With the Black Prince
Long had been the journey, hard pushed and weary were beasts and men. There was small ceremony of arrival or reception for the greater part of the cavalcade, but the Lady Maud was conducted at once to the care of the Countess Eleanor of Warwick, her younger sister, the wife of the earl.
As for Richard, his men were cared for well, under direction of Sir Geoffrey de Harcourt, while their young captain was bidden to hasten with his great kinsman to meet once more the Prince of Wales and Sir Walter de Maunay.
This greeting, too, was brief, for the hour was late; but the prince said graciously:
"O thou of Wartmont, I will make thee my comrade in arms! In the morn I would fain see thy men. My father himself bade me gather as many deer stealers as I might, for, quoth he, the hand that can send a gray goose shaft to strike a stag at a hundred yards may fairly bring down a Frenchman at half that distance. Give me bowmen enough of the right sort, and I will train them to face anything that Philip of France can muster."
"O my Lord the Prince," replied Richard, "I have a hundred with me, of whom any man can send an arrow through a coat of mail at fifty yards. I like the king's notion right well."
"Go, now," said the prince; "go with thy kinsman, the earl. On the morrow I will tell thee what to do with thy men."
But these, for their part, were all of a merry heart that night. Not often had any of them visited Warwick, at least in later years, for therein was a jail, and they liked not so much as to look thereon, being in danger of being put within it. They had good quarters and good fare, with much ale, and they knew they were to see brave sights next day, and to have a word from even the Black Prince himself. Was not that enough of cheer for men of the woods who had seldom been out beyond the shadows of the oaks of Arden?
The stout earl and his nephew walked together from the presence of the prince toward the chamber allotted to Richard.
"Thou shalt be to me as a son!" exclaimed the earl, in the dim corridor through which they were pacing. "Thou hast won the prince. Now, if thou wilt go and win thy spurs with him, thy fortune is made. Thou wilt have broader lands than Wartmont, but wert thou even to win much gold, I bid thee bide by thine own keep and hold to thee thy Saxon men. If thou wilt do so, I can foresee the day when thou canst bring five hundred bowmen to the standard of thy house."
"I can bring but four more men-at-arms now," said Richard ruefully.
"And thy archers?" laughed the earl. "Didst thou not hear Geoffrey Harcourt say to Northampton, that if all the great barons of England would do as well as thou hast done, the array of the king would be gathered right speedily? Too many are afraid to leave their own domains lightly guarded, and, truth to tell, not a few are carrying slender purses. The drainings of these long wars have made us poor. I am myself in the hands of the Jews and the London Lombards for more debts than I can see how to pay. So is the king, and he is troubled in mind as to how he shall feed and pay his armies. Go to thy couch and arise right early. Beware that thou never keep the prince waiting. He is like his royal father, and he who would fail of meeting the king hath gone near to making him a sworn enemy. His temper is dangerous. See that thou arouse him not at any time. His hand is hard upon men, and so will any troops of his be disciplined as were never English troops since William won the island."
If that were to prove true, it might be one of the reasons why the king so firmly believed that he could bring the men so disciplined face to face with greater numbers of the disorderly levies of his rival, the King of France.
The stern counsel of the wise earl was hardly needed, so far as Richard's early rising was concerned, but he was up not any too soon in the morn. Nor was he any too mindful of his duty as a soldier of the king. He arose and put on his armor and walked out of his chamber, and before him stood an archer.
"The commands of the earl," he said bluntly. "Eat not, but hasten to thy men. They break their fast even now. Have thou them in line right speedily. I will be thy guide to their quarters."
"I obey the earl," said Richard, following.
It was not far to go, beyond the castle gate, and Richard turned for a moment to gaze back upon towers and battlemented walls which had resisted so many a stout assailing.
"They are held for the king now," he thought, "but they once were held against him, and oft against other kings. In yonder dungeon keep hath more than one proud earl been brought to the block, and men say that in it, even now, are prisoners of note that may never again see the day."
Dark and high and threatening was the aspect of the great keep of Warwick Castle, and there might be terrible secrets of state in its underground chambers.
He turned again to follow the archer, but when he came to the quarters of his troop, he found that the commands of the earl were there before him. The forest men were used to be up with the dawn, and it had been no surprise to them to find their tables ready spread. Also, they liked the fare, and they were in good heart when they came out to greet their young captain. They cheered him loudly; but a new thought flashed into his mind.
"Soldiers? Drilled?" he said to himself. "I see what the earl means. They all can shoot well, but they can neither form line nor move together, nor do they know the words of command. The prince – is he here thus early?"
Here he came, the heir of the crown of England and of the English claim to the crown of France. He was in his plain black armor, with his visor raised, but on his face was no smile of youthful familiarity – rather, something of the hard look that distinguished his father and that made men fear him; and the hardness was in his voice as well, when he shouted swift orders to Richard.
Low had been his obeisance, but he had a bitter feeling in his heart, for he knew not how to form his men. All he could do was to turn to them and shout:
"Follow!"
"By fours! Spears in line!" added Guy the Bow, and more words in Saxon bade them hold their shields in front and step together.
Less shame felt Richard when he saw how well they came on, and the lips of the prince relaxed somewhat.
"Not a rabble," he muttered. "They will train well. I never saw new men move thus. The Neville doeth better than I thought. I will speak to the earl."
Other knights were with him, gallantly mounted all, and behind him they rode out to the broad common of Warwick, for there was to be a morning review of the earl's retainers and of levies which had arrived.
Never before had Richard seen together three thousand armed men, horse and foot, and greatly delighted by so rare a show were his woodsmen. In large part these forces had already been well trained by the officers of Earl Warwick, and the prince himself ordered them through many movements, such as might be needed upon a field of battle.
A rare man was Guy the Bow, for he and Ben of Coventry had been trained in their time, and they had instructed their comrades at the grange in days gone by, and the rest on the way as they came. So was it that when Richard of Wartmont led his two fifties hither and thither, he and they were a further surprise to the prince and to his captains and noble knights. They fell not into any confusion at any point, and again it was said of them, "No rabble," and "The Wartmont doeth well for a beginner."
After that, archery butts were set up and squads from several companies were picked, by lot only, and ordered to show their skill.
Right good was the shooting, as might have been expected, for there were prizes as well as praises to be won; but at the noon, when all was over, it was found that every best shot, save one, on all the butts had been made by the slayers of the king's deer in Arden.
"O thou of Wartmont," laughed Sir Walter de Maunay, "I think thou wert wise in asking so many pardons! Thy merry men are in good practice."
So laughed the prince, but there had been counseling that day and he now summoned Richard to himself. With him were the Earl of Warwick and four other earls, and Richard felt sorely abashed before he was spoken to.
"What sayest thou, John Beauchamp of Warwick?" he heard the prince demand. "What wouldst thou with the levies?"
"My Lord the Prince," responded the earl, "even as seems to me to have been said by the king. We must hear from Scotland. The king crosseth not the channel before winter. Neither will he keep too many thousands, at great cost and loss, in the Portsmouth camp."
"What then?" asked the prince.
"As for my nephew's men," said the earl, "they are too few – gathered in a day. Instead of one hundred, he will bring twain or more. Keep these for a week, and send them to recruit their fellows. Thou knowest the power of the Neville name among them. Send Richard to York."
"Good counsel!" exclaimed the prince. "Richard of Wartmont, select thee a dozen of thy trustiest men on thy best galloways. Be thou with them two hours hence, at the castle gate. Thou shalt be the king's post bearer to his Grace the Archbishop of York, and to the barons of the north counties."
Richard bowed low, flushing with pride and joy, for the spirit of travel and of adventure swelled high within him.
"Thanks to thee, O my Prince!" was all that he could say, and he went back among his men.
CHAPTER IV.
THE KING'S MESSENGER
The prince was but a youth, although of good stature and strongly made. From his cradle up he had been trained under the care of the stout king, his father, and of knights who were chosen from the best swords and bravest hearts in England. Assured was he that only a hardy soldier and a good general might safely keep the crown. The barons of the realm – half kings in their own domains – had proved the ruin of the second Edward, and only by deep cunning and ruthless force had the third of the name broken loose from a like thraldom. Much blood had been shed before the scepter was firmly in his grasp; and a fiercely royal self-will had been instilled into the Prince of Wales as one of the safeguards of his kingship. Therefore, when sent to Warwick to confer concerning the mustering of the forces, he had come there to command as well as to take counsel.
"My Lord of Harcourt," he said with much dignity to that noble warrior, "I have listened well to all that hath been said. Plain is it that the earl is right. There will be no crossing to France with King David of Scotland threatening the border counties. We must hear from the Archbishop of York. I will send the Wartmont. He will go and come right speedily."
There was he now in front of the castle gate, with Guy the Bow and ten more of the archers of Arden. To Richard himself had been given a fresh horse and good, with two pack beasts well laden, for the king's especial post might make a good show at any castle or town he should come to on his way. So was it with his merry men all, for their buff coats were new and they covered each a doublet of green cloth. All their galloways were saddled and bridled, with fair housings, and one of them carried a lance and a pennon, whereon were blazoned a white star and cross, and over them a gilded crown, in token of their errand. Woe to any who should dare to hinder a messenger of the king, or fail to speed him on the king's errand!
Not that Richard himself knew the meaning of the letters that were in his pouch, nor that matters of state were in his head. But a proud band and merry were the bowmen who rode behind him out of the town gate and up the highway to the northward.
"O my Lord of Wartmont!" said Guy the Bow. "This is better than I had hoped. I had not so much cared to see the outland folk, but I had hungered for a look at more of England."
"Thou art out of the woods now," replied Richard, "and so am I, but there is little more for us than riding from sleep to sleep, and caring well for our beasts. We may not pause under any roof longer than to break our fast and let the galloways rest."
"We can see as we go," said Ben of Coventry. "A man learneth much by what he seeth. But half the archers of Arden would come at the king's call, if they knew how well they would be taken in hand."
That truly was the wisdom of the prudent Earl of Warwick, and it suited the humor of the prince, for from all the land the levies had been slow in gathering. As for himself, his stay in Warwick was to be of the briefest, for he had learned many things to carry to the ears of his royal sire at London.
Well went it with the Lady Maud after she had spoken a short farewell to her son that day, for she was now housed with kindred and with many noble ladies, and was hearing tidings of the world that could not have reached her at Wartmont. Moreover, there were new fashions of dress and equipage that all women love to learn, and the stately dame herself had brought with her goodly fabrics ready for shaping by the skilled needlewomen of her sister, the countess. It was better than being cooped almost alone in the gloomy old keep at Wartmont.
A day and a night, and a day and then another night, lingered the prince. His main business seemed to be with the levies, and he said to himself:
"I will know them man by man, and so will the king, my father. I will measure with care the force wherewith we are to meet Philip of France. The king is most of all wary concerning his bowmen. I like well the Wartmont's tall deer stealers. They are worth a pardon. We must have more of them. I, too, must be seen in Wales. Would that I could drain out of it the most unruly spirits and the fiercest outlaws. So is the king's command concerning Ireland. If any rogue there is worse than another, let him be brought in and put in training."
Deep was the craft of the king, therefore, and of the prince, for if any wild man came at their call, and they liked not the promise of his thews and sinews, him they took not, after testing him, for he might be no better than one of the peasants of the King of France, fitter to dig than to carry sword and buckler.
The summer days went by, even as Richard had told his men. Steadily, even hastily, they pressed their northward way, and tower and town gave them hearty welcome. There were those who unduly asked what their errand might be, but to noble or simple there was but one reply:
"Ask thou the king, if thou wilt meddle with his business."
There were earls and barons, of course, to whom was due great courtesy of speech, and, indeed, to all ears there was much free news to tell. Ever, as they went farther on, they heard more rumors of the doubtful state of things upon the Scottish border.
"There was never peace there," said the Earl of Arundel, at the gate of a castle where Richard met with him and other noble lords. "King David will be in England within a week from the sailing of the English fleet. Young sir, tell thou this from me to the good archbishop. Bid him send few levies to the king from the north counties, but hold a force in waiting that shall be as good as any the king may convey to France. Else we shall see the thistles of Scotland halfway to London town before he can meet the lilies of France in any field beyond the sea."
Richard bowed low, for he was abashed before so grand a company; but he had not ridden far before he heard Ben of Coventry assuring Guy the Bow, with his usual freedom:
"Right wise was yonder earl, thou fat-head. But doth he deem that the king hath forgotten Scotland? Trust thou him for that. Ah me, that we must go and come and never kill a Scot!"
"Or be killed by them," said Guy. "Keep thy head for the French to hack at. Thou wilt get knocks enough."
"Mayhap," said Ben; "but I say one thing: Never did twelve men from Arden fare so well for no harder work than riding. It payeth me to serve the king. We have been feasted all the way."
"Wert thou in Scotland," laughed Guy, "it were otherwise. They eat but oatmeal cakes, and they know not of ale. I wonder much if they have deer in such a land where all is fog and mist, and where the days are short at both ends. But the Scotch fight hard, and sorely would they harry England were a chance given them."
They seemed to be at peace at that time, but King Edward and his advisers had rightly read the state of affairs in the kingdom over which David the Bruce was but half a king. No check had as yet been given to the power of the great Scottish baronial houses. They were beyond the control of any man, and David had inherited his father's valor without either the generalship or the prudence of the great Robert the Bruce.
It was at last in the morning of a fair, warm day that Richard and his archers rode out from under a dense wood to shout together as one man for what they saw.
"Aye, here we are!" said Richard, "and yonder is the spire of York Cathedral. One hour more and we are at our journey's end."
Never before had any man among them journeyed so far, but they showed small signs of wear or weariness. Nevertheless, at Richard's command they gave goodly attention to their apparel and their weapons, and to the coats of their beasts, before presenting themselves at the gate of the ancient cathedral city.
"I have heard tell," said Richard to Guy, "that here was a town in the old days of the Romans. There hath been many a battle and leaguer before these walls."
"The Romans?" replied Guy. "I was told of them by a Cornish man. There were giants in Cornwall in those days. God grant they are all gone their way; but the Cornish men say they at times find the long bones and the big, hollow skulls."
"The gates are well guarded," was the next thought of Richard. "Can there be bad news from the north?"
Guards there were, and none went out or in without notice to discern well whom they might be, as if, perchance, there were spies in the land.
"In the king's name!" shouted Richard, at the gate, "Richard of Wartmont. From Earl Warwick and the king's duty to his Grace the Archbishop."
"In the king's name, enter!" as loudly responded a crested knight who had advanced before the sentries. "Follow thou me to the archbishop. The warders will care for thy men. I am Robert Johnstone of the Hill. Art thou not a Neville, and my kinsman?"
"That am I," said Richard. "My father was Sir Edward Neville."
"Good knight and true," responded Sir Robert. "I have fought at his side. There must needs be a rare message when thy uncle the earl chose thee for his postboy."
"Words must be few," said Richard, "but now I know who thou art, I will tell – "
"Tell not!" interrupted the knight. "Do I not discern thy pennon? Name not any who were with the earl until thou hast emptied thy postbag. Thou art but young, and these be treacherous times. A brave band are thy men – "
"Archers of my own company," said Richard, a little proudly. "Every man from the forests of Arden."
"And every man a born retainer of Sir Edward Neville's house," laughed Johnstone. "Do I not know thee and thine? We will have speech together soon, where there may be no other ears. The Johnstones are as thou art, the chiefs of old clans that the new men can do naught with."
Great then was the surprise of the young messenger when his sudden acquaintance talked to him in Saxon, bidding him also not to use that speech except among his own, and telling him that the north counties contained more than did the midlands of such men as had preserved jealously the memories of the days of Harold the Saxon.
"'Tis a tough race," said the knight. "It is a good foundation for thy house to rest upon. Aye, or for the king's throne. Now, if thou wilt dismount, yonder esquire will care for thy horse."
Sir Robert appeared to be acting as captain of warders, and none questioned or hindered him as he and Richard walked on, side by side, toward the castlelike palace which served as the residence of the archbishop. The town was the largest, and its buildings were the best that Richard yet had seen. He knew, moreover, that the learned prince of the Church before whom he was about to stand was also accounted second to none among the statesmen of England, with rare capacity for affairs of war as well as of peace. He was a man, therefore, to whom might be intrusted the safety of a realm in the absence of its king, and in him had Edward the Third unshaken confidence as being loyal and true.
Word of their coming had gone on before them swift-footed, and they were ushered with all haste into the great hall where his Grace was already present, for the reception of they knew not what or whom.
At the upper end of the hall, upon a raised dais of three steps, was a throne chair, carved richly with emblems of the Church, and surmounted by a high cross that seemed of silver. In front of this, clad gorgeously in flowing robes, stood the archbishop, and before him knelt a knight in splendid armor, but bareheaded, just on the point of rising. The quick eyes of the prelate flashed keenly, and he turned to an attendant monk.
"Anselmus," he said in Latin, "bring hither yonder messenger. I must read his letters before I have further speech with Douglas."
"He hath summoned thee," whispered Sir Robert to Richard. "Speak not at all to him, lest thou err greatly. Yon is the knight of Liddesdale, the prowest spear of Scotland. His presence bodeth no good to England, I fear."
The monk came and touched Richard's arm and led him forward. Glad was he of his injunction not to speak, for he was greatly awed to be in that presence. He walked onward with bowed head, and on the dais he knelt before the archbishop.
"Thy letters, my son," said the prelate.
Not a word spoke Richard, but he silently presented three sealed missives. One he knew was from the prince, one from the Earl of Warwick, and the third was to him a secret. Nevertheless he heard the archbishop mutter:
"The king's own hand?"
Then he said aloud:
"Wait thou here, my son. Rise; I will return presently. My Lord Douglas, come thou with me into my cabinet."
Richard arose and stood in his place, but it seemed not long before the archbishop strode back again, and with him came the knight of Liddesdale.
"Your Grace," said the latter, "I ride within the hour."
"Peace go with thee," responded the archbishop. "Peace be with thee and thine; with thy king and my king; with Scotland and with England! Amen!"
Then from all who were present came a responsive Amen, as the knight knelt for a parting blessing and rose to depart.
"Come thou, my son Richard," said the archbishop. "I would hear thee."
It was strange fortune for a youth so inexperienced to find himself mingling in affairs so tremendous, and Richard hardly breathed until he was alone with the great man in a kind of oratory wherein was an altar.
"Speak!" said the archbishop. "Tell all."
First, then, Richard told of the prince and De Maunay at Wartmont, and the archbishop answered not save to mutter:
"So! thou hast slain that wolf, the Club of Devon. Thou art like thy father."
Then told Richard not of the grange in the woods, but of his going to Warwick with his archers, and again he heard the prelate mutter, but in Saxon:
"Saxons, all! How we of the old blood do cling together! He doeth well."
All the words of the prince and of those with him were repeated, but no comment was made. After that told Richard the saying of the Earl of Arundel, and he had finished.
"Well for thee, my son," said the archbishop. "Thou hast seen Lord Douglas. He is for peace. Mark me, I will write letters. Thou wilt bear them. Wait in York till they are given thee. Come not to me unless I summon thee. I note that thou rememberest clearly, and canst carry that which may not be written. This, then, say to the king or to the prince, but not to another save John Beauchamp the earl, lest thou die. Bid the king from me that Douglas and his friends will fail in their counsels for peace. David of Scotland is for war, and waiteth but opportunity. He must now have one. Edward the King will not but seem to drain of force these northern counties, that the Scottish lords may deem them unguarded. He will gather an army for his war in France. Such another will we prepare to meet the Scottish invasion. Let the king be sure that when he saileth for France the Scottish host will march for the English border. Edward will prove too much for so rash a man, with all his cunning, as is Philip of France. In like manner we will prove too much for David of Scotland, who despiseth the warnings of men like Douglas of Liddesdale. We will crush the Scottish invasion, taking the unwise in a snare. Go!"
