Two or three hours after the return of the force to Ludlow, Sir Edmund
Mortimer returned, having ridden almost without a halt, since he
received the news of the Welsh incursion. His knights met him in the
courtyard.
"Well, my friends, I hear you have sent the Welsh back again, as fast
as they came."
"We cannot say that, Sir Edmund," Sir John Wyncliffe replied. "Sir John
Burgon went out, with ninety horse; and, coming upon a party of five or
six hundred of them, killed half their number, and put the rest to
flight; but their main body left of their own free will, and without
any urging. 'Tis a pity that they were so hurried, for in another
twenty-four hours we should have had some four thousand men on the
march against them, besides those who first went on."
"Have they done much damage?"
"There is scarce a house left standing, between the hills on this side
of Llanidloes, and Knighton. From what we can gather, they must have
slain three or four hundred, at least. At first the total was put much
higher; but, as soon as they retired, many fugitives made their way
into Knighton; having slipped away in the darkness, when their villages
were attacked, and concealed themselves in the woods, or among the
rocks."
"There has been fighting up in the north, too," Sir Edmund said. "When
I got to Ruthyn, I found that Lord Grey was away; but I talked over
matters with his knights. I was to have left on the morning of the
fifth day after leaving here, but at night Glendower's men raided
almost up to the gates of the castle. Their plans were well laid; for,
just at midnight, an alarm was given by a sentry on the walls. Everyone
ran to arms, the instant the warder's horn was sounded; but when I
reached the top of the walls, fires were bursting out in twenty places.
It was not long before the knights rode out, with a hundred and fifty
men-at-arms, but the Welsh were already gone. It seems that they had
laid an ambuscade round every village and, on the signal being given,
fell at once upon the sleeping inhabitants, put all to the sword, fired
the houses; and in ten minutes from the first alarm made off, driving
horses, cattle, and sheep before them.
"I was with the party, and we rode hard and fast, but we came up with
none of them. Each party must have gone its own way, striking off into
the hills. As soon as we returned to the castle I started, with my four
men-at-arms, and we have lost no time on the road; especially after the
rumour reached us that there had been a Welsh raid here, also.
"Now, Sir John Burgon, will you give me an account of the doings of
your party?"
The knight reported their proceedings, after leaving Ludlow, and
concluded:
"It is like that the story would not have so run, Sir Edmund, had it
not been for the bravery shown by the northern men, under the young
squire Oswald and his captain, Alwyn. So furiously did the Welsh assail
us, in rear, that we should have suffered heavily, indeed, even if we
had not met with a grave disaster; had it not been that this band
covered our rear, while we charged forward, fighting so stoutly that
the spot where they posted themselves was thickly covered with dead. I
found time to look round, now and then, for they made but a poor
resistance to our advance. Never did I see stronger fighting.
"I have questioned the men. All say that none fought more bravely than
young Oswald, and his uncle gives him warm praise. The lad, however,
would have lost his life, had it not been for that stout fellow, who
stands half a head above his comrades, and is a very giant in strength.
Oswald, himself, told me how it came about," and he repeated the
account of the incident.
"It was a quick thought, to throw himself and the fellow who held him
off the horse; though it would not have availed him, much, had not this
stout man-at-arms been at hand. Still, in no case could he have
defended himself, single handed, against five of these knaves; though
doubtless he would have given a good account of some of them, had not
his arms been held.
"Alwyn said that, three times during the fray, the young esquire saved
his life, by cutting down men who were attacking him from behind, while
he was occupied by other opponents in front."
"He will make a valiant knight, some day, Sir John. Sir Henry Percy
would not have written so strongly about him, had he not good reason
for feeling that he would not do discredit to his recommendation.
"Well, Sir Knights, you have all merited my thanks, for the manner in
which you have discharged your duties, during my absence.
"Of course, you were perfectly right, Wyncliffe, in remaining here;
until, at any rate, the knights brought in their following from the
country round. It was important to save Knighton, but vastly more so to
prevent their overspreading the whole country; which might, for aught
we can tell, have been Glendower's object; and it is as well that
Haverstone and Bastow should have remained at Knighton.
"Now, as I have not broken my fast, and have ridden since midnight
without a stop, I will breakfast; and we can then talk over the plans
to be pursued, for there is no disguising the fact that the Welsh are
up in arms, and that we have long and heavy work before us.
"However, it is a matter too serious for us to undertake by ourselves,
but is for the king himself to take in hand. A raid can be punished by
a counter-raid; but now that Glendower has declared himself sovereign
of Wales, and that everything points to the fact that the men of his
nation are all ready to support him, it is a matter that touches his
majesty very closely; and I doubt not that, as soon as he has finished
this war with the Scots, he will march hither, at the head of his army.
"However, I shall send out a summons to the tenants of all my nephew's
estates, in Herefordshire, and order them to hold themselves in
readiness, should Glendower venture to invade us. But I think not that
he will do so. He knows that these counties bristle with castles, in
which the people could find refuge; and that, if he undertook to
besiege them, he would speedily lose the best part of his army.
"None of his people have experience of war, and to besiege a strong
place needs machines of all kinds, and of these Glendower has none, nor
is it likely that he can construct them. Besides, while marching out he
would be exposed to an attack, by the garrisons of these castles
sallying out in his rear. Therefore, I think not that he will be
foolish enough to undertake any great enterprises; though he may make
raids, and carry off booty and cattle, as he has now done.
"Moreover, I cannot keep the vassals in the field longer than their
feudal obligations compel them to stay, unless I pay and feed them;
which might be done readily enough, for two or three months. But the
war may last for years, and I must reserve my means, and strength, till
they are urgently needed.
"Lord Grey will doubtless be of my opinion, but is sure to do what he
can to capture Glendower; as he will consider him, not only as an enemy
of the king, but as a personal foe. However, powerful as he is, I think
not that he will venture, alone, to lead an army into the Welsh hills;
until he receives assistance from the king."
Two days later, news came that the king, as soon as he heard of
Glendower's proclamation, had sent orders to Lord Grey and Lord Talbot,
to punish him.
"They will reach Chester, two days hence," Sir Edmund said. "After the
raid they made here, I would gladly take some small share in punishing
this rebel.
"You, Sir John Burgon, have had a full share of honour, by your defeat
of him, the other day; therefore, I will send Sir William Bastow.
"Do you, Sir William, take thirty of the best mounted men of the
garrison, together with Lord Percy's troop, and ride to Chester. I will
give you a letter to Lord Talbot, saying that, being anxious to aid in
the punishment of the rebel who has just raided my marches, I have sent
you in all haste, with fifty stout men, to aid him in striking a blow;
and, if possible, in effecting Glendower's capture, before he can do
further harm to the king's loyal subjects."
Half an hour later, the troop mounted. Oswald was in high spirits, for
Sir Edmund had spoken a few words to him, when telling him of the
service to which he had appointed him.
"I am sending your troop with Sir William Bastow," he said, "chiefly in
order that I may give you another opportunity of distinguishing
yourself; and also because I am sure that Percy would be glad that his
men should take part in an enterprise in which there may be honour, and
credit. Lastly, because I would that my party should do me credit; and
the fighting, the other day, showed me that your followers better
understand warfare, of this kind, than do mine."
The troop arrived at Chester the second day after leaving, and rested
their horses for twenty-four hours. On the arrival of the Earl of
Talbot, and Lord Grey, Sir William Bastow called, at the inn where they
put up, and delivered the letter from Sir Edmund Mortimer.
"'Tis well done of Sir Edmund," the Earl of Talbot said; "and although
Ruthyn lies beyond his government of the marches, he is defending his
own command, by aiding Lord Grey and myself against this presumptuous
traitor. I will gladly take your clump of spears with me, among whom
are, I see, a small party of Lord Percy's men-at-arms.
"I hear that Sir Edmund's men inflicted a sharp blow upon the Welsh,
near Knighton. I met his messenger, bearing his report to the king, as
we came along; and he gave me the particulars, from which it seems that
the fight was, for a time, a hard one, and that the Welshmen fought, as
they used to do, with much bravery."
"They did, my lord. I was not with the party that defeated them, having
been left at Knighton to aid in the defence there, should the Welsh
attack the town; but Sir John Burgon, who commanded, said that, in the
village, they fought as if they cared not for their lives; though they
made scarce any defence, when he fell upon them as they retired, in
disorder. The success he gained he attributes, in no small degree, to
Percy's little troop; led by their captain, a stout soldier who
commands the garrison of Alnwick, and by a young squire of Sir Henry
Percy, who, though but a lad, fought with extreme bravery.
"He is with me now. Sir Henry places great trust in him, and wrote most
warmly, concerning him, to Sir Edmund Mortimer."
"We are just going to supper, sir," the earl said. "I hope that you
will join us. And I pray you, tell me where this young squire is
lodging, that I may send for him, at once; as I would fain learn, from
his lips, some closer account of the fighting, which may be of utility
to us, in our adventure."
Oswald arrived just as supper was brought in, and was introduced to the
earl, and Lord Grey, by Sir William Bastow.
"Sit down with us, young sir," the earl said, kindly. "You are an
esquire, I hear, of my good friend Sir Henry Percy. As you eat, I pray
you tell me about this fight with the Welsh. Sir Edmund himself was not
in command, I hear."
"No, my lord, he was away at the time, having ridden to Ruthyn, to hold
council with Lord Grey."
"Ah! I had not heard that he had been there," Earl Grey said.
"He arrived the day before the Welsh raid on your estate, sir. Finding
that you were absent, he intended to return home the next morning; but
the matter delayed him, for a day, as he rode out with your knights to
punish the marauders; who, however, made off before they could be
overtaken."
"When you see him, I pray you give him my thanks, for so doing; and
now, tell us what happened."
"Sir William Bastow can better inform you, sir, of what took place
until we rode away from Knighton; where he remained, with Sir Philip
Haverstone, to take command of the townspeople, in case the Welsh
should arrive before strong aid should come."
Sir William then related the measures that had been decided upon, and
the steps taken to call out the levies; and how he and his brother
knights had ridden to Knighton, with the intent to hinder, as far as
possible, the Welsh advance; until the footmen could reach the town, to
be followed, shortly afterwards, by the troops that would come in from
the castles of Radnor.
Oswald then continued the story, and gave an account of the fight in
the village, and the manner in which the Welsh were attacked, while
retiring with their booty, and completely routed.
"Their tactics have in nowise changed, then," the earl said, "since the
days of Griffith and Llewellyn. Against a direct charge they were
unable to stand; but they attacked, with fury, whenever there was an
opportunity of fighting under circumstances when our weight and
discipline gave us little advantage. I hear, from Sir William Bastow,
that your little band covered the rear of Sir John Burgon's troop, and
succeeded in keeping them at bay, until he had broken the resistance in
front, and carried off a small party of villagers who were still
defending themselves."
"That was so, my lord. Our men were all accustomed to border warfare;
and had for the most part, before entering Percy's service, been often
engaged in border forays; and had taken to soldiering after their own
homes had been burnt, and their cattle driven off, by Scottish raiders.
Therefore they were accustomed to fight each for himself, instead of in
close order. Their horses, too, bred on the moors, are far more active
and nimble than are the heavier horses of the south; and enter heart
and soul into a fray, kicking and plunging and striking with their
forelegs at any who approach to assail their riders. Thus it was that
they were able to hold the Welsh carles at bay, far better than men
otherwise trained and mounted would have been. Another thing is, that
in these Border conflicts each man is accustomed to keep his eye on his
neighbour; and, if he sees him hard pressed, to give him aid. Therefore
it is not surprising that, while the men slew many of the Welsh, they
themselves escaped with but a few cuts from blows and hatchets."
"But you yourself were unhorsed, Sir William tells me, and were in
great peril. How did that come about?"
"Both my unhorsing, sir, and my rescue, were the result of what I just
said, our habit of keeping an eye on our neighbours. A Welshman was on
the point of attacking Captain Alwyn, when he was engaged with two
others in front. I struck the man down but, as I did so, a Welshman
sprang on to my horse, behind, and pinned my arms to my side; while
four others rushed at me."
He then related how he had thrown himself and his assailant off his
horse, and had been saved by Roger.
"It was a good device, and quickly carried into effect," Earl Talbot
said; "though it was well that the man-at-arms next to you was watching
you, just as you had watched his captain; else it must have gone hard
with you. It is evident that, if you continue as you have begun, you
will turn out a right valiant knight.
"Your narrative is useful, and I see that, when we fall in with the
Welsh, it will be necessary to have a picked body of men-at-arms, whose
duty shall be to cover the rear of the main attack; for it seems that
this is the real point of danger. Should we come into conflict with
them, I will assign to you a body of men-at-arms, who with Percy's men
shall, under your command, fulfil that duty. This would at once be of
signal benefit to us, and will give you another opportunity of
distinguishing yourself, and winning your spurs when the time comes."
"I thank you greatly, my lord, and trust that I may so bear myself as
to merit your approbation."
The next morning the force mounted, at daybreak. It consisted of two
hundred horse, that the earl had brought with him; and which was to be
joined, at Chirk, by a hundred and fifty of Lord Grey's men from
Ruthyn, orders having been already sent on for them to hold themselves
in readiness. This was to be done quietly, and without stir, as word
would be sure to be sent to Glendower, were it to be known in the town
that preparations had been made for an expedition. They were to start
from the castle at ten o'clock at night, when the town would be wrapped
in sleep, and would arrive at Chirk before daybreak.
On arriving at the castle, it was found that the troops from Ruthyn had
duly come in. They were received by the seneschal of William Beauchamp,
Lord of Abergavenny. Chirk Castle had passed through many hands, having
been several times granted to royal favourites; being a fine building,
standing on a lofty eminence, which afforded a view of no less than
seventeen counties. It was square and massive, with five flanking
towers, and its vast strength was calculated to defy the utmost efforts
of the Welsh to capture it. It was but a short distance thence to the
valley of the Dee, in which was the estate of Glendower, extending for
some eight miles north, into what is now the neighbourhood of
Llangollen.
As one of the detachments had arrived before daybreak, and the other
two hours after dark, it was improbable that their advent had been
noticed; and, at the request of the knight who commanded the troop from
Ruthyn, the gates of the castle had been kept closed all day, no one
being allowed to enter or leave.
At daybreak the next morning, the whole force sallied out.
Three-quarters of an hour later, they dashed down into the valley at a
point about half a mile distant from Glendower's dwelling.
This was a very large and stately building. Near it stood a guest house
and a church, and all the appurtenances of a man of high rank. It was
called Sycharth. Here Glendower maintained an almost princely
hospitality; for, in addition to this estate, he possessed others in
South Wales.
More especially bards were welcomed here. Some resided for months;
others, who simply paused on their rambles through the country,
remained but for a few days; but all were received with marked honour
by Glendower, who was well aware of the important services that they
could render him. Indeed, it was on them that he relied, to no small
extent, to arouse the feelings of the populace; and his hospitality was
well repaid by the songs they sung, in hall and cottage, in his praise;
and by their prophecies that he was destined to restore the ancient
glories of the country.
The house was surrounded by a moat and wall, but had otherwise no
defensive works; as, for a hundred years, the English and Welsh had
dwelt peaceably, side by side. Many of the castles were, indeed, held
by Welshmen, and there were few garrisons but had a considerable
proportion of Welsh in their ranks.
It was singular that Glendower should, after his defiance of the king,
and the raids that had lately been made, have continued to dwell in a
spot so open to attack, and within striking distance of the three great
castles of Ruthyn, Chirk, and Holt. Certain it is that he kept no
garrison that would suffice to offer a stout defence against a strong
band, although the precaution was taken of keeping a watchman, night
and day, in one of the turrets. The sound of his horn was heard by the
horsemen, as soon as they began to descend the hill.
"A pest on the knave!" Lord Grey exclaimed. "He will slip through our
fingers, yet."
It was scarce a minute later when a mounted man was seen to dash out,
at full speed, from the other side of the building. He was evidently
well mounted; and although the pursuit was hotly kept up, for two
miles, he gained the forest while they were still a quarter of a mile
behind him, and was lost to view; for although they beat the wood for
some distance, they could find no traces of him.
When passing by the house, a detachment of a hundred men were ordered
to surround it, and to suffer none to enter or leave it. On the return
of the pursuing party the house was entered, and ransacked from end to
end. The male retainers found in it were ruthlessly killed. The
furniture, which showed at once the good taste and wealth of the owner,
was smashed into pieces, the hangings torn down, and the whole place
dismantled. Only two female attendants were found, and these were
suffered, by Earl Talbot's orders, to go free.
"This is evidently the ladies' bower, when they happen to be here,"
Lord Grey said; as, an hour later, he entered a room in one of the
turrets, which had been already plundered by the soldiers. "'Tis a pity
that we did not find one or two of Glendower's daughters here. They
would have been invaluable as hostages.
"We were too hasty, Talbot. We should have closely questioned some of
the men, or those two women, and should have found means to learn
whether they were staying here. It may be that it was so, and that they
are, even now, concealed in some secret hiding place, hard by."
He at once called up several of his men, and set them to search every
room in the turret, for some sign of an entrance to a secret chamber;
but although the walls were all tapped, and the floors examined, stone
by stone, no clue was found to such an entrance, if it existed.
The house, which was built entirely of stone, offered no facilities for
destroying it by fire. The doors were all hewn down; the gates in the
wall taken off their hinges, and thrown into the moat, being too
massive to be destroyed by the arms of the soldiers. The outlying
buildings were all burned down, the vineyard rooted up, and the water
turned out of the fish pond. Then, greatly vexed at their failure to
seize Glendower himself, the two nobles rode back to Chirk; leaving a
hundred men, of whom the band from Ludlow formed part, under two of
Earl Talbot's knights, to retain possession of the house, until it
should be decided whether it should be levelled stone by stone; or left
standing, to go, with the estate, to whomsoever the king might assign
it.
By Lord Grey's advice, sentries were posted outside the walls, from
nightfall till daybreak, to prevent any risk of surprise by Glendower,
whose spies might take him word that the main body of the assailants
had left. One of the great halls had been left untouched, to serve for
the use of the garrison; and as an abundance of victuals were found in
the house, and the cellar was well stocked with wines, it was but a
short time before the garrison made themselves thoroughly comfortable.
As soon as it became dark, twenty men were placed on watch. Oswald,
with his party, were to take the third watch, at midnight; and
Mortimer's men-at-arms the second. The captain of each band was to
place the men, at such points as he might select. Alwyn talked the
matter over with his nephew.
"It seems to me," the former said, "that there is but a small chance of
anyone trying to leave the castle; and at any rate, if they did so, it
would scarcely be over the wall, for a splash in the moat would at once
betray them. Moreover, I love not killing in cold blood, and should any
poor fellows be stowed away somewhere, I should be willing enough to
let them go free."
"I agree with you altogether, Alwyn," Oswald, who had not heard the
talk between Grey and Talbot, concerning Glendower's daughters, replied
heartily. "I would have gladly saved the men who were killed today. It
is one thing to slay in battle, but to slaughter unresisting men goes
altogether against my grain."
"Then as we are agreed on that, Oswald, I should say that we had best
place the greater portion of our men well away from the wall. We can
leave two at the gate, and set two others to march round and round the
moat. I should say we had best plant the others, in pairs, a quarter of
a mile round the house. It is vastly more important to prevent
Glendower from recapturing his house, by surprise, than it is to take
prisoners two or three fellows making their escape."
"I agree with you, Alwyn."
Accordingly, when they filed out from the gate, four were posted as
Alwyn had suggested. The rest were disposed, in pairs, in a circle at a
distance round the house.
"I will keep watch with Roger," Oswald said. "'Tis some time since I
have had an opportunity for a talk with him. I will take the next post,
if you like. The wood comes closer to the house, there, than at any
other point; and there are patches, behind which an enemy might creep
up. My eyes and ears are both good; and as for Roger, if he lifts that
mighty voice of his in tones of alarm, it will reach the ears of all
the others, and be the signal for them to run back to the gate, at the
top of their speed."
"Very well, Oswald. I shall walk round the ground, and see that all are
vigilant. We know not where Glendower's men were lying. It may hap they
were twenty miles away, but even so he would have had plenty of time to
have brought them up, by now. I don't think there is much chance of any
of our men being surprised; most of them having, in their time, been so
used to midnight rides across moor and hill, and so accustomed to see
in the dark that, crafty as the Welshmen may be, I do not think there
is a chance of their getting within a hundred yards of any of our
posts, without being seen; especially as the moon is still half full."
"Do you think that there is any chance of our being disturbed, Master
Oswald?" Roger said, as they took up their post under a low, stunted
tree.
"I do not think so. If Glendower's spies have told him that the main
body, of those who surprised him this morning, have returned to Chirk;
he may be sure that enough have been left, to hold the place
successfully against him and his wild followers, till assistance can
reach us; and he would have nothing to gain by recapturing his house,
for he could not hold it long against the force assembled at Chirk.
Besides, he must know, well enough, that if he is to fight
successfully, it must be in the woods. Whether he has studied the black
art, or no, there is little doubt that he has turned his attention
greatly to military matters, and that he is a foe who is not to be
despised. He is playing a deep game, and will give us a deal of
trouble, unless I am greatly mistaken, before we have done with him."
"I hear all sorts of strange stories of his powers, Master Oswald."
"Yes; but you see, Roger, the spirits who, as they say, serve him,
cannot be of much use; or they would have warned him of the coming of
Talbot, and we should not have taken him unawares, this morning."
"That is true enough," Roger said, in a tone of relief. "For my part, I
am not greatly alarmed at spirits. The good abbot used to threaten me
that I should be carried off by them, unless I mended my ways; but I
always slept soundly enough, and never saw aught to frighten me. They
used to say that the spirits of some of the dead monks used to walk in
the convent garden, but though my cell looked down upon it, and I have
often stood there by the hour, never did I see anything to frighten me.
"If the Welsh do come, what are we to do, master--fight them?"
"By no means, Roger. Our duty is to watch, and not to fight. You must
lift up your voice, and shout as loud as you can, and then we must run
to the gate. There we can make a fight, till the rest join us. But,
whatever you do, do not shout until I tell you. A false alarm would
raise the whole garrison; and, if naught came of it, would make us a
laughing stock."
While they were talking, both were keeping a close lookout on the
ground in front of them, and also to the right and left, for the
watches were two hundred yards apart, and they had to make sure that no
party of the enemy slipped unseen between them. Suddenly Roger plucked
Oswald's sleeve, and said in a whisper:
"Unless my eyes deceive me, master, I saw two dark figures flit from
that clump of bushes, some forty yards away, to those next to them.
There they go again!"
"I see them, Roger. It may be that they are spies, who have crept up
close. Let us give chase to them."
"Shall I shout, master?"
"No, no. This is not an attack. Stoop as low as you can or, if they
look back, they will see that great figure of yours, and be off like
hares. Run as softly as you can."
Stooping low, they set off at a run and, being certain that the figures
were making straight for the forest, they did not pause to get another
glimpse of them, but ran straight on. They had gone some seventy or
eighty yards, when they heard a stifled exclamation; and then, without
further attempt at concealment, two figures rose from a bush twenty
yards ahead, and fled for the forest. There was no more occasion for
stooping and, at the top of their speed, Oswald and Roger pursued the
fugitives.
These ran fast, but Oswald, who had outpaced his heavier companion,
came up to them when within fifty yards of the edge of the forest; and,
passing them, drew his sword and faced them.
"Surrender," he said, "or I will cut you down."
Instead of the fierce spring that he had anticipated, the two figures
stopped suddenly, exchanged a word in Welsh, and then dropped their
cloaks. To Oswald's astonishment, two young women stood before him.
They evidently belonged to the upper class. Both were richly dressed.
They wore heavy gold chains round their necks, and bracelets of the
same metal; set, as Oswald noticed by the reflection of the moon, with
jewels. They had also brooches, and their girdles were held in with
massive gold clasps.
By this time Roger had come up, and stood staring with astonishment.
"Take these, good fellows," the girl said in English, as she began to
unfasten her necklace. "Take these, and let us go. They will make you
rich."
"I am an esquire of Sir Henry Percy," Oswald said, "and I rob not
women. By your appearance, I should judge you to be daughters of
Glendower."
"It would be useless to deny it," one of the girls said, proudly.
"Why do you come spying here?" Oswald said. "Surely, among your
father's warriors, others better suited for such work might have been
found."
"We were not spying," the girl replied. "We have lain hidden all day,
and were but making our escape."
"How can that be, madam? We had a guard all round the castle, and know
that none can have escaped."
"Being an esquire, you are a gentleman, sir, and will not disclose what
I am about to tell you; though, indeed, now that our father's house is
in your hands, it boots not much whether the secret is known. There is
a secret passage from the castle that opens into these bushes, and it
was through that that we issued out; having been in hiding all day, in
the secret chamber from which it leads.
"Well, sir, we are your prisoners; and shall, I suppose, be sent to
London, there to be held until our father is in the usurper's hands,
which will not be, believe me, for years yet."
Oswald was silent. The two girls, some seventeen or eighteen years of
age, both possessed singular beauty they had inherited from their
father; and bore themselves with an air of fearlessness that won his
admiration. He was still but a lad and, thinking of the years these
fair girls might pass in a prison, he felt a deep pity for them. He
drew Roger aside.
"What think you, Roger? Must we send these fair young girls to prison?"
"In faith, I know not, master. Having been shut up many a time in a
cell, I have a sort of fellow feeling for prisoners; and indeed, two
fairer maidens I have never seen. Our orders were to look after
Welshmen, and see that they did not attack us. No word was said of
Welsh women. And besides, they were running away, and not thinking of
attacking us."
"That is all very well, Roger, but I cannot deceive myself. There is no
doubt that it is our duty to take these two maidens prisoners, but my
heart aches at the thought that they might pass years of their lives in
a prison. They are not responsible for their father's misdeeds and
ambition, and it may be that, if they are restored, Glendower may be
induced to treat those who fall into his hands mercifully. None but
ourselves know of this, and no one need ever know.
"I will risk it, anyhow," he said after a short pause. "I know that I
am not doing my duty in letting them go; and that, were it ever known,
I should lose all chance of further advancement, if indeed I did not
lose my life. However, it need never be known, and my conscience would
sorely trouble me, whenever I thought of them shut up in one of King
Henry's prisons."
He turned to the girls again.
"Think you, ladies," he asked, "that were you in the king's hands, your
father would make terms and submit himself?"
"Certainly not," the one who had spoken before said. "He has other
children--sons and daughters--and he would not dream of abandoning his
rights, and betraying his country, to obtain the liberty of two of us."
"In that case, then, your imprisonment would in no degree stop this
war, or bring about a renewal of peace between the two countries?"
"Certainly not; and as for us, we would strangle ourselves in prison,
did we think that any thought of us would turn our father from his
noble purpose."
"Then in that case," Oswald said quietly, "it is clear that your
captivity would do nought to bring about peace, or to allay the
troubles that have now begun. Therefore I will take on me to let you
go, though in so doing I may be failing somewhat in my duty. Only
promise me that, in the future, you will use what influence you may
possess with your father, to obtain kind treatment for prisoners who
may fall into his hands."
The expression of haughty defiance, that they had hitherto worn, faded
from the girls' faces.
"We shall never forget your kindness, sir," one said, in a low voice.
"We thank you, with all our hearts; not so much for our own sake, as
for our father's. He has been cruelly ill used. He has much to trouble
him, and although I know that our captivity would not turn him from his
purpose, it could not but greatly grieve and trouble him, and he has
already troubles enough on his shoulders.
"Will you accept one of these jewels, as a token only of our gratitude
for your kindness, shown this night to us?"
"Thanks, lady, but no gift will I take. I am failing in my duty, but at
least it shall not be said that I received aught for doing so."
"Then at least--" the girl began, turning to Roger.
"No, lady," the man-at-arms said. "I am neither knight nor esquire, but
a simple soldier; but I take no presents for saving two maidens from
capture and captivity. I have been a monk all my life, though now a
man-at-arms. Never before have I had an opportunity of doing aught of
kindness for a woman, and I am glad that the chance has fallen in my
way."
"May I ask the name of one who has done us such kindness?" the girl
said, turning to Oswald.
"It were best not, lady. It is a service that might cost me my head,
were it to be bruited about. 'Tis best, then, that even you should not
know it. I doubt not that you would preserve the secret; but you would
perhaps mention it to your father, and it were best that it were known
to none."
The girls were silent for a minute.
"Sir," the elder said, after exchanging a word or two with her sister,
"we would ask a boon of you. The successes in a war are not always on
one side. My sister and I will think often of one who has so greatly
befriended us; and were you, by any accident of war, to fall into the
Welsh hands, and should evil befall you, it would be a deep grief to
us. We pray you then, sir, to accept this little gold necklet. Its
value is small, indeed, but it was given to me when a child by my
father. My name and his are engraved on the clasp. Should you, at any
time of stress, send this to my father; right sure am I that, on
recognizing it, he would treat as dear friends those who have done so
much for his daughters. I pray you to accept it, and to wear it always
round your neck or wrist; and if it should never prove useful to you,
it will at least recall us to your thoughts."
"I cannot be so churlish, lady, as to refuse your token so offered; and
though I hope that it will not be needful to use it as you say--for,
indeed, I expect to return very shortly to my lord in Northumberland--it
will be a pleasant remembrance of the service that a good fortune has
enabled me to render, to two fair maidens. Be assured that I shall ever
keep your necklet, for the sake of the givers.
"And now, farewell! We must be back at our post, for the captain of the
guard will be going his round, and we might be missed."
"We shall never forget you, sir. May the blessing of God fall on you,
for your kind deed!"
"May all good fortune attend you!" Oswald answered; and then, with
Roger, he made his way back to his post; while the girls hurried on,
and entered the forest.