_PRINCE EDWARD._
The Demoiselle was right. The tall and kingly-looking youth now striding
up the great hall of Kenilworth, greeting first his uncle the Earl and
then the Countess his aunt, was none other than the King's eldest
son--that Prince Edward who was to play so great a part in the history
of the English nation.
At that time he was a youth of some two-and-twenty summers, and had long
been held to have arrived at man's estate. He was becoming a power in
the kingdom, and was developing an aptitude for government which
sometimes delighted and sometimes alarmed his father. He was no
favourite with his father's foreign flatterers, and was an ally of those
who upheld the gradually moulding constitution and the liberties of the
people. He had subscribed willingly to the Provisions of Oxford, and had
remonstrated hotly with his father when the latter resolved to ignore
his oath, and later on to obtain absolution from it.
Prince Edward at that time had practically embraced the cause of the
Barons, although taking no public action against his father. Henry, in
dismay, had sent him to Gascony; but the move had not been a happy one,
for it had thrown him into the society of the young De Montforts, his
cousins, who were also there, and had increased his intimacy with that
dread man their father. His appearance at Kenilworth at this juncture
was startling to all, for he was believed by the Earl and his family to
be still in Gascony, and they had not the smallest premonition of this
visit.
But the Prince had been at Kenilworth before, and was fond of the fine
old place and of the life led by its inhabitants. It was nothing very
wonderful for him to come hither, though the manner of his arrival
to-day was somewhat startling.
Standing upon the daïs, and looking round upon the assembled company
with his keen, fearless gaze, the Prince motioned to the guests to be
seated.
"I come hither, as it seems, in a good time, my friends," he said, his
face, naturally stern of aspect, softening to a slight smile; "for I see
here to-day many gathered together to whom I have a word to speak. I
have come from France in part for that very purpose; and I am glad that
not only do I find here my noble Uncle of Leicester, but others who are
bound together with him in a cause that is dear to the heart of this
nation. He has himself but lately addressed you. Methinks I can guess
full well what he has said. In sooth, I heard the final words of his
speech through yon open window as I rode into the court."
The Prince paused for a moment, his eyes sweeping round the hall, and
resting upon several faces there with a curious, searching expression.
The knights and nobles were still as death, hanging upon the words of
the Prince. After a brief pause he spoke again, very clearly and
trenchantly, and in tones that all might hear.
"My lords and gentlemen," he said, "I am not come at this moment to
England to enter into the dispute which is ever waging between the King,
my father, and those of his subjects who form the so-called Barons'
party. I have come, by my father's desire, to quell the troubles in
Wales, and thither am I bound. I have, however, made this deflection in
my line of march that I might have speech with mine uncle before I go
thither, and I am well pleased that what I have to say should be said in
the hearing of this goodly company of his adherents."
The Prince paused for a moment and then took up his discourse.
"All men here assembled know right well that I have the welfare of this
nation deeply at heart. All know that I have been a friend to the
friends of liberty, and that I have even opposed the King, my father,
when I have thought him wrong. I have observed my oath as sacred, even
to mine own hurt. I have sought in all things to do the right. If I have
failed, my youth and ignorance have been in fault, not my will. Have any
here present aught to bring to my charge?"
The answer to this strange challenge was a ringing cheer. Prince Edward
was always beloved by those who knew him personally, whilst his
dauntless courage and his high sense of honour had brought him into
esteem with all men. Every person present regarded him with admiration
and respect, and all were proud to know that he was with them at heart,
however small a share he had taken in the dispute.
"I thank you, my friends," said the Prince, as the cheers died away.
"And now, having done me thus much honour, I will ask you to have
patience whilst I speak a few more words. It is said by some, it is
feared by more, that ere the kingdom sees peace and stability once
again, the sword will be unsheathed, and Englishman will meet Englishman
upon a field of battle. I pray God that this may not be. War with a
foreign foe is a glorious thing, provided the cause be just; with those
of our own race and name it is a horror and a disgrace! But such things
have been before, and they may be again. I stand before you this day,
whilst the realm is still at peace and before that peace has been
broken, to say a thing in your ears from which I shall not go back when
the day for action comes. You know that I love liberty and hate
oppression. You know that I honour and respect the men of the realm who
have made so bold a stand for liberty. I have been one with them--I have
their cause at heart still. But listen again. I am the King's son. He is
my father; I owe him filial love and obedience. If his subjects take up
arms against him, thus breaking their oath of allegiance, I, his son,
repudiate my own oath sworn at Oxford, and I fly to his side to help him
with all the power that I have. At such a moment as that, if it come
(which God forbid), it could not be that I should stand by an idle
spectator. I must and I will join myself to one side or the other; and
here I tell all ye assembled that no power on earth shall induce me to
take up arms against my father and my King. The moment danger of
personal violence menaces him, I, his son, fly to his side, and in his
cause I fight to the last drop of my blood!"
The Prince stood perfectly still for several seconds after he had spoken
these words, his head slightly thrown back, his eyes full of fire.
Dead silence reigned in the hall. Not a man there but felt the power of
the challenge thus thrown down, and a sense of reverence for the royal
youth who had uttered it. But to many the words seemed those of evil
omen, for these men were bound heart and soul to the cause of the
Barons, and they had begun to count upon Prince Edward as their ally,
and even to whisper sometimes between themselves as to the possibility
of setting him upon the throne in his father's place.
The minute after the Prince had spoken these words his face changed. A
kindlier, softer look came into it, and turning towards his uncle and
aunt with a courteous mien, he said in an altogether different tone,--
"And now a truce to these vexed questions of state. Let us forget all
but that we are closely akin, and bound together by cords of love.--Why,
Amalric, thou hast grown marvellously since I saw thee last, and art
like enough a notable scholar by now.--Guy, I have a pair of rare
coursing dogs for thee, with which we will hunt together in Kenilworth
forests ere I move towards the Welsh marshes. I must needs wait awhile
for my forces to reach me.--Thou wilt give me house room at Kenilworth
meantime, wilt thou not, fair aunt?"
The Prince was a great favourite at Kenilworth--that was patent to all.
The Earl of Leicester was eager to do all honour to his young kinsman,
despite the bold challenge thrown down by him on his arrival.
The best rooms in the castle were put at his disposal; he was made much
of alike by uncle, aunt, and cousins. The little Demoiselle showed him
marked favour, and was ever to be seen riding beside him, or showing him
through the gay gardens, dancing a measure with him in the hall after
supper, or playing some game in one of the many long galleries.
The Prince was the most congenial of companions, and seemed to enjoy the
free life of Kenilworth not a little. After the departure of the bulk of
the guests whom the Earl had brought with him, the life within those
massive walls partook of a free and family character very pleasant to
all concerned. Sir Humphrey was pressed to remain, but he was almost the
only guest not immediately connected with Kenilworth; and Alys was
delighted to stay in this stately place, and cement her friendship with
the little Demoiselle, who had taken so great a liking for her.
The Demoiselle was, however, considerably taken up with her cousin
Prince Edward, and Alys was often left to the companionship of the
Countess. That lady was availing herself just now of Leofric's presence
in the Castle to have some of the writings of authors past and present
read aloud to her, as she sat at her embroidery or tapestry frame; and
Alys seemed to delight in being present at these readings, and taking
her part in the discussion which often arose.
The Lady Eleanora was a woman of much culture and insight, although she
was not fond of the trouble of reading for herself. She was also
familiar with the Latin tongue, and was seldom obliged to interrupt the
young scholar, or ask him to translate the passages read. Not
unfrequently Amalric was one of those who sat in the pleasant oriel room
and listened and discussed, although the sharp eyes of the Demoiselle,
who flitted all over the Castle like a veritable sprite, detected
another reason for his love of study.
"Thy sweet eyes, methinks, are the book that Amalric loves best to
read," she said to Alys one day, as the twain sought the room they
shared together. "My cousin Edward marvels that he comes not a-hunting
in the forest with the rest; but I know what it is that keeps him thus
within the walls of home."
Alys coloured crimson, and put her hand to the lips of the laughing
maid.
"Nay, nay, thou must not speak so. I am but the daughter of a humble
knight. Thy brother is a King's nephew and the son of a notable noble.
Such thoughts would never come to him. It is not well to speak so
recklessly."
But the Demoiselle only laughed, and skipped round her friend.
"I can see what I can see!" she answered merrily; and as she looked into
the face of Alys, through her long, dark lashes, she wondered what had
brought there that look of sudden pain and bewilderment. Surely she must
have known ere this that she was the light of Amalric's eyes!
However, she spoke no more upon the subject, only saying in her heart,--
"I wonder if she does think more of the gentle, chivalrous Leofric than
of the knightly Amalric! It might be so. One may never read the heart of
a maid, as I have often heard say. But I fear me that her sire would be
sore displeased at such a thing. Methinks he has noted Amalric's amorous
regards, and is well pleased thereat."
It was not altogether strange that the Demoiselle should have shrewd
notions of her own on these points, for marriages in those days were
often arranged between mere children, and her own hand might at any time
be solicited in wedlock. Association with her seniors had ripened her
powers of observation somewhat rapidly, and she had come to have a
certain belief in her own shrewdness. Moreover, her cousin Edward had
asked her about Amalric and his indifference to sport, and that had set
her sharp eyes to work to some purpose.
The Prince himself, however, was very well disposed towards learning,
and often engaged Leofric and Amalric in conversation, asking with
interest of the student life of Oxford, and professing himself well
pleased with the scholarship of his cousin.
He was much interested also in the stories of the strange life there,
and was greatly entertained by what he heard. He declared that if he had
not been born a prince, he would be an Oxford scholar; and the tale of
Hugh's kidnapping and escape was listened to with the keenest attention.
The Prince, however, had not come on a mere visit of pleasure, and
although he was detained longer than he had expected by the delay of his
forces to muster at the appointed place, he spent much time closeted
with the Earl, talking over the situation in Wales, and making plans for
the subjugation of the unruly sons of the mountains and marshes, who
were for ever causing trouble in the west.
Nevertheless he was too fond of the pleasures of the chase not to take
advantage of the forests of Kenilworth, and when news was brought, just
before his departure, that a marvellously large wild boar had been
sighted in the forest, he must needs go forth for one last expedition,
to strive to slay that monster of the woods.
The young De Montforts were ardent sportsmen, as the household roll
testifies, entries being made for the feeding of six-and-thirty dogs
belonging to Lord Guy, and again for forty-six belonging to Lord Guy and
Lord Henry. Entries also occur for the keep of their horses when stabled
at Kenilworth.
So as soon as the Prince expressed his wish for one more grand hunt in
the forest, preparations were at once commenced, and the Demoiselle
rushed eagerly to her mother to obtain permission to accompany the hunt.
"Prithee let me go, sweet mother! I do so long to see the great fierce
boar which has escaped the huntsmen these many years. Old Ralph says he
has known him ranging the woods longer than any other of his kind; but
he is so artful and so strong that he has ever eluded chase before. Now
they think they have so managed that he cannot escape them. I would be
there to see; and my cousin Edward has said that I shall not be in their
way, and that he will take care of me."
The Countess smiled as she smoothed the child's hair; but she came of a
fearless race herself, and desired that her daughter should be fearless
also.
"Thy cousin Edward will forget all when he sees the fierce creature face
to face; but if thy brother Amalric will ride at thy side and take care
of thee, I will let thee go."
Amalric eagerly assented, looking the while towards Alys, and then he
said to his sister,--
"But thou must ask thy friend and playmate to ride forth with thee to
see the sight. Methinks Mistress Alys scarce knows what a hunt in our
forest is like."
"Oh, she will come, I doubt not," answered the Demoiselle gaily; "and
Leofric shall come too, and ride with us, so that we may be well
escorted even if our servants be all lured away in the ardour of the
chase, as is ofttimes the way."
All this was speedily settled. The orders went forth for the huntsmen to
make a cordon round a certain part of the forest, enclosing the lair
wherein the great beast had been known to secrete himself for many days
past. It was to be their business to see that he did not break bounds,
and escape to the more distant portions of the forest; whilst the
Prince, at the head of his hunting-party, was to follow and track him
down, and seek at last to slay him.
It was like to be an exciting day's sport; for the fierce old boar was a
wily customer and a tough one, and he would probably give no small
trouble to dogs and men alike.
This, however, only added to the ardour of the chase, and it was with
feelings of elation and excitement that the party rode forth from the
gates of Kenilworth on that bright summer's morning, long before the dew
was off the grass--dogs baying, horses prancing, riders exchanging gay
sallies as they took the road to the forest under the direction of the
head huntsman.
For the moment the Demoiselle rode ahead with the Prince her cousin,
Lords Henry and Guy being of the group. A little behind them was
Amalric, keeping close at Alys's bridle rein; whilst Leofric rode at his
side, enjoying the exhilaration of the fresh morning air and the
excitements of the gay scene.
He knew the country in the immediate vicinity of Kenilworth pretty well
by this time; but he had not often penetrated deeply into the forest
tracks, and to-day he was greatly impressed by the grandeur of the
stately woodland trees and the beauty of the long glades of grass and
bracken, where deer browsed or scampered off at their approach, and
small game scuttled away in hot haste at sound of the horses' feet.
But though several tempting quarries crossed its path, the hunt turned
neither to right nor left, but pursued its way along a narrow track
which seemed to lead to the very heart of the forest.
They were now approaching the region where the boar was known to be
lurking, and the dogs began to whimper and show signs of uneasiness. Old
Ralph, an aged huntsman who had lost an arm, but whose sagacity and
fidelity were always to be depended upon, here rode up, and told the
Prince that the boar was in a thicket not far away. Then he coaxed the
Demoiselle and her companion to separate for a time from the rest of the
party, and put themselves under his protection; and he promised them
that if they would but obey and follow him, he would place them where
they should see the end of the hunt, without peril to themselves or
embarrassment to the huntsmen.
The child was rather loth to accede to this, but Prince Edward advised
her to do so; and finally, whilst the rest of the party rode onward
warily towards the thicket, the two girls, together with Amalric,
Leofric, and Ralph, pursued a different and circuitous path, being only
made aware by the baying of the dogs and the shouts of their men that
the quarry had been found, and that the chase had begun.
"We shall miss it all! we shall miss it all!" cried the Demoiselle
petulantly; but old Ralph assured her to the contrary.
"Bide a bit, my little lady, bide a bit, and you shall see the best of
the sport yet. Think you, fair ladies and brave gentlemen, that yon old
brute will be slain in half an hour? Nay, but the chase will be long and
sore, and many a good dog will get his death-wound ere the savage
creature falls to rise no more. Pray Heaven no hurt come to the brave
young Prince; for men have been done to death ere this by savage boars
of the forest. Yet methinks he has stout heart and cunning hand, and a
score of good riders to come to his aid."
The Demoiselle might pout and fret in impatience, but there was nothing
for it but to follow old Ralph, who could guide his horse cleverly
enough with his left hand, though helpless now to draw bow or wage war
with any fierce denizen of the wood. But he had strung to his saddle a
steel-pointed spear of wonderful sharpness and temper, and several times
he excited the admiration of his companions by the skill with which he
threw it, and brought to the ground some small beast against which he
had launched it.
Talking with old Ralph and hearing his woodland stories made time pass
fast, and the Demoiselle was quite coaxed from her fit of ill-temper ere
sudden sounds broke upon their ears telling them that they were
approaching to the hunt or the hunt to them once more.
"It is as I thought!" cried old Ralph, in some excitement.
"They have brought him to bay in the elves' hollow! I knew he would take
them there at the last. Now come quickly this way, my little lady, and
you shall see what you shall see."
They cantered their horses up the brow of a wooded knoll, and all in a
moment the scene of the hunt broke upon their eyes. The hunt indeed! for
there was the fierce old boar down in the shallow pool, with the rock
behind him, and five dogs, dead or dying, lying on the banks or in the
blood-stained water. He was there, and a handful of huntsmen in a ring
round him; but of these one was wounded, several more were weary. It
looked indeed as though the monster of the woods were getting the better
of his adversaries.
But with a sudden shout as of triumph the Prince came charging down the
hillside. He sprang from his horse and seized his spear, and before any
one could hold him back he had sprung into the water, and was facing the
furious creature, who looked ready and able to tear him in pieces with
his gleaming tusks.
"Nay, but that is madness!" cried old Ralph; "the Prince will lose his
life!" Others, it seemed, were of the same opinion; for there was a
forward dash amongst the group around, some seeking to withhold the
Prince, others to plunge their weapons in the body of the boar. A scene
of wild confusion ensued, in which more than one sharp cry of human
suffering rang out; and Amalric, unable to contain himself longer,
rushed down to join the fray, crying out in his dread,--
"The Prince! the Prince! have a care for the Prince! Pray Heaven he be
not wounded!"
The face of old Ralph was white, and working with emotion,--
"Would that I had the strength of my good right arm!" he cried; "then
would I give the monster his quietus."
"How?" asked Leofric, shaking with excitement. "Tell me, and give me thy
good spear; I trow I could wield it well!"
It seemed time indeed that something should be done, for the furious
creature was goring and fighting like a mad thing, and one blow from
those terrible tusks might mean death to man or dog. The Demoiselle had
covered her face, and was shrieking with fear; whilst Alys, white and
wild-eyed, felt as though turned into stone.
Eagerly did old Ralph talk to Leofric, giving him the pointed spear and
filling his ears with directions and cautions. Thus fortified did
Leofric creep quietly down the little bluff on which they were standing,
fetching a circuit, and approaching to the scene of the fray from behind
the rock, against which the boar had planted himself. With snake-like
movement did he work himself upon the rock, the sound of his approach
being lost in the hideous din of the fight; then suddenly springing to
his feet, he drove the sharp-headed spear into the shoulder of the
savage monster, who turned suddenly upon his new assailant with an
impulse of awful and ungovernable fury, and in making a furious lunge at
him with his bloody tusks, fell helplessly into the crimson water and
expired without a groan.
"By the arm of St. James," cried Henry de Montfort, using a favourite
expression of his father's, "that was well and bravely done!"
Next moment Leofric felt his hand taken by that of the Prince, who said
in a low voice,--
"Leofric Wyvill! methinks that thou hast saved the life of the King's
son this day. Thou shalt not find him ungrateful if the occasion when he
can serve thee shall arise."