A Clerk of Oxford, and His Adventures in the Barons' War

"And Leofric shall come with us," said Eleanora, with one of her imperious little gestures; "Amalric cannot. He must sit at table as one of my father's sons. But Leofric can stay with us, and I trow he will like it better than sitting for hours stuffing himself with all those strange dishes that the cooks send up at feast-times. I will send and tell him that we desire his attendance. Thou dost know him – he is thy brother's friend; I have heard tell of thee from him. He is my brother's friend likewise, and I trow he is a very goodly youth, and a good one too. I care not if his birth be humble; we might have been born peasants ourselves!" and the niece of the King tossed her dainty head, ailing the democratic fancies of youth with a petulant grace characteristic of her varying moods.

"My father loves the people, and fights for their rights," she added more seriously, after a moment's pause. "He loves the King, and would well like to be his faithful vassal; but if he does wrong, my father withstands him. Sometimes he says it may cost him his life one day; but he never shrinks back from what is his duty."

Leofric obeyed the behest of the Demoiselle with alacrity.

There was, in addition to the minstrel's gallery overlooking the great hall, a smaller private gallery, leading from the quarters occupied by the Earl and Countess and their personal guests. Sometimes when the Earl entertained a company of nobles, the Countess sat here and looked on without taking part in the feasting; but to-day she would sit at table with her lord, and he would fain have had his daughter too, had not Eleanora pleaded the weariness she always felt at these lengthy functions, and obtained grace for herself and Alys to have their own supper privately served, and to look on as spectators only at the banquet.

It was in truth a goodly sight. The great hall was filled from end to end with nobles, knights, and squires of varying degree, who occupied tables arranged according to their rank, and made a proud and gay display with their costly dresses and flashing jewels. The Earls of Leicester and Gloucester, with the Countess between them, occupied the places of honour at the highest table raised on a daïs, and Leofric looked with admiration upon the noble face and grand figure of the great De Montfort. Without doubt his was the kingliest figure of all those present to-day; and his voice when he spoke was clear and sonorous, and might be heard from end to end of the hall.

The tables shone with massive silver plate; serving-men hurried to and fro, bearing huge silver dishes containing viands of every description. Huge barons of beef were borne in between two stalwart attendants; boars' heads with gleaming white tusks, and peacocks with spreading tails, formed dishes more ornamental than edible, though some favoured them, and laughing plucked out the peacocks' plumes and stuck them in their belts. Huge pasties, both savoury and sweet, found ready custom; and as for the hogsheads of beer and wine that must have been consumed, the household roll speaks eloquently of the capacity of our ancestors in the matter of strong drink. The watchers in the gallery laughed merrily at the sight, and wondered how long the stores of Kenilworth would stand the strain.

Towards the end of the banquet the Earl of Leicester rose to his feet, flagon in hand, and in clear loud tones, which dominated the clamour of voices around him, gave the toast, —

"His Majesty the King!"

In a moment the whole company was on its feet, and the loyal toast was drunk with acclamation.

When the hubbub had subsided, the Earl motioned to his guests to be seated, and himself remaining standing, made a long and eloquent speech.

He spoke of his own affection for the King – his desire for the peace and welfare of the realm – his hatred of bloodshed and confusion. Men had said of him, he exclaimed, with a flash in his eagle eyes, that he desired himself to be monarch of the realm, and the King to be a mere tool in his hands. That charge he utterly and fiercely denied. He was the loyal servant of the King, so long as his Majesty would abide by his plighted word, and would regard the liberties of his subjects and the terms of the Great Charter. The Provisions of Oxford were in themselves nothing new; they were but the means by which the Great Charter could be upheld. The King was not the only person in the realm who had rights to be cherished and guarded. The liberties of all classes must be considered; and if a monarch, through weakness or lack of judgment, surrounded himself with false and scheming men, who persuaded him to acts of tyranny and rapacity, it then behoved his loyal subjects, who wished to do him true service, to remove from his side these false sycophants, and to furnish him instead with true and able counsellors, who could advise him for his own good and for the good of the realm.

This was in effect what the Barons' party (as it had come to be called) were doing. They would not stand by passive and idle whilst England's wealth and England's honour were being handed over to foreign powers, whilst the country was being bled to death to fill the papal coffers, and every lucrative place, as it fell vacant, was heaped upon some foreign adventurer, whose handsome face had attracted the King's admiration, or whose relationship to the Queen gave him a supposed claim upon his royal kinsman.

The Prince knew all this as well as any man in the kingdom. He had remonstrated with his feeble father times without number. He had sworn to the Provisions of Oxford, and had refused to cancel his oath even when the King repudiated his own, and had bribed the Roman Pontiff to grant him absolution therefrom. The Prince was the true friend to his country, and when he should sit upon the throne all would be well. Meantime the most true and loyal servants of the King were those who sought the true welfare of the realm, and would withhold him from spoliation at the hands of foreign hirelings.

Then holding his head very high, De Montfort spoke of the taunt sometimes levelled at himself of being a foreigner. He admitted freely his foreign birth, and pointed out how he had been the first to deliver up his castles of Kenilworth and Odiham after the Provisions of Oxford had been agreed upon. He had even retired altogether to Gascony after a stormy quarrel with the Earl of Gloucester; and were it for the good of the realm, whose welfare he had so deeply at heart, he would return thither willingly, and never again set foot on these shores. But over and over again he had discovered that he was necessary to the welfare of the party. At this moment he had been summoned across the seas to help in their deliberations. No one had the true welfare of the English nation more at heart than he; and alien though he might be by birth, he loved the land of his adoption with a changeless and passionate love, and would live for her or die for her whichever might be for her good. He had put his hand to the plough; he had pledged his honour and his reputation to save her from papal thraldom and the spoliation of self-seeking men; she should have her Great Charter, for which men had bled and died before, or he himself would leave his dead body upon a blood-stained battlefield!

Roars of applause followed this masterly speech, spoken with all that charm of manner and lofty dignity of which De Montfort was master. Not one word did the great Earl speak of the personal wrongs inflicted upon him by the capricious monarch. Every one present knew how greatly he had suffered from the injustice of Henry – how he had spent money like water in his service in Gascony, only to be reviled and abused upon his return by a master who gave greedy and credulous heed to every word spoken against one whom he ofttimes feared and hated.

True, there were moments when the old affection would break forth, when the love for his sister was in the ascendant, and a temporary peace was patched up. But far more often was the Earl the butt for the King's injustice and extortion, and the troubles over the payment of the Countess's dowry added to the chronic friction between them.

But of this the Earl made no mention. He spoke always of the King in terms of loyal affection, only deploring and denouncing a state of things which made him the prey of foreign extortion, and the tool of those who would have him grind his people to the very dust to supply their endless demands. From this condition of affairs the kingdom must be rescued at all cost; and even if force alone would do it, that last and fearful remedy would be better than the curse of slavery and foreign tyranny.

His hearers were with him to a man. Cheer after cheer went up, making the great rafters of the hall ring again. Even the youthful Demoiselle clapped her hands and joined her voice with that of others, and Alys's fair face flushed and paled with varying emotions as she listened; and she turned impulsively upon Leofric and asked, —

"Oh, surely it will never come to that! The King will not suffer himself to be so led astray!"

"The King is a puppet in the hands of his Queen and her relations!" cried the Demoiselle, with the assurance of extreme youth. "I have been to Court; I have seen it all. And there are all the De Lusignans, his half-brothers – they are more to him than his true kindred. He has them ever about him – them and the Queen's relations, who are legion. They stuff his head with all sorts of falsehood. They foster his pride and folly, and they prey upon him like vultures. Only when my father and his friends can get speech of him and take him away from these harpies does he ever behave himself as a monarch should. As soon as he makes his way back to them, they make of him their tool and their slave. And then he seeks to sink England into slavery like his own!"

It was amusing to hear the child speaking thus, with sparkling eyes and a mien oddly like that of her noble father. She had all the spirit of her sire and her royal mother, and her companions regarded her with admiration.

"If his Majesty the King had but half the spirit of my lady mother," cried the child once more, "all this trouble would speedily be at an end. Methinks Providence made a blunder in fashioning him the man and her the woman. Had it been the other way, things in this realm would be vastly different now."

The stir within the hall had drowned the sound of another kind of tumult without; but had the revellers been less excited by the great Earl's speech and their own enthusiastic reception of it, they might have been aware of some unwonted stir going on in the courtyard. The stone pavement had been ringing to the clang of horses' hoofs; voices had been raised in eager challenge and greeting.

At this moment a servant quickly entered the banqueting-hall, and made his way up to the Earl, to whom he spoke in a rapid undertone. Leicester rose instantly and spoke to his wife, who also rose to her feet, a look of surprise upon her face, though none of displeasure.

"What can have chanced?" questioned the Demoiselle eagerly; "it is no trifle that would cause my father to rise and stride from the hall at such a moment as this. And see! all at the high table have risen, and are looking towards the door; and now the whole company is afoot. Some strange thing is about to happen; what can it be?"

They were not kept long in suspense. The great doors at the bottom of the hall were flung wide open. A trumpet note rang through the building, till the rafters themselves echoed to it; and it was answered by the shout from hundreds of voices as the company saw whose was the stately figure that the Earl had gone forward to meet.

The Demoiselle suddenly clapped her hands, and waved her scarf in token of joyous greeting.

"It is my noble cousin, my well-loved cousin!" she cried, in tones of childish rapture; "it is Prince Edward himself!"

CHAPTER XV

PRINCE EDWARD

The Demoiselle was right. The tall and kingly-looking youth now striding up the great hall of Kenilworth, greeting first his uncle the Earl and then the Countess his aunt, was none other than the King's eldest son – that Prince Edward who was to play so great a part in the history of the English nation.

At that time he was a youth of some two-and-twenty summers, and had long been held to have arrived at man's estate. He was becoming a power in the kingdom, and was developing an aptitude for government which sometimes delighted and sometimes alarmed his father. He was no favourite with his father's foreign flatterers, and was an ally of those who upheld the gradually moulding constitution and the liberties of the people. He had subscribed willingly to the Provisions of Oxford, and had remonstrated hotly with his father when the latter resolved to ignore his oath, and later on to obtain absolution from it.

Prince Edward at that time had practically embraced the cause of the Barons, although taking no public action against his father. Henry, in dismay, had sent him to Gascony; but the move had not been a happy one, for it had thrown him into the society of the young De Montforts, his cousins, who were also there, and had increased his intimacy with that dread man their father. His appearance at Kenilworth at this juncture was startling to all, for he was believed by the Earl and his family to be still in Gascony, and they had not the smallest premonition of this visit.

But the Prince had been at Kenilworth before, and was fond of the fine old place and of the life led by its inhabitants. It was nothing very wonderful for him to come hither, though the manner of his arrival to-day was somewhat startling.

Standing upon the daïs, and looking round upon the assembled company with his keen, fearless gaze, the Prince motioned to the guests to be seated.

"I come hither, as it seems, in a good time, my friends," he said, his face, naturally stern of aspect, softening to a slight smile; "for I see here to-day many gathered together to whom I have a word to speak. I have come from France in part for that very purpose; and I am glad that not only do I find here my noble Uncle of Leicester, but others who are bound together with him in a cause that is dear to the heart of this nation. He has himself but lately addressed you. Methinks I can guess full well what he has said. In sooth, I heard the final words of his speech through yon open window as I rode into the court."

The Prince paused for a moment, his eyes sweeping round the hall, and resting upon several faces there with a curious, searching expression. The knights and nobles were still as death, hanging upon the words of the Prince. After a brief pause he spoke again, very clearly and trenchantly, and in tones that all might hear.

"My lords and gentlemen," he said, "I am not come at this moment to England to enter into the dispute which is ever waging between the King, my father, and those of his subjects who form the so-called Barons' party. I have come, by my father's desire, to quell the troubles in Wales, and thither am I bound. I have, however, made this deflection in my line of march that I might have speech with mine uncle before I go thither, and I am well pleased that what I have to say should be said in the hearing of this goodly company of his adherents."

The Prince paused for a moment and then took up his discourse.

"All men here assembled know right well that I have the welfare of this nation deeply at heart. All know that I have been a friend to the friends of liberty, and that I have even opposed the King, my father, when I have thought him wrong. I have observed my oath as sacred, even to mine own hurt. I have sought in all things to do the right. If I have failed, my youth and ignorance have been in fault, not my will. Have any here present aught to bring to my charge?"

The answer to this strange challenge was a ringing cheer. Prince Edward was always beloved by those who knew him personally, whilst his dauntless courage and his high sense of honour had brought him into esteem with all men. Every person present regarded him with admiration and respect, and all were proud to know that he was with them at heart, however small a share he had taken in the dispute.

"I thank you, my friends," said the Prince, as the cheers died away. "And now, having done me thus much honour, I will ask you to have patience whilst I speak a few more words. It is said by some, it is feared by more, that ere the kingdom sees peace and stability once again, the sword will be unsheathed, and Englishman will meet Englishman upon a field of battle. I pray God that this may not be. War with a foreign foe is a glorious thing, provided the cause be just; with those of our own race and name it is a horror and a disgrace! But such things have been before, and they may be again. I stand before you this day, whilst the realm is still at peace and before that peace has been broken, to say a thing in your ears from which I shall not go back when the day for action comes. You know that I love liberty and hate oppression. You know that I honour and respect the men of the realm who have made so bold a stand for liberty. I have been one with them – I have their cause at heart still. But listen again. I am the King's son. He is my father; I owe him filial love and obedience. If his subjects take up arms against him, thus breaking their oath of allegiance, I, his son, repudiate my own oath sworn at Oxford, and I fly to his side to help him with all the power that I have. At such a moment as that, if it come (which God forbid), it could not be that I should stand by an idle spectator. I must and I will join myself to one side or the other; and here I tell all ye assembled that no power on earth shall induce me to take up arms against my father and my King. The moment danger of personal violence menaces him, I, his son, fly to his side, and in his cause I fight to the last drop of my blood!"

The Prince stood perfectly still for several seconds after he had spoken these words, his head slightly thrown back, his eyes full of fire.

Dead silence reigned in the hall. Not a man there but felt the power of the challenge thus thrown down, and a sense of reverence for the royal youth who had uttered it. But to many the words seemed those of evil omen, for these men were bound heart and soul to the cause of the Barons, and they had begun to count upon Prince Edward as their ally, and even to whisper sometimes between themselves as to the possibility of setting him upon the throne in his father's place.

The minute after the Prince had spoken these words his face changed. A kindlier, softer look came into it, and turning towards his uncle and aunt with a courteous mien, he said in an altogether different tone, —

"And now a truce to these vexed questions of state. Let us forget all but that we are closely akin, and bound together by cords of love. – Why, Amalric, thou hast grown marvellously since I saw thee last, and art like enough a notable scholar by now. – Guy, I have a pair of rare coursing dogs for thee, with which we will hunt together in Kenilworth forests ere I move towards the Welsh marshes. I must needs wait awhile for my forces to reach me. – Thou wilt give me house room at Kenilworth meantime, wilt thou not, fair aunt?"

The Prince was a great favourite at Kenilworth – that was patent to all. The Earl of Leicester was eager to do all honour to his young kinsman, despite the bold challenge thrown down by him on his arrival.

The best rooms in the castle were put at his disposal; he was made much of alike by uncle, aunt, and cousins. The little Demoiselle showed him marked favour, and was ever to be seen riding beside him, or showing him through the gay gardens, dancing a measure with him in the hall after supper, or playing some game in one of the many long galleries.

The Prince was the most congenial of companions, and seemed to enjoy the free life of Kenilworth not a little. After the departure of the bulk of the guests whom the Earl had brought with him, the life within those massive walls partook of a free and family character very pleasant to all concerned. Sir Humphrey was pressed to remain, but he was almost the only guest not immediately connected with Kenilworth; and Alys was delighted to stay in this stately place, and cement her friendship with the little Demoiselle, who had taken so great a liking for her.

The Demoiselle was, however, considerably taken up with her cousin Prince Edward, and Alys was often left to the companionship of the Countess. That lady was availing herself just now of Leofric's presence in the Castle to have some of the writings of authors past and present read aloud to her, as she sat at her embroidery or tapestry frame; and Alys seemed to delight in being present at these readings, and taking her part in the discussion which often arose.

The Lady Eleanora was a woman of much culture and insight, although she was not fond of the trouble of reading for herself. She was also familiar with the Latin tongue, and was seldom obliged to interrupt the young scholar, or ask him to translate the passages read. Not unfrequently Amalric was one of those who sat in the pleasant oriel room and listened and discussed, although the sharp eyes of the Demoiselle, who flitted all over the Castle like a veritable sprite, detected another reason for his love of study.

"Thy sweet eyes, methinks, are the book that Amalric loves best to read," she said to Alys one day, as the twain sought the room they shared together. "My cousin Edward marvels that he comes not a-hunting in the forest with the rest; but I know what it is that keeps him thus within the walls of home."

Alys coloured crimson, and put her hand to the lips of the laughing maid.

"Nay, nay, thou must not speak so. I am but the daughter of a humble knight. Thy brother is a King's nephew and the son of a notable noble. Such thoughts would never come to him. It is not well to speak so recklessly."

But the Demoiselle only laughed, and skipped round her friend.

"I can see what I can see!" she answered merrily; and as she looked into the face of Alys, through her long, dark lashes, she wondered what had brought there that look of sudden pain and bewilderment. Surely she must have known ere this that she was the light of Amalric's eyes!

However, she spoke no more upon the subject, only saying in her heart, —

"I wonder if she does think more of the gentle, chivalrous Leofric than of the knightly Amalric! It might be so. One may never read the heart of a maid, as I have often heard say. But I fear me that her sire would be sore displeased at such a thing. Methinks he has noted Amalric's amorous regards, and is well pleased thereat."

It was not altogether strange that the Demoiselle should have shrewd notions of her own on these points, for marriages in those days were often arranged between mere children, and her own hand might at any time be solicited in wedlock. Association with her seniors had ripened her powers of observation somewhat rapidly, and she had come to have a certain belief in her own shrewdness. Moreover, her cousin Edward had asked her about Amalric and his indifference to sport, and that had set her sharp eyes to work to some purpose.

The Prince himself, however, was very well disposed towards learning, and often engaged Leofric and Amalric in conversation, asking with interest of the student life of Oxford, and professing himself well pleased with the scholarship of his cousin.

He was much interested also in the stories of the strange life there, and was greatly entertained by what he heard. He declared that if he had not been born a prince, he would be an Oxford scholar; and the tale of Hugh's kidnapping and escape was listened to with the keenest attention.

The Prince, however, had not come on a mere visit of pleasure, and although he was detained longer than he had expected by the delay of his forces to muster at the appointed place, he spent much time closeted with the Earl, talking over the situation in Wales, and making plans for the subjugation of the unruly sons of the mountains and marshes, who were for ever causing trouble in the west.

Nevertheless he was too fond of the pleasures of the chase not to take advantage of the forests of Kenilworth, and when news was brought, just before his departure, that a marvellously large wild boar had been sighted in the forest, he must needs go forth for one last expedition, to strive to slay that monster of the woods.

The young De Montforts were ardent sportsmen, as the household roll testifies, entries being made for the feeding of six-and-thirty dogs belonging to Lord Guy, and again for forty-six belonging to Lord Guy and Lord Henry. Entries also occur for the keep of their horses when stabled at Kenilworth.