A dead hush fell; but when the dolorous day
Grew drearier toward twilight falling, came
A bitter wind, clear from the North, and blew
The mist aside.
--TENNYSON.
And Sir Henry Clifford? Still he was Hal of Derwentdale, for the
perilous usurper, Sir Richard Nevil, was known to be continually with
Warwick, and Musgrave was convinced that the concealment was safest.
The youth then remained with the Peelholm men, and became a good deal
more practised in warlike affairs, and accustomed to campaigning, during
the three months when Oxford was watching the eastern coast. On this
Easter night he lay down on the hill-side with Watch beside him, his
shepherd’s plaid round him, his heart rising as he thought himself
near upon gaining fame and honour wherewith to win his early love, and
winning victory and safety for his beloved King, or rather his hermit.
For as his hermit did that mild unearthly face always come before him.
He could not think of it wearing that golden crown, which seemed alien
to it, but rather, as he lay on his back, after his old habit looking
up at the stars, either he saw and recognised the Northern Crown, or his
dazed and sleepy fancy wove a radiant coronet of stars above that meek
countenance that he knew and loved so well; and as at intervals the
cannon boomed and wakened him, he looked on at the bright Northern Cross
and dreamily linked together the cross and crown.
Easter Sunday morning came dawning, but no one looked to see the sun
dance, even if the morning had not been dull and grey, a thick fog
covering everything; but through it came a dull and heavy sound, and
the clang of armour. Even by their own force the radiant star of the De
Veres could hardly be seen on the banner, as the Earl of Oxford rode up
and down, putting his men in battle array. Hal was on foot as an archer,
meaning to deserve the spurs that he had not yet worn. The hosts were
close to one another, and at first only the continual rain of arrows
darkened the air; but as the sun rose and the two armies saw one
another, Oxford’s star was to be seen carried into the very midst of the
opposing force under Lord Hastings. On, on, with cries of victory, the
knights rode, the archers ran across the heath carrying all before them,
never doubting that the day was theirs, but not knowing where they were
till trumpets sounded, halt was called, and they were drawn up together,
as best they might, round their leading star. But as they advanced,
behold there was an unexpected shout of treason. Arrows came thickly
on them, men-at-arms bearing Warwick’s ragged staff came thundering
headlong upon them. ‘Treason, treason,’ echoed on all sides, and with
that sound in his ears Harry Clifford was cut down, and fell under a
huge horse and man, and lay senseless under a gorse-bush.
He knew no more but that horses and men seemed for ever trampling over
him and treading him down, and then all was lost to him--for how long he
knew not, but for one second he was roused so far as to hear a furious
growling and barking of Watch, but with dazed senses he thought it
was over the sheep, tried to raise himself, could not, thought himself
dying, and sank back again.
The next thing he knew was ‘Here, Master Lorimer, you know this gear
better than I; unfasten this buff coat. There, he can breathe. Drink
this, my lad.’
It was the Prioress’s voice! He felt a jolt as of a waggon, and opened
his eyes. It was dark, but he knew he was under the tilt of Lorimer’s
waggon, which was moving on. The Prioress was kneeling over him on one
side, Lorimer on the other, and his head was on a soft lap--nay, a warm
tear dropped on his face, a sweet though stifled voice said, ‘Is he
truly better?’
Then came sounds of ‘hushing,’ yet of reassurance; and when there was a
halt, and clearer consciousness began to revive, while kind hands were
busy about him, and a cordial was poured down his throat, by the light
of a lantern cautiously shown, Hal found speech to say, as he felt a
long soft tongue on his face, ‘Watch, Watch, is it thou, man?’
‘Ay, Watch it is,’ said the Prioress. ‘Well may you thank him! It is to
him you owe all, and to my good Florimond.’
‘But what--how--where am I?’ asked Hal, trying to look round, but
feeling sharp thrills and shoots of pain at every motion.
‘Lie still till they bring their bandages, and I will tell you. Gently,
Nan, gently--thy sobs shake him!’ But, as he managed to hold and press
Anne’s hand, the Prioress went on, ‘You are in good Lorimer’s warehouse.
Safer thus, though it is too odorous, for the men of York do not respect
sanctuary in the hour of victory.’
The word roused Hal further. ‘The victory was ours!’ he said. ‘We had
driven Hastings’ banner off the field! Say, was there a cry of treason?’
‘Even so, my son. So far as Master Lorimer understands, Lord Oxford’s
banner of the beaming star was mistaken for the sun of York, and the men
of Warwick turned on you as you came back from the chase, but all was
utter confusion. No one knows who was staunch and who not, and the
fields and lanes are full of blood and slaughtered men; and Edward’s
royal banner is set up on the market cross, and trumpets were sounding
round it. And here come Master Lorimer and the goodwife to bind these
wounds.’
‘But Sir Giles Musgrave?’ still asked Hal.
‘Belike fled with Lord Oxford and his men, who all made off at the cry
of treason,’ was the answer.
Lorimer returned with his wife and various appliances, and likewise with
fresh tidings. There was no doubt that the brothers Warwick and Montagu
had been slain. They had been found--Warwick under a hedge impeded by
his heavy armour, and Montagu on the field itself. Each body had been
thrown over a horse, and shown at the market cross; and they would be
carried to London on the morrow. ‘And so end,’ said Lorimer, ‘two brave
and open-handed gentlemen as ever lived, with whom I have had many
friendly dealings.’
One thing more Hal longed to hear--namely, how he had been saved. He
remembered that Watch had come back to him with Florimond the evening
before. They had probably been hunting together, and the hound, who had
always been very fond of him on the journey, had accompanied Watch to
his side before going back to his chain in Barnet; but he had lost sight
of them in the morning, and regretted that he could not find Watch to
provide for his safety. He knew, he said, by the presence of Florimond,
who must be in Barnet. And he also had a dim recollection of being
licked by Watch’s tongue as he lay, and likewise of hearing a furious
barking, yelling and growling, whether of one or both dogs he was not
sure.
It seemed that towards the evening, when the battle-cries had grown
fainter, and the sun was going down, Florimond had burst in on his
mistress, panting and blood-stained--but not with his own blood, as was
soon ascertained--and made vehement demonstrations by which, as a true
dog-lover, the Prioress perceived that he wanted her to follow him. And
Anne, who thought she saw a piece of Hal’s plaid caught in his collar,
was ‘neither to have nor to hold,’ as the Mother said, till Master
Lorimer was found, and entreated to follow the hound, ay, and to take
them with him. He demurred much as to their safety, but the Prioress
declared that it was the part of the religious to take care of the
wounded, and not inconsistent with her vow. See the Sisters of St.
Katharine’s of the Tower! And though her interpretation was a broad one,
and would have shocked alike her own Abbess and her of the Minoresses,
he was fain to accept it in such a cause; but he commanded his waggoners
to bring the wain in the rear, both as an excuse, and a possible
protection for the ladies, and, it might be, a conveyance for the
wounded.
Florimond, who had sprung about, barked, fawned and made entreating
sounds all this time (longer in narrative than in reality) led them, not
through the central field of slaughter, but somewhat to the left, among
the heath--where, in fact, Oxford had lost his way in the fog, and his
own allies had charged him, but had not followed far beyond the place
of Hal’s fall, discovering the fatal error that spread confusion through
their ranks, where everyone distrusted his fellow leader.
There, after a weary and perilous way, diversified by the horrid shouts
of plunderers of the slain, happily not near at hand, and when Lorimer,
but for the ladies, would have given up the quest as useless, they were
greeted by Watch’s bark, and found him lying with his fine head alert
and ready over his senseless master.
There was no doubt but that the two good creatures, both powerful and
formidable animals, must have saved him from the spoilers, and then been
sagacious enough to let the hound go down to fetch assistance while the
sheep-dog remained as his master’s faithful guardian. How honoured and
caressed they were can hardly be described, but all will know.
The joy and gratitude of knowing of Anne’s devotion, and the pleasure of
his good dog’s faithfulness, helped Hal through the painful process
of having his hurts dealt with. Surgeons, even barbers, were fully
occupied, and Lorimer did not wish to have it known that a Lancastrian
was in his house. His wife and her old nurse, as well as the Prioress,
had some knowledge of simple practical surgery; and Hal’s disasters
proved to be a severe cut on the head, a slash on the shoulder, various
bruises, and a broken rib and thigh-bone, all which were within their
capabilities, with assistance from the master’s stronger hand. No one
could tell whether the savage nature of the York brothers might not
slake their revenge in a general massacre of their antagonists; so
Lorimer caused Hal’s bed to be made in the waggon in the warehouse,
where he was safe from detection until the victorious army should have
quitted Barnet.