With the Black Prince

Deep was the reverence with which Richard turned to depart. More words were given him, however, and much was his wonder at a man who seemed to know the thoughts of the hearts of other men, and to read the forces of the kingdoms as if he were counting pennies.

A good monk led the young messenger out of the hall and gave him into the care of Sir Robert Johnstone.

"Say not too much to me," said the knight. "I talked with Liddesdale, and heavy of heart is he. A wise man as well as a good captain; but the Scots must learn a lesson. How long tarriest thou in York?"

"For letters only," said Richard.

"Then bide with me, and let thy men rest and their beasts. I will show thee the town and the castle and the cathedral. 'Tis a grand old town. I like it well."

"I shall like well to see," said Richard. "But how great is the archbishop! Never before have I looked into the face of such a man."

"Wait, then, until thou hast seen the king," replied Sir Robert. "Try if thou canst read him. Thou wilt be with the prince."

Out they went, and Richard's eyes were so busy that he found small use for his tongue. Nor was there great need, save for a question here and there, for the knight had taken a liking to him and was willing to instruct him.

"Some day," he said, "thou mayest lead thy archery hitherward. Spare not to learn aught that might serve thee if thou wert a captain, in whatever land thou shalt at any time visit."

At the close of the day, when the vespers were ringing sweetly in the cathedral tower, Richard was with his men, and they gathered around him gladly, telling how well they had fared.

"Guy the Bow," laughed Richard, "tell me truly, now, of those who have been with thee. Hast thou broken thy jaws with French or north English, or hast thou chattered in Saxon?"

The laugh was echoed from man to man, and Guy the Bow responded:

"Now, my lord, knowest thou this already? There be more of the old sort here than in Warwickshire. They tell that there be many Nevilles hereaway, and it seemed right to them that one of thy house should be our captain. But I hear that the bowmen of these parts are to be kept at home."

"Say not too much of that to any man," said Richard, for at once he remembered the words of the archbishop.

"The king," he thought, "will deal with the Scots as with the French. They must get their teaching from the longbow and the cloth-yard arrow."

Rest came well that night after so long a journey. The next day, and the next, were but spent in seeing sights and in waiting for orders. On the third day, however, before the sun was a half hour high, came Sir Robert Johnstone to greet his young friend.

"Up, Richard of Wartmont!" he gayly shouted. "Take thou this pouch and keep it with thy life until thou shalt deliver it to the king's hand. Thine uncle the earl, or the prince, shall be to thee as the king, but on thy life and on thy head give it to no other."

The parcel was small and it was tightly bound in dressed deerskin. It could be hidden under a coat of mail, and there did Richard at once conceal it.

"I will but break my fast," he said. "Then we will mount and ride."

"Beware of overhaste," said the knight. "Safety is more than speed in such a case as this. A day more or less will not matter. Thou wilt know enough not to talk loosely by the way, but it is from his Grace himself that thou shalt speak only of peace with Scotland. Baron or earl or common, all must rest assured that the Scots are weary of war. Well they might be, were there wisdom in them. I would their king were older. We shall beat them the more easily because he putteth aside such captains as the Knight of Liddesdale, and listeneth to hot-headed young chiefs that never yet saw a thousand spears in line."

"Thou wilt be here?" said Richard.

"That will I," replied the Johnstone. "The king will hear a good report of his north country bowmen. If thou speakest of it to the prince, say this from me, that in his own camp there shall be no better discipline nor closer archery."

Rapid was their talking, but when they summoned Richard's men there was a shout. They had seen enough of York already, and they were eager for the road. To them all it was more like a long junketing than aught else.

"All Arden would list," said Ben of Coventry, "for this sort of war service. But I had hoped somewhat for a brush with the Scots. Not an arrow hath sped since we set forth from Warwick."

"Thou wilt have archery enough before thou art done with the king's war," replied Richard.

"Mind thou thy galloway, Ben," interrupted Guy the Bow. "What knowest thou of the Scots? They are many a league away."

"Aye, man," said Ben, "and all the Yorkshire men know that Douglas of Liddesdale was here. All Scotland may march behind him some day."

"Then I may say to thee," said Richard, "and to every man of this company, speak not upon the way one word of the Knight of Liddesdale. Closed lips, safe head. We are on the king's errand."

"Even so!" exclaimed Ben. "I was right. I deemed the Scottish captain a bird of ill omen. Thou mayest trust thy men, Lord Richard of Wartmont. We of the greenwood are well used to keeping a silent tongue. Else were our necks worth but little."

Richard said no more; but it was well that he had with him none but trusty companions, for all their journey homeward would be beset by shrewd questioners eager to get the latest tidings from the north.

"I will take another road," he thought, "than that by which I came. There are roads plenty. The Earl of Arundel will be at Warwick when I get there, or at London."

Hearty was the farewell of Sir Robert Johnstone at the city gate, and gay was the setting forth of Richard and his men. But it was even according to the saying of wise Ben of Coventry, that an esquire and eleven archers were riding a holiday with nothing to do but to ride and to be hailed at every gateside to tell what news.

Even the second day passed in like manner, and it was far on in the third when the first happening came.

Not in any town or by any castle, but in the broad highway, there rode to meet them a glittering array of men-at-arms.

"Halt!" shouted Richard. "Form line at the roadside, till we know what this may mean. Yonder is a banner with the arms of Surrey. Why should such a flag be here? I know not the earl, nor is he a friend of the Warwick, Beauchamp or Neville."

So many, in those troubled days, were the feuds and heartburnings among the stout barons of England!

On came the lances, fully a score, with mounted esquires and serving men as many, and Richard sat alone upon his horse in the roadway, with Guy the Bow at his side bearing the prince's pennon.

Sharply the men-at-arms drew rein, and only one knight spurred forward.

"Richard of Wartmont!" he exclaimed. "Glad am I thou camest this way. They who wait thee on the other road must not know thy errand. Surrey is not here, but the Earl of Northampton."

"My Lord of Harcourt," responded Richard firmly, "I may not answer even thee, nor give my errand save to our liege the king, or to the prince."

"Thou wouldst deserve to lose thy head if thou didst," replied Sir Geoffrey of Harcourt. "Do thou, however, as if the prince bade thee. Go not to Warwick, but send thy archery there. Turn thou with me and ride for thy life until thou art out of reach of the king's enemies."

"Guy the Bow," said Richard, turning to him, "hast thou heard?"

"If it be also thy command," said Guy, "fear not for us. Little do we need of highways or of any man's permission. Let me have speech with the men."

"Bid them to reach Warwick town as best they may," said Richard.

To the roadside and to his company went Guy, and in a few moments more he raised a hand, and the few words he spoke were in Saxon.

Up again went the hand of Richard, with a loud "Ha! Ride!"

Now at that place was a great forest, with a deep ditch along the roadside.

As Richard lowered his hand, over the ditch went the line of galloways, and it was but a twinkling before all had vanished among the trees.

"Wartmont," exclaimed the knight, "thou hast thy men well in hand! I will tell the prince of this. Thou canst call them and thou canst send them."

"How is this?" loudly demanded a not unkindly voice, as another rider in splendid armor rode near them.

"My Lord of Northampton," said Sir Geoffrey, smiling, "Richard hath sent home his galloways, and they took their riders with them. He must not pause – "

"A few words only," said the earl; "I shall not hinder the king's service. Arundel gave thee a message. Was it delivered?"

"It was, my lord the earl," said Richard. "I may say to thee it was timely."

"Knowing from him what it was," said the earl, "I need ask no more on that head"; but he went on with what seemed to be only general inquiries as to the health of the archbishop and the gatherings of levies at York and elsewhere.

"Haste!" muttered Harcourt.

"On, then!" almost shouted the earl. "Ride well, thou of Wartmont, lest the foes of the Neville as well as the traitors to the king shall bar thy way. But I am glad that they lied who said that the good archbishop is failing. On!"

Silent and motionless upon their horses sat the men-at-arms as Harcourt and Richard galloped by.

Miles away, upon another road, a somewhat like band of warlike men were halted as if waiting, and to him who seemed their leader it was said, by a small, gray-headed man at his side:

"Could we but know the mind of the archbishop we might be able to tell the king why we pay not his contributions, and why thy retainers are not on the march for Portsmouth."

"We shall have his Grace's letters before the sun is down," hoarsely responded the knight addressed. "I would there might be somewhat in Wartmont's doublet to imperil the proud head of his uncle Warwick."

"Aye, my Lord of Surrey," said the gray-headed man, "it were overcunning of John Beauchamp to have the young Neville so near the prince. That house towereth too high. We will tumble it somewhat."

Small was the knowledge of Richard concerning the plots and perils through which he and his had ridden, but in a small, elegantly furnished room, at many a long mile's distance, there sat at that hour twain who spoke of him.

"My son," remarked one of them, "I will not say that thou and Warwick were overconfident to send a boy. The time for his return draweth near."

"'Tis far to ride," replied the younger of the pair, and he was very much the younger. "I sent Sir Geoffrey Harcourt to watch for him, else he might not come. My royal sire, Richard Neville and his archers might come and go where a knight and a score of men-at-arms would fail."

"Or turn traitor, as some have done," slowly responded the king. "The land reeks with treason, but half of it would have us go to France and be beaten, while the other half would have us stay at home and lose all to Philip of Valois."

So communed King Edward and the Black Prince, telling of the dangers which may beset a crown. Much had they to say concerning the power of the barons, but more of the building up of their strength among the people.

"Mark thou this, my son," said the king at last, "make thou the commons to be strong, and the crown is safe against the barons. When I can show thee bowmen defeating knights and men-at-arms, thou wilt see a new day for England. After that it shall not be long until a successful merchant shall be greater than an earl. Am not I also a merchant? Learn thou the art of the trader, for it is part of the wisdom of kings in the time that is coming."

All through his reign had commerce grown, and manufactures been encouraged by the king, while more and more with a strong hand he strove to restrain the barons. Not till a later day, however, were they to be broken; but, even as he now said, they were to go down partly by their own jealousies and feuds, but more by the power of the commons.

It was therefore a lesson in kingcraft that the prince was receiving from his father, but at the end of it the youth walked out along a corridor, murmuring:

"The king is sore disturbed. He hath great need to hear from York and of Scotland. Well for Richard Neville if he arrive speedily, for my royal father is not always safe in his mood. But he was pleased concerning the Neville and his archers."

It was sunset when Richard and Sir Geoffrey drew rein before a hostelry in a large hamlet.

"Dismount!" said the knight sharply. "I will give thee here a fresh horse, and thine shall follow. Ten leagues farther on, as I will give thee instruction, thou wilt get thee another. Ride till thou drop from thy saddle, but I trust thy toughness will bear thee through. If thou must sleep one night, camp thee in a wood, not in a house, lest thou awake and find thy pouch missing, or lest thou wake not at all."

The fresh horse was a good one, but now Richard, with full directions for the way, rode on alone, bearing still the banneret of the prince.

'Twas a fair night, and the full moon gave light as of the day. Mile after mile went by and all was well, but he came to an open level of broad highway whereon much could be seen afar.

"A man-at-arms?" said Richard. "He faceth this way. I may not let him stop me. I will close my visor and be ready for what may come."

He shut his helmet tightly and lowered his lance, loosening also the battle-axe at his saddle bow. He had need, for the strange man-at-arms uttered no warning, but dashed suddenly forward with lance in rest. 'Twas but the fortune of tourney, for the foeman rode well and he was large. His lance point glanced from the helmet of the young messenger, while Richard smote him full upon the breast.

Splintered to the hand was the lance, but the stranger reeled in the saddle, and before he could recover himself Richard had wheeled, axe in hand.

"In the king's name!" he shouted, "what doest thou with the king's messenger?"

Down came the battle-axe, striking the bridle arm of the stranger, so that while he drew his sword with his right hand he could not manage his horse.

"For the king!" shouted Richard.

"Down with thee, thou cub of Wartmont!" roared the stranger angrily. "I will take thy messages. Ha!"

'Twas a good blow, but it stopped upon the shield of the Neville, while once more the axe fell heavily with the curvet of Richard's horse. Sore wounded upon one thigh was now the man-at-arms, and his steed plunged viciously to one side.

"I will have thee!" he shouted, but his sword swept vainly through the air, while Richard charged again.

"Thy helm this time!" he muttered as his axe came down.

Cloven through was the steel headpiece, and the man-at-arms let fall his sword.

"Neville, I yield me!" he cried out. "Smite not again."

"Who art thou?" demanded Richard.

"That ask thou not, if thou art wise," responded the stranger. "For thee to know my name were thy death-warrant. Thou hast perils enough. Ride on, and tell the king that an old man-at-arms who could grind thee to powder hath been beaten by a lad. I have fought in twenty pitched fields, and now I must even ride home to save my broken head."

"I will harm thee not," said Richard, "but I fear thee not. Thy head were worth but little – "

"Trust me, it is safe," said the stranger. "The king will leave it where it is. I shall see thee again some day. Thou wilt be a good lance, but carry thou not too many king's errands. Fare thee well!"

He had regained control of his horse, and now he suddenly spurred away in the very direction by which Richard had come. Down sprang the latter to pick up the fallen lance and to fasten upon it the pennon his own had carried before it was broken. Then, as he mounted once more, he exclaimed aloud:

"Ride I now for my life! I shall be followed fast and far. I know not friend from foe, save that the nearer I get to the king the safer I shall be."

His good horse neighed cheerily, as if he knew that his rider had conquered, and a proud youth was Richard Neville.

"I have won my first passage at arms," he said. "I shall have somewhat whereof to tell the prince."