Londesborough was a beautiful place in the county of York, about sixteen
miles from York city. Lord de Vesci had other and larger estates, but
as his dignity of baron was limited to male heirs, his daughter could
only inherit two of his possessions, and Londesborough was one of them,
consequently young Henry de Clifford was its next heir in right of his
mother. He knew this, yet so well had his mind been trained by that
excellent parent, that he was content to live in a shepherd's cot
outside its gates with Robin and Maud, whom he soon became accustomed to
call father and mother. As they had come from Skipton, and brought with
them two little children of their own, the people of the hamlet where
they were now settled, did not know but that Henry was their eldest son,
and the little ones were so young that they were easily taught to
believe he was their brother. He wore a shepherd's frock of grey serge,
fastened round the waist by a leather belt, with half-boots made of
untanned deer-skin; and every morning he went out with his foster-father
to mind the flocks, taking with him, in a little wallet slung over his
shoulder, his mid-day meal, which he would eat as he sat on some grassy
mound, or by the side of a rivulet, from which he could fill his horn
cup with water. How different was this from the costly banquet in his
father's hall, where he had servants to attend upon him, and drank out
of a goblet of gold or silver. Yet he did not repine, but performed his
duties with a willing spirit, and instead of thinking his lot was a hard
one, he often reflected how much worse it would have been if he had
fallen into the hands of his father's foes; still he could not help
feeling melancholy at times, for he longed to see his dear mother again,
and more than two months had passed, yet she came not. There was no
occasion now to stain his hands and face, for the sun had embrowned them
quite enough, and his long curls had been suffered to grow again, for
Maud said it was a great pity to cut them off, and she was proud of
hearing her neighbours say what nice hair her boy had got, and she would
answer--
"Ay, my goodman tells me I take over much pride in Henry's curly locks,
but he is my eldest, and sure it is natural for a mother to take
pleasure in the beauty of her child, and, though I say it, he is as
pretty a boy, and as good too, as any in the village."
One evening Henry had brought home the sheep, and having seen them safe
in the fold, was sitting on the ground outside the cottage door eating
his supper. One arm rested on the neck of a large dog, that was idly
reposing by his side, as if tired with the toils of the day, for it was
the shepherd's dog, and its duty was to guard the flocks as they were
feeding in the fields, and warn his master if any danger seemed near
them. At length the boy arose and walked slowly towards the entrance of
a fair domain, where he stood gazing with tearful eyes through a long
vista of tall oaks, on a noble mansion standing on the summit of a
verdant slope, and his young heart was oppressed with unusual sadness as
he looked wistfully on this his rightful home. He had stood there for
some time when his foster-father came up and laid his hand kindly on his
shoulder.
"Come, my boy, you are giving way to idle regrets. I do not like to see
you here, Henry, for I know your thoughts are not what they should be."
"I know it is wrong, father, but I cannot help it sometimes."
"Whenever this feeling comes over you, Henry, try to drive it from you,
and think of the past as if it had been but a dream. A dark prison, my
boy, would have been a worse dwelling-place than a thatched cottage.
Think of that, and be content."
"Indeed I am content, father, for you are very kind to me. But when, oh
when, do you think my own dear mother will come?"
"Nay, I cannot tell; but let us hope it will not be, long first. And
now, Henry, come home and go to your bed, for the sun is set, and you
must be up betimes. See, here is Lion coming to meet us. Poor Lion! he
does not like to lose sight of his master."
Henry, who had dried his tears and was smiling again, sprang forward to
caress the faithful dog, who frolicked round him as if he thought he had
been long away, and was rejoiced at his return. Maud had put aside her
spinning-wheel, for it was nearly dark; the two younger children were
already asleep, and Henry was about to retire to rest, when the door was
opened softly, and there entered one whose form was muffled in a long
dark cloak, the hood of which was drawn over the head to conceal the
face from view. Robin and Maud trembled with fear as the idea struck
them both that the boy's retreat had been discovered; but Henry, with
the true instinct of affection, uttered the word "mother!" and rushed
into the arms of the mysterious visitant, who threw off her disguise,
and clasped her boy fondly to her bosom.
"My honoured lady!" exclaimed Maud, as she recognised the beautiful, but
pale and careworn countenance of her mistress.
"Hush! Maud, hush!" said the lady; "are you sure we are quite safe?"
"Yes, madam, we are safe," answered Robin, "there is no one within
hearing, and I will fasten the door, so that none shall enter without
giving notice."
And so saying he proceeded to make all secure, whilst Henry laughed and
wept by turns in the excess of his joy, and, amidst kisses and embraces,
asked many questions about his brother and sister.
"I hope they are both well, my darling. Elizabeth I have seen lately,
but I have not heard of Richard since his arrival in the Low Countries.
Nevertheless, I trust he is safe and well. But how fares it with you,
my best and dearest? Can you make yourself happy in this new life?"
"As happy as I can be away from you, dear mother. I do not mind the
sort of life I lead so much as I thought I should; for I am getting used
to it now."
"In truth he takes to it bravely, my lady," said Robin. "I only hope my
own lad will be as good a shepherd as Henry, when he is as old."
Lady Margaret sighed deeply, for although the worthy man did not mean to
give her pain, but rather pleasure, by this rough applause, she could
not help feeling how very low the fortunes of De Clifford's son had
fallen. But she did not make this thought apparent, she folded him
closer to her heart, and whispered words of encouragement and praise.
"You have shown yourself a true hero, Henry, for nothing is more noble
than to bear misfortune nobly, and this you have done. I am proud of my
son, and should you ever be permitted by Providence to take your own
name again, you will be doubly worthy of it."
"And that time will come, my lady," said Maud, fervently, "as sure as
there are stars in yonder heavens!"
"We will hope so, Maud. And how shall I thank you for the care you have
taken of my treasure? he looks well; the bloom of health is on his
cheek. I would fain give you some token of my gratitude, if I durst do
so."
"Better not, my lady," said Robin in his blunt way. "Besides it is for
us, not you, lady, to talk of gratitude, since we owe all that we
possess to your goodness. Even this cottage we live in, was it not your
gift? It would be hard, then, if your child should meet with aught but
kindness beneath its roof."
Lady Clifford did not stay long, fearing that her absence from her own
abode might be discovered, and lead to suspicion; but she said she was
going to stay some time at Londesborough, and should pay a visit to the
cottage whenever she saw an opportunity of doing so without risk. For a
few weeks she often came at nightfall without attracting the notice of
the villagers; but at length she was obliged to leave Londesborough, and
Henry saw her no more for a very long while. By degrees, however, he
grew reconciled to her absence, and, as time wore on, the events of his
early life were less distinctly remembered, until he could almost
believe that his former grandeur had never been a reality. He often
thought of his brother, and wondered where he was, and whether he was
living like a peasant too, for he did not know till long afterwards that
poor little Richard died soon after he was sent out of England.
When Henry was about fourteen, the death of his grandfather, Lord de
Vesci, brought new dangers upon him, for a rumour got spread abroad that
he was still live and in England, and, as he was the rightful heir to
all the estates as well as the honours of the Bromfletes, the king's
emissaries began to inquire into the matter, and make search in
different parts of the country, where it was supposed he might be
concealed. This alarming intelligence was first conveyed to his mother
by the faithful Rolf, who, you remember, was one of the old Lord de
Vesci's people, and devotedly attached to Lady Clifford. But she was
not Lady Clifford now, for she was married to a noble knight named Sir
Lancelot Threlkeld, whose domain was in the mountainous part of
Cumberland, and was called Threlkeld. He was a kind-hearted, noble
gentleman, and, as he had not taken an active part in the wars, he had
been left in possession of his lands and dignities, and was living
quietly on his own estate, when he offered his hand to the widowed Lady
Clifford, who consented to become his wife because she knew he would be
a friend to her dear boy, and they were married soon after the lady went
away from Londesborough.
As soon as they heard that King Edward had instituted a search for the
young heir, Sir Lancelot proposed to his lady to remove Robin the
shepherd, with all his family, including Henry, from Londesborough to
the hills of Cumberland, and settle them as near as possible to
Threlkeld.
Robin and Maud had now five children of their own, who all looked up to
Henry as their elder brother, and, as he was always kind and
good-natured amongst them, treating them exactly as if they had been his
brothers and sisters, they were very fond of him, nor did they ever
suppose he was not the child of their parents. It was the beautiful
summer-time when Sir Lancelot Threlkeld paid a visit to Londesborough,
and sent for Robin, to whom he told what had happened, and explained his
designs.
"The boy is no longer safe here," he said; "his life may depend on his
immediate removal, but it must be very cautiously done. I shall tell
the people here that we have increased our flocks at Threlkeld so that
we want more shepherds there, and have fixed on Robin, whose three sons,
being active lads, will be very useful. What think you of this plan?"
"It is good," replied the shepherd. "But you will see Henry yourself,
my noble lord?" (It was thus he styled his lady's husband, whose
servant he now deemed himself to be.)
"No, I think not," returned the knight; "it would please me much, but it
will be better for him that I should not seem to think about him at all.
There may be spies on the watch to take note of my movements, and if
only the shadow of a suspicion should be awakened, all would be lost.
We should have no power to save him then. How soon can you be ready to
commence the journey?"
"To-morrow if you will, my lord."
"To-morrow let it be then, and may heaven send us a safe deliverance
from this peril!"
"Amen!" responded the peasant, devoutly crossing himself. "It will be a
happy day for me, and my dame too, should we live to see our Henry
restored to his rights."
The worthy knight shook his head as he replied, "I fear me there is but
small chance of that. The king is a young man; he is popular, and has
sons to succeed him, and so long as there is one of the line of York to
hold the sceptre of England, the house of De Clifford will be under a
ban."
"Time, with the aid of Providence, works wonders, my lord."
"True, good Robin, true; but there is not much at present to encourage
such hopes, and I would not have you speak thus to Henry."
"There would be little wisdom, indeed, in that," replied Robin smiling.
"Shall I tell him I have seen you, my lord?"
"Yes, surely--and you can tell him, also, why I thought it prudent to
depart without seeing him, for I would not have him think me careless or
unkind."
He then gave Robin money for his journey, and when all was arranged the
good man took his leave, and Sir Lancelot Threlkeld departed from
Londesborough that same day.
It was joyful news for Henry to hear that he was going to live so near
to his own dear mother again. In the gladness of his heart he was
almost inclined to regard his enemies in the light of friends, since
they had been the cause of this happy change. Maud was very glad too,
for anything that gave pleasure to Henry was always pleasing to her,
besides which she was devotedly attached to Lady Margaret, and rejoiced
in the thought of being settled in a place where she would see her more
frequently than she had done of late, and as for the children, they were
almost out of their wits with delight, for young folks were quite as
fond of novelty four hundred years ago as they are now.
The journey was a long and a rough one, as travellers of a humble class
could not get on very fast in those days when there were no roads, and
it was often a difficult matter to make their way through forests, or
over wide tracts of waste land where the ground was rugged, uneven, and
covered with brushwood. The vast forests which then existed in the
north of England, have long since been cleared away, and wild trackless
heaths have been converted into parks, meadows, and corn-fields. Maud
and the two girls rode in a waggon wherein they had placed some wooden
stools, several baskets of provision, and all their clothing, with such
other things as they wished to take with them. Robin drove, while Henry
and the other boys took it in turns to ride one at a time, the rest
walking by the side of the clumsy vehicle, which could only proceed at a
foot pace, so that their progress was but slow. They had taken care to
put plenty of rushes in the waggon, so that some of them might sleep
comfortably in it at night, while Robin and the elder lads, as it was
summer-time, and warm, dry weather, could rest under the trees, wrapped
in their shepherd's cloaks. In this manner they proceeded, sometimes
halting at the villages to get a fresh supply of food and water, until
at length they reached their destination, a small farm in a beautiful
and romantic part of Cumberland, close to the borders of Scotland, but
still within the domain of Sir Lancelot Threlkeld, which extended far
and wide. You may be sure it was not long before our hero was again
clasped to the heart of his fond mother, who, however, as before, only
visited him in secret and under cover of the night. She was sometimes
accompanied by Sir Lancelot, who was a kind-hearted man, and had always
been well disposed towards the noble youth whom he delighted to call his
son when they were alone, but at all other times he only noticed him as
one of his shepherds.
Much of Henry's time was spent in solitude, as he watched his flocks
feeding on the mountains, and being of a meditative disposition, he
thought much and deeply of the beautiful works of the Great Creator that
he beheld around him. Though wholly unlettered, though he could neither
read nor write, he possessed a native nobleness of mind that raised him
far above the class to which he seemingly belonged; yet his manners were
plain and simple, nor did the knowledge of his high birth ever lead him
to assume an air of superiority over the peasants with whom he was
associated. In his solitary musings he thought so much about the
wonders of the earth, the sea, and the skies, that he became quite a
natural philosopher; but his chief delight was in the contemplation of
the heavenly bodies, and he would watch the moon in her course, or gaze
for hours on the myriads of stars that shone in the blue vault above
him, until he acquired an ardent taste for the sublime study of
astronomy, in which he indulged to the full at a later period of his
existence.
And so the time passed on, bringing no change to Henry de Clifford, save
the gradual increase of years, that transformed the slight delicate
youth into the well-grown, powerful man, whose fine form, handsome face,
and gentle manners won the hearts of the rustic maidens, and matrons
too, of Threlkeld.
His foster-brothers and sisters, one by one, married amongst the
villagers belonging to Sir Lancelot's estate, so that, at last, Henry
was left alone with the worthy pair he called his father and mother.
In the meanwhile many stirring events were passing in England, though
little was heard about them in the remote and quiet regions of
Threlkeld. The wars of the Roses had never wholly ceased. There had
been some peaceful intervals, but they had not lasted for long together,
as Queen Margaret, assisted by the great Earl of Warwick, the most
powerful baron in the kingdom, had resolved never to give up the cause
so long as the least chance remained of replacing her husband on the
throne, and securing the right of succession to her son. The Earl of
Warwick had at first fought for the Duke of York, and it was through his
power and influence that Edward the Fourth was made king, for he had
more men and more money at his command than any other nobleman in the
country. However, King Edward was unwise enough to quarrel with this
high and mighty earl, who thereupon went over to the queen's party, and
actually restored the poor, weak-minded King Henry the Sixth to the
throne; on which Edward went over to Holland to get assistance of the
Duke of Burgundy, his brother-in-law, who placed an army of foreigners
at his command, with which he came back to England, and being joined by
many of his partisans, a great battle was fought, in which the Earl of
Warwick was slain. This event took place exactly ten years after the
battle of Towton, where Lord Clifford fell. King Henry was then sent
back a prisoner to the Tower, where he soon died; but Queen Margaret,
who had just arrived from France, with Prince Edward, her son, who was
then seventeen years old, resolved for his sake to make one more effort;
but it would have been better for him and for her too, if they had given
up this hopeless cause, and gone back to the court of her father, who
was King of Anjou in France, for the battle was lost, the young prince
was made prisoner, and being taken into the royal tent, the king spoke
to him so rudely that he was provoked to answer with more spirit than he
had been expected, on which some of the nobles who were standing by
fiercely drew their daggers and killed him on the spot.
The unhappy queen having no one to care for, gave up the contest, and
went to end her days in France, and for thirteen years afterwards there
was no more open warfare in England; but there were still two parties,
so that the White and the Red Rose were badges of enmity as before, for
it was natural enough that all who, like the De Cliffords, had suffered
from the success of the Yorkists, should wish to see the line of
Lancaster restored. The existing heir of that family was Henry, Earl of
Richmond, who was an exile in France, when Edward the Fourth died,
leaving two sons, the eldest only eleven years of age. These were the
two little princes that were sent to the Tower by their cruel, ambitious
uncle, Richard the Third, who contrived that they should both die there,
that he might wear the crown himself; but he had reigned very little
more than two years when some of the great nobles, disgusted by his
tyranny, sent word to the Earl of Richmond that, if he came to England,
with a view to dethrone the usurper, he would find plenty of friends
ready to assist him. The earl was soon here at the head of a large
army, and met King Richard at Bosworth in Leicestershire, where the
great battle was fought that put an end to the War of the Roses and to
the life of Richard the Third.
You remember that when Edward the Fourth deprived the Cliffords of their
lands and honours, the great manor of Skipton, with its fine old castle,
was given to Sir William Stanley. This brave knight had remained
faithful to King Edward, but he was amongst those who turned against
Richard; and it was he who, when the fight was over and the victory won,
took up the crown, which it appears, Richard had worn on the field, and
placed it on Richmond's head, calling out aloud, "Long live King Henry
the Seventh!" And this cry passed from one to another till the air
resounded with the shouts of the victors, who thus proclaimed the new
sovereign on the battle plain. When this momentous event took place
Henry de Clifford was about thirty years of age. He had now dwelt for
sixteen years amongst the mountains of Cumberland, and one thing only
had occurred to disturb the even tenor of his peaceful life.
A gentleman of noble family and good estate, Sir John Saint John, of
Bletso, in Bedfordshire, came on a visit to Threlkeld with his daughter
Anne, a fair girl in the bloom of youth and beauty. Henry, who had seen
her riding out over the hills with her father and Sir Lancelot, thought
he had never beheld so lovely a maiden; and he was right, for in all
England there were few to compare with Anne of Bletso. She had seen him
too, and had observed how far superior he was in appearance to other
rustic swains, for the shepherd's frock of homely grey could not conceal
the graces of his person, which also attracted the notice of the worthy
knight, her father, who, on one occasion, said to Sir Lancelot--
"That is a well-favoured youth of yours; I have seen a face like his
before, but I cannot bethink me where or when, yet it is no common face
either."
"He is the son of my chief shepherd," replied Sir Lancelot; "he was
always a good-looking lad, and is an excellent servant."
Then, anxious to divert Sir John's attention from Henry, whose handsome
features he feared might remind the knight of the late Lord Clifford,
whom his son strongly resembled, he began to talk of other things. But
Henry did not forget the sweet face of the young lady, or the beautiful
eyes he had seen fixed intently upon him, eyes as bright as the stars he
was so fond of gazing upon, and he could not help feeling sad to think
the fates had placed him in a sphere so much beneath her.
It chanced one day as he watched his flocks feeding on the mountains, he
saw the damsel on her white palfrey, attended by a single page, riding
direct towards the spot where he was reclining in profound meditation,
beneath the spreading branches of a luxuriant oak, that shielded him
from the noonday sun. He rose at her approach, and took off his cap,
displaying a rich profusion of nut-brown hair as he gracefully made his
obeisance, supposing she would pass by with merely a slight notice,
therefore he blushed with surprise and pleasure when she stopped her
horse, and said in the sweetest tone imaginable--
"Good day, shepherd Henry; I come to ask a service of you."
"If I can render you service, lady, you may command me, even to the
peril of my life."
"Nay, I would not have you peril your life for my behoof," she replied,
with a smile.
"In riding over the hills this morning, I have lost a golden clasp, with
three diamonds, that fastened my gorget, and I would ask you, should you
meet with such a bauble in your ramblings, to carry it to the Lady
Margaret of Threlkeld, who will see that it is restored to me."
"Lady I will not fail to do your bidding. Few persons traverse those
hills, and I doubt not the jewel may be recovered."
"Thanks, gentle shepherd. We leave Threlkeld this day; so farewell, and
be assured your courtesy will not be forgotten by Anne of Bletso."
That night, by moonlight, Henry wandered over the hills in search of the
lost treasure, and for many hours he sought in vain; but at length, oh
joyful sight! he saw the diamonds glittering in the moonbeams, at the
bottom of a deep ravine, and without a moment's hesitation he commenced
the dangerous descent. A single false step and he would have been
dashed to pieces against the sharp points of the craggy rock, but with a
steady hand and firm foot he gained the depth in safety, seized the
prize; then, with great difficulty, and not without a few wounds and
bruises, he climbed up again, and stood triumphant on the brink of a
really frightful precipice. If the young lady had known where her clasp
was to be found, she certainly would not have asked him to look for it;
but he was himself well pleased to have encountered any danger for her
sake, and in thoughtful mood he returned to the cottage, and repaired to
his humble couch to dream of Anne Saint John.
"Why, Henry, what hast thee been doing to face and hands, boy?" said
Robin the next morning.
"I stumbled into a brake, father," replied Henry, laughing, "and got a
few scratches, that's all."
"Dear heart, but they are grievous hurts!" exclaimed Maud, "you must let
me put a balsam to them, Henry."
"As you will, mother, but it is hardly worth while for so light a
matter."
The balsam, however, was applied, and the wounds were speedily healed,
but Henry did not recover his wonted peace of mind. As Lord Clifford he
might have won the hand of the high-born maiden on whom his thoughts now
constantly dwelt; but, as Henry the Shepherd, even to speak to her was
presumption. Never had he lamented over his fallen fortunes as he did
now; but he buried his regrets in his own bosom, nor did he let it
appear, either by word or look, that he was less contented than he was
before.
Lady Margaret had taken care of the clasp, but she told him the country
was again threatened with warfare, so that it would not be safe to
entrust anything of value to the hands of a messenger; therefore she
would keep it till Sir Lancelot went to Bletso, which he intended to do
ere long. She did not tell him that Sir John Saint John had come to
Threlkeld to give secret information to herself and her husband of the
project contemplated by the chief nobles, to depose King Richard and
place the Earl of Richmond on the throne. She was afraid of exciting
hopes that might end in disappointment, yet she was herself sanguine as
to the possibility of De Clifford being restored to his rights if the
crown should be won by a prince of the House of Lancaster. Sir John
took great interest in the cause, being himself related in a distant
degree to Henry Earl of Richmond; therefore the Saint John's of Bletso
had royal blood in their veins.
It was the close of the autumn, in the year 1485, when Lady Margaret
came one evening to Robin's cottage, not secretly as heretofore, not in
fear and trembling lest it should be known for whom her visit was
intended, but openly to greet her son as De Clifford's heir. Little did
he guess the purport of her coming as he returned her fond embrace, but
he saw that her countenance was radiant with happiness, and he asked if
Sir Lancelot had returned.
"No, my son, he is in London; and, Henry, I have important news to tell.
Have you courage to hear it?"
"Why should I need courage, dear mother? You do not look as if you had
evil tidings to communicate."
"The tidings I bring are not evil; but it requires fortitude to bear a
great joy as well as a great sorrow, when it comes upon us
unexpectedly."
Henry's heart began to beat more quickly, his face flushed, and his
voice trembled as he asked--
"Mother, what has happened? Tell me at once, I beseech you."
"I told you, Henry, that we were looking for a renewal of the war."
"Yes, you told me so. Has it begun again?"
"It has begun and ended, I hope, for ever. There has been a battle;
King Richard is killed, and a prince of the House of Lancaster now sits
on the throne."
Henry started up from his seat, his eyes fixed on Lady Margaret's face
in an agony of suspense.
"And I, mother, what have I to do with this?"
"Much, my beloved son. Henry the Seventh is a just and noble prince,
and your father, my husband, is at his court even now."
"Then, am I--am I--" he could not give utterance to what he wished to
say, but Lady Margaret knew what he would ask, and replied--
"Yes, my Henry, it is even so. You are now Lord Clifford before all the
world, and I, your mother, may once more fearlessly acknowledge my son."
Henry fell on his knees, and raised his clasped hands and streaming eyes
in gratitude to heaven. He could scarcely realise this great, this
overwhelming happiness. Again and again he embraced that tender mother,
who, for so many years had watched over him like a guardian angel, and
smoothed the rugged path he had been forced to tread.
When the first emotions of joy had in some degree subsided, and he was
calm enough to listen to the account of how this happy change had been
brought about, Lady Margaret told him that the new sovereign,
immediately on his accession, had declared his intention of restoring to
their rights all those nobles who had been dispossessed of their lands
and titles by Edward the Fourth; and that Sir Lancelot Threlkeld, on
hearing this, had proceeded to the court, with Sir John Saint John of
Bletso, in order to make known to the king that the heir of the late
Lord Clifford was still in existence. She said she had that morning
received intelligence from Sir Lancelot that the royal decree was
already passed for the restoration of Clifford's son to all his father's
lands and dignities, and it was with the utmost surprise Henry now
learned, for the first time, how immense were the possessions to which
he was entitled; for, besides the great estates of Skipton and Brougham,
his inheritance comprised the castles, manors, and lordships of Appleby,
Pendragon, Brough, and Mallerstane Chase in Westmoreland; Barden Tower,
Copley Feld, and other manors in Yorkshire; with lands and castles in
Cumberland, Northumberland, Derbyshire, Worcestershire and Surrey.
Clifford's Inn, which is now used as law offices and chambers, in Fleet
Street, was then a nobleman's mansion with beautiful gardens; and this
was Lord Clifford's residence in London.
No wonder the humble shepherd should be dazzled and astonished to find
himself all at once the lord of those vast domains; and not only these,
but all the Bromflete estates, that had belonged to Lord de Vesci, his
grandfather, were now his by right of inheritance. It would be
impossible to describe the joy of the worthy couple who had so long
performed the part of parents to the shepherd lord, at the wondrous turn
of fortune that had raised him once more to the elevated sphere that was
his birthright.
"We have lost a son," said old Robin, "but we have found a noble master;
and may heaven grant him a long life to enjoy his own."
"Think not, my father, that you have lost a son," said Henry, pressing
the old man's hand with affectionate warmth. "I shall be ever a son to
you."
"And to me also, my Lord Henry," said Maud, "for it would break my heart
now if you should bear yourself towards me proudly in your own grand
castle."
"I should ill deserve my good fortune, dear Maud, if it made me so
ungrateful as to bear myself proudly towards you. Though I may be the
lord of fifty castles, you will always be to me a second mother."
The next day Henry took his place in the house of Sir Lancelot Threlkeld
as Lord Clifford. He laid aside the peasant's suit of homely grey for a
dress befitting his rank, which Lady Margaret furnished him with from
her husband's wardrobe; and very handsome he looked in a mulberry
coloured vest richly embroidered with gold, a short cloak of blue satin
falling over one shoulder, and a diamond hilted sword by his side, for
such was the fashion of the age.
The faithful Rolf was despatched to Brougham Castle to see that all was
prepared for the reception of its lord; and right well did he execute
the commission. A sumptuous feast was provided, and a grand pageant
prepared to meet him at the castle-gate. All the ancient banners that
had been taken down and thrown aside, were now displayed again in the
hall, and, under the superintendence of Rolf, everything was made to
look just as it did before the banishment of the family.
At length the bright day dawned that was to see Henry de Clifford
restored to the beloved home of his childhood, and the people had
flocked from far and near to hail the return of Brougham's rightful
lord. It was nearly noon when the cavalcade was seen approaching. Then
loud acclamations rent the air, and, as Henry lifted his plumed and
jewelled cap to acknowledge the greeting of the joyous multitude, his
heart was overflowing with gratitude to the Father of all mercies, and
he could scarcely restrain the tears that were ready to gush from his
eyes. He was mounted on a fine grey horse, and on one side of him rode
his lady mother, on the other Sir Lancelot Threlkeld, while behind him
came a fair lady, escorted by a gentleman of noble mien. This was his
sister Elizabeth, who had lived for many years in the Netherlands, and
was married to Sir Robert Aske, a wealthy knight, who was now with her.
They were followed; by a long train of knights and gentlemen and their
attendants, forming a retinue that might have graced a prince, and so
they came onward towards the castle-gate, where a triumphal arch was
erected, on the top of which were two figures clothed in white, with
outspread wings, and golden crowns, intended, perhaps, to represent
angels; and as Clifford passed under the arch, they chanted these
lines--
"Now the Red Rose blooms again,
Clifford o'er his own shall reign.
Fill the cup, and sheath the sword,
To welcome back our noble lord."
And now the shepherd lord stood once more in his father's bannered hall.
Silently he gazed around him on the well-known scene, too powerfully
affected to give utterance to his feelings; and, as his mother clasped
his hand, she felt that it trembled even more than her own.
"Let us pass on, my Henry," she whispered softly, "we must hold
communion alone."
Henry could not speak, but he pressed her hand assentingly, and they
left the hall together, amid the congratulations and good wishes of all
therein assembled.
The mother and son were absent for the space of an hour, engaged, no
doubt, in prayer and thanksgiving, for when they returned to the hall
Henry had recovered his composure, and took the highest seat at the
sumptuous banquet with all the dignity of his noble race.
Gladsome was the feast that day at Brougham Castle; joyous were the
songs of the minstrel bards as they celebrated, in extempore verse, the
exile's restoration to his long lost home.
You may be sure that amongst the joyful assemblage that crowded the
banquetting hall on that auspicious day, old Robin and his wife Maud
held a distinguished place; and proud indeed were they to hear
themselves addressed by the noble host as father and mother.
It was not long after that another grand feast was held at Brougham
Castle in honour of the marriage of its lord, which had been celebrated
at Bletso, where the beautiful daughter of Sir John Saint John willingly
bestowed her hand on him who, as a simple shepherd, had won a place in
her heart.
The only drawback to the happiness of our hero was the consciousness of
his neglected education. Unable to read or write, he cared not to mix
with the nobles of the court, but preferred living in retirement, and
with great simplicity. His grand object was to repair all his castles,
which had been much injured daring the wars, and he expended vast sums
of money in fitting up some of them with princely magnificence; but his
own favourite residence was a quiet retreat called Barden Tower, near
Bolton Priory, in Yorkshire. He chose this for his chief abode because
it afforded him the opportunity of spending much of his time at the
Priory with the monks, who assisted him in the delightful study of
astronomy, which he was passionately fond of; but he beautified the
place, and kept up a noble establishment there, worthy of his own
exulted station, and of the lady he had made his bride.
"Glad were the vales, and every cottage hearth;
The shepherd lord was honoured more and more:
And ages after he was laid in earth,
`The good Lord Clifford' was the name he bore."
Wordsworth.