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Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent fttre filmte A des taux de reduction diffArents. Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul cliche, il est f ilm6 i partir de Tangle sup^rieur gauche, de gauche A droite, et de haut en bes, en prenant le nombre d'images n^cessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la mithode. f errata d to It le peiure, pon A n 1 2 3 3M 1 2 3 4 5 6 2C4 ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF SIR WALTtK. -^ * ■ ^ iI) ' '^.\^. .?. \ ,\\,y. OF \ AM> r<*Mn:Ks. (' V «: V iiKNTV M'L' '. C' 111. AC ■ ■ Lin.; I'dlh," .1 ; M , ' '..> ;.',"u'..'." a l^': <*'■!>'£. I--' --it * T .'liU'SfcO A.>>A;nSlI>Arj«. »» 'jr •" ^. S 1 » I ^i^ ST. GEORGE FOE ENGLAND: A TALE OF CEESSY AND POITIERS. BY a A HENTY, Aathor of ** With ai»e in India," " By Slieer Pluck," " Pacing Death,* "Under brake's Flag,''&c r/TH ZIQUT FULh-PAQB ILLUSTRATIOSS BY GORDON BROWITM. «.*A GLASGOW : BLACKIE & SON, Limited. TORONTO: WILLIAM BRIGGS, 59-33 Richmond St. West. Thb COPP, CLARK COMPANY, Limitkd, 9 Front St. West. //^/v jy, G ^ Entered accordini; to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one thousand eight hundred and ninety-six, by Blackie & Son, Limited, at th* Department of Agriculture. PREFACE. My Dear Lads, You may be told perhaps that there is no good to be obtained from tales of fighting and bloodshed, — that there is no moral to be drawn from such histories. Believe it not. War has its lessons as well as Peace. You will learn from tales like this that determination and enthusiasm can accomplish marvels, that true courage is generally accompanied by magnanimity and gentleness, and that if not in itself the very highest of virtues, it is the parent of almost all the others, since but few of them can be practised without it The courage of our forefathers has created the greatest empire in the world around a small and in itself insignificant island; if this empire is ever lost, it will be by the cowardice of their descendants. At no period of her history did England stand so high in the eyes of Europe as in the time whose events are recorded in this volume. A chivalrous king and an even more chivalrous prince had infected the whole people with their martial spirit, and the result was that their armies were for a time invincible, and the most astonishing successes were gained against numbers which would appear overwhelming. The victories of Cressy and Poitiers may be to some extent accounted for by superior generalship and discipline on the V, iv PKEFACE. part of tlio con(]uerors; but this will not account for the great naval victory over the Spanish llcot oil' the coast of Sussex, a victory even more surprising and won against greater odds than was that gained in the same waters cen- turies later over the Spanish Armada. The historical facts of the story are all drawn from Froissart and other contem- porary historians, as collated and compared by Mr. James in his carefully written history. They may therefore be relied upon as accurate in every important particular. Yours siucore]y, G. A. HENTY. CONTENTS. Chap. P'S* I. A WAYFARKn, 9 II. Tub Hut in tub Mahsiikh 24 III. A Thwautko Plot 40 IV. A Knight's Chain 66 V. Thk City Gamks 72 VI. The Mfti.tE, 87 VII. The Young KsyuiuE, 102 VIII. Okk to the Waus, 119 IX. The Sikoe ok Henxkih/N, 130 X. A Place ok liEi'uaE, 152 XI. A SrouMY Intkkview, 1(56 XII. Jacob van AnTEVELnw , 180 XIII. The White Ford 195 XIV. Cressy . 211 XV. The Siege of a Foktalick, 227 XVI, A PiuaoNEU 242 XVII. The Capture of Calais 258 XVIII. The Black Death 274 XIX. By Lanij anu Sea, 288 XX. Poitiers, 303 XXI. The JAcguEUiE, 318 XXII. Victory and Death, 335 ILLUSTRATIONS. Attkjiptkd Absabsination ov Sik WALTEI^ . Frontispiece. 222 Waltkb in thb Akmoukru's Fobgk, 21 "Takk this Gagk as a IIewabd of roun Valouu," . . C3 The Citizens prepauk to depend IIennebon, IJU Dame Alice bevealh Sib James's Villany, 172 "This is a Dungeon kop a Fef«n." iib exclaimed, . , 247 L\uv Edith's Last Effobt. 290 The End of a Becbbant Ksiqvou J47 ST. GEOEGE FOR ENGLAND. CHAPTER I. A WAYFARER. was a bitterly cold night in the month of November, 1330. The rain was pouring heavily, when a woman, with a child in her arms, entered the little village of South- wark. She had evidently come from a distance, for her dress was travel-stained and muddy. She tottered rather than walked, and when, upon her arrival at the gateway on the southern side of London Bridge, she found that the hour was past and the gates closed for the night, she leant against the wall with a faint groan of exhaustion and disappointment. After remaining, as if in doubt, for some time, she feebly made her way into the village. Here were many houses of entertainment, for travellers like her- self often arrived too late to enter the gates, and had to abide outside for the night. Moreover, house rent was dear within the walls of the crowded city, and many, whose business brought them to town, found it cheaper to take up their abode in the quiet hostels of II Hi 10 AN APPEAL FOR SHELTER. Southwark rather than to stay in the more expensive inns within the walls. The lights came out brightly from many of the casements, with sounds of boister- ous songs and laughter. The woman passed these without a pause. Presently she stopped before a cottage, from which a feeble light alone showed that it was tenanted. She knocked at the door. It was opened by a plea- sant-faced man of some thirty years old. "What is it?" he asked. "I am a wayfarer," the woman answered feebly. "Canst take me and my child in for the night?" "You have made a mistake," the man said; "this is no inn. Further up the road there are plenty of places where you can find such acconmiodation as you lack." "I have passed them," the woman said, "but all seemed full of roisterers. I am wet and weary, and my strength is nigh spent. I can pay thee, good fellow, and I pray you as a Christian to let me come in and sleep before your fire for the night. When the gates are open in the morning I will go; for I have a friend within the city who will, methinks, receive me." The tone of voice, and the addressing of himself as good fellow, at once convinced the man that the woman before him was no common wayfarer. "Come in," he said; "Geoffrey Ward is not a man to shut his doors in a woman's face on a night like this, nor does he need payment for such small hospitality. Come hither, Madge!" he shouted; and at his voice a woman came down from the upper chamber. " Sister," he said; "this is a wayfarer who needs shelter for the night ; she is wet and weary. Do you take her up to your room and lend her some dry clothing; then make ;< GOOD SAMARITANS. 11 her a cup of warm posset, which she needs sorely. I will fetch an armful of fresh rushes from the shed and strew them here: I will sleep in the smithy. Quick, girl," he said sharply; "she is fainting with cold and fatigue." And as he spoke he caught the woman as she was about to fall, and laid her gently on the ground. "She is of better station than she seems." he said to his sister; " like enough some poor lady whose husband has taken part in the troubles; but that is no business of ours. Quick, Madge, and get these wet things off her; she is soaked to the skin. I will go round to the Green Dragon and will fetch a cup of warm cordial, which I warrant me will put fresh life into her." So saying, he took down his flat cap from its peg on the wall and went out, while his sister at once pro- ceeded to remove the drenched garments and to rub the cold hands of the guest until she recovered con- sciousness. When Geoffrey Ward returned, the woman was sitting in a settle by the fireside, dressed in a warm woollen garment belonging to his sister. Madge had thrown fresh wood on the fire, which was blazing brightly now. The woman drank the steaming bever- age which her host brought with him. The colour came faintly again into her cheeks. " I thank you, indeed," she said, " for your kindness. Had you not taken me in I think I should have died at your door, for indeed I could go no further; and though I hold not to life, yet would I fain live until I have delivered my boy into the hands of those who will be kind to him, and this will, I trust, be to-morrow." "Say nought about it," GeotTrey answered; " Madge and I are right glad to have been of service to you. It would be a poor world indeed if one could not il ^ I i I 12 MOTHER AND CHILD. give a corner of one's fireside to a fellow- creature on such a night as this, especially when that fellow- creature is a woman with a child. Poor little chap ! he looks right well and sturdy, and seems to have taken no ill from his journey." "Truly, he is well and sturdy," the mother said, looking at him proudly ; " indeed I have been almost wishing to-day that he were lighter by a few pounds, for in truth I am not used to carry him far, and his weight has sorely tried nie. His name is Walter, and I trust," she added, looking at the powerful figure of her host, "that he will grow up as straight and as stalwart as yourself." The child, who was about three years old, was indeed an exceedingly fine little fellow, as he sat, in one scanty garment, in his mother's lap, gazing with round eyes at the blazing fire; and the smith thought how pretty a picture the child and mother made. She was a fair, gentle-looking girl some two - and - twenty years old, and it was easy enough to see now from her delicate features and soft shapely hands that she had never been accustomed to toil. "And now," the smith said, " I will e'en say good- night. The hour is late, and I shall be having the watch coming along to know why I keep a fire so long after the curfew. Should you be a stranger in the city, I will gladly act as your guide in the morning to the friends whom you seek, that is, should they be known to me; but if not, we shall doubtless find them without difficulty." So saying, the smith retired to his bed of rushes in the smithy, and soon afterwards the tired visitor, with her baby, lay down on the rushes in front of the fire, for in those days none of the working or artisan class GILES FLETCHER. n used beds, which were not indeed, for centuries after- wards, in usage by the common people. In the morning Geoffrey Ward found that his guest desired to find one Giles Fletcher, a maker of bows. . " 1 know him well," the smith said. " There are many who do a larger business, and hold their heads higher; but Giles Fletcher is well esteemed as a good workman, whose wares can be depended upon. It is often said of him that did he take less pains he would thrive more; but he handles each bow that he makes as if he loved it, and finishes and polishes each with his own hand. Therefore he doeth not so much trade as those who are less particular with their wares, for he hath to charge a high price to be able to live. But none who have ever bought his bows have regretted the silver which they cost. Many and many a gross of arrow-heads have I sold him, and he is well-nigh as particular in their make as he is over the spring and temper of his own bows. Many a friendly wrangle have I had with him over their weight and finish, and it is not many who find fault with my handiwork, though I say it myself; and now, madam, I am at your service." During the night the wayfarer's clothes had been dried. The cloak was of rough quality, such as might have been used by a peasant woman; but the rest, though of sombre colour, were of good material and fashion. Seeing that her kind entertainers would be hurt by the offer of money, the lady contented herself with thanking Madge warmly, and saying that she hoped to come across the bridge one day with Dame Fletcher; then, under the guidance of Geoffrey, who insisted on carrying the boy, she set out from the smith's cottage. They passed under the outer gate 14 OLD LONDON BRIDGE. and across the bridge, which later on was covered with a double line of houses and shops, but was now a narrow structure. Over the gateway across the river, upon pikes, were a number of heads and human limbs. The lady shuddered as she looked up. " It is an ugly sight," the smith said, "and I can see no warrant for such exposure of the dead. There are the heads of Wallace, of three of Robert Bruce's brothers, and of many other valiant Scotsmen who fought against the king's grandfather some twenty years back. But after all they fought for their country, just as Harold and our ancestors against the Normans under William, and I think it a foul shame that men who have done no other harm should be beheaded, still less that their heads and limbs should be stuck up there gibbering at all passers-by. There are over a score of them, and every fresh trouble adds to their number; " but pardon me," he said suddenly as a sob from the figure by his side called his attention from the heads on the top of the gateway, " I am rough and heedless in speech, as my sister Madge does often tell me, and it may well be that I have said something which wounded you." "You meant no ill," the lady replied; "it was my own thoughts and troubles which drew tears from me; say not more about it, I pray you." They passed under the gateway, with its ghastly burden, and were soon in the crowded streets of Lon- don. High overhead the houses extended, each story advancing beyond that below it until the occupiers of the attics could well-nigh shake hands across. They soon left the more crowded streets, and turning to the right, after ten minutes walking, the smith stopped in front of a bowyer shop near Aklgate. AN OLD FRIEND. 15 " This is the shop," he said, " and there is Giles Fletcher himself trying the spring and pull of one of his hows. Here 1 will leave you, and will one of these days return to inquire if your health has taken ought of harm by the rough buffeting of the storm of yester-even." So saying he handed the child to its mother, and I with a wave of the hand took his leave, not waiting to I listen to the renewed thanks which his late guest en- deavoured to give him. The shop was open in front, a projecting penthouse 'sheltered it from the weather; two or three bows lay upon a wide shelf in front, and several large sheaves of arrows tied together stood by the wall. A powerful man of some forty years old was standing in the middle of the shop with a bent bow in his arm, taking aim at a spot in the wall. Through an open door three men could be seen in an inner workshop cutting and shap- ing the wood for bows. The bowyer looked round as his visitor entered the shop, and then, with a sudden [exclamation, lowered the bow. " Hush, Giles!" the lady exclaimed; "it is I, but name 10 names; it were best that none knew me here." The craftsman closed the door of communication Into the inner room. " My Lady Alice," he exclaimed p a low tone, "you here, and in such a guise?" "Surely it is I," the lady sighed, "although some- |;imes I am well-nigh inclined to ask myself whether it )e truly I or not, or whether this be not all a dreadful Iream." *I had heard but vaguely of your troubles," Giles rietcher said, "but hoped that the rumours were false, liver since the Duke of Kent was executed the air has )een full of rumours. Then came news of the killing )£ Mprtimer and of the imprisonment of the king's :; ! 16 A SAD STOIIY. mother, and it was said that many who were thought to be of her party had been attacked and slain, and I heard — " and there he stopped. " You heard rightly, good Giles, it is all true. A week after the slaying of Mortimer a l)and of knights and men-at-arms arrived at our castle and demanded admittance in the king's name. Sir Roland refused, for he had news that many were taking up arms, but it was useless. The castle was attacked, and after three days' lighting, was taken. Roland was killed, and I was cast out with my child. Afterwards they repented that they had let me go, and searched far and wide for me; but I was hidden in the cottage of a wood-cutter. They were too busy in hunting down others whom they proclaimed to be enemies of the king, as they had wrongfully said of Roland, who had but done his duty faithfully to Queen Isabella, and was assuredly no enemy of her son, although he might well be opposed to the weak and indolent king, his father. How^ever, when the search relaxed I borrowed the cloak of the good man's wife and set out for Lon- don, whither I have travelled on foot, believing that you and Bertha would take me in and shelter me in my great need." "Ay, that will we willingly," Giles said. " Was not Bertha your nurse? and to whom should you come if not to her ? But will it please you to mount the stairs, for Bertha will not forgive me if I keep you talking down here. What a joy it will be to her to see you asjjain ! So saying, Giles led the way to the apartment above. There was a scream of surprise and joy from his wife, and then Giles quietly withdrew down-staiis again, leaving the women to cry in each other's arms. ( 261 ) A BROKEN-HEARTED LADY. 17 were thought d slain, and I 5 all true. A .nd of knights and demanded loland refused. (t up arms, but ked, and after ,nd was kilUMl iterwards th('y id searched far the cottage of a , hunting down enemies of the Roland, who had jen Isabella, and though he might idolent king, his axed I borrowed set out for Lon- t, believing that ,nd shelter me in said. " Was not ^ould you come if ) mount the stairs, keep you talking to her to see you to the apartment )rise and joy fro"^ ,hdrew down-staus each other's arms. (264) A few days later Geoffrey Ward entered the shop of iiles Fletcher. " 1 huve brouglit you twenty score of arrow-heads, faster Giles," he saif war, prefer the occupation of an armourer to that ►f a bowmaker, in which case he would take him loiiie day as his partner in the forge. After work was jver and the men had gone away Gcoftrey would [ive the lad instructions in the use of the arms at diieh he had been at work, and so quick and strong ;as he that he rapidly acquired their u.se, and Geof- Irey foresaw that he would one day, should his thoughts lurn that way, prove a mighty man-at-arms. It was the knowledge which he acquired from Geof- frey which had much to do with Walter's positiijn liiiong his comrades. Tlu; skill and strength which he |iad ac(|uired in wielding the hannner, and by practice '' M- 22 THE LADS OF THE CITY. with the sword rendered him a formidable opponent with the sticks, wliich formed the weapons in the mimic battles, and indeed not a few weie the com- plaints which were brought before Giles Fletcher of bruises and hurts caused by him. "You are too turbulent, Walter," the bowyer said one day when a haberdasher from the ward of Alders- gate came to complain that his son's head had been badly cut by a blow with a club from Walter Fletcher. '* You are always getting into trouble, and are becom- ing the terror of other boys. Why do you not play more quietly? The feuds between the boys of ditler- ent wards are becoming a serious nuisance, and many injuries have been inflicted. 1 hear that the mat- ter has been mentioned in the Common Council, and that there is a talk of issuing an order that no boy not yet apprenticed to a trade shall be allowed to cany a club, and that any found doing so shall be publicly whipped." " I don't want to be turbulent," Walter said; "but if the Aldersgatc boys will defy us, what are we to do? I don't hit harder than I can help, and if Jonah Harris would leave his head unguarded I could not help hit- ting it." "1 tell you it won't do, Walter," Giles said. "You will be getting yourself into sore trouble. You are growin*; too masterful altogether, and have none of the quiet demeanour and peaceful air which becomes an honest citizen. In another six months you will be apprenticed, and then I hope we shall hear no more of these doings." " My father is talking of apprenticing me, Master Geoffrey," Walter said that evening. "1 hope that you will, as you were good enough to promise, talk with ii^ WALTERS CHOICE. 23 him about apprenticing me to your craft rather than to his. 1 should never take to the making of bows, though, indeed, 1 like well to use them; and Will Parker, who is teaching me, says tliat I show rare promise; but it would never be to my taste to stand all day saw- . ing, and smoothing, and polishing. One bow is to me much like another, though my father holds that there are rare ditlerences between them; but it is a nobler craft to work on iron, and next to using arms the most pleasant thing surely is to make them. One can fancy what iiood blows the sword will give and what hard [knocks the armour will turn aside; but some day. Mas- ter Geoffrey, when I have served my time, I mean to follow the army. There is always work there for armourers to do, and sometimes at a pinch they may even get their share of fighting." Walter did not venture to say that he would prefer to be a man-at-arms, for such a sentiment would bo deemed as outrageous in the ears of a quiet city crafts- man as would the proposal of the son of such a man nowadays to enlist as a soldier. The armourer smiled ; he knew well enough what was in Walter's mind. It had cost Geoffrey himself a hard struggle to settle down to a craft, and he deemed it but natural that with the knightly blood flowing in Walter's veins he should long to distinguish himself in the field. He said nothing of this, however, but renewed his promise to speak to Giles Fletcher, deeming that a few years passed in his forge would be the best preparation which Walter could hdve for a career as a soldier. ijil ■ CHAPTER 11. 1 ; ■ K THE HUT IN THE MARSHES. WEEK later a party of kniohts and court gallants, riding across the fields without tho walls, checked their horses to look at a struggle which was going on between two parties of boys. One, which was apparently the most powerful, had driven the other off from a heap of rubbish which had been carried without the walls. Each party had a flag attached to a stick, and the boys were armed with clubs such as those carried by the apprentice boys. Many of them carried mimic shields made of wood, and had stuffed their flat caps with wool or shavings, the better to protect their heads from blows. The smaller party had just been driven from the hea]), and their leader was urginjj them to make another effort to regain it. " That is a gallant-iooking lad, and a sturdy, my Lord de Vaux," a boy of about ten years of age said. " IN.' bears himself like a young knighf, and he has had soinc hard knocks, for, see, the blood is streaming down his face. One would scarcely expect to see these varlets of the city playing so roughly." "The citizens have pi'oved themselves sturdy fighter- before now, my prince," the other said; " they are ever A MIMIC BATTLE. 25 ■ V vhts and court ids without the to look at a Q between two was apparently otF from a heap ^hout the walls, k, and the boys carried by the d niiuiic shields caps with wool ;ads from blows. from the hea]i, make another sturdy, my Lord ao'e said. i it lehashad soini' aming down his these varlets i)t' i sturdy iightor- " they are evci' independent, and hold to their rights even against the :in"'. The continirent which the city sends to the wars jears itself as well as those of any of the barons." "See!" the boy interrupted, "they are going to charge vmm. Their leader has himself seized the flag and has iwung his shield behind him, just as a knight might do |f leading the storniers against a place of strength. Let IS stop till we see tlie end of it." With a shout of " Aldgate! Aldgate!" the leader of Ihe assailants dashed forward, followed by his corn- fades, and with a rush reached the top of the heap. " Well done!" the young prince exclaimed, clapping His hands. "See how he lays about him with that club |f his. There, he has knocked down the leader of the lei'enders as if his club had been a battle-axe. Well poue, young sir, well done! But his followers waver. Phe others are too strong for them. Stand, you cowards, dly round your leader! "and in his enthusiasm the |roung prince urged his horse forward to the scene of fouflict. But the assailants were mastered; few of them could kin the top of the heap, and those who did so were leaten back from it by the defenders. Heavy blows ^ere exchanged, and blood flowed freely from many of Kiir heads and faces, for in those da\s boys thought ^ss than they do now of hard knocks, and manliness nd courage were considered the first of virtues. Their Sader, however, still stood his ground on the crest, |iough hardly pressed on all sides, and used his club )th to strike and parry with a skill which ai'oused le warmest admiration on the part of the prince. In lain his followers attempted to come to his rescue; Jach time they struggled up the heap they were beaten ick again by those on the crest. 26 THE LEADEIl OF THE ASSAULT. 1 j I 1 \\ I'll !'i; " Yield thee prisoner," the assailants of their leader shouted, and the prince in his excitement echoed the cry. The lad, however, heard or heeded them not. He still kept his Hag aloft in his left hand. With a sudden spring he struck down one of his opponents, plucked up their Hag from the ground, and then fought his way back through his foes to the edge of the battle ground; then a heavy blow struck him on the temple, and, still holding the HaLTS, he rolled senseless to the foot of the heap. The defenders with shouts of triumph were rushing down when the prince urged his horse forward. "Cease!" he said authoritatively. "Enough has been done, my young masters, and the sport is becoming a broil." Hitherto the lads, absorbed in their strife, had paid but little heed to the party of onlookers; but at the word they at once arrested their arms, and, baring their heads, stood still in confusion. "No harm is done," the prince said, "though your sport is of the roughest; but I fear that your leader is hurt, he moves not; lift his head from the ground." The boy was indeed still insensible. " My lords," the prince said to the knights who had now ridden up, "1 fear that this boy is badly hurt; he is a gallant lad, and has the spirit of a true knight in him, citizen's son though he be. My Lord de Vaux, will you bid your squire ride at full speed to the Tower and tell Master Roger, the leech, to come here with all haste, and to bring such nostrums as may be needful for restoriii;.' the boy to life." The Tower was but half a mile distant, but Master Roger arrived Walter had already recovenil consciousness, and was iust sitting up when the leecli hurried up to the spot. before th( THE PRINCE OF WALKS. 27 of their leader ent echoed the i them not. He With a sudden loneiits, plucked fought his way 3 battle ground; ,cuiple, and, still ) the foot of the i triumph were is horse forward, enough has been vt is becoming a : strife, had paid )kers; but at the and, baring their id, " though your iiat your leader is :om the ground." " My lords," the low ridden up, " 1 a gallant lad, and him, citizen's son vill you bid your ;r and tell Master all haste, and to idful for restoring listant, but before already recovon'! ip when the leccl "You have arrived too late. Master Roger," the prince jkaid; "but I doubt not that a dose of your cordials may et be of use, for he is still dazed, and the blow he got ould have cracked his skull had it been a thin one." The leech poured some cordial from a vial into a mall silver cup and held it to the boy's lips. It was otent and nigh took his breath away; but when he had runk it he struggled to his feet, looking ashamed and onfused when he saw himself the centre of attention |>f so many knights of the court. " What is thy name, good lad?" the prince asked. " I am known as Walter Fletcher." " You are a brave lad," the prince said, " and if you ar you as well as a man as you did but now, I would ish no better to ride beside me in the day of battle, hould the time ever come when you tire of the peace- Ible life of a citizen and wish to take service in the ars, go to the Tower and ask boldly for the Prince of ales, and I will enroll you among my own men-at- |krms, and I promise you that you shall have your share f fighting as stark tis that of the assault of yon heap, ow, my lords, let us ride on; I crave your pardon for aving so long detained you." Walter was some days before he could again cross ondon Bridge to inform his friend Geoffrey of the onour which had befallen him of being addressed by e Prince of Wales. During the interval he was forced lie abed, and he was soundly rated by Master Giles r again getting into mischief. GeolTrey was far more mpathctic, and said, "Well, Walter, although I would ot that Gaffer Giles heard me say so, I think you have ad a piece of rare good fortune. It may be that you ay never have cause to recall the young prince's pro- ise to him ; but should you some day decide to embrace 'ic ! !li |i!i 28 WALTER INDKNTUIJKD. I'll! I IM tlie calling of arms, you could wish for notliing better than to ride behind the Prince of Wales. He is, by ull accounts, of a most nohle and generous dispositi(jn, and is said, yonng as he is, to be already highly skilled in arms. Men say that he will be a wise king and a gal- lant captain, such a one as a brave soldier might b(3 proud to follow; and as the king will be sure to give him plenty of opportunities of distinguishing himself, those who ride with him may be certain of a chance of doinuc valorous deeds. I will 1 UK LHAUNS TIIH USR UK AIIMS. 29 nothing bettor . lie is, by all lisposition, aiul ghly skilled in king and a gal- )ldier migkt be be sure to give lishing himself, n of a chance of s the bridge tu- '^laster Fletcher, oner you will lie rried eight years md shall be glad ■e ready to accede e apprenticed to vyer, indeed, was d somewhat tur- ,rge gave him so ■y the responsibil- be undertaken by ut agree with the Prince of Wales ity for Walter to so, perhaps, some ind honours, than ore, on the follow- the armourer, an}'; others would take their reverses in good part and ^otdd come again, bringing with them some comrade lown to be particularly skilled with his weapons, to \y the temper of the armourer's apprentice. At the le of fifteen Walter had won the prize at the sports, )th for the best cudgel play and for the best sword- id-huckler play among the apprentices, to the great ^sgust of many who had almost reached the age of pidiood and were just out of their time. On Sundays Walter always spent the day with Giles !i "rm r 30 DISIiANDKn SOLDIEUS. ' I !Mi! Hfli ! i Fletcher and liis wife, poing to mass with them aiio walking in the fiokls, where, after service, the citixeii.s much congregated. Since Walter had gone to work he had taken no part in the tights and frolics of liis former comrades; he was, in fact, far too tired at the end of his day's work to have any desire to do aught hut to sit and listen to the tales of the wars, of the many old soldiers who pervaded the country. Soiiu; of these men were disabled by wounds or long service, but the greater portion were idle scamps, who caret I not for the hard blows and sutierings of a campaign, liking better to hang about taverns drinking, at th(( expense of those to whom they related fabulous talcs of the gallant actions they had performed. Many, too, wandered over the country, sometimes in twos or thr'^es, sometimes in larger bands, robbing and often murdering travellers or attacking lonely houses. When in one part or another their ill deeds became too noto- rious, the sheritls would call out a posse of men and they would be hunted down like wild beasts. It w.is not, however, easy to catch thetn, for great tracts of forests still covered a large portion of the country and afforded them shelter. In the country round London these pests were very numerous, for here, more than anywhere else, wus there a chance of plunder. The swamps on the soutli side of the river had especially evil reputation. From Southwark to Putney stretched a marshy country over which, at high tides, the river frequently flowed, Here and there were wretched huts, diflicult of access and affording good hiding-places for those pursued by justice, since searchers could be seen approach ini,' a long way off, and escape could be made by paths across the swamp known only to the dwellers theio, TURBULENT IDLKRS. 31 ilh thorn alio 0, the citi/.cnh i;one to work "frolics of Vus tired at the re to do aught e wars, of the )untry. Soine )r long service, lips, who curtil of a campaign, rinking, at the fabulous tales ed. Many, too, OS in twos or hing and often r houses. When ccanic too noto- ^sse of men and beasts. It wiis great tracts of the country an shop to have two rivets put in his hauberk. He had particularly noticed him, because of the arrogiuit manner in which he spoke. Walter had himself }iiit in the rivets, and had thought, as he buckled on the armour again, how unpleasant a countenance was that of its wearer. He was a tall and powerful man, aivi would have been handsome had not his eyes been ton closely set together; his nose was narrow, and the ex- pression of his face reminded Walter of a hawk. 11' had now laid aside his helmet, and his figure wa- covered with a long cloak. "He is up to no good," Walter said to himself, "fn: what dealings could a knight honestly have with tlu A MYSTEIIIOUS MEKTINO. 33 I his work wiis .kin^' with liim iig iiome a wil'l u! puols. ^lore him, a!\(l \w\ ' hey iipiiii t'ouii'l hiuj^lii'd at thi'ir a apprentice lad, i strui^^ht to tilt' : leave liim alotic the heart of tin' makiii;^ his way 1(1 the ni^ht \va> 1 was so ditlerent the swamp that there might V)f ter threw himself and watched tin; icar he recogni/ed t it was a knight ,i,i the armoure.'^ iiuberk. He hn'. of the arrogiviit had himself put e buckled on tbf itenance was that awerful man, aii'i his eyes been tO'' ■row, and the es- of a hawk. H' d his figure wa- r\ to himself, "f<'i' tly have with tlu ; ruffians who haunt these swamps. It is assuredly no )usinoHS of mine, but it may lead to an adventure, and have had no real fun since 1 loft Aldgate. I will fol- low and .see if 1 can get to the bottom of the mystery." When he caine close to the spot where Walter was ring the knight paused and looked round as if un- jrtain of his way. For four or five miinites he stood till, and then gave a shout of "Humphrey" at the top his voice. It was answered by a distant "Hallo!" id looking in the direction from which the answer id come, Walter saw a figure appear above some ishes some four hundred yards distant The knight once directed his steps in that direction, and Walter l^ept cautiously after him. "A pest upon these swamps and quagmires," the light said angrily as he neared the other. " Why didst [)t meet me and show me the way through, as before?" "I thought that as you had come once you wouM able to find your way hither again," the man said. lad I thought that you would have missed it I would ive come ten times as far, rather than have had my l,me shouted all over the country. However, there no one to hear, did you shout thrice as loud, so no irm is done." ["I thought I saw a figure a short time since," the light said. Ihe man looked round in all directions, rl see none," he said, "and you may have been mis- :en, for the light is waning fast. It were ill for [yone I caught prying al'out here. But come in, sir light; my hovel is not what your lordship is accns- ned to, but we may as well talk there as here be- ith the sky." |The two men disappeared from W^alter's sight. The {2(i4) '" C I i ,1 I Mi 1 .,': .iii'iMii' r^^Wr liiliiM'^ I I ill i ! I"l I 1 .iilii I 1 4 I THE HUT IN THE SWAMP. latter in much surprise crept forward, but until he reached the spot where he had last seen the speakertj he was unable to account for their disappearance. Then he saw that the spot, although apparently a mere clump of bushes no higher than the surrounding coun- try, was really an elevated hummock of ground. Any one might have passed close to the bushes without sus- pecting that aught lay among them. In the centre, however, the ground had been cut away, and a low doorway, almost hidden by the bushes, gave access into a half subterranean hut; the roof was formed of an old boat turned bottom upwards, and this had been covered with brown turf. It was an excellent place of concealment, as searchers might have passed within a foot of the bushes without suspecting that aught lay concealed within them. "A clever hiding-place," Walter thought to himself. "No wonder the posse search these swamps in vain. This is the lowest and wettest part of the swamp, and would be but lightly searched, for none would suspect that there was a human habitation among these brown ditches and stagnant pools." To his disappointment the lad could hear nothing of the conversation which was going on within the hut. The murmur of voices came to his ear, but no words were audible; however, he remained patiently, thinking that perhaps as they came out a v/ord might be said which would give him a clue to the object of the mys- terious interview between a knight and one who was evidently a fugitive from justice. His patience was rewarded. In the half hour which he waited the night had fallen, and a thick fqg which was rising over the swamps rendered it difficult to dis- cern anything at the distance of a few paces. A COMPACT. 85 "You are quite sure tlmt you can manage it?" a voice said as tlie two men issued iiom the Imt. "There is no diflicult^'^ in managing it," the othor replied, "if the boat is punctual to the hour named. It will be jrettinfj dusk then, and it' one boat runs into another no one need be surprised. Such accidents will happen." "They will be here just before nightfall," the other [said, "and you will know the boat by the white mantle Ithe lady will wear. The reward will be tifty pieces [of gold, of which jou have received ten as earnest. IYou can trust me, and if the job be well done 1 shall [take no count of the earnest money." "You may consider it as good as done," the othei* replied. "If the boat is there the matter is settled. S'ow I will lead you back across the swamps. I would lot give much for your life if you tried to find the vay alone. Who would have thought when you got Hie off from being hung, after that little atlair at h'uges, that I should be able to make myself useful to your worship?" "You may be sure," the knight replied, "that it was lust because I foresaw that you might be useful that I jpened the doors of your cell that night. It is always pandy in times like these to be able to lay one's hand on man whom you can hang if you choose to open your louth." "Did it not .strike you, sir knight, that it might iter my mind that it would be very advisable for me free myself from one who stands towards me in that jlation?" "Certainly it did," the knight replied; "but as I lappcn to be able to make it for your interest to serve le, that matter did not trouble me. I knew better i ';' ! I i i 111 i I 'I i." < we shall find means to make these ruffians speak." Accordingly, at the justice's orders, halters were pluced round the necks of the prisoners, the other eii(l> being attached to the saddles, and the party set off ai a pace which taxed to the utmost the strength of the wounded men. GeofTrey and his party returned in higk spirits to Southwark. On the Monday Walter went over to Richmond len if, fO ref •TIh Id. in 111.11 WALTEIIS FVI HENCE. 49 jcompanied by the armourers and by the lads wao Ud been in the hoat with him. The nine rufiians, trongly guarded were brought up in the justice room. Valter first gave his evidence, and related how he had iverheard a portion of the conversation, which led him believe that an attack would be made upon the boat )tning down the river. "Can you identify either of the prisoners as being le man whom you saw at the door of the hut?" " No," Walter sp.id. "When I first saw him I was too ir of!" to make out his face. When he l<^ft the hut it ^as dark." " Should you Irnow the other man, the one who was Idressed as sir knight, if you saw him again?" I should," Walter replii^d. He then gave an Ecount of the attack upon the boat, but .said that in le suddenness of the aflair and the frrowing darkness noticed none of the figure? distinctly enough to pcognize them again. Two or three of tiie other )prentices gave similar testimony as to the attack. A gentleman then presented himself, and gave his inie as Sir William de Hertford. He said that he id come at the request of the Lady Alice Vernon, |ho was still suffering from the effects of the wound 1(1 immeision. She had requested him to say that at Inie future occasion she would appear to testify, but )at in the confusion and suddenness of the attack she id noticed no faces in the boat which assailed them, Id could identify none concerned in the affair. The justice who had headed the attack on the hut |en gave his evidence as to that affair, the armourer ^o relating the incidents of the conflict. •The prisoners will be committed for trial," the justice Id. "At present there is no actual proof that any oi (284) I) li; 1:: ! I ■ ; ::i ^ i; !'■ 50 COMMITTED FOR TRIAL. I'll. I ;! ; I I iiiii I lit I I'l m -el; them were concerned in this murderous outrage beyond the fact that they were taken in the place where it was planned. The suspicion is strong that some at least were engaged in it. Upon the persons of all of them were valuable daggers, chains, and other ornaments, which could not have been come by honestly, and I doubt not that they form part of the gang which has so long been a terror to peaceful travellers alike by the road and river, and it may be that some who have been robbed will be able to identify the articles taken upon them. They are committed for trial: firstly, as having been concerned in the attack upon Dame Alice Vernon; secondly, as being notorious ill -livers and robbers; thirdly, as having resisted lawful arrest by the king's oflScers. The greatest criminal in the aftiair is not at present before me, but it may be that from such information as Dame Vernon may be uble to furnish, and from such confessions as justice will be able to wring from the prisoners, he will at the trial stand beside his fellows." Walter returned to town with his companions. On reaching the armourer's they found a retainer of the Earl of Talbot awaiting them, with the message that the Lady Alice Vernon wished the attendance of Walter Fletcher, whose name she had learned from the Lord Mayor as that of the lad to whom she and her daughter owed their lives, at noon on the following day, at the residence of the Earl of Talbot. "That is the worst of an adventure," Welter said crossly, after the retainer had departed. " One can't have a bit of excitement without being sent for, and thanked, and stared at. I would rather fight the best swordsman in the city than have to go down to the mansion of Earl Talbot with my cap in my hand." A COINCIDEXCR 61 GeofTrey laughed. " You must indeed have your cap in your luind, Walter; but you need not bear yourself in that spirit. The 'prentice of a London citizen may have just as much honest pride and independence as the proudest earl at Westminster; but carry not inde- pendence too far. Remember that if you yourself had ; received a great service you would be hurt if the donor j refused to receive your thanks; and it would be churlish indeed were you to put on sullen looks, or to refuse to accept any present which the lady whose life you have saved may make you. It is strange, indeed, that it should be Dame Vernon, whose husband. Sir Jasper [Vernon, received the fiefs of Westerham and Hyde." "Why should it be curious that it is she?" Walter jasked. Oh!" Geoffrey said, rather confusedly. "I was Inot thinking — that is — 1 mean that it is curious Ibecause Bertha Fletcher was for years a dependant on [the family of Sir Roland Somers, who was killed in the [troubles when the king took the reins of government |in his hands, and his lands, being forfeit, were given to Sir Jasper Vernon, who aided the king in that itfair." " I wish you would tell me about that," Walter said, h How was it that there was any trouble as to King lidward having kingly authority?" " It happened in this way," Geoffrey said. " King i^dward II., his father, was a weak prince, governed wholly by favourites, and unable to hold in check the J,urbulent batons. His queen, Isabella of France, sister )f the French king, a haughty and ambitious woman, ietermined to snatch the reins of power from the [ndolei.'t hands of her husband, and af^^.r a visit to her brother she returned with an arm j from Hainault in ' U 'I n t ! ■ill IP! illiilhHIlii'i Hi! . I 1' i t : I ';i|irs 52 RETROSI'ECTIVE. order to detlirone him. She was accompanied by her eldest son, and after a short struggle the king was de+hroned. He had but few friends, and men thounlit that under the young Edward, who had already given promise of virtue and wisdom, some order might be introduced into the realm. He was crowned Edward ni., thus, at the early age of fifteen, usurping the throne of his father. The real power, however, re- mained with Isabella, who was president of the council of regency, and who, in her turn, was governed by her favourite Mortimer. England soon found that the change which had been made was far from beneficial, The government was by turns weak and oppressive. The employment of foreign troops was regarded witli the greatest hostility by the people, and the insolence of Mortimer alienated the great barons. Finally, the murder of the dethroned kinjj excited throughout the kingdom a feeling of horror and loathing against the queen. "All this feeling, however, was confined to her, Edward, who was but a puppet in her hands, beini; regarded with affection and pity. Soon after his succession the young king was married to our queen, Philippa of Hainan^, who is as good as she is beauti- ful, and who is loved from one end of the kingdom to the other. I can tell you, the city was a sight to see when she entered with the king. Such pageant* and rejoicing were never known. They were si young, he not yet sixteen, and she but fourteen, ami yet to bear on their shoulders the weight of the state A braver looking lad and a fairer giil mine eyes nevei looked on. It was soon after this that the events arost which led to the war with France, but this is too loni a tale for me to tell you now. The Prince of Wak THE PLOT AGAINST MORTIMER. 53 [was born on the loth of June, 1330, two years after [the royal marriage. "So far the king had acquiesced quietly in the luthority of his mother, but he now paid a visit to ''ranee, and doubtless the barons around him there took advantage of his absence from her tutelage to ^hake her intluence over his mind; and at the same; time a rising took place at home against her authority, ["his was suppressed, and the Earl of Kent, the king's mcle, was arrested and executed by Isabella. This act j)f severity against his uncle, no doubt, hastened the prince's determination to shake off the authority of his laughty mother and to assume the reins of govern- lent himself. The matter, however, was not easy to Accomplish. Mortimer having the whole of the royal levenue at his disposal, had attached to himself by lies of interest a large number of barons, and had in his py nearly two hundred knights and a large body of len-at-arms. Thus it was no easy matter to arrest him. It was determined that the deed should be done at the leeting of the parliament at Nottingham. Here Mor- [mer appeared with Isabella in royal pomp. They )ok up their abode at the castle, while the king and ther members of the royal family were obliged to )ntent themselves with an inferior place of residence. The gates of the castle were locked at sunset, and le keys brought by the constable, Sir William Eland, id handed to the queen herself. This knight was a kyal and gallant gentleman, and regarded Mortimer pth no affection, and when he received the king's )mmands to assist the barons charged to arrest him at once agreed to do so. He was aware of the ^istence of a subterranean communication leading )m the interior of the castle to the outer country. I i : 1 ■ ; rr ! 1 ■ ii ; 1 1 1 54 THE EXECUTION OF THE FAVOURITE. iMi nM i; I I;' I . illill and by this, on the night of the 19th of October, 13o(), he led nine resolute knights — the Lords Montague, SutTolk, Stafford, Molins, and Clinton, with three brothers of the name of Bohun, and Sir John Nevil — into the heart of the castle. Mortimer was found burrounded by a number of his friends. On the sudden entry of the knights known to be hostile to Mortimer his friends drew their swords, and a short but desperate light took place. Many were wounded, and Sir Hugh Turpleton and Richard Monmouth were slain. Mor- timer was carried to London, and was tried and con- demned by parliament, and executed for felony and treason. Several of his followers were executed, and others were attacked in their strongholds and killed; among these was Sir Roland Somers. "Queen Isabella was confined in Castle Risings, where she still remains a prisoner. Such, Walter, were the troubles which occurred when King Edward first took up the reins of power in this realm; and now, let's to supper, for I can tell you that my walk «o Kingston has given me a marvellous appetite. We have three or four hours' work yet before we go to bed, for that Milan harness was promised for the morrow, and the repairs are too delicate for me to intrust it to the men. It is good to assist the law, but this work of attending as a witness makes a grievous break in the time of a busy man. It is a pity, Waltei; ;| that your mind is so set on soldiering, for you would have made a marvellous good craftsman. However, I reckon that after you have seen a few years of fight- ing in France, and have got some of your wild blood let out, you will be glad enough to settle down here with me; as you know, our profits are good, and work plentiful; and did I choose I might hold mine Walter's choice. 6/) head higher than I do among the citizens; and you, if you join me, may well aspire to a place in the common council, ay, and even to an alderman's gjwn, in which case I may yet be addressing you as *^phe very wor- shipful my Lord Mayor." "Pooh!" Walter laughed; "a fig for your lord mayors! I would a thousand times rather be a simple squire in the following of our young prince." f !'|;;.|1/;. CHAPTER IV. A KXIGHTS CHAIN. (!!i| 1 11 ^ I § !| ' iPJi 'fii:!;:: il S!;! I jilt fHiii'i: lli! ' j!s III HE following xnoniing Walter put on the sober russet dress which he wore on Sun- dayr, and holidays, for gay colours were not allowed to the apprentices, and set out for Westniinster. Although he endeavoured to assume an air gC carelessness and ease as he approached the dwelling of Earl Talbot, he was very far from feeling comfortable, and wished in his heart that liis master had accompanied him on his errand. Half a dozen men-at-arms were standing on the steps of tlit mansion, who looked with haughty surprise at tlif young apprentice, " Daiae Alice Vernon has sent to express her desire to have speech with me," he said (juietly, " and 1 would fain know if she can receive me," " Here, Dikon," one of :he nif^n cried to anotliei within the hall. "This is the lad you were sent to fetch yesterday. I won^lered much w..o the city ap- prentice was, who with sdcli an assured air, i.iarchcd tip to tlie door; but it' what thou sayest be true, that lie saved the life of Dame Vernon and her little daughter, he ri'.ust be a brave lad, and would be more in pl?oe ainonjj; men and soldiers than in servinfl: wares behind the counter oi" a fat city tradesman." LADY ALICE VEIINON. ft7 "I serve behind no counter," Walter said indig- lantly. "I am an armourer, and mayliap can use unis as well as make them." There was a laugh among the men at the boy's kturdy .self-assertion, and then the man named Dikon laid: " Come along, lad. I will take you to Dame Vernon U once. She is expecting you ; and, my faith, it would lot be safe to leave you standing here long, for I see fou would shortly be engaged in splitting the weasands ^f tny comrades." There was another roar of lauorhter from the men, \nd Walter, somewhat abashed, followed his conductor ito the house. Leading him through the hall and along iveral corridors, whose spaciousness and splendour luite overpowered the young apprentice, he handed jiin over to a waiting woman, who ushered him into apartment where Dame Vernon was reclining on a )uch. Her little daughter was sitting upon a low tool beside her, and upon seeing Walter she leapt to [er feet, clapping her hands. "Oh! mother, this is the boy that rescued us out the river." The lady looked with some surprise at the lad. She id but a faint remembrance of the events which Dcuried between the time when she received a blow ^0111 the sword of one of her assailants and that when le found heiself on a couch in the abode of her kins- i; and when she had been told that she had been ived by a city apprentice she had pictured to herself lad of a very different kind to him who now stood sfore her. Walter was now nearly sixteen years old. His lame was very powerful and firmly knit. His dark- 68 WAI.TKII'S DISCLAIMEIt I! :' brown hair was cut short, but, being someivhat longer^ than was ordinary with the apprentices, li'l with u slight wave back on his forehead. His bearing wa^i respectful, and at the same time independent. Therij was none of that confusion which might be expccteli on the part of a lad from the city in the presence off a lady of rank. His dark, heavy eyebrows, resolut«| mouth, and square chin gave an expression of sternnes] to his face, which was belied by the merry expressionl of his eyes and the bright smile when he was spoken tol " I have to thank you, young sir," she said, hol(linj| out her hand, which Walter, after the custom of tlief time, raised to his lips, bending upon one knee as did so, " for the lives of myself and my daughter, wliid| would surely have been lost had you not jumped ove| to save us." " I am glad that I arrived in time to be of aid, Walter said frankly; "but indeed I am rather to l»| blamed tlian praised, for had I, when I heard ttit plotting against the safety of the boat, told my masters of it, as I should have done, instead of taking the a