The Percys' preparations could not be carried on without exciting
attention; and in March the king, seeing that the open defiance of his
authority, by the release of the Scottish prisoners, would assuredly be
followed by armed rebellion, which the Douglas would probably have
pledged himself to aid as the condition of his release, began, on his
side, to make similar preparations. Levies were called out, and the
Prince of Wales was appointed to the command of the Welsh marches, and
the governorship of Wales.
Towards the end of June Douglas, faithful to his agreement, crossed the
frontier; and was at once joined by Hotspur, with the force he had
gathered. Hotspur's father was lying sick at Berwick, but was to
follow, as speedily as possible, with the army collected in the north
of the county, and from Dunbar's estates.
It had been arranged that Glendower should meet the allies at
Lichfield; and on his being joined by his uncle, the Earl of
Westmoreland, with his following, Hotspur marched south. His intention
was, after effecting a junction with Glendower, to march and give
battle to the army with which Henry and the Prince of Wales were
advancing against him. At Lichfield, however, he learned that Glendower
had not completed his preparations in sufficient time to join him. He
therefore changed his direction, and made for Shrewsbury, towards which
place Glendower was marching.
Percy's array had swollen as he went south. He had been joined by a
number of archers, from Cheshire, and by other adherents of the late
king; these regarding the war as an attempt, not to place the Earl of
March upon the throne, but to overthrow the usurper who had dethroned
their king.
Oswald rode with sixty spearmen from his own estate; while his father,
with thirty men from Yardhope, rode in his company. Both regarded the
failure of Glendower to come to the place appointed as a serious
misfortune.
"Of course," Oswald said, "if he joins us at Shrewsbury, before the
king comes up, it will not matter much; and indeed would be, in one
respect, the better. Mortimer with his force will be coming on; and
though he is scarce likely to arrive at Shrewsbury in time for the
battle, for he could not leave Wales, to summon his levies to the
field, until the Prince of Wales had drawn off his force and marched to
join his father; his reinforcement, afterwards, will fill up the gaps
in our ranks, and be a great assistance, should Henry be able to rally
another army in the Midlands. He cannot hope to do so before we reach
London."
"That sounds fairly, Oswald, but 'tis always better to carry out the
plans you have made; and this absence of Glendower, at the point
arranged, to my mind augurs ill."
Henry was an able general. Believing that the Percys would make for the
Welsh border, he had posted himself at Burton-on-Trent; but as soon as
he heard that they had changed their course he started for Shrewsbury,
and marched so quickly that he arrived there before Hotspur, thus
throwing himself between the Percys and the Welsh.
Hotspur, on arriving near the town, was enraged at hearing that
Glendower had not arrived, according to his promise. The king's army
was encamped on the eastern side of the town, and the northern forces
took post a short distance away. That night Hotspur sent a document
into the royal camp, declaring Henry to be forsworn and perjured: in
the first place because he had sworn, under Holy Gospel, that he would
claim nothing but his own proper inheritance, and that Richard should
reign to the end of his life; secondly, because he had raised taxes and
other impositions, contrary to his oath, and by his own arbitrary
power; thirdly, because he had caused King Richard to be kept in the
castle of Pontefract, without meat, drink, or fire, whereof he perished
of hunger, thirst, and cold. There were other clauses, some of them
regarding his conduct to Sir Edmund Mortimer. The claims of the young
Earl of March to the throne were also set forward, and the document
ended with a defiance.
Henry simply sent, as reply, that he had no time to lose in writing;
but that he would, in the morning, prove in battle whose claims were
false and feigned.
Nevertheless, in the morning, when the two armies were arrayed in the
order of battle, the king sent the Abbot of Shrewsbury to propose an
amicable arrangement. Hotspur and Douglas, however, rejected the offer.
The trumpets then blew on either side, and the armies joined battle.
Their numbers were about equal. Each consisted of some fourteen
thousand men. Douglas and Hotspur had taken their place in the centre
of their line, having behind them a party of their best knights. These
charged with fury down upon the king's standard, which stood in the
centre of his array. Hotspur and Douglas, his former rival, were
accounted two of the best knights in Christendom, and the fury of their
charge was irresistible. The centre of the royal line was cleft in
sunder, the king's guards were at once dispersed; and, had not Henry
taken the precaution of arraying himself in plain armour, while two of
his knights had put on royal surcoats, the battle would at once have
been decided.
As it was, the two knights were both killed, as were the Earl of
Stafford and Sir Walter Blount. The royal standard was overthrown, and
the young Prince of Wales sorely wounded in the face.
He had already shown signs of great military talent; and, in spite of
his wound, now showed a courage and presence of mind that justified the
confidence his father had shown, in giving him important commands. He
rode hither and thither among the disorganized troops, saw that the gap
in the centre was again closed up, and was ever to be met where the
fight was hottest.
The impetuous charge of Hotspur and Douglas was the ruin of themselves,
and their army. Had they paused until their troops had advanced close
to the enemy, and the mounted men-at-arms were all ranged closely
behind them, and in a position to support them, the fight would
assuredly have speedily terminated in their favour; but before these
arrived the royal army had closed its ranks, and the rebel leaders,
with all their principal knights, were cut off from the main body. In
vain the men of the north tried to cut their way through the southern
ranks, and to come to the assistance of their chiefs; who, surrounded
now by the English knights and men-at-arms, were fighting desperately
against overwhelming numbers.
An hour after the battle began, many parties of Welshmen came up and
joined in the conflict; but the absence of leaders, and the loss of
their respective captains, Hotspur and Douglas, paralysed the efforts
of the Northumbrians and the Scottish contingent. Yet both fought
stoutly, and suffered very heavy losses.
For upwards of two hours Hotspur maintained the unequal fight; but at
length an arrow pierced Hotspur's visor, and he fell dead from his
horse. Further resistance was useless, and the survivors of the group,
which had been reduced to a mere handful, surrendered. For another half
hour the main battle raged; then came the news that Hotspur was killed,
and Douglas and Westmoreland prisoners; the English horsemen dashed
down on the flanks of the northern line, the spearmen pressed forward,
and the Scotch and Northumbrians broke and fled.
When the knights first charged, Oswald had been with his own following,
and a hundred other horsemen, on the left flank. As soon as he saw what
had happened, he endeavoured to ride round the right flank of the royal
army; but was met by a much larger force of men-at-arms and, after hard
fighting, driven back. Oswald himself, with Roger on one hand and his
father on the other, had several times hewed his way deep into the
enemy's squadron; and would have been cut off, had not the Yardhope
moss troopers spurred furiously in to the rescue, and brought them all
off again.
Several times the charge was renewed, but ineffectually. Half the rebel
army had been killed; and when, at last, the infantry broke, and it was
clear that there was no more to be done, Oswald, who was wounded in
half a dozen places, called the survivors of his troop to follow him;
and, with his party, rode off in good order.
A mile from the field they halted for a few minutes. Not one of them
but had been more or less severely wounded in the desperate melee. They
now took off their armour, and bandaged each other's wounds; and then,
mounting again, they rode off.
"What do you say, Father," Oswald asked; "shall we circle round, and
join Glendower? We know that his army is close at hand and, were they
to attack tonight, they should win an easy victory; for the king's men
have suffered well nigh as sorely as we have."
"No, Oswald; we have done enough. We have not been fighting for the
Earl of March. We have been simply following our feudal lord, as we
were bound to do. He is dead, and we have nought to do with this
quarrel. What is it to us whether March or Henry is king?"
They were not pursued. The greater part of the English cavalry were
exhausted by their exertions against Hotspur and Douglas. Their loss
was extremely heavy, and those in a condition to pursue took up the
comparatively easy work of cutting down the flying footmen.
The battle had been a disastrous one, for both sides. Their losses were
about even, the number who fell altogether being put at ten thousand
men. With Douglas, the Earl of Westmoreland, Baron of Kinderton, Sir
Richard Vernon, and other knights were captured. Westmoreland,
Kinderton, and Vernon were at once executed on the field of battle, as
rebels; but Douglas, as a foreign knight, was simply viewed as a
prisoner of war, and was kindly treated.
Glendower took no advantage of the opportunity for striking a blow at
the royal army; and instead of attacking it, when spent by fatigue and
encumbered with wounds, retired at once to Wales. Had he, instead of
doing this, marched to meet Sir Edmund Mortimer, who was hurrying
forward with a powerful array, the united force would have been fully
double the strength of the English army; and a great commander would,
at once, have fought a battle that would probably have altered the
whole course of events in England. Glendower's conduct here showed
that, although an able partisan leader in an irregular warfare, he had
no claim whatever to be considered a great general.
Travelling rapidly, Oswald and his party crossed the Tyne; and hearing
that the earl, now recovered from his illness, was marching down with
his army to join his son, they rode to meet him. It was a painful duty
that Oswald had to discharge, and the old earl, when he heard of the
defeat of the army, the death of the son to whom he was deeply
attached, and the capture of his brother, the Earl of Westmoreland,
gave way to despair, dismissed his army to their homes at once, and
retired, completely broken down in body and spirit, to his castle at
Warkworth.
So depressed was he that when royal messengers arrived, summoning him
in the king's name to surrender, and journey with him to London, he
instantly obeyed. When questioned by the king why he had displayed the
banner of revolt against him, he said he had done so on the urging of
Hotspur; and the king, who was always inclined to leniency, when
leniency was safe, pardoned him, and permitted him to retain his
dignity and estates.
Oswald speedily recovered from his wounds, but his father suffered
much.
"I have fought my last fight, Oswald," he said, when his son rode over
to see him, a few days after their return from the south. "I say not
that I am about to die, but only that methinks I shall never be able to
wield sword manfully again. I have talked the matter over with your
mother, and she agrees with me that it were well that I handed over
Yardhope to you. I do not mean that I should leave the old place--for
generations my fathers have lived and died here, and I would fain do
the same--but that I should hand over to you the feu, and you should
take oath for it to Northumberland, and lead its retainers in the
field. Were it that there was a chance of another raid by the Bairds, I
would still maintain my hold myself; but their power was altogether
broken, at Homildon.
"Moreover, the border Scots and we are at peace now, as we have not
been so long as memories run; seeing that we have fought side by side
against the King of England, and have suffered the same misfortune in
defeat; therefore, I can hang up my sword.
"But for you there may be more fighting. From what I know of the old
earl, I am sure that he will never forgive Hotspur's death; and
although, at present, he is reinstated in his estates, there can be no
doubt that the king will strike further blows against the power of the
Percys. Northumberland is a valiant soldier, tenacious in his purposes,
and lasting in his hatreds. Had it not been that he was utterly broken
by the news that we brought him, he would assuredly have marched down
with his army, and tried to join Glendower and Mortimer; and at least
have died fighting, the end that he would best like. I doubt not that
we shall see his banner raised again, ere long."
"I hope not, Father. The undertaking would be desperate."
"However that may be, Oswald, as I can no longer render service for the
feu, I wish to hand it over to you. 'Tis but a nominal change, but I
should like to see the estate yours. I and my fathers have held our
own, and were content to do so, adding somewhat to our means by such
plunder as we could carry off from Scotland; but you have greatly
advanced the family, and as a deputy warden of the marches, it is as
well that Yardhope should be added to your holding. I should be glad,
too, to have you known as Sir Oswald Forster of Yardhope, and not as
Sir Oswald Forster of Stoubes; and in time, if things go well with you,
I charge you to build a castle here, in place of this hold; which has
been good enough for plain men like myself and my father, but which is
no fit residence for the estate you now hold.
"I don't mean to say that I wish you always to live here, for, maybe,
Stoubes is a more pleasant abode, standing in a fair country, and with
the climate somewhat less hard than this; but I should like you to come
up here, at times, and to be known as Forster of Yardhope."
"I will carry out your wishes, Father; but it would please me more for
things to remain as they have been."
"My plan is best, lad. I shall be seneschal here for you, and little
will be changed; save that you will ride at the head of the retainers,
instead of myself. 'Tis not meet that I should hold the feu, when I can
no longer render due service.
"Your mother is wholly of opinion that I have done enough of fighting
for my life, and should trouble myself no longer with raidings and
wars. Your mother has shown sound judgment, and her advice has
generally been good; though I never fully recognized this, till I saw
what great good had come of her wishing you to learn to read and write;
for it is to that, to no small extent, that you owe your rapid rise and
present dignity."
Accordingly, a few days later, Oswald rode with his father to
Warkworth, to which castle the earl had returned after his visit to
England. At the request of John Forster he received back the feu from
him, and appointed his son to it. This done, Oswald rode to pay a visit
to his cousins; while his father returned to Yardhope, with two
retainers he had brought with him.
Oswald had not seen Adam Armstrong, since the latter had come to
Yardhope after the rescue of his daughters; and he was received by him
with the greatest warmth, as also by Allan, who, although now nearly
recovered from his wounds, had, fortunately for himself, not gained
sufficient strength to be able to accompany Douglas, either to Homildon
or in his march into England to join Percy.
The girls were out when he rode up; but, upon their return, both showed
the greatest pleasure, Jessie being the most demonstrative in her
welcome.
"It has always been a sore subject with me, Oswald," Allan said, "that
you should have ridden away in that gallant enterprise to rescue my
sisters, while I was lying here helpless; and knew, indeed, nought of
it, until after you had taken them safely to Yardhope.
"Ah! Roger, I am glad to see you again; and to thank you, too, for the
share you took in it."
"In faith, Master Allan, there are no great thanks due. It was but a
poor affair, and I had but one opportunity, and that not worth naming,
of striking a hearty blow. It seems to me that these things are never
fairly divided. Both in that adventure, and at Homildon, I scarce
struck a blow; while in that affair in Wales, and at Shrewsbury, there
was even more fighting than I cared for. I had to be nursed like a
child after the first, and I am still stiff from the wounds that I got
in the second.
"There should be reason in such matters. It vexed me sorely that we had
to ride away from the Bairds, without striking a few good blows in part
payment of their raid here."
"I am very glad that you did not have to do so," Janet said. "I think
there was quite enough excitement in it, and especially as we went down
that rope; though indeed, you are so strong that I felt that I was
quite safe with you."
Roger laughed.
"I could have carried two of you; and sooth, you did not show your
confidence at the time, for you held on so tightly to the rope that I
began to think that we should never get to the bottom."
"You told me to hold tight," Janet said, indignantly.
"Yes, yes, that was natural enough. The difficulty was, that you would
not let go, and at each knot it was as much as I could do to get you to
let it slide through your fingers."
"Very well, Master Roger. Then I shall take care not to let you lower
me down a rope again."
"I trust there will never be the need," Roger laughed; "but indeed,
although your weight was as nothing, I felt uneasy myself as we went
down; for I feared that I might grip you too tightly, seeing that I am
altogether unaccustomed to the handling of girls."
"Well, I suppose, Roger," Jessie said, "that now the wars are over, you
will be marrying and settling down."
"I don't know how that might be," Roger replied, slowly. "I do not say
that the matter has never entered my mind; and seeing that I am now
seven-and-thirty, 'tis one that should not be much longer delayed. I
mean not that I have ever thought as to who should be the woman, but I
have thought whether, when the time comes that Sir Oswald takes him a
wife, it would not be well that I should do the same.
"But I know not how I stand. The abbot of Alnwick has, so far, allowed
me to go out into the world, to unfrock myself, and to become a
man-at-arms instead of a peaceful monk; but I have not been dispensed
from my vows of celibacy and, were I to marry, the matter might be
taken up by the Church, and I might be put to many and sore penances,
and punishments, for the breach of them."
The others all laughed at the seriousness with which Roger had answered
the girl's jesting remark.
"It is a matter that I have never thought of before, Roger," Oswald
said; "but assuredly it would, as you say, be fitting and right that,
when I take a mistress, you should do so also--like master like man,
you know. Since your thoughts have been turned that way, I will see the
abbot, next time I go to Alnwick, and lay the case before him. Of a
truth you have made a most excellent man-at-arms, and 'tis equally
certain that you were an exceedingly bad monk. It would doubtless be
well that you should obtain a complete absolution from your vows; for
although I am sure that the good abbot regards you, now, as altogether
beyond his control, and would take no steps against you were he to hear
of your marriage, it might not be so in the case of his successor. He
is an old man, and the next abbot may be of a very different character;
and, looking through the books of the convent, he might say, 'What has
become of Brother Roger? I see no record of his death.'
"Then, pushing matters further, he might discover your backsliding, and
might summon you before him, and there is no saying what pains and
penalties he might inflict upon you."
Roger moved uneasily in his seat.
"Do not speak of such a thing, I pray you, master--imprisonment in a
cell, flagellation, nay, even worse might befall me at the hands of a
rigorous abbot; for in truth, nought could well be more serious than
the offences that I have already committed; and he might hold that,
even though the present abbot had been backward in taking notice of the
matter, this in no way would absolve him from doing his duty.
"And indeed, as it is, it was to Hotspur that he gave permission for me
to go out into the world. Hotspur is dead, and there is nought but my
own word in the matter."
"That, at any rate, I can put right, Roger, by going myself to the
abbot; and learning, from his lips, that he did give that permission to
Hotspur. Moreover, I received it from Hotspur's own lips. Still, it
would be useful for me to obtain, from the abbot, a letter giving full
absolution for all offences committed, up to the present time."
"That would be a great thing," Roger said eagerly. "'Tis a matter that
I have often turned over in my mind, when on a long day's ride, and I
have thought of what might happen were a new man to become abbot of
Alnwick; but such an absolution would assuredly go for much. No one can
doubt, more especially an abbot, that absolution by an abbot is most
effectual; and that the offences committed before it are wholly wiped
out, and cannot be revived."
"It would be best to obtain total absolution from your vows. Can the
abbot grant that, Roger?"
"'Tis a moot question," Roger replied. "Many affirm that he can do so,
and assuredly many abbots have exercised that power; others again hold
that, although abbots cannot lawfully do so, bishops can; while a few
maintain that even these are incapable, and that nothing short of the
absolution by the Holy Father himself is of avail. Still, whatever be
the true state of things, I should be well satisfied with an abbot's
absolution, and still more so by a bishop's; for though, were a great
prince concerned, someone interested might contest the matter, none
would be likely to do so in the case of a man-at-arms or an esquire."
"Very well, Roger. Then I will endeavour to obtain a full absolution
from your vows, by the abbot; and should he decline to give them I
will, when I next see the earl, pray him, in consideration of the good
services that you have rendered, to obtain it for you from the bishop."
"And you have not yourself thought of marrying, Oswald?" Adam Armstrong
said.
"Nay, Uncle. I came of age but a few days since, and it will be time to
think of taking me a wife four or five years hence. So, until these
troubles have wholly ceased, it were better, methinks, for a knight to
remain unwed than to take a wife, with the risk of leaving her a young
widow."
"In that case, Oswald, methinks there would be little marrying in
Northumberland; for, saving short truces, and these but ill observed,
there is ever trouble on the border."
"I speak not of that," Oswald replied. "Doubtless we shall always be
subject to border raids, on both sides, and even to serious wars
between the two countries; but I speak not of that, but of troubles in
England. 'Tis natural to fight when Englishmen and Scotchmen meet,
arrayed in battle; but when Englishmen meet Englishmen, 'tis terrible
indeed; and though the slaughter at Shrewsbury was great beyond
measure, who yet can say that the fire is extinguished? As long as one
may be called to arms again, by the earl, it is, in good sooth, better
to remain single than to have to ride to the wars, leaving the young
wife behind."
"Spoken very wisely and well, Oswald," Adam Armstrong laughed. "'Tis
well to argue as to policy; but such arguments go for nought, as soon
as a man's heart is fixed on any particular woman."
"It may be so, Uncle; but as I have never thought of marriage, I am
able to look at the matter dispassionately."
"Ah! Well, the time will come, Oswald, and you will then speedily come
to consider that there are other things than the reasonableness of
waiting to be considered.
"By the way, I trust that, should England invade Scotland again by the
valley of the Esk, you will not forget our debt to the Bairds. Though I
lamented the disaster at Homildon, where many of my friends and
acquaintances fell; I could not but feel that the death of William
Baird, and so many of his kin, was a relief, indeed, to me. I have
strengthened my hold, as you see, but I should have been ever obliged
to remain on guard. The Bairds never forgive nor forget, and the manner
in which they were tricked out of their captives must have discomposed
them sorely, and rankled in their minds; and, sooner or later, they
would have tried to wipe out the memory in blood. I wonder that they
had not done it before Homildon, but doubtless they had other matters
in hand.
"Now I can live in peace; but I, too, have not forgotten the injuries I
have suffered at their hands, and should rejoice, greatly, did I hear
that their stronghold had been levelled to the ground."
"I hope that it will be long before our kings march against Scotland
again. The ill success of all our efforts should have taught them that,
do what they will, they will never conquer Scotland; and Henry is not
likely to court another failure, such as he met with two years since.
'Tis not like the wars with the Welsh. They are a different people,
speaking in a different language, while we and the lowland Scots are of
one blood and one language--scarce a noble in Scotland who is not of
Norman descent--and a quarrel between us seems, to me, almost as bad as
a civil war."
"I hope that all will come to think so, some day, Oswald; but as long
as the two kingdoms stand apart, with various interests and different
alliances, it will hardly be likely that there will be a permanent
peace between them."
"That is so," Oswald agreed. "'Tis the part that Scotland plays by her
alliance with France, and the aid she gives her by always choosing the
time when we are fighting there to fall upon us, that keeps the trouble
afoot. If Scotland would hold herself aloof from France, I see no
reason why we should interfere with her in any way."
"No good has ever come to us from such alliance. No French army has
ever gone to Scotland, to aid her when pressed by Englishmen. France
uses Scotland but as a cat's paw, with which to annoy and weaken
England."
"That may be so; but you must remember that France does aid Scotland,
when she keeps the main army of England busily occupied."
"Yes; but she does not fight England with that intent. She simply
fights to gain back the provinces she has lost, and is ready to make
peace when it suits, wholly regardless of the interest of Scotland."
"France is never to be trusted," Oswald said. "Glendower made a treaty
with her, a few years ago, and what good has it done to him? Why, when
he needed her aid the most, she had made a truce with England. 'Tis
whispered that she made a treaty with the Percys, and what good came of
it? She is ever ready to make treaties, but never observes them, unless
it is to her plain interest to do so."
"I suppose it is with nations as it is with individuals, Oswald.
Selfishness has a large share in the management of affairs. France,
being a powerful country, is glad enough, when pressed by the English,
to have diversions made for her, whether in Scotland or Ireland; but
she has no idea of putting herself out, for the sake of her allies,
when she desires peace with England."
France had indeed been quick to take advantage of the trouble caused to
Henry by the rising in the north. While he was gathering his army,
although there was a truce with England, a French expedition, in which
many of the royal princes took part, had invaded Guienne, captured
several castles held by the English adherents, made frequent descents
on our coast, plundered every ship they met with, captured a whole
fleet of merchantmen, taken the islands of Guernsey and Jersey and,
while Henry was fighting at Shrewsbury, landed near Plymouth and
plundered the whole country round. On the news reaching them of the
result of the battle of Shrewsbury, they at once burned Plymouth to the
ground, and then, re-embarking, sailed for France. All remonstrances on
the part of Henry were met by declarations that these raids were
carried on without the knowledge of the French king, and were greatly
against his inclinations, which were wholly for the strictest
observance of the truce.
Nevertheless, a few months later, the Count of Saint Pol landed a force
in the Isle of Wight; but the people of the island rose in arms, and
defeated the invaders, who sailed hastily away.
Although, having other matters in hand, Henry professed to believe the
French king's assurances; the sailors and ship masters were in no way
content to suffer unresistingly, and the men of the seaports of the
east coast, and of Plymouth and Fowey, banded themselves together, and
carried on war on their own account; capturing several fleets of ships,
loaded with wine and other valuable commodities; burning the coast
towns; and making several raids into the interior of France, and
carrying off much plunder.
Enraged at this retaliation, the French incited the Flemings, Dutch,
and Hollanders to cruise against the English; and these, sailing in
great ships, executed so many atrocities upon English crews and ships
that, later, Henry himself sent out a fleet, under his second son, who
executed his commission, effectually destroying ships, burning towns,
and putting the people to the sword without mercy.
Thus the breaches of the peace by the French recoiled terribly upon
themselves, and they suffered vastly greater loss than they had
inflicted upon the English.
From the time when he let slip the opportunities, both of joining
Hotspur and of falling on the royal army after their victory,
Glendower's power declined. For a time he continued to capture castles,
and to carry out raids across the border, but gradually he was driven
back to his mountain strongholds. His followers lost heart. He became a
fugitive, and died on the 20th of September, 1415, in the sixty-first
year of his age, at the house of one of his married daughters, whether
at Scudamore or Mornington is unknown.
Mortimer died in Harlech Castle, during the time it was besieged by the
English. It is said that his death was caused by depression and grief
at the misfortunes that had befallen him.
The Earl of Northumberland, as John Forster had anticipated, raised the
standard of revolt in 1405, in concert with the Archbishop of York and
some other nobles; but before he could join these with his forces, they
had been forced to surrender to the king, who had marched north with a
great army. The archbishop and some of his associates were executed,
and the earl, finding himself unable to oppose so great a force, fled
into Scotland. Alnwick surrendered without resistance, and Warkworth
after a siege of eight days. Berwick was captured, and its governor and
several knights executed.
Escaping from Scotland, where he feared that he might be seized and
surrendered to England, the earl sailed to Wales, and for some little
time stayed with Glendower; then he crossed to the Continent, and in
1408 landed in Yorkshire and again raised his standard. The sheriff of
the county called out the levies, and attacked him at Branham Moor,
where the old earl was killed and his followers defeated.
In 1415 the king, being on the eve of war with France, and anxious to
obtain the goodwill and support of the Northumbrians, restored
Hotspur's son, who had been for years a fugitive in Scotland, to the
estates and honours of his father and grandfather.
Fortunate it was, for Oswald, that the capture of his fellow
conspirators caused the earl to retreat, in 1405, without giving
battle. The young knight had, at his summons, called out his tenants,
and with them and his retainers had joined Percy. As soon as the latter
decided to fly to Scotland, his force scattered, and Oswald returned
home with his following.
He took no part in the final rising. Before this took place he had
married his cousin, Janet. His father lived to be present at the
wedding, but died the following year; and, in accordance with his
wishes, Oswald took up his abode at Yardhope, which he largely added
to, and strongly fortified. Here his mother lived with him until her
death, ten years later.
Oswald offered to Roger the command of his castle at Stoubes, but the
burly squire preferred staying at Yardhope, with his master. He himself
had taken a wife, the daughter of one of the principal tenants on the
estate, on the same day that Oswald married Janet.
His uncle, after the surrender of Alnwick, lived at Yardhope until, at
the return of Hotspur's son as Earl of Northumberland, he resumed his
old position as captain of the garrison, and maintained it until his
death.