"It is well, Sir Oswald," Roger said, after a long pause, "that Glendower gave us those rings; for from all accounts he and his Welshmen are more furious than ever, and there would be small chance of our ever reaching him, without them. The chain did its work, last time. 'Tis not every Welshman who would stop to examine it before striking, and few who could read the inscription, if they did so; while 'tis like that most of them are well acquainted with Glendower's signet."

"That is so; but nevertheless, Roger, it will be better, when we have once crossed the border, that you should ride behind me with a white flag displayed; as a token that we come, not for war, but on a peaceful mission. 'Tis probable, at any rate, that any band of Welshmen who may meet us will, in that case, before attacking, stop to inquire on what errand we come."

They rode fast, for the earl had said that he needed to have the news of Glendower's decision, before proceeding further in the matter, and in four days arrived on the border. At Shrewsbury Oswald inquired, carelessly, of the host of the inn where he put up, where Glendower was now thought to be; as he intended to journey south to Hereford, and would fain know whether there was any risk of falling in with bands of the marauders.

"Methinks, Sir Knight, that you may travel without uneasiness; seeing that the country between this and Hereford has been so harassed, by them, that there is nought to tempt them to cross the border, save with so large a force that they can invade Gloucester or Worcestershire. Men say, moreover, that Glendower is, at present, in Cardiganshire. There are still a few Welsh inhabitants here. They declare that they are loyal to the king, and love not their wild countrymen. Whether it is so, or not, I cannot say; but they certainly manage to keep up communications with the Welsh. This may be for a treacherous purpose, or it may be as they say; that, knowing that they and all belonging to them would be slain, should Glendower capture the town; they, for their own safety, try to learn his intentions and movements, in order to warn us, should a surprise be intended."

Starting early the next morning, Oswald crossed into Montgomeryshire, by a road through Worktree Forest, so as to avoid both Ludlow and Welshpool; and kept along by a country track, near the border of Radnor, so passing south of Llanidloes. As soon as they had left Radnorshire, Roger fastened to his spear a white cloth they had brought from Shrewsbury; then they continued their journey west.

It was not until they had crossed the Wye, here an insignificant stream, that they came upon a native of the country. They were following a track, between two rough hills covered with brushwood, when a man, evidently of the better class, stepped out before them.

"Sir Knight," he said in English, "'tis a strange sight to see an Englishman, with one esquire, travelling alone by so wild and lonely a road as this; and strange, indeed, that he should bear a flag of truce; for were you here on your king's business, you would surely be attended with a braver show. I had notice, two hours ago, brought by one who had seen you cross the Wye; and in the bushes round lie fifty men who, did I raise my hand, would let fly their arrows against you. But if you have reason for your coming this way, assuredly we should not hinder you."

Oswald held out his hand.

"This signet ring, sir, was given me by Glendower, who said that any Welshman to whom I might show it would act as my guide and escort to him. I come on an important mission, not from the king, but from one from whom Glendower may be glad to hear; therefore I pray you take me to him, or at least send a party of your men; for I might, peradventure, fall in with some who would shoot before they questioned."

"'Tis assuredly the prince's signet," the man said, after carefully examining it, "and right gladly will I escort you to him. He is, at present, at Aberystwith."

"Thanks for your courtesy, sir. To whom am I speaking?"

"My name is Howel ap Ryddyn. You passed my abode, which cannot be seen from the road; and I would, were you not pressed for time, gladly entertain you; but if we push forward, we may reach Aberystwith before nightfall, and I make no question that would better suit your wishes."

"Thanks, sir. My business is somewhat urgent, and I shall be glad to meet the prince, as soon as possible. Indeed, I should not be sorry to reach a spot where we can sup and sleep, seeing that we have twice slept in the woods, since we left Shrewsbury."

The man called out an order, in Welsh. Four men at once issued from the bushes, and under their guidance the horsemen soon reached Aberystwith.

"I had scarce expected this pleasure, Sir Oswald," Glendower said warmly, as the young knight entered. "To what good fortune do I owe your visit?

"But no, 'tis but poor hospitality questioning thus, when it will be time enough to talk of such things, later."

"And 'tis a matter that is best discussed in private," Oswald replied, in an undertone.

"And how have you fared since we parted?"

"Since I saw you, over a year ago, the time has passed quietly, save for the battle with the Scots; where, although we beat them, there was no credit gained by the knights and men-at-arms; seeing that the archers, alone, did the fighting."

"So I heard. On our side, we have been busy ever since."

"And successful, too, as I have heard."

"Yes, fortune has been in our favour. Lord Grey's ransom has been of much use to us and, having married my daughter Jane, he can no longer be considered a foe. Yet, to do him justice, he would not promise even to stand neutral; though, unless under special orders from the king, he will not draw his sword again. I love a stanch man; and though Grey has taken, as I consider, the wrong side, he stands to it faithfully. I offered him freedom, without ransom, if he would promise neutrality, and that, when I had put down all other opposition, he would hold his Welsh lands from me; but he refused, and said that he would rather remain in chains, all his life, than be false to his vows to Henry.

"That was good, and I would that all Welshmen were as faithful. They take the oath to me one week, and make their peace with Henry the next. Nay, some, to please him, would go so far as to try to assassinate me. Two such plots have there been this year, and it was only that I wore a good mail shirt under my garments, that my life was saved from a bow shot, and from one who professed to be my warm friend, and who had taken bread with me, half an hour before.

"It is destiny, Sir Oswald. The powers watch over me, and keep me from harm; and these will, I know, protect me to the end, against the stroke of English foes, or of Welsh traitors."

After supper was over, Glendower led Oswald to his private chamber.

"Now, Sir Oswald, you can speak freely. I have placed a guard outside the door, and there is no fear of interruption. Do you come on your own account, or from another?"

"I come from the Earl of Northumberland, and his son Sir Henry Percy; and am charged, in the first place, to deliver this letter to you; and then to give you such further intelligence, as to the matter, as it may be needful for you to know."

"From the Percys!" Glendower said, in surprise, as he cut the silk that held the roll together.

His countenance expressed great surprise, as he read the contents.

"There is no snare in this?" he said suddenly, after reading it through two or three times, and looking sharply at Oswald. "'Tis not from the Percys, who, more than any other, assisted the usurper to the throne, that I should have looked for such an offer."

"I should be the last to bring such a letter to you, Glendower, were there aught behind what is written. The earl and Hotspur spoke of the matter at length to me. They regret, now, the part they took in enthroning Henry; at whose hands they have now received such indignities that they are resolved, if it may be, to undo their work, and to place the lawful king, the young Earl of March, on the throne."

He then related the various complaints that the Percys had against the king, and told Glendower that the matter had been brought to a head by Henry's refusal to allow them to pay the ransom that had been collected for Sir Edmund Mortimer.

"Whom have they with them?" Glendower asked, after listening in silence.

"They have the Earl of Westmoreland, who, like themselves, is greatly offended at the appointment of four commissioners, men of no standing or position, to judge between two of the great barons of England; blood relations, too, whose difference is on a matter of but small importance. No other name was mentioned before me, but the earl stated that he looked for much assistance from Scotland."

"Ay, ay! As they hold in their hands Douglas, and the Regent's son, Moray, and Angus, they may well make terms with Scotland. Yes, it is a very great plot, and since I can get no ransom for Mortimer, and he can raise some three or four thousand men, he would be of more value to us free than as a prisoner."

"It is not only that," Oswald said. "The fact that he, as young March's uncle, should head his following and raise his banner, will show that the Percys and you are not using young March's name as a mere pretext for taking up arms. If Mortimer, the head of his house during his minority, and guardian of his estates, were with them, men would see that 'tis really a struggle to place the lawful king on the throne; and many would join who, did they think it was but an affair between the Percys, of whom they know but little in the south, and you, whom they have been taught to consider a rebel, would stand aloof."

"'Tis well thought of, and the project pleases me. Even without such allies, I may hold my mountains and continue my warfare, but there could be neither peace nor prosperity for years; but with the overthrow of the usurper, and my acknowledgment as King of Wales, and of the entire independence of the country, from the Dee to the Severn, the freedom of my country might be permanently secured.

"But I will give no certain answer, tonight. 'Tis a matter to be turned over in my mind, as it seems to me that I may gain much good by the alliance; and that, even if the Percys fail in their enterprise, I can be no worse off than I am, at present."

It was not until the following evening that Glendower gave a decided answer.

"I accept Percy's offer," he said. "I have thought it over in every way; even putting aside the benefits, to my country and myself, I would enter upon it; were it but for the satisfaction of seeing the usurper, and murderer of my dear master, King Richard, have the same measure meted out to him that he gave to his sovereign. Tonight I will write an answer to the Percys, for you to bear to them. Tomorrow morning I will ride, with you, to the stronghold where Mortimer is at present held in durance; and if he consents to join us, I will give him his freedom, without ransom."

They started the next morning, early; and at noon arrived at a strong house, lying in the heart of the hills.

"It were best that you should see him first, Sir Oswald, and explain the matter to him. After that, I will meet him with you."

Great was the astonishment of Sir Edmund, when Oswald was ushered into the little room in which he was confined. It was some ten feet square, furnished with a pallet, chair, and small table. The window was very strongly barred, and Oswald observed, with pain, that his ten months' imprisonment had told very heavily upon Mortimer.

"Why, Oswald! Ah! I see I should say Sir Oswald. What brings you here? Some good news, I trust. Has my ransom been collected?"

"It has been collected, Sir Edmund," Oswald said, as they shook hands, "but the king, who refused altogether to pay your ransom, as he did Lord Grey's, has forbidden the money, raised partly by your tenants and partly by the tenants of your nephew, to be handed over. 'Tis clear that he views you as an enemy; and has, indeed, ventured to declare his belief that your capture by Glendower was a thing arranged, beforehand."

"He lies!" Sir Edmund exclaimed angrily. "We fought stoutly and, had it not been for the treachery of the Welsh bowmen, should have won the day.

"Then how stands the matter, Sir Oswald, and how is it that you are here?"

Oswald then related the purport of his mission, and gave Mortimer some messages with which Hotspur had charged him, on the evening before he started.

"Assuredly I will join," Sir Edmund exclaimed, when Oswald brought his story to a conclusion. "Have I not suffered enough by keeping a force on foot, by having my lands harried and my vassals slain, in order to support Henry's claims to the kingdom of Wales, only to be suspected of treachery? Had I intended to join Glendower, I should have done so a year before; and with my force and his, we could have kept Henry at bay. Why should I have kept up the pretext of loyalty, when there was nought to have prevented my joining Glendower? Why should I have fought him, at the cost of the lives of some twelve hundred of my men, when I could have marched them into his camp, as friends? Why should I suffer nine months of close imprisonment, at the hands of an ally?

"Henry lied, and knew that he lied, when he brought such a charge against me. He wished to be able to work his will on the young earl, and maybe to murder him as he murdered Richard, without there being one powerful enough to lift his voice to condemn the murder. All is at an end between us, and henceforth I am his open enemy, as he is mine; and would be heart and soul with the Percys in the overthrow of Henry, even if my nephew were not concerned, and did the earl purpose, himself, to grasp the crown."

"Glendower is below, Sir Edmund, and will himself speak to you; but he thought that it were best that I should first open the matter to you."

A quarter of an hour later the keeper of the hold came up, and said that the prince bade Sir Edmund to descend and speak with him. As they entered the room where Glendower was waiting, the latter glanced at Oswald, inquiringly.

"The matter is settled," the latter said. "Sir Edmund will join us, with heart and hand."

"I am indeed glad to hear it, Sir Oswald.

"Sir Edmund Mortimer," he went on, courteously, "hitherto we have regarded each other as enemies; henceforth we are friends, and you are my guest and not my prisoner. I have thought it over, and methinks that you must tarry here, till we have certain news of the day on which the Percys will set on foot their enterprise. It would not be safe for you to return to your estates, until you are in a position to call your vassals to arms at once; for the king, were he to hear that you were at Ludlow, might call on the lieutenants of the western counties, and the owners of all the castles, to attack you at once. Therefore, until it is time to strike, it were best that you should remain with me.

"I do not propose that you should accompany me on my expeditions, for to do so might do harm across the border. I will, therefore, assign you a suitable house at Aberystwith, with such attendance and furnishing as are due to a guest of your quality.

"The prospect seems to be a fair one. The northern lords, aided by the Scots, should by themselves be a match for any gathering Henry could collect at short notice; and, joined by my forces and yours, should surely be able to overthrow all opposition."

"So it appears to me," Sir Edmund said. "'Tis indeed a powerful confederation and, if all goes well, ought to leave no option to the usurper but to die in battle, or to fly to France."

"Will you return with us to Aberystwith, Sir Oswald?" Glendower presently asked the young knight.

"I will ride straight for England, with your permission," Oswald said. "I am already thirty miles on my way, and the Percys urged me to return as soon as possible."

"So be it. As soon as we have dined, an officer and four horsemen will be in readiness to ride with you, as an escort."

A week later Oswald reached Alnwick. He was the bearer of letters from Glendower and Mortimer, and was able to report the complete success of his mission. As a mark of his satisfaction, the earl ordered a deed of gift to be made to him, of a large strip of land extending over the hills between Stoubes and Yardhope.

"Some day," he said, as he handed the document to him, "you will be master of Yardhope, and by thus joining that feu to that of Stoubes, you will have an estate that will make you a power in the upper glades of Reddesdale and Coquetdale; and will support the dignity of a knight banneret, which I now bestow upon you, and also appoint you a deputy warden of the marches, with power of life and death over all marauders, reivers, and outlaws. I have long felt that it would be well that there should be one who, in case of necessity, could raise a hundred spears; and so prevent bodies of marauders, from the other side of the border, making sudden irruptions into the dales; and from what I have heard of you, from Sir Henry, I am sure that you will carry out the charge most worthily."

The new acquisition would not very largely increase Oswald's revenues, for the greater portion of the grant was hill and moor. Nevertheless, there were a good many houses and small villages scattered in the dales, and it was these that raised the tract of land to the value of a knight's feu.

In point of position, however, it was a large addition. As a knight banneret, with the castle of Stoubes at one end of his holding, and the hold of Yardhope at the other, he would occupy an important position on the border; and could raise at least a hundred spears among his tenants, in addition to the men-at-arms of the two strongholds.

Three days later Hotspur released the whole of his Scottish prisoners; and sent them, under escort, to the border. The Percys now began, in earnest, their preparations for war. For greater convenience Hotspur went down to Morpeth, while the earl betook himself to Berwick-on-Tweed, where he could confer more easily with his Scottish allies; who, on their part, were carrying out the condition on which they had been released without ransom; namely, that they would join their forces to those of the Percys.

Oswald made another journey to Wales, this time by ship from Carlisle to Aberystwith, and there acquainted Glendower and Mortimer with the preparations that had been made, assuring them that the rising would take place at the end of May. He also asked Glendower to raise as large an army as possible, without delay; and Sir Edmund Mortimer to betake himself at once to Hereford, there to raise his banner and summon his vassals, and those of the Earl of March, to join him—the king having, on his return from his last expedition, entered Ludlow, seized Mortimer's plate and other property, and appointed to the governorship of Ludlow a knight on whose devotion he could rely.



Chapter 21: Shrewsbury.

The Percys' preparations could not be carried on without exciting attention; and in March the king, seeing that the open defiance of his authority, by the release of the Scottish prisoners, would assuredly be followed by armed rebellion, which the Douglas would probably have pledged himself to aid as the condition of his release, began, on his side, to make similar preparations. Levies were called out, and the Prince of Wales was appointed to the command of the Welsh marches, and the governorship of Wales.

Towards the end of June Douglas, faithful to his agreement, crossed the frontier; and was at once joined by Hotspur, with the force he had gathered. Hotspur's father was lying sick at Berwick, but was to follow, as speedily as possible, with the army collected in the north of the county, and from Dunbar's estates.

It had been arranged that Glendower should meet the allies at Lichfield; and on his being joined by his uncle, the Earl of Westmoreland, with his following, Hotspur marched south. His intention was, after effecting a junction with Glendower, to march and give battle to the army with which Henry and the Prince of Wales were advancing against him. At Lichfield, however, he learned that Glendower had not completed his preparations in sufficient time to join him. He therefore changed his direction, and made for Shrewsbury, towards which place Glendower was marching.

Percy's array had swollen as he went south. He had been joined by a number of archers, from Cheshire, and by other adherents of the late king; these regarding the war as an attempt, not to place the Earl of March upon the throne, but to overthrow the usurper who had dethroned their king.

Oswald rode with sixty spearmen from his own estate; while his father, with thirty men from Yardhope, rode in his company. Both regarded the failure of Glendower to come to the place appointed as a serious misfortune.

"Of course," Oswald said, "if he joins us at Shrewsbury, before the king comes up, it will not matter much; and indeed would be, in one respect, the better. Mortimer with his force will be coming on; and though he is scarce likely to arrive at Shrewsbury in time for the battle, for he could not leave Wales, to summon his levies to the field, until the Prince of Wales had drawn off his force and marched to join his father; his reinforcement, afterwards, will fill up the gaps in our ranks, and be a great assistance, should Henry be able to rally another army in the Midlands. He cannot hope to do so before we reach London."

"That sounds fairly, Oswald, but 'tis always better to carry out the plans you have made; and this absence of Glendower, at the point arranged, to my mind augurs ill."

Henry was an able general. Believing that the Percys would make for the Welsh border, he had posted himself at Burton-on-Trent; but as soon as he heard that they had changed their course he started for Shrewsbury, and marched so quickly that he arrived there before Hotspur, thus throwing himself between the Percys and the Welsh.

Hotspur, on arriving near the town, was enraged at hearing that Glendower had not arrived, according to his promise. The king's army was encamped on the eastern side of the town, and the northern forces took post a short distance away. That night Hotspur sent a document into the royal camp, declaring Henry to be forsworn and perjured: in the first place because he had sworn, under Holy Gospel, that he would claim nothing but his own proper inheritance, and that Richard should reign to the end of his life; secondly, because he had raised taxes and other impositions, contrary to his oath, and by his own arbitrary power; thirdly, because he had caused King Richard to be kept in the castle of Pontefract, without meat, drink, or fire, whereof he perished of hunger, thirst, and cold. There were other clauses, some of them regarding his conduct to Sir Edmund Mortimer. The claims of the young Earl of March to the throne were also set forward, and the document ended with a defiance.

Henry simply sent, as reply, that he had no time to lose in writing; but that he would, in the morning, prove in battle whose claims were false and feigned.

Nevertheless, in the morning, when the two armies were arrayed in the order of battle, the king sent the Abbot of Shrewsbury to propose an amicable arrangement. Hotspur and Douglas, however, rejected the offer. The trumpets then blew on either side, and the armies joined battle.

Their numbers were about equal. Each consisted of some fourteen thousand men. Douglas and Hotspur had taken their place in the centre of their line, having behind them a party of their best knights. These charged with fury down upon the king's standard, which stood in the centre of his array. Hotspur and Douglas, his former rival, were accounted two of the best knights in Christendom, and the fury of their charge was irresistible. The centre of the royal line was cleft in sunder, the king's guards were at once dispersed; and, had not Henry taken the precaution of arraying himself in plain armour, while two of his knights had put on royal surcoats, the battle would at once have been decided.

As it was, the two knights were both killed, as were the Earl of Stafford and Sir Walter Blount. The royal standard was overthrown, and the young Prince of Wales sorely wounded in the face.

He had already shown signs of great military talent; and, in spite of his wound, now showed a courage and presence of mind that justified the confidence his father had shown, in giving him important commands. He rode hither and thither among the disorganized troops, saw that the gap in the centre was again closed up, and was ever to be met where the fight was hottest.

The impetuous charge of Hotspur and Douglas was the ruin of themselves, and their army. Had they paused until their troops had advanced close to the enemy, and the mounted men-at-arms were all ranged closely behind them, and in a position to support them, the fight would assuredly have speedily terminated in their favour; but before these arrived the royal army had closed its ranks, and the rebel leaders, with all their principal knights, were cut off from the main body. In vain the men of the north tried to cut their way through the southern ranks, and to come to the assistance of their chiefs; who, surrounded now by the English knights and men-at-arms, were fighting desperately against overwhelming numbers.

An hour after the battle began, many parties of Welshmen came up and joined in the conflict; but the absence of leaders, and the loss of their respective captains, Hotspur and Douglas, paralysed the efforts of the Northumbrians and the Scottish contingent. Yet both fought stoutly, and suffered very heavy losses.

For upwards of two hours Hotspur maintained the unequal fight; but at length an arrow pierced Hotspur's visor, and he fell dead from his horse. Further resistance was useless, and the survivors of the group, which had been reduced to a mere handful, surrendered. For another half hour the main battle raged; then came the news that Hotspur was killed, and Douglas and Westmoreland prisoners; the English horsemen dashed down on the flanks of the northern line, the spearmen pressed forward, and the Scotch and Northumbrians broke and fled.

When the knights first charged, Oswald had been with his own following, and a hundred other horsemen, on the left flank. As soon as he saw what had happened, he endeavoured to ride round the right flank of the royal army; but was met by a much larger force of men-at-arms and, after hard fighting, driven back. Oswald himself, with Roger on one hand and his father on the other, had several times hewed his way deep into the enemy's squadron; and would have been cut off, had not the Yardhope moss troopers spurred furiously in to the rescue, and brought them all off again.

Several times the charge was renewed, but ineffectually. Half the rebel army had been killed; and when, at last, the infantry broke, and it was clear that there was no more to be done, Oswald, who was wounded in half a dozen places, called the survivors of his troop to follow him; and, with his party, rode off in good order.

A mile from the field they halted for a few minutes. Not one of them but had been more or less severely wounded in the desperate melee. They now took off their armour, and bandaged each other's wounds; and then, mounting again, they rode off.

"What do you say, Father," Oswald asked; "shall we circle round, and join Glendower? We know that his army is close at hand and, were they to attack tonight, they should win an easy victory; for the king's men have suffered well nigh as sorely as we have."

"No, Oswald; we have done enough. We have not been fighting for the Earl of March. We have been simply following our feudal lord, as we were bound to do. He is dead, and we have nought to do with this quarrel. What is it to us whether March or Henry is king?"

They were not pursued. The greater part of the English cavalry were exhausted by their exertions against Hotspur and Douglas. Their loss was extremely heavy, and those in a condition to pursue took up the comparatively easy work of cutting down the flying footmen.

The battle had been a disastrous one, for both sides. Their losses were about even, the number who fell altogether being put at ten thousand men. With Douglas, the Earl of Westmoreland, Baron of Kinderton, Sir Richard Vernon, and other knights were captured. Westmoreland, Kinderton, and Vernon were at once executed on the field of battle, as rebels; but Douglas, as a foreign knight, was simply viewed as a prisoner of war, and was kindly treated.

Glendower took no advantage of the opportunity for striking a blow at the royal army; and instead of attacking it, when spent by fatigue and encumbered with wounds, retired at once to Wales. Had he, instead of doing this, marched to meet Sir Edmund Mortimer, who was hurrying forward with a powerful array, the united force would have been fully double the strength of the English army; and a great commander would, at once, have fought a battle that would probably have altered the whole course of events in England. Glendower's conduct here showed that, although an able partisan leader in an irregular warfare, he had no claim whatever to be considered a great general.

Travelling rapidly, Oswald and his party crossed the Tyne; and hearing that the earl, now recovered from his illness, was marching down with his army to join his son, they rode to meet him. It was a painful duty that Oswald had to discharge, and the old earl, when he heard of the defeat of the army, the death of the son to whom he was deeply attached, and the capture of his brother, the Earl of Westmoreland, gave way to despair, dismissed his army to their homes at once, and retired, completely broken down in body and spirit, to his castle at Warkworth.

So depressed was he that when royal messengers arrived, summoning him in the king's name to surrender, and journey with him to London, he instantly obeyed. When questioned by the king why he had displayed the banner of revolt against him, he said he had done so on the urging of Hotspur; and the king, who was always inclined to leniency, when leniency was safe, pardoned him, and permitted him to retain his dignity and estates.

Oswald speedily recovered from his wounds, but his father suffered much.

"I have fought my last fight, Oswald," he said, when his son rode over to see him, a few days after their return from the south. "I say not that I am about to die, but only that methinks I shall never be able to wield sword manfully again. I have talked the matter over with your mother, and she agrees with me that it were well that I handed over Yardhope to you. I do not mean that I should leave the old place—for generations my fathers have lived and died here, and I would fain do the same—but that I should hand over to you the feu, and you should take oath for it to Northumberland, and lead its retainers in the field. Were it that there was a chance of another raid by the Bairds, I would still maintain my hold myself; but their power was altogether broken, at Homildon.

"Moreover, the border Scots and we are at peace now, as we have not been so long as memories run; seeing that we have fought side by side against the King of England, and have suffered the same misfortune in defeat; therefore, I can hang up my sword.

"But for you there may be more fighting. From what I know of the old earl, I am sure that he will never forgive Hotspur's death; and although, at present, he is reinstated in his estates, there can be no doubt that the king will strike further blows against the power of the Percys. Northumberland is a valiant soldier, tenacious in his purposes, and lasting in his hatreds. Had it not been that he was utterly broken by the news that we brought him, he would assuredly have marched down with his army, and tried to join Glendower and Mortimer; and at least have died fighting, the end that he would best like. I doubt not that we shall see his banner raised again, ere long."

"I hope not, Father. The undertaking would be desperate."

"However that may be, Oswald, as I can no longer render service for the feu, I wish to hand it over to you. 'Tis but a nominal change, but I should like to see the estate yours. I and my fathers have held our own, and were content to do so, adding somewhat to our means by such plunder as we could carry off from Scotland; but you have greatly advanced the family, and as a deputy warden of the marches, it is as well that Yardhope should be added to your holding. I should be glad, too, to have you known as Sir Oswald Forster of Yardhope, and not as Sir Oswald Forster of Stoubes; and in time, if things go well with you, I charge you to build a castle here, in place of this hold; which has been good enough for plain men like myself and my father, but which is no fit residence for the estate you now hold.

"I don't mean to say that I wish you always to live here, for, maybe, Stoubes is a more pleasant abode, standing in a fair country, and with the climate somewhat less hard than this; but I should like you to come up here, at times, and to be known as Forster of Yardhope."

"I will carry out your wishes, Father; but it would please me more for things to remain as they have been."

"My plan is best, lad. I shall be seneschal here for you, and little will be changed; save that you will ride at the head of the retainers, instead of myself. 'Tis not meet that I should hold the feu, when I can no longer render due service.

"Your mother is wholly of opinion that I have done enough of fighting for my life, and should trouble myself no longer with raidings and wars. Your mother has shown sound judgment, and her advice has generally been good; though I never fully recognized this, till I saw what great good had come of her wishing you to learn to read and write; for it is to that, to no small extent, that you owe your rapid rise and present dignity."

Accordingly, a few days later, Oswald rode with his father to Warkworth, to which castle the earl had returned after his visit to England. At the request of John Forster he received back the feu from him, and appointed his son to it. This done, Oswald rode to pay a visit to his cousins; while his father returned to Yardhope, with two retainers he had brought with him.

Oswald had not seen Adam Armstrong, since the latter had come to Yardhope after the rescue of his daughters; and he was received by him with the greatest warmth, as also by Allan, who, although now nearly recovered from his wounds, had, fortunately for himself, not gained sufficient strength to be able to accompany Douglas, either to Homildon or in his march into England to join Percy.

The girls were out when he rode up; but, upon their return, both showed the greatest pleasure, Jessie being the most demonstrative in her welcome.

"It has always been a sore subject with me, Oswald," Allan said, "that you should have ridden away in that gallant enterprise to rescue my sisters, while I was lying here helpless; and knew, indeed, nought of it, until after you had taken them safely to Yardhope.

"Ah! Roger, I am glad to see you again; and to thank you, too, for the share you took in it."

"In faith, Master Allan, there are no great thanks due. It was but a poor affair, and I had but one opportunity, and that not worth naming, of striking a hearty blow. It seems to me that these things are never fairly divided. Both in that adventure, and at Homildon, I scarce struck a blow; while in that affair in Wales, and at Shrewsbury, there was even more fighting than I cared for. I had to be nursed like a child after the first, and I am still stiff from the wounds that I got in the second.

"There should be reason in such matters. It vexed me sorely that we had to ride away from the Bairds, without striking a few good blows in part payment of their raid here."

"I am very glad that you did not have to do so," Janet said. "I think there was quite enough excitement in it, and especially as we went down that rope; though indeed, you are so strong that I felt that I was quite safe with you."

Roger laughed.

"I could have carried two of you; and sooth, you did not show your confidence at the time, for you held on so tightly to the rope that I began to think that we should never get to the bottom."

"You told me to hold tight," Janet said, indignantly.

"Yes, yes, that was natural enough. The difficulty was, that you would not let go, and at each knot it was as much as I could do to get you to let it slide through your fingers."

"Very well, Master Roger. Then I shall take care not to let you lower me down a rope again."

"I trust there will never be the need," Roger laughed; "but indeed, although your weight was as nothing, I felt uneasy myself as we went down; for I feared that I might grip you too tightly, seeing that I am altogether unaccustomed to the handling of girls."

"Well, I suppose, Roger," Jessie said, "that now the wars are over, you will be marrying and settling down."

"I don't know how that might be," Roger replied, slowly. "I do not say that the matter has never entered my mind; and seeing that I am now seven-and-thirty, 'tis one that should not be much longer delayed. I mean not that I have ever thought as to who should be the woman, but I have thought whether, when the time comes that Sir Oswald takes him a wife, it would not be well that I should do the same.

"But I know not how I stand. The abbot of Alnwick has, so far, allowed me to go out into the world, to unfrock myself, and to become a man-at-arms instead of a peaceful monk; but I have not been dispensed from my vows of celibacy and, were I to marry, the matter might be taken up by the Church, and I might be put to many and sore penances, and punishments, for the breach of them."

The others all laughed at the seriousness with which Roger had answered the girl's jesting remark.

"It is a matter that I have never thought of before, Roger," Oswald said; "but assuredly it would, as you say, be fitting and right that, when I take a mistress, you should do so also—like master like man, you know. Since your thoughts have been turned that way, I will see the abbot, next time I go to Alnwick, and lay the case before him. Of a truth you have made a most excellent man-at-arms, and 'tis equally certain that you were an exceedingly bad monk. It would doubtless be well that you should obtain a complete absolution from your vows; for although I am sure that the good abbot regards you, now, as altogether beyond his control, and would take no steps against you were he to hear of your marriage, it might not be so in the case of his successor. He is an old man, and the next abbot may be of a very different character; and, looking through the books of the convent, he might say, 'What has become of Brother Roger? I see no record of his death.'

"Then, pushing matters further, he might discover your backsliding, and might summon you before him, and there is no saying what pains and penalties he might inflict upon you."

Roger moved uneasily in his seat.

"Do not speak of such a thing, I pray you, master—imprisonment in a cell, flagellation, nay, even worse might befall me at the hands of a rigorous abbot; for in truth, nought could well be more serious than the offences that I have already committed; and he might hold that, even though the present abbot had been backward in taking notice of the matter, this in no way would absolve him from doing his duty.

"And indeed, as it is, it was to Hotspur that he gave permission for me to go out into the world. Hotspur is dead, and there is nought but my own word in the matter."

"That, at any rate, I can put right, Roger, by going myself to the abbot; and learning, from his lips, that he did give that permission to Hotspur. Moreover, I received it from Hotspur's own lips. Still, it would be useful for me to obtain, from the abbot, a letter giving full absolution for all offences committed, up to the present time."

"That would be a great thing," Roger said eagerly. "'Tis a matter that I have often turned over in my mind, when on a long day's ride, and I have thought of what might happen were a new man to become abbot of Alnwick; but such an absolution would assuredly go for much. No one can doubt, more especially an abbot, that absolution by an abbot is most effectual; and that the offences committed before it are wholly wiped out, and cannot be revived."

"It would be best to obtain total absolution from your vows. Can the abbot grant that, Roger?"

"'Tis a moot question," Roger replied. "Many affirm that he can do so, and assuredly many abbots have exercised that power; others again hold that, although abbots cannot lawfully do so, bishops can; while a few maintain that even these are incapable, and that nothing short of the absolution by the Holy Father himself is of avail. Still, whatever be the true state of things, I should be well satisfied with an abbot's absolution, and still more so by a bishop's; for though, were a great prince concerned, someone interested might contest the matter, none would be likely to do so in the case of a man-at-arms or an esquire."

"Very well, Roger. Then I will endeavour to obtain a full absolution from your vows, by the abbot; and should he decline to give them I will, when I next see the earl, pray him, in consideration of the good services that you have rendered, to obtain it for you from the bishop."

"And you have not yourself thought of marrying, Oswald?" Adam Armstrong said.

"Nay, Uncle. I came of age but a few days since, and it will be time to think of taking me a wife four or five years hence. So, until these troubles have wholly ceased, it were better, methinks, for a knight to remain unwed than to take a wife, with the risk of leaving her a young widow."

"In that case, Oswald, methinks there would be little marrying in Northumberland; for, saving short truces, and these but ill observed, there is ever trouble on the border."

"I speak not of that," Oswald replied. "Doubtless we shall always be subject to border raids, on both sides, and even to serious wars between the two countries; but I speak not of that, but of troubles in England. 'Tis natural to fight when Englishmen and Scotchmen meet, arrayed in battle; but when Englishmen meet Englishmen, 'tis terrible indeed; and though the slaughter at Shrewsbury was great beyond measure, who yet can say that the fire is extinguished? As long as one may be called to arms again, by the earl, it is, in good sooth, better to remain single than to have to ride to the wars, leaving the young wife behind."

"Spoken very wisely and well, Oswald," Adam Armstrong laughed. "'Tis well to argue as to policy; but such arguments go for nought, as soon as a man's heart is fixed on any particular woman."

"It may be so, Uncle; but as I have never thought of marriage, I am able to look at the matter dispassionately."

"Ah! Well, the time will come, Oswald, and you will then speedily come to consider that there are other things than the reasonableness of waiting to be considered.

"By the way, I trust that, should England invade Scotland again by the valley of the Esk, you will not forget our debt to the Bairds. Though I lamented the disaster at Homildon, where many of my friends and acquaintances fell; I could not but feel that the death of William Baird, and so many of his kin, was a relief, indeed, to me. I have strengthened my hold, as you see, but I should have been ever obliged to remain on guard. The Bairds never forgive nor forget, and the manner in which they were tricked out of their captives must have discomposed them sorely, and rankled in their minds; and, sooner or later, they would have tried to wipe out the memory in blood. I wonder that they had not done it before Homildon, but doubtless they had other matters in hand.

"Now I can live in peace; but I, too, have not forgotten the injuries I have suffered at their hands, and should rejoice, greatly, did I hear that their stronghold had been levelled to the ground."

"I hope that it will be long before our kings march against Scotland again. The ill success of all our efforts should have taught them that, do what they will, they will never conquer Scotland; and Henry is not likely to court another failure, such as he met with two years since. 'Tis not like the wars with the Welsh. They are a different people, speaking in a different language, while we and the lowland Scots are of one blood and one language—scarce a noble in Scotland who is not of Norman descent—and a quarrel between us seems, to me, almost as bad as a civil war."

"I hope that all will come to think so, some day, Oswald; but as long as the two kingdoms stand apart, with various interests and different alliances, it will hardly be likely that there will be a permanent peace between them."

"That is so," Oswald agreed. "'Tis the part that Scotland plays by her alliance with France, and the aid she gives her by always choosing the time when we are fighting there to fall upon us, that keeps the trouble afoot. If Scotland would hold herself aloof from France, I see no reason why we should interfere with her in any way."

"No good has ever come to us from such alliance. No French army has ever gone to Scotland, to aid her when pressed by Englishmen. France uses Scotland but as a cat's paw, with which to annoy and weaken England."

"That may be so; but you must remember that France does aid Scotland, when she keeps the main army of England busily occupied."

"Yes; but she does not fight England with that intent. She simply fights to gain back the provinces she has lost, and is ready to make peace when it suits, wholly regardless of the interest of Scotland."

"France is never to be trusted," Oswald said. "Glendower made a treaty with her, a few years ago, and what good has it done to him? Why, when he needed her aid the most, she had made a truce with England. 'Tis whispered that she made a treaty with the Percys, and what good came of it? She is ever ready to make treaties, but never observes them, unless it is to her plain interest to do so."

"I suppose it is with nations as it is with individuals, Oswald. Selfishness has a large share in the management of affairs. France, being a powerful country, is glad enough, when pressed by the English, to have diversions made for her, whether in Scotland or Ireland; but she has no idea of putting herself out, for the sake of her allies, when she desires peace with England."

France had indeed been quick to take advantage of the trouble caused to Henry by the rising in the north. While he was gathering his army, although there was a truce with England, a French expedition, in which many of the royal princes took part, had invaded Guienne, captured several castles held by the English adherents, made frequent descents on our coast, plundered every ship they met with, captured a whole fleet of merchantmen, taken the islands of Guernsey and Jersey and, while Henry was fighting at Shrewsbury, landed near Plymouth and plundered the whole country round. On the news reaching them of the result of the battle of Shrewsbury, they at once burned Plymouth to the ground, and then, re-embarking, sailed for France. All remonstrances on the part of Henry were met by declarations that these raids were carried on without the knowledge of the French king, and were greatly against his inclinations, which were wholly for the strictest observance of the truce.

Nevertheless, a few months later, the Count of Saint Pol landed a force in the Isle of Wight; but the people of the island rose in arms, and defeated the invaders, who sailed hastily away.

Although, having other matters in hand, Henry professed to believe the French king's assurances; the sailors and ship masters were in no way content to suffer unresistingly, and the men of the seaports of the east coast, and of Plymouth and Fowey, banded themselves together, and carried on war on their own account; capturing several fleets of ships, loaded with wine and other valuable commodities; burning the coast towns; and making several raids into the interior of France, and carrying off much plunder.

Enraged at this retaliation, the French incited the Flemings, Dutch, and Hollanders to cruise against the English; and these, sailing in great ships, executed so many atrocities upon English crews and ships that, later, Henry himself sent out a fleet, under his second son, who executed his commission, effectually destroying ships, burning towns, and putting the people to the sword without mercy.

Thus the breaches of the peace by the French recoiled terribly upon themselves, and they suffered vastly greater loss than they had inflicted upon the English.

From the time when he let slip the opportunities, both of joining Hotspur and of falling on the royal army after their victory, Glendower's power declined. For a time he continued to capture castles, and to carry out raids across the border, but gradually he was driven back to his mountain strongholds. His followers lost heart. He became a fugitive, and died on the 20th of September, 1415, in the sixty-first year of his age, at the house of one of his married daughters, whether at Scudamore or Mornington is unknown.

Mortimer died in Harlech Castle, during the time it was besieged by the English. It is said that his death was caused by depression and grief at the misfortunes that had befallen him.

The Earl of Northumberland, as John Forster had anticipated, raised the standard of revolt in 1405, in concert with the Archbishop of York and some other nobles; but before he could join these with his forces, they had been forced to surrender to the king, who had marched north with a great army. The archbishop and some of his associates were executed, and the earl, finding himself unable to oppose so great a force, fled into Scotland. Alnwick surrendered without resistance, and Warkworth after a siege of eight days. Berwick was captured, and its governor and several knights executed.

Escaping from Scotland, where he feared that he might be seized and surrendered to England, the earl sailed to Wales, and for some little time stayed with Glendower; then he crossed to the Continent, and in 1408 landed in Yorkshire and again raised his standard. The sheriff of the county called out the levies, and attacked him at Branham Moor, where the old earl was killed and his followers defeated.

In 1415 the king, being on the eve of war with France, and anxious to obtain the goodwill and support of the Northumbrians, restored Hotspur's son, who had been for years a fugitive in Scotland, to the estates and honours of his father and grandfather.

Fortunate it was, for Oswald, that the capture of his fellow conspirators caused the earl to retreat, in 1405, without giving battle. The young knight had, at his summons, called out his tenants, and with them and his retainers had joined Percy. As soon as the latter decided to fly to Scotland, his force scattered, and Oswald returned home with his following.

He took no part in the final rising. Before this took place he had married his cousin, Janet. His father lived to be present at the wedding, but died the following year; and, in accordance with his wishes, Oswald took up his abode at Yardhope, which he largely added to, and strongly fortified. Here his mother lived with him until her death, ten years later.

Oswald offered to Roger the command of his castle at Stoubes, but the burly squire preferred staying at Yardhope, with his master. He himself had taken a wife, the daughter of one of the principal tenants on the estate, on the same day that Oswald married Janet.

His uncle, after the surrender of Alnwick, lived at Yardhope until, at the return of Hotspur's son as Earl of Northumberland, he resumed his old position as captain of the garrison, and maintained it until his death.

THE END