"You are rarely changed, Oswald," his uncle said, as the lad entered
his apartment. "'Tis three years since I last saw you, and you have
shot up nigh a head, since then. I should not have known you, had I met
you in the street; but as I was expecting you, it is easy to recall
your features. I made sure that you would come; for, although your
father was at first averse to my offer, I soon found that your mother
was on my side, and I know that, in the long run, my brother generally
gives in to her wishes; and I was sure that, as you were a lad of
spirit, you would be glad to try a flight from home.
"You are growing up mightily like your father, and promise to be as big
and as strong as we both are. Your eyes speak of a bold disposition,
and my brother tells me that you are already well practised with your
arms.
"You understand that it is Sir Henry, whom they call Hotspur, that you
are to serve. As to the earl, he is too great a personage for me to ask
a favour from, but Sir Henry is different. I taught him the first use
of his arms, and many a bout have I had with him. He treats me as a
comrade, rather than as the captain of his father's men-at-arms, here;
and when I spoke to him about you, he said at once:
"'Bring him here, and we will see what we can do for him. If he is a
fellow of parts and discretion, I doubt not that we can make him
useful. You say he knows every inch of our side of the border, and
something of the Scottish side of it, his mother's sister being married
to one of the Armstrongs. There is like to be trouble before long. You
know the purpose for which I am going away; and the Scots are sure to
take advantage of changes in England, and a youth who can ride, and
knows the border, and can, if needs be, strike a blow in self defence,
will not have to stay idle in the castle long. His father is a stout
withstander of the Scots, and the earl would have given him knighthood,
if he would have taken it; and maybe, in the future, the son will win
that honour. He is too old for a page, and I should say too little
versed in our ways for such a post; but I promise you that, when he is
old enough, he shall be one of my esquires.'
"So you may soon have an opportunity of showing Hotspur what you are
made of. And now, I doubt not that you are hungry. I will send down to
the buttery, for a couple of tankards and a pasty. I had my supper two
hours ago, but I doubt not that I can keep you company in another."
He went to the window, and called out, "John Horn!"
The name was repeated below, and in two minutes a servant came up. The
captain gave him directions, and they shortly sat down to a substantial
meal.
"The first thing to do, lad, will be to get you garments more suitable
to the Percys' castle than those you have on; they are good enough to
put on under armour, or when you ride in a foray; but here, one who
would ride in the train of the Percys must make a brave show. It is
curfew, now; but tomorrow, early, we will sally into the town, where we
shall find a good choice of garments, for men of all conditions. You
hold yourself well, and you have something of your mother's softness of
speech; and will, I think, make a good impression on Sir Henry, when
suitably clad.
"You see, there are many sons of knights, of good repute and standing,
who would be glad, indeed, that their sons should obtain a post in
Hotspur's personal following; and who might grumble, were they passed
over in favour of one who, by his appearance, was of lower condition
than themselves.
"John Forster is well known, on the border, as a valiant fighter, and a
leading man in Coquetdale. It is known, too, that he might have been
knighted, had he chosen; and doubtless there are many who, having heard
that his hold is one of the strongest on the border, give him credit
for having far wider possessions than that bit of moor round the hold,
and grazing rights for miles beyond it. If, then, you make a brave
show, none will question the choice that Hotspur may make; but were you
to appear in that garb you have on, they might well deem that your
father is, after all, but a moss trooper.
"He told me that you had, once, a fancy to learn to read and write.
What put that idea into your head? I do not say that it was not a good
one, but at least it was a strange one, for a lad brought up as you
have been."
"I think, Uncle, that it was rather my mother's idea than my own; she
thought that it might conduce to my advancement, should I ever leave
the hold and go out into the world."
"She was quite right, Oswald; and 'tis a pity that you did not go, for
a couple of years, to a monastery. It is a good thing to be able to
read an order, or to write one, for many of the lords and knights can
do no more than make a shift to sign their names. As for books I say
nothing, for I see not what manner of good they are; but father Ernulf,
who is chaplain here, tells me that one who gives his mind to it can,
in a year, learn enough to write down, not in a clerkly hand, but in
one that can be understood, any letter or order his lord may wish sent,
or to read for him any that he receives.
"In most matters, doubtless, an order by word of mouth is just as good
as one writ on vellum; but there are times when a messenger could not
be trusted to deliver one accurately, as he receives it; or it might
have to be passed on, from hand to hand. Otherwise, a spoken message is
the best; for if a messenger be killed on the way, none are the wiser
as to the errand on which he is going; while, if a parchment is found
on him, the first priest or monk can translate its purport.
"The chaplain has two younger priests with him; and, should you be
willing, I doubt not that one of these would give you instruction, for
an hour or two of a day. The Percys may not be back for another month
or two, and if you apply yourself to it honestly, you might learn
something by that time."
"I should like it very much, Uncle."
"Then, so it shall be, lad. For two or three hours a day you must
practise in arms--I have some rare swordsmen among my fellows--but for
the rest of the time, you will be your own master. I will speak with
father Ernulf, in the morning, after we have seen to the matter of your
garments."
A straw pallet was brought up to the chamber; and, after chatting for
half an hour about his visit to the Armstrongs, Oswald took off his
riding boots and jerkin, the total amount of disrobing usual at that
time on the border, and was soon asleep.
"I am afraid, Uncle," he said in the morning, "that the furnishment of
the purse my father gave me, at starting, will not go far towards what
you may consider necessary for my outfit."
"That need not trouble you at all, lad. I told your father I should
take all charges upon myself, having no children of my own, and no way
to spend my money; therefore I can afford well to do as I like towards
you. Once the war begins, you will fill your purse yourself; for
although the peoples of the towns and villages suffer by the Scotch
incursions, we men-at-arms profit by a war. We have nought that they
can take from us, but our lives, while we take our share of the booty,
and have the ransom of any knights or gentlemen we may make prisoners."
Accordingly they went into Alnwick, and Alwyn Forster bought for his
nephew several suits of clothes, suitable for a young gentleman of good
family; together with armour, of much more modern fashion than that to
which Oswald was accustomed. When they returned to the castle, the lad
was told to put on one of these suits, at once.
"Make your old ones up in a bundle," his uncle said. "There may be
occasions when you may find such clothes useful; though here,
assuredly, they are out of place. Now, I will go with you to Father
Ernulf."
The priest's abode was in what was called the Abbots' Tower, which was
the one nearest to the large monastery, outside the walls.
"I told you, father," the captain said, "that belike my nephew would
join me here, as I was going to present him to Sir Henry Percy. The
good knight will not be back again, mayhap, for some weeks; and the lad
has a fancy to learn to read and write, and I thought you might put him
in the way of his attaining such knowledge."
"He looks as if the sword will suit his hand better than the pen," the
priest said, with a smile, as his eye glanced over the lad's active
figure. "But surely, if he is so inclined, I shall be glad to further
his wishes. There is a monk at the monastery who, although a good
scholar, is fitted rather for the army than the Church. He was one of
our teachers, but in sooth had but little patience with the blunders of
the children; but I am sure that he would gladly give his aid to a lad
like this, and would bear with him, if he really did his best. I have
nought to do at present, and will go down with him, at once, and talk
to Friar Roger.
"If the latter would rather have nought to do with it, one of my
juniors shall undertake the task; but I am sure that the friar would
make a better instructor, if he would take it in hand.
"He is a stout man-at-arms--for, as you know, when the Scots cross the
border, the abbot always sends a party of his stoutest monks to fight
in Percy's ranks; as is but right, seeing that the Scots plunder a
monastery as readily as a village. Friar Roger was the senior in
command, under the sub-prior, of the monks who fought at Otterburn, and
all say that none fought more stoutly, and the monks were the last to
fall back on that unfortunate day. They say that he incurred many
penances for his unchurchly language, during the fight; but that the
abbot remitted them, on account of the valour that he had shown."
Accordingly, the priest went off with Oswald to the monastery, while
Alwyn Forster remained, to attend to his duties as captain of the
men-at-arms. On his saying that he wished to see the friar Roger, the
priest was shown into a waiting room, where the monk soon joined them.
He was a tall, powerful man, standing much over six feet in height, and
of proportionate width of shoulders. He carried his head erect, and
looked more like a man-at-arms, in disguise, than a monk. He bent his
head to the priest, and then said in a hearty tone:
"Well, Father Ernulf, what would you with me, today? You have no news
of the Scots having crossed the border, and I fear that there is no
chance, at present, of my donning a cuirass over my gown?"
"None at present, brother, though it may well be so, before long. I
hope that we shall soon have the earl and his son back again, for the
Scots are sure to take advantage of their absence, now that the truce
is expired.
"No, I want you on other business. This young gentleman is the nephew
of Alwyn Forster, whom you know."
"Right well, Father; a good fellow, and a stout fighter."
"He is about to enter Sir Henry's household," the priest went on; "but,
seeing that the knight is still away, and may be absent for some weeks
yet, the young man is anxious to learn to read and write--
"Not from any idea of entering the Church," he broke off, with a smile,
at the expression of surprise on the monk's face; "but that it may be
useful to him in procuring advancement.
"I have, therefore, brought him to you; thinking that you would make a
far better teacher, for a lad like him, than your brothers in the
school. I thought perhaps that, if I spoke to the abbot, he might
release you from your attendance at some of the services, for such a
purpose."
"That is a consideration," the monk laughed.
"Well, young sir, I tell you fairly that among my gifts is not that of
patience with fools. If you are disposed to work right heartily, as I
suppose you must be, or you would not make such a request, I on my part
will do my best to teach you; but you must not mind if, sometimes, you
get a rough buffet to assist your memory."
"I should doubt whether a buffet, from you, would not be more likely to
confuse my memory than to assist it," Oswald said, with a smile; "but
at any rate, I am ready to take my chance, and can promise to do my
best to avoid taxing your patience, to that point."
"That will do, Father," the monk said. "He is a lad of spirit, and it
is a pleasure to train one of that kind. As to the puny boys they send
to be made monks because, forsooth, they are likely to grow up too weak
for any other calling, I have no patience with them; and I get into
sore disgrace, with the abbot, for my shortness of temper."
"I am afraid, from what I hear," the priest said, shaking his head, but
unable to repress a smile, "that you are often in disgrace, Brother
Roger."
"I fear that it is so, and were it not that I am useful, in teaching
the lay brothers and the younger monks the use of the carnal weapons, I
know that, before this, I should have been bundled out, neck and crop.
'Tis hard, Father, for a man of my inches to be shut up, here, when
there is so much fighting to be done, abroad."
"There is good work to be done, everywhere," the priest said gravely.
"Many of us may have made a mistake in choosing our vocations; but, if
so, we must make the best we can of what is before us."
"What time will you come?" the monk asked Oswald.
"My uncle said that he would suit my hours to yours; but that, if it
was all the same to you, I should practise in arms from six o'clock
till eight, and again for an hour or two in the evening; so that I
could come to you either in the morning or afternoon."
"Come at both, if you will," the monk said. "If the good father can get
me off the services, from eight till six, you can be with me all that
time, save at the dinner hour. You have but a short time to learn in,
and must give yourself heartily to it.
"There is the chapel bell ringing, now, and I must be off. The abbot
will not be present at this service, Father; and if you will, you can
see him now. I doubt not that he will grant your request, for I know
that I anger him, every time I am in chapel. I am fond of music, and I
have a voice like a bull; and, do what I will, it will come out in
spite of me; and he says that my roaring destroys the effect of the
whole choir."
So saying, he strode away.
"Do you wait outside the gates, my son," the priest said. "I shall be
only a few minutes with the abbot; who, as Friar Roger says, will, I
doubt not, be glad enough to grant him leave to abstain from attendance
at the services."
In a short time, indeed, he rejoined Oswald at the gate.
"That matter was managed, easily enough," he said. "The abbot has,
himself, a somewhat warlike disposition, which is not to be wondered
at, seeing that he comes from a family ever ready to draw the sword;
and he has, therefore, a liking for Friar Roger, in spite of his
contumacies, breaches of regulations, and quarrels with the other
monks. He is obliged to continually punish him, with sentences of
seclusion, penance, and fasting; but methinks it goes against the
grain. He said, at once, that he was delighted to hear that he had
voluntarily undertaken some work that would keep him out of trouble,
and that he willingly, and indeed gladly, absolved him from attendance
in chapel, during the hours that he was occupied with you.
"'He is not without his uses,' he said. 'He is in special charge of the
garden, and looks after the lay brothers employed in it. I will put
someone else in charge, while he is busy, though I doubt if any will
get as much work out of the lay brothers as he does; and indeed, he
himself labours harder than any of them. With any other, I should say
that tucking his gown round his waist, and labouring with might and
main was unseemly; but as it works off some of his superabundant
energy, I do not interfere with him.'"
"How ever did he become a monk, Father?"
"It seems that he was a somewhat sickly child, and his father sent him
to the monastery to be taught, with a view to entering the Church. He
was quick and bright in his parts, but as his health improved he grew
restless, and at fifteen refused to follow the vocation marked out for
him, and returned home; where, as I have heard, he took part in various
daring forays across the border. When he was five-and-twenty, he was
wounded well-nigh to death in one of these, and he took it as a
judgment upon him, for deserting the Church; so he returned here, and
became a lay brother. He was a very long time, before he recovered his
full strength, and before he did so he became a monk, and I believe has
bitterly regretted the fact, ever since.
"Some day, I am afraid, he will break the bounds altogether, throw away
his gown, assume a breast plate and steel cap, and become an unfrocked
monk. I believe he fights hard against his inclinations, but they are
too strong for him. If war breaks out I fear that, some day, he will be
missing.
"He will, of course, go down south, where he will be unknown; and
where, when the hair on his tonsure has grown, he can well pass as a
man-at-arms, and take service with some warlike lord. I trust that it
may not be so, but he will assuredly make a far better man-at-arms than
he will ever make a good monk."
The next morning, after practising for two hours with sword and pike,
Oswald went down, at eight o'clock, to the monastery, and was conducted
to friar Roger's cell. The latter at once began his instruction,
handing him a piece of blackened board, and a bit of chalk.
"Now," he said, "you must learn to read and write, together. There are
twenty-six letters, and of each there is a big one and a little one.
The big ones are only used at the beginning of a sentence--that is
where, if you were talking, you would stop to take breath and begin
afresh--and also at the first letter of the names of people, and
places.
"The first letter is 'A'. There it is, in that horn book, you see. It
looks like two men, or two trees, leaning against each other for
support; with a line, which might be their hands, in the middle.
"Now, make a letter like that, on your board. The little 'a' is a small
circle with an upright, with a tail to it; you might fancy it a fish,
with its tail turned up.
"Now, write each of those, twelve times."
So he continued with the first six letters.
"That will be as much as you will remember, at first," he said. "Now we
will begin spelling with those letters, and you will see how they are
used. You see, it is a mixture of the sounds of the two: 'b a' makes
ba, and 'b e' be, 'c a' ca, 'd a' da, 'd e' de, and so on. Now, we will
work it out."
Oswald was intelligent, and anxious to learn. He had been accustomed,
when riding, to notice every irregularity of ground, every rock and
bush that might serve as a guide, if lost in a fog, and he very quickly
took in the instruction given him; and, by the time the convent bell
rung to dinner, he had made a considerable progress with the variations
that could be formed with the six letters that he had learned; and the
friar expressed himself as highly satisfied with him.
"You have learned as much, in one morning, as many of the boys who
attend schools would learn in a month," he said. "If you go on like
this, I will warrant that, if Percy delays his return for two months,
you will know as much as many who have been two years at the work. I
have always said that it is a mistake to teach children young; their
minds do not take in what you say to them. You may beat it into them,
but they only get it by rote; and painfully, because they don't
understand how one thing leads to another, and it is their memory only,
and not their minds, that are at work."
The next day came news that the Scotch had crossed the border, and
there was great excitement in the castle; but it was soon learned that
the invasion was not on a great scale, neither the Douglases nor the
Earl of March having taken part in it.
"There is no fear of our being attacked, here," Alwyn Forster said to
Oswald. "The sheriffs of the county will call out their levies, and
will soon make head against them. At the same time, we shall make
preparations against any chance of their coming hither."
This was done. Vast quantities of arrows were prepared, stones
collected and carried up to the points on the wall most exposed to
attack; and orders sent out, by the governor of the castle in the
Percys' absence, to the people for many miles round, that on the
approach of the Scots all were to retire to refuge, the women and
children taking to the hills, while the men capable of bearing arms
were to hasten to the defence of the castle.
For a time, the Scots carried all before them, wasting and devastating
the country. Oswald heard that they had captured, without resistance,
his father's hold. He rejoiced at the news, for he feared that, not
knowing the strength of the invading force, resistance might have been
attempted; in which case all in the hold might have been put to the
sword. He had no doubt, now, that his father and mother had retired
with their followers to the hills, as they had always determined to do,
in case of an invasion by a force too strong to resist.
Had the Percys been at home, they might have held out, confident that
the Scotch would be attacked before they could effect its capture; but
as all the northern lords, with their retainers, were away in the
south, it would be some time before a force could be collected that
could make head against the Scots.
A portion of the Scottish army laid siege to the castle of Wark, on the
Tweed. This castle had always played a conspicuous part in the border
wars. It had been besieged and captured by David of Scotland, in the
reign of Stephen; and two or three years later was again besieged, but
this time repulsed all attacks. David, after his defeat at the battle
of the Standard, resumed the siege. It again repulsed all attacks, but
at last was reduced to an extremity by famine, and capitulated.
The castle was demolished by the Scots, but was rebuilt by Henry the
Second. In 1215 it was again besieged, this time by King John, who
resented the defection of the northern barons; and it was captured, and
again destroyed. In 1318 it was captured and destroyed by Robert Bruce.
In 1341 it was besieged by David Bruce, but held out until relieved by
King Edward, himself. In 1383 it was again besieged by the Scots, and
part of its fortifications demolished. On the present occasion it was
again captured, and razed to the ground.
Another portion of the Scottish army, plundering and burning, advanced
along the valley of the Coquet. As they approached, the inhabitants of
the district round Alnwick began to pour into the castle; but orders
were issued that all the fighting men should join the force of Sir
Robert Umfraville, the sheriff of the district, who was gathering a
force to give the Scots battle.
"I fear that there is small chance of the Scots making their way
hither," Oswald's instructor said, in lugubrious tones. "Sir Robert is
a stout fighter, and the Scots, laden as they must be with booty, and
having hitherto met with no resistance, will be careless and like to be
taken by surprise. Methinks the abbot ought to send off a contingent,
to aid Sir Robert."
Oswald laughed.
"I suppose he wants to keep them for more urgent work, and thinks that
the Church should only fight when in desperate straits. However,
Father, you may have an opportunity yet; for we cannot regard it as
certain that Sir Robert will defeat the Scots."
Three days later, however, the news arrived that Sir Robert had
attacked the Scots, at Fulhetlaw, and utterly defeated them; taking
prisoner Sir Richard Rutherford and his five sons, together with Sir
William Stewart, John Turnbull, a noted border reiver, and many others;
and that those who had escaped were in full flight for the border.
The Scotch incursion had made no change in Oswald's work. He continued
to study hard with the monk. As a rule, he fully satisfied his teacher;
but at times, when he failed to name the letters required to make up a
certain sound, the latter lost all patience with him; and, more than
once, with difficulty restrained himself from striking him. Spelling in
those days, however, had by no means crystallized itself into any
definite form, and there was so large a latitude allowed that, if the
letters used gave an approximate sound to the word, it was deemed
sufficient.
The consequence was that Oswald's education progressed at a speed that
would, in these more rigid days, be deemed impossible. He was intensely
interested in the work, and even his martial exercises were, for the
time, secondary to it in his thoughts. He felt so deeply grateful to
his instructor that, even if he had struck him, he would have cared but
little. In those days rough knocks were readily given, and the idea
that there was anything objectionable, in a boy being struck, had never
been entertained by anyone. Wives were beaten not uncommonly, servants
frequently; and from the highest to the lowest, corporal punishment was
regarded as the only way to ensure the carrying out of orders.
Oswald was slower in learning to write down the letters than he was to
read them. His hands were so accustomed to the rein, the bow, and the
sword that they bungled over the work of forming letters. Nevertheless,
by the time the Percys returned, three months and a half after his
arrival at the castle, he could both read and write short and simple
words; and as these formed a large proportion of English speech, at the
time, he had made a considerable step in the path of learning, and the
monk was highly pleased with his pupil.
"I shall not be able to come tomorrow, Father," he said to the monk,
one day. "The earl and Sir Henry will be back tonight, and my uncle
says that I must keep near him, tomorrow; so that, if opportunity
offers, he may present me to the knight."
"I feared it would come to that," the monk said. "I wish they had all
stopped away, another three or four months; then you would have got
over your difficulty of piecing together syllables, so as to make up a
long word. 'Tis a thousand pities that you should stop altogether, just
when you are getting on so well."
"I will come as often as I can, Father, if you will let me."
"No, no, lad. I know what it is, when the family are at home. It will
be, 'Here, Oswald, ride with such a message;' or Hotspur, himself, may
be going out with a train, and you will have to accompany him. There
will always be something.
"Indeed, save but for your teaching, it is high time that the Percys
were back again; for there has already been a great deal of hot work,
on the border, and report says that the Scots are mustering strongly,
and that there is going to be a great raid into Cumberland; so you will
be busy, and so shall I. The lay brothers have made but a poor hand of
it, while I have been busy. I went down in the evening, yesterday, to
see them drill; and it was as much as I could do to prevent myself from
falling upon them, and giving them a lesson of a different sort.
"As it was, I gave it to their instructor heartily, and was had up
before the abbot on his complaint, this morning; and am to eat Lenten
fare for the next ten days, which accords but ill either with my liking
or needs."
In the evening, the courtyard was ablaze with torches as, amid the
cheers of the garrison, the Earl of Northumberland and his son rode in,
with a strong body of men-at-arms. The greater portion of the following
with which they had met Henry of Lancaster on his landing, and escorted
him to London, had long since returned to their homes; being released
from service, when it was seen that no opposition was to be looked for
from the adherents of Richard. The followings of the various nobles and
knights of the northern counties had left the main body on the way
home, and Northumberland had brought with him, to Alnwick, only the
men-at-arms who formed the regular force retained under his standard.
Oswald was greatly struck with the splendid appearance, and
appointments, of the earl and the knights who attended him, and with
the martial array of his followers. Hitherto, he had seen but the
roughest side of war; the arms and armour carried not for show, but for
use, and valued for their strength, without any reference to their
appearance. On the border there was not the smallest attempt at
uniformity in appearance, polished armour was regarded with disfavour,
and that worn was of the roughest nature, the local armourer's only
object being to furnish breast and back pieces that would resist the
strongest spear thrust. Of missiles they made little account, for the
Scots had but few archers, and their bows were so inferior in strength,
to those carried by the English archers, that armour strong enough to
resist a spear thrust was amply sufficient to keep out a Scottish
arrow.
There was not, even in the array of the Earl of Northumberland's
men-at-arms, any approach to the uniformity that now prevails among
bodies of soldiers. The helmets, breast and back pieces, were, however,
of similar form, as the men engaged for continued service were
furnished with armour by the earl; but there was a great variety in the
garments worn under them, these being of all colours, according to the
fancy of their wearers. All, however, carried spears of the same
length, while some had swords, and others heavy axes at their girdles.
The helmets and armour were all brightly polished, and as the lights of
the torches flashed from them and from the spearheads; Oswald, for the
first time, witnessed something of the pomp of war.
His uncle, as captain of the men-at-arms left in the castle, was
invited to the banquet held after the arrival of the force. Oswald,
therefore, was free to wander about among the soldiers, listening to
their talk of what they had seen in London, and of the entertainments
there in honour of the new king; exciting, thereby, no small amount of
envy among those who had been left behind in garrison.
Oswald already knew that the earl had been appointed Constable of
England, for life, and now heard that the lordship of the Isle of Man
had since been conferred on him.