"Well, lad, you were in luck," his father said, when he had finished. "The help you gave those maidens might have brought your head to the block; but it turned out well, and was the saving of your life, so I will say nought against the deed; especially as you owed no allegiance either to Mortimer or to Talbot, and were, save for the orders that Hotspur had given you, your own master."

Two days later, having sent over, on the morning after his arrival, a message to the tenants to present themselves at Stoubes to take their oaths to him, Oswald, accompanied by his father, rode into Reddesdale. He found the castle a much stronger place than Yardhope, which was but a fortified house; while this was a moated building, with strong walls and flanking towers, and a keep that could be held successfully, even if the walls were captured by a sudden assault.

At twelve o'clock the tenants assembled. Oswald read to them the two parchments, and they then took the oaths to him. They were well satisfied to have a young knight as their lord; for the feus had been held by a minor, who had died two years before; and had not been at the castle since he was taken away, as a child, to be brought up at the town of Alnwick, where he had remained under the eye of the Percys. It had long been understood, however, that the feu would not be granted to him; for he was weakly from his birth, and wholly unfitted for the charge of a castle, so near the Scottish border.

According to feudal usage, each tenant expected that he would be called upon to pay a heavy sum, under the name of a relief, as was customary in the case of a new lord taking possession; and they were greatly relieved when Oswald told them that, as he already possessed armour and horses, he would quit them for a fourth part of the usual amount; although he should, of course, require their services to enable him to repair such dilapidations as the castle had suffered, during the long term that it had stood empty.

For the next three months, he stayed in Stoubes. Roger had been sent off at once, with two men-at-arms, to bring the horses and armour that had been left at Welshpool; bearing a letter to the governor from Oswald, thanking him much for having taken care of them, and saying briefly that he had been left on the field for dead, after the fight near Llanidloes; but had recovered, and been well treated by Glendower, who had put him to ransom. He took money with him, to pay the expenses for the keep of the horses; and returned, with them and the armour, after an absence of three weeks.

Passing through Worcester on his way back, he had, at Oswald's order, purchased for himself clothes suitable for his position as an esquire. As for armour, it had been arranged that he should have it made for him at Alnwick, as it would be difficult to obtain a suit sufficiently large for him.

At the end of the three months the necessary repairs to the castle were finished. The gates had been greatly strengthened with thick bands of iron, the moat cleared out, and at various points the defences had been strengthened. The small amount of furniture then deemed necessary still remained there and, where needful, had been repaired and put in good order. Eight men-at-arms had been taken by Oswald into his service, and a trusty man appointed as seneschal.

Then, after paying another visit to Yardhope, Oswald rode, with Roger and two well-mounted men-at-arms, to Alnwick.

It was now April, and bad news had just arrived. Glendower had commenced the campaign with great vigour, as the appearance of a comet had been interpreted, by the bards, as an omen most favourable to him, and his force had greatly increased during the winter. He had destroyed the houses and strong places of all Welshmen who had not taken up arms at his orders, and had closely blockaded Carnarvon. He marched to Bangor, levelled the cathedral, and that of Saint Asaph, by fire, burnt the episcopal palaces and canons' houses. So formidable did he become that the king issued writs, to the lieutenants of no fewer than thirty-four counties, to assemble their forces at Lichfield, to crush Glendower.

The latter had now taken the offensive, and advanced towards Hereford, and carried fire and sword through Mortimer's lands. Sir Edmund gathered his own and his nephew's tenants and retainers, from Herefordshire and Radnorshire, and advanced against Glendower. The armies met on the 22nd of June, 1402, at a short distance from Knighton. The battle was obstinately fought, but was decided by the desertion of the Welsh tenants, and by the Welsh bowmen in Mortimer's service turning their bows against his men-at-arms; and, finally, the English were defeated, with the loss of eleven hundred men, Sir Edmund himself being made a prisoner.

After the battle the Welsh behaved with the greatest savagery; killing all the wounded, stripping the fallen, and horribly mutilating their bodies. The news created great excitement at Alnwick and, had not the situation in the north been critical, Percy would have gathered his forces and marched, with all speed, to avenge the defeat and capture of his brother-in-law.

The Earl of Dunbar, with many of the tenants of his former estates, and numbers of the English borderers, had entered Scotland and carried out considerable raids. In revenge for this, Douglas despatched Thomas Halliburton and Patrick Hepburn, each with a considerable force, to invade Northumberland. Halliburton ravaged the country as far as Bamborough, collected great spoils, and returned with them. Hepburn, who had a still larger force, penetrated farther into England, carried his ravages to within a few miles of Alnwick; and then retired north, with an enormous amount of booty.

When, however, he had crossed the border into the country known as the Merse, north of Berwick, the Earl of Dunbar fell upon him at West Nesbit, and completely defeated him. Hepburn himself, with a large number of his men, fell in the battle; and many important prisoners were captured. This battle was fought on the same day that Glendower defeated Mortimer.

The victory caused great exultation on the border; but Alwyn said to his nephew:

"Although this is good, as far as it goes, Oswald, you may be sure that Douglas will not brook this disaster with patience, but will gather the Scottish forces; and we may expect him, ere long, at the head of twenty thousand men, and we shall have a fight as stiff as that of Otterburn. We shall have Northumberland ablaze, and you will see that the earl and Hotspur will soon be preparing to meet the storm.

"These last forays took them by surprise; and, as lords of the marches, they have suffered serious humiliation, for this victory was not theirs, but the work of Dunbar; and had he not intercepted the Scots, on their own side of the border, they would have returned, scatheless, with the spoils of our northern districts. This disgrace will spur them on to make great efforts, and these will be needed, or we shall see Northumberland, Cumberland, and Durham in flames."

Alwyn was not mistaken. Messengers were sent off to all those holding knights' feus, throughout the county, bidding them to prepare to answer to the Percy's call; and to hold themselves, and their tenants, in readiness to march to any point fixed upon for a general rendezvous. They were to warn all the countryside that, directly news arrived that the Scots were in motion, they were to drive their cattle and horses to the nearest fortified town, or to take them to hiding places among the hills. Everything of value was to be taken away, or hidden, so that the enemy should find but empty houses.

Oswald rode to Yardhope, with the message to his father.

"I know, Father," he said, "that it needed not to warn you; but as it was but a short distance out of my way to come round here, I thought that I would pay you a day's visit."

"No, lad; directly I heard of the victory of Dunbar, I said to myself, this will bring the Scots upon us in force. Douglas will never put up with the defeat, and will make every effort to turn the tables. I shall send all there is worth taking away, to a shepherd's hut among the fells; and shall, as soon as I hear that Douglas's preparations are well-nigh complete, journey with your mother to Alnwick, and leave her there. I shall return, and with my men will drive the cattle and horses to places where there is little chance of the Scots finding them; and will then, after leaving three or four men to look after them, come back to Alnwick.

"What do you propose to do?"

"I shall do much the same, Father. Stoubes is strong enough to hold out against any ordinary raid, but not against an army led by Douglas. I shall remove the furnishing and tapestry, and shall send the most valuable into Alnwick, and have the rest of them hidden in the woods. These are the orders that have been sent, all along the border. Any whose places are so strong that they may well defend themselves, for some time, are to gather all their neighbours there. The rest are to repair to Alnwick, to join Percy's force.

"You see, there is no knowing where the storm may break. The Scots may cross the Cheviots anywhere between Berwick and Carlisle; and, until their movements are known, the earl and Hotspur must keep their forces at Alnwick, in readiness to march wheresoever required.

"Hotspur has sent messengers down to the Midlands, to engage as many archers as he can get. Of course, we have many here; but the borderers are spearmen rather than archers, and it were well to strengthen our force. Still, however large a force he may raise, we cannot hope to check their first incursion. The whole country is open to them and, if they enter near Carlisle, they may be in the heart of Cumberland, or Durham, before we are fairly in motion. We may count, however, on meeting them as they retire, if not before."

Oswald then rode to his own place, bade all the tenants prepare to ride with him to Alnwick, at an hour's notice; and either to send their women and children on there, as soon as it was known that the Scotch army was gathering strongly on the border; or else to gather stores of provisions, up in the hills, and to send the women and children there, the moment word came that the Scots were on the move.

The news of Mortimer's defeat and capture had been received, by the time Oswald returned to Alnwick.

"'Tis bad news, indeed," Percy said to him, "and I know that, as you have been staying so long at Ludlow, you will be deeply grieved at the misfortune that has befallen Mortimer. However, I doubt not that he will soon be ransomed. I know that the king appointed a commission of knights, to treat at once with Glendower for Lord Grey's ransom, and has given orders for the raising of the great sum demanded. It is to be gathered from a tax on church properties, and in other ways; and doubtless he will do the same for Mortimer, whose lands have been so harried, by the Welsh, that it will be impossible to raise any large sum from the tenants."

"I fear, Sir Henry," Oswald said, "that the king will be lukewarm on the subject. During his three invasions, he has never once summoned Sir Edmund to join him; nor has he passed through Ludlow, as he might well have done, seeing that it is a central position, and the nearest way for an army marching towards Plinlimmon. I remarked, too, that when I mentioned Mortimer's name in my discourse with him, the king's brow clouded, as if ill pleased at the name."

"Then he acts wrongly," Hotspur said angrily. "Mortimer has given no cause for offence. He has never, in any way, upheld the cause of the young Earl of March; and knows, well enough, that it would be madness to set up his claim to the throne, when Henry has given no cause for complaint, and that the boy's existence seems to be well-nigh forgotten by the country.

"However, as soon as this business is over I will, myself, to London; and will beg the king to exercise the same benevolence, in the case of Mortimer, as he has shown on behalf of Lord Grey. Why, he might as well suspect us, to whom he largely owes his kingdom, as Mortimer, seeing that my wife is aunt to the young earl."

Early in August it became known that preparations were being made, upon a great scale, by Douglas for the invasion of England; and that, as Military Governor of Scotland, he had summoned all the great nobles to join, with their forces; and it was even said that numbers of French knights were, on account of the long friendship between France and Scotland, crossing the seas, to fight under Douglas against their old enemies.

"Methinks," Hotspur said to his knights, "there can be little doubt that there is an agreement between Scotland and Glendower; and this would account for the fury the Welshmen have been showing, and the manner in which they have destroyed the cathedrals, churches, and castles alike; and so forced Henry to march against them, with the forces of the greater part of England, just when Douglas is preparing to assail us here.

"The forces of Westmoreland, Cumberland, Durham, and Northumberland, if together, might hope to make a stout resistance, even against so large a force as Douglas is collecting; but we cannot so gather. The Earl of Westmoreland, who commands the forces of his own county and Cumberland, must needs hold them together; lest the Scots pour down, besiege Carlisle, and carry fire and sword through those counties.

"From here up to Berwick the country has been so plundered, and devastated, that it is almost a desert; and I can draw no strength from there. As to Durham, they urge, and with some truth that, as the Scots have, before now, laid portions of their county waste, they cannot send their forces so far north as this place; as it would leave them unprotected, should the enemy march through Tynedale into their county.

"The king has entered Wales with the fighting men of thirty-four counties, so from him no aid can be expected; and it seems to me that we shall be quite unable to make head against the invasion; though assuredly, when we have gathered our forces, and are joined by those Dunbar will bring us, we will meet them as they return, spoil laden, to the border."

Well-mounted messengers had been placed on every road by which the Scots could cross the border; and on the 18th of August, one came with the news that, twelve hours before, they had crossed into Cumberland at Kirksop Foot; that they were reported to be ten thousand strong; and that a dozen villages were already in flames. Another portion of their army had crossed near Tynehead, and were pouring into Tynedale.

John Forster and his wife had arrived, some days before. Oswald had found comfortable lodgings for his mother in the town, which was already crowded with women and children from the border. His father had left again, at once; but returned, with twenty spears, twelve hours after the messenger had brought the news.

"I had two or three of my men out," he said to Oswald, as he rode in and dismounted in the castle yard; "but as soon as I heard that the Scots had entered Tynedale, I knew that it was time to be off, for they are sure to send over strong parties to ravage Coquetdale. The road was well-nigh blocked, in some places, with fugitives. In spite of the warnings that have been issued, most of the people seem to have thought that the Scots could never come in their direction, and the news has caused a panic.

"However, near the border the Scots will find but little plunder. We have had so many invasions that no man is foolish enough to spend money on aught that he cannot easily carry away, and the raiders will, there, find but empty houses. They may sweep in some of the cattle from the hills, to supply them with food on their march; but more than this they will not take, as they go south, as it would be but an encumbrance."

In a few days a strong force was collected at Alnwick; but, though chafing at the news of the terrible devastations, that were being made by the Scots in Cumberland and Durham, the Earl and Hotspur could, at present, do nothing. The invasion was, indeed, one of the most disastrous that had ever taken place; and after having almost devastated the two counties, Douglas, with the united force, and an enormous train of waggons laden with plunder, great quantities of cattle, and other spoil, turned north again, at the end of the second week of September.

In the meanwhile, Percy's force had been steadily growing. He had early resolved that upon the return of the Scots the battle must be fought, and contented himself with sending small bodies, of well-mounted knights and horsemen, to hover in the neighbourhood of the Scotch army; and to keep him informed of their intentions, and the route they seemed disposed to take.

Douglas had carried his devastations up to the walls of Newcastle, but had not attempted to attack that strongly-defended town. He had, indeed, gathered as much spoil as could possibly be taken along; and he moved north in a quiet and leisurely way, being greatly hampered by the enormous train of loaded waggons.

As soon as the Earl of Northumberland and his son saw that he intended to march up through Northumberland, instead of returning by the line that he had come through Tynedale, they set their force in motion and marched out; leaving a sufficient strength to hold Alnwick, should Douglas attack it. Being joined, two days later, by the Earl of Dunbar, they posted themselves in a position whence they could march to intercept the Scots, upon any road they might follow on their way north.

On the 12th, they learned for certain that the Scots were following the road that would take them through Wooler. Moving instantly, the Earl with his forces came up to them, posted on a hill, a mile to the northwest of Homildon. He at once seized a hill facing it, and disposed his knights, men-at-arms, and spearmen along the crest.

Hotspur would straightway have charged down, and attacked the Scots in their position; but Dunbar put his hand on his bridle, and urged him, strongly, to await the assault; and to provoke the Scots into taking the offensive by galling them with his archers, in which he was far superior to them; while, on the other hand, they were much stronger in spears and horsemen.

Hotspur, seeing the goodness of the advice, assented to it; and ordered the archers to descend, at once, into the valley between the two hills; and to launch their arrows against the Scots. On descending, it was found that the Scottish bowmen were already in the valley. These they speedily drove up the hill, and then sent their arrows thick and fast among the Scottish men-at-arms.

Douglas had, like the Earl of Dunbar, perceived at what disadvantage the party who took the offensive would have to fight; and had determined to stand on the defensive, especially as, if he moved forward, the English could detach bodies of horsemen to work round the hill, and fall upon his immense train of waggons.

For a time, he refused to accede to the earnest entreaties of his knights to advance. But as man after man fell under the English arrows, their impatience increased; until one of his best knights, Sir John Swinton, rode a few paces out of the ranks, and in a loud voice said:

"My brave comrades, what fascinates you today, that you stand like deer and fawns in a park to be shot; instead of showing your ancient valour, and meeting your foes hand to hand? Let those who will descend with me and, in the name of God, we will break that host and conquer; or if not, we will at least die with honour, like soldiers."

A mighty shout followed his words, and the whole Scottish host dashed down the hill. The English archers fell back a little, still shooting as they did so; but halted a short way up the hill, and shot so hotly and strongly that they pierced helmet and armour with their arrows.

Nothing could withstand these missiles, shot by the finest and strongest bowmen in the world. The Scots rolled over in heaps. Douglas, although clad in the most perfect steel armour, was wounded in five places, one arrow destroying the sight of one of his eyes. He fell from his horse, and utter confusion reigned in the Scottish ranks.

Swinging their bows behind them, the archers drew their axes and rushed into the crowd, effecting a terrible slaughter. Douglas was made prisoner, as was the Earl of Fife, a son of the Regent Albany, the Earls of Moray and Angus and Orkney. Two barons, eighty knights, among whom were several Frenchmen, and several other persons of rank were also captured; while Swinton, Gordon, and many other knights and gentlemen were slain, together with seven hundred of the commonalty. With the exception only of Flodden, no battle on the Border was so fatal to the Scottish nobility, whose defeat was effected by the archers only.

The confusion was so terrible that the Earl of Northumberland refused to allow his knights and men-at-arms to charge, seeing that they must trample down both friend and foe; therefore they stood as passive spectators of the desperate fight, not a lance being couched nor a blow struck by any of them. When all was over they took up the pursuit of the fugitives; many of these were overtaken and killed, and the pursuit was continued to the Tweed, where, not knowing the fords, many of the fugitives were drowned while endeavouring to swim the river.

"Roger, what say you to that?" Oswald asked, as he and his squire drew rein, after pursuing the enemy for some distance.

Roger's face expressed the strongest disgust.

"Well, Sir Oswald, I don't call it a battle, at all. Who ever heard of a battle where neither knight nor man-at-arms drew sword? 'Tis out of all reason to fight in that manner."

"Nevertheless, Roger, as we have won a great victory, what matter is it whether we or the archers bore the chief hand in it? The last battle we fought in was a different matter. We had plenty of fighting, but no victory."

"It was more to my taste, nevertheless," Roger grumbled, "even though the Welsh well nigh made an end of me; and, for myself, I could not help hoping that the archers would be beaten, and leave it to us to take our part in the fighting. They had done more than their share when they had broken the Scottish ranks, and slain I know not how many; and it would have been fair of them, after that, to draw back, and leave it to us to finish the business."

"'Tis well as it is, Roger, and for one I am well satisfied. We have given the Scots a lesson that will keep them quiet for a long time. We have recovered all the spoil they were carrying off, and we could have won nothing more, had we been in the thick of the melee, and come out of it, perhaps, sorely wounded again."

Roger, however, was by no means satisfied; and, to the end of his life, always fell into a bad temper when the battle of Homildon was spoken of.

All the prisoners of consequence were taken to Alnwick, where the army fell back; much to the disgust of some of the more eager spirits, who would fain have crossed the frontier, and made reprisals for the woes the Scots had inflicted. Northumberland, however, was well satisfied with what had been won, and did not wish to provoke the Scots to extremities; feeling that with so many of their leaders in his hands, he might be able to arrange terms that would ensure peace, for a considerable time, on the border.

The prisoners were all treated with great kindness and consideration. They were lodged in the castle, and were treated as guests rather than as prisoners.

Oswald and his father were both pleased to hear, two days after the battle, that when the Scottish dead were examined, the bodies of William Baird and ten of his kinsmen were found, lying together. They had resisted desperately to the last, refusing to surrender themselves; well knowing that their misdeeds and many depredations, in England, would bring them to the gallows, if taken alive.

"Well, Father, we shall be able to live in peace for a time, now. No doubt the Bairds have brought with them every spear they could muster, for none would willingly have stayed at home, when there was a promise of gathering so much booty; therefore their strength must be altogether broken, and it will be long, indeed, before the Bairds ride in a raid into Northumberland."

His father nodded.

"'Tis a good thing, Oswald, assuredly; though I would rather that we had had the attacking of them in their own hold. Still, at any rate, there is an end of the feud for years to come; and I shall be able to lie down to sleep, without wondering whether they will be knocking at the gate, before morning."



Chapter 20: The Percys' Discontent.

During the time that had elapsed, between his receiving the news of Mortimer's capture by Glendower, and the battle of Homildon Hill, Percy had written several times to the king, with reference to his taking the same steps to ransom Mortimer that he had taken on behalf of Lord Grey. The king, however, answered very coldly; and one of his letters more than hinted that he believed that Mortimer had voluntarily placed himself in Glendower's hands, and that an agreement existed between them. Not only was Hotspur furious at such an accusation, but the earl, himself, was deeply angered.

"'Tis past all belief," Hotspur said, "that such a charge should be made. Had Mortimer wished to join Glendower, he could have gone to him, not as a prisoner, but at the head of three thousand good fighting men. Why should he have thrown away the lives of twelve hundred of his own vassals, and those of his nephew? Nay, more, had Mortimer intended treachery, he might have marched and fallen on the rear of the king's army, entangled among the Welsh mountains and forests, while Glendower fell upon him from in front. 'Tis a lie, and bears its mark on its face; 'tis but an excuse for refusing to ransom Mortimer, who he hopes will be kept a prisoner for years, and whose estates he will thus be able to appropriate. 'Tis an insult not only to Mortimer but to us, to whom he owes his crown.

"But let him beware! Those who built up, can pull down."

The knights standing round put their hands on their sword hilts, significantly. The king was, to the followers of great barons, a person of but small consequence in comparison with their lord; and they would draw their swords, at the latter's order, as willingly against a king as against a foreign foe. That it was their duty to do so was so fully recognized that, in the troubles between the king and his nobles, while the latter were, if defeated, executed for treason, their vassals were permitted to return home unmolested; and it was not until the battle of Barnet that Edward, enraged at the humiliation that he had suffered, when he had been obliged to fly to France, gave orders that no quarter was to be shown to Warwick's vassals and retainers.

Northumberland and Hotspur were still smarting under this treatment of Mortimer when, eight days after the battle, the messenger they had despatched to the king, in Wales, with the report of their great victory, and the capture of Douglas and other important nobles, returned with an order from the king that these prisoners were not to be ransomed.

This order was received with passionate indignation by the earl and Hotspur. Although not altogether contrary to the usages of the age, since similar orders had, more than once been, issued by Edward the Third; the ransom of prisoners taken in battle was regarded as one of the most important sources of revenue, and as the means of defraying the expenses that nobles and knights were put to in aiding, with their vassals, the king in his wars. Occasionally, however, in the case of prisoners of importance, monarchs deemed it necessary, for political reasons, to forbid the ransom of prisoners.

The Scottish nobles were as indignant as the Percys. They had regarded it as a matter of course that they would be shortly liberated. Their ransom, however heavy, would be soon forthcoming; for it was one of the conditions on which land was held that, in case of the lord being taken prisoner, each of his tenants must contribute largely, in proportion to his holding, towards the payment of his ransom.

The order of the king clearly meant that they were to be taken to London and held there as hostages, perhaps for years; and so not only to ensure England against another invasion, but to further any designs of conquest that the king might entertain. With three of the great earls of Scotland—one of them the son of the Regent—and Douglas, the military leader of the Scots, in his hands; and with the Earl of Dunbar as his ally, Scotland would be practically at his mercy.

An important meeting was held at Alnwick, at which the Scottish nobles, the Earl of Northumberland, and Hotspur were alone present, and here matters of vital interest to the kingdom were arranged.

For six months things remained in the same state. The king's fourth expedition into Wales had effected no more than the preceding. Glendower was still virtually master of Wales. Cardiff had been burned by him, with its numerous priories and convents, with the exception of that of the Franciscans; the castle of Penmarc, and the town and castle of Abergavenny had been burned, and other strong places captured.

The Percys remained, during this time, sullen and inactive; although somewhat mollified by the thanks voted them by Parliament. The king, as a reward for their services, bestowed upon them the estates of Douglas. This, however, they treated with scorn, for as well might he have presented to them the city of Naples or Paris; since, unless all Scotland was conquered, they could not come into peaceful mastership of the Douglas estates. Nor, indeed, could the king have intended it in earnest; for he was far too politic to think of adding so great an increase of territory to the estates of the Percys, who had already shown their power by placing him on the throne, and who might some day take back what they had given him, by declaring in favour of the Earl of March.

One day in February, 1403, Oswald was summoned from Stoubes to Alnwick and, on his arrival there, was requested to go to the earl's chamber. Such a summons was extremely unusual. Hotspur had his own estates, and his own retinue and following; and was, jointly with his father, warden of the marches; and though he dwelt, generally, with him at Alnwick, he had his own portion of the castle. Thus it was seldom that the earl had any communication with Hotspur's knights.

Hastening to obey, Oswald found Hotspur with his father.

"I have a mission for you, Sir Oswald," Hotspur said, "on the part of the earl and myself. You know that, for a long time, there has been a disputation between my father and the Earl of Westmoreland, respecting the Scottish prisoners. The earl sent a small force to fight under me at Homildon, but it was a mere handful; and on the strength of this he advanced a claim to a considerable share of the ransoms of the prisoners; or, since they could not be ransomed, to the custody of the persons of the Earls of Moray and Angus. The king has now, contrary to all reason, inflicted upon us the indignity of appointing four commissioners, two of whom are but knights and the other two men of no consequence, to inquire into the question between my father and my uncle, the Earl of Westmoreland.

"Does he think that two of his earls are going to submit themselves to so gross an indignity?—we, who are as much masters in the north of England as he is in the south—and even that he owes to us. I have ridden over and seen Westmoreland, who is as indignant as we are, and we at once arranged the little matter in which we are at variance, and agreed upon common measures.

"But this is not all. Seeing that the king absolutely refused to do to Mortimer the same service that he did to Lord Grey, whose ransom he has now paid—and who, by the way, has married Glendower's daughter, Jane—Mortimer's vassals, with some aid from ourselves, have raised the money required to free Mortimer. Now the king has interfered, and has given orders that such ransom shall not be paid. 'Tis evident that he determines to drive us to extremities.

"I tell you these things, in order that you may see how intolerable the condition of affairs has become. My father and myself believe that it is the judgment of heaven upon us, for having helped to dethrone King Richard, the lawful sovereign of this country, and to place this usurper on the throne. Even had Richard's conduct rendered his deposition necessary, we did wrong in passing over the lawful heir, the young Earl of March. 'Tis true he was but a child, at that time; but he is older now, and we feel shame that he should be kept as a prisoner, by Henry. Had not the king perjured himself, we should not have been led into this error; for, before we assisted him, he swore a great oath that he had no intention of gaining the throne, but only to regain his own dukedom of Lancaster. It was on that ground that we lent him our aid; and now, forsooth, this perjured usurper treats us, who made him, as dirt under his feet!

"We are resolved to suffer it no longer; and since we may not ransom Mortimer, we will secure his freedom in other ways, and for this you may give us your aid."

"Assuredly, Sir Henry, and my Lord Earl," Oswald, who was deeply indignant at the unworthy treatment of his lords, replied hotly. "My life is at your service."

"I expected nothing else," Hotspur said, warmly. "The matter stands thus. Owen Glendower was a warm partisan of King Richard, and was one of the few who remained faithful to the end; thereby incurring the deep hostility of Henry, and of his adherent Lord Grey. It was for this his lands were unjustly seized, for this that Henry's parliament refused to accede to his complaints, and so drove him to take up arms. Thus, then, in an enterprise against Henry, Glendower is our natural ally; and we intend to propose to him that alliance, undertaking that, if he will give us aid, his claim to the crown of Wales shall be acknowledged, and that he shall govern his country without interference from England.

"There is none who could carry out this negotiation so well as yourself, since you can, by virtue of that ring he gave you, pass unarmed to him; while any other knight would be assuredly slain. You will bear a letter, signed by the earl and myself, offering him our friendship and alliance, on those terms; and explain to him, more fully, the manner in which we have been driven to throw off Henry's authority. You can tell him that we shall proclaim the Earl of March lawful king; and if he agrees to join in our project, which would be clearly both to his liking and advantage, it would be as well that he should, as soon as we move, which may not be for some time yet, release Sir Edmund Mortimer; who, as the boy's uncle, will assuredly raise his vassals on his behalf, now that Henry has shown such animosity against him."

"I will gladly undertake the mission, my lord; and all the more gladly, since it may lead to the liberation of Sir Edmund Mortimer, who treated me with the greatest kindness and condescension, during my stay at Ludlow."

"Prepare to start tomorrow, then," the earl said. "The letter shall be ready for you tonight; and beyond what my son has told you, you can tell Glendower that we have good hopes of large help from Scotland; with whom, it is said, he is already in alliance."

The next morning Oswald started, taking no one but Roger with him. He had, the evening before, told his squire only that he was starting on a journey; promising to tell him more, as they rode. Accordingly, when well away from Alnwick, he beckoned to Roger to bring up his horse alongside of him.

"Where think you that we are going, Roger? I will give you fifty guesses, and would warrant that you would not come at the truth."

"It matters nothing to me, master; so that I ride with you, I am content."

"You know, Roger, how grievously the king has treated the Percys; how he has prevented their taking ransom for their prisoners, and has refused to ransom Sir Edmund Mortimer; how he, in bitter jest, offered the earl the estates of Douglas; and how he has put upon them the indignity of sending four men, of no import, to decide upon their difference with Westmoreland?"

"Ay, ay, Sir Oswald, everyone knows this, and not a few have wondered that the Percys have suffered these things, in quietness."

"A fresh thing has happened, Roger. The tenants of Mortimer, with aid from the earl and Hotspur, have raised the sum that Glendower demanded as ransom; and now the king has laid on them his order, that this money is not to be paid."

"By our Lady," Roger exclaimed wrathfully, "this is too much! Sir Edmund is a noble gentleman, and that the king should refuse to allow his friends to ransom him passes all bounds."

"So the earl and Hotspur consider," Oswald said, "and, ere long, you will see that they will hoist the banner of the young Earl of March, and proclaim him King of England."

"'Tis good," Roger exclaimed, slapping his hand on his leg. "To me it matters nought who is King of England, but I always held that it was hard that King Richard should be deposed, and murdered, by one who was not even his lawful successor. I am not one to question the conduct of my lord, but I always thought that the Percys were wrong in bringing this usurper over."

"They feel that themselves, Roger, and consider the ingratitude of the king to be a punishment upon them, for having aided him to the throne."

"But what has this to do with your journey, master?"

"It has much to do with it, Roger, seeing that I am on my way to Glendower, to offer him alliance with the Percys."

"A good step!" Roger exclaimed. "We know that these Welsh can fight."

"Moreover, Roger, it may bring about the freeing of Mortimer; for the evil feeling the king has shown against him will surely drive him to raise all his vassals, and those of the young earl, in Herefordshire and elsewhere; and thus the Percys will gain two powerful allies, Glendower and Mortimer; and as they advance from the north, the Welsh and Mortimer will join them from the west. When victory is gained, there will be peace on the Welsh marches. Owen will be recognized for what he is, the King of Wales; and doubtless he will then suffer the English to live quietly there, just as the Welsh have lived quietly in England.

"Then, too, all the western counties will see that it is their interest to side with Mortimer and Glendower. Four times, during the last three years, have they been called out, and forced to leave their homes to follow the king into Wales; and as often have had to return, leaving behind them many of their number. They will see that, if Glendower is acknowledged King of Wales, this hard and grievous service will no longer be required of them."

"That is so, Sir Oswald, and in truth I like the project well. It matters not a straw to me who is king; but if a king treats my lords scurvily, I am ready to shout 'Down with him!' and to do my best to put another up in his place; though, indeed, 'tis a salve to my conscience to know that the man I am fighting against is a usurper, and one who has set himself up in the place of the lawful king."

"My conscience in no way pricks me, Roger. I fight at my lord's order, against his foes. That is the duty I have sworn to. As between him and the king, 'tis a matter for him alone. At the same time, I am glad that the business is likely to end in the rescue of a knight who has been very kind to me. Between Henry and the young Earl of March I have no opinion; but it seems to me that, since Henry ascended to the throne by might, and by the popular voice, he has no cause to complain, if he is put out of it by the same means."

"But, should the war go against the Percys, master?"

"That, again, is a matter for the earl and Hotspur. They know what force they and the Earl of Westmoreland can put in the field. They know that Glendower can aid with ten thousand Welshmen, and that Mortimer can raise three or four thousand men from his vassals. They should know what help they can count on from Scotland; and doubtless, during the last six months, have made themselves acquainted with the general feeling respecting the king. It is upon them that the risk chiefly falls. We knights and men-at-arms may fall in the field of battle; but that is a risk that we know we have to face, when we take to the calling of arms. If our cause is lost, and we escape from the battlefield, we have but to depart to our holds or our villages, and we shall hear nought more of the affair; while our lords, if taken, would lose their heads. It will be a grief for us to lose masters we love, and to have to pay our quittance with money or service to a new lord; but beyond that, we risk nought save our lives in battle. Therefore I trouble myself, in no way, as to the matter between the Percys and the king, which I take it in no way concerns me; and am content to do my duty, and to render my service, as I have sworn to do."