With the Black Prince

  CHAPTER V.

  THE ENDING OF THE PEACE.

  "Seven leagues from London, if that wagoner gave me the distancearight," said Richard to himself, "and this horse is sore wearied. Twainhave tired under me since my lance was splintered on the shield of thatfelon knight."

  Much and often had he wondered who might be the stranger man-at-arms,but of one thing he felt assured: only some baron of high name had usedsuch speech and worn such armor. Now, at last, even his tough sinewswere giving out, for he had ridden hard and slept little. Food had beeneasy to buy at wayside hostelries. He had ridden through towns andvillages with no longer pauses than had been needful that he might askthe way or answer courteously the questions of persons of condition.

  His fresh mounts had been freely furnished him on showing of the royalorder, for none might lightly disobey the king.

  "Surely I now am safe," he thought, "but the night is falling. I willeven rest at an inn and go onward in the morning. I must sleep, lest Ifall from my horse."

  It was a huge, rambling tavern at the right of the highway, and as hedrew rein before it a portly host came forth to welcome him.

  "In the king's name," said Richard.

  "And whence art thou?" asked the landlord.

  "On the king's business," said Richard. "See thou to it that I have afresh steed ready to bear me to London town with the dawn, lest harmcome."

  "We are all the king's men here," said the landlord heartily. "Canstthou not give us the news of the day? What of the Scots? for thou artfrom the north."

  Richard was slowly, painfully dismounting, but at the same momentanother man, not in armor, was springing upon horseback to haste away.

  "Yea," said Richard, "I will tell thee the news. I am Richard Neville ofWartmont----"

  "Ha! hold thou thy tongue, then, and come in!" sharply returned the hostof the inn, but he spoke in pure Saxon. "Do I not know that thou artwatched for? I am of Arden, and I knew thy father. By thy hand fell theClub of Devon."

  "Aye," said Richard, "but what peril is so near the gates of London?"

  "Peril to thee that thou reach them not," replied his new friend."There be those who would know the king's secret counsel. Small would betheir care for thy throat. Eat well. Sleep well. Then ride thou onbefore the light cometh."

  In walked Richard, hardly able to stand, but a room was given him, andhere he took off his armor that he might bathe while a repast waspreparing. It refreshed him much, but when the landlord came in andfound him clad only in his doublet, he loudly exclaimed:

  "On with thy mail, my Lord of Wartmont! Let thy bare sword lie by thee.I think thy nag may die, but I have thee a better one ready. 'Tis my ownbest mare, and she will stand saddled in the stall until thou comest forher."

  "I am overworn for fighting," said Richard. "I will even trust my bowrather than my sword or axe."

  "As thou wilt," replied his host, but a serving man placed food upon thetable, and Richard began to do it full justice.

  None other was admitted to the room, and Richard dealt fairly, tellingall news that he might tell.

  "One thing know I," said the landlord. "The king's levies come in butslowly, and he is sore displeased. Not this year will he cross toFrance. If I hear truly, some of the great lords would rather marchagainst him than against Philip, and they look for side help from theScots."

  So many true tales creep in at a hostel from the lips of those who tarrythere, and the young messenger felt not only weary but half dispirited.The landlord had now gone forth, and for a few moments Richard wasalone. The door was not fastened, however, and it opened without a soundto let in a man whose footsteps were unheard until he had passed to thetable side.

  "My son, peace be with thee! Thou art on the message of the king?"

  Richard was startled, but he turned to look, and before him stood ablack friar in his long serge robe, with sandals only on his feet. Athought came like a flash:

  "I have heard that these holy men are with Philip of France rather thanwith Edward of England. I must beware of him, for they are cunning men."

  Nevertheless he reverently greeted the friar and bade him be seated.

  "Tell me, my son, what tidings bringest thou from the north, and fromthe saintly Archbishop of York?"

  With all seeming freedom did Richard respond, but he mentioned not theKnight of Liddesdale, nor the temper of the Scottish king. Cunningindeed was the questioning, but of the letters, either way, naught wassaid. Rather was there much loose chat of the things by the way, andRichard declared:

  "Little know I. I am but a youth."

  "And well worn?" said the monk. "Now I will counsel thee, for thou wellmayest trust such as I am. Rest thou here in peace, and I will convey tothe king any matters from my old and dear friend and father in God, thearchbishop. High, indeed, is my reverence for that holy man. Deep is myfealty to our good lord the king. Even give me thy message and I willdepart."

  "Thanks to thee, reverend father," said Richard. "But there is no haste.It were not well for thee to travel by night. Come thou in the morning,for now I can talk no more. Thou mayest ride my own horse, if thou shaltfind him rested."

  So the friar smiled, and gave Richard his blessing and departed, nothaving given any name. That was what came to Richard's mind quickly, buthe said to himself:

  "Who knoweth what name he would have given--his own, or another? I likehim not, but if the host be right, he will not ride far upon that nag.Nor will he be overweighted with the king's errand. But I told him nountruth. Never before was I cunning, but I must care for my head."

  So said the landlord, shortly, when he came and heard, but he added:

  "Not in the house shalt thou sleep. Come thou with me, my lord. I willshow thee a safer resting."

  The darkness had fallen, and not even a lanthorn did they take with themas they made their way out of the inn to the barns. None met them, andthey paused not until they were among hayricks in the rear.

  "Yonder," said the landlord, pointing at a stable, "in the first stallon the right is thy good steed. Ride hard, but kill her not, and sendher back to me. I would serve the king and beat his enemies. If thousleepest too long, I will arouse thee."

  Down sank Richard upon a heap of hay, but his bow and arrows were withhim as well as his pennoned lance.

  How long he slumbered he knew not, but he was feverish, restive, and hisears were not so dull in sleep that they did not catch a faint clang ofsteel. He woke, but he stirred not, and he lay listening.

  "Put thou thy dagger deeply in below the lad's ear!" he heard one say."He must die without speech. Curse on that hostel keeper! I fear me hehath betrayed us. We found not the king's messenger in the house. Ithink he is somewhere here away. Search well, but be silent."

  Only dim was the lanthorn they carried, but Richard could see threemen, and one of them wore mail, without a headpiece. He it was thatspoke, and his sword was in his hand. The other twain were in buffcoats, and of one of these his long, two-edged, dagger knife was alreadydrawn. They saw not yet the young bowman in the hay, but he was fittingan arrow to the string.

  "Ten yards! I must not miss. I will even smite him through the face,"thought Richard.

  Loudly twanged the bow, and out of the belt came a second arrow to thestring.

  Loudly twanged the bow.]

  "Through his buff coat," said Richard aloud, and he sent the shaftstrongly, but he at the moment turned toward the stable, looking notbehind him. He heard a cry and a gasp, however, and hoarse groaning, anda voice that exclaimed:

  "God 'a' mercy, my Lord Bellamont is slain! So is the seneschal! Woe isme! I will summon the two warders."

  Uncertainly he lingered a brief space to examine well the fallen men,and Richard made what haste he could.

  "I can not run," he thought. "I hardly may climb to the saddle."

  Nevertheless he did so, after leading out the goodly beast he was toride. Nothing was lacking in her appointments, and she knew the way tothe road-gate. Out spurred Richard,
as loud shouts began to arise behindhim. He gained the highway, and he could discern beyond him only oneman on foot, in full armor.

  "Halt, thou!" he shouted. "Stand, on thy life! I would have speech withthee!"

  "In the king's name," shouted back Richard, "out of my way!"

  "That will I not!" roared the knight. "Thou cub of Wartmont, draw rein!"

  "Take that!" said Richard, spurring hard and striking with his lance.

  'Twas a knight of skill in fence, however, and his target was over hisvisor to receive the thrust, so that he did but measure his length uponthe road.

  "Traitor!" shouted Richard. "Thou shalt answer for this to the king!"

  "St. Andrew!" gasped the fallen man. "Has the boy escaped? JohnBeauchamp knew whom to send. But I will pay him bitterly for this."

  "My lord duke," exclaimed one who came running to him, "De Bellamont isslain by the messenger!"

  "Woe worth the day!" groaned the knight, arising slowly. "Back to thecastle! I must get me to Flanders in haste. All is lost! We will but saythat Bellamont was murdered by thieves at the inn."

  On galloped Richard, glad to find how buoyant and free was the stride ofthe landlord's favorite; but his perils were not ended. A full halfmile he rode, and he was thinking, "I will race no more lest I tire herneedlessly, and the road to London town is yet long," when far beyond hedimly discerned the forms of mounted men and men on foot.

  "'Tis but a lane here to the right," he said. "I care not whither it maylead me, so I fall not in with yonder troop. They are too many."

  Then came to him something of his woodcraft, and he did but go out ofthe road before he turned to see what they might do. And he did wisely,for with one accord the horsemen and the footmen vanished.

  "They were at a crossroad," thought Richard. "They deem I have taken thelane, and they have gone to cut me off at its ending. Now I will ridepast them."

  'Twas a shrewd planning, for when he reached the crossroads only one mancould he discern, a man in the serge gown of a black friar, who stoodand waited.

  "Halt, thou, my son!" commanded the friar. "Greater men than thou artbid thee stand."

  "In the king's name, I will not," said Richard, "but if thou needest anag, thou wilt find one at the inn, as I promised thee. A good beast,truly, save that he is dead. So are some of the traitors who were there,enemies of the king, as thou art. Fare thee not well!"

  He struck spurs as he finished, and the friar was left to wait for whomhe might.

  The gray dawn was showing in the east, and now it would seem that alldanger had been left behind.

  "Little know I," thought Richard. "Had I not been forewarned, I hadtrusted any great baron that he would forward the king's business. Now Iwill trust not one, till I reach London gate."

  The noon sun of that day was shining through high, stained windows intothe audience chamber of the king, in the Tower of London. It was not aday for him to linger in any palace, and his brows were but black withgloom as he listened to his counselors and to the affairs that werebrought before him. These were many and weighty, and few were they whomight dare to interrupt him; but he suddenly raised his head, and thedark frown vanished from his face.

  Back among the lords and gentlemen in waiting stood the Black Princehimself, and a sign had passed from him to his royal sire. Still for afew moments longer King Edward sat and listened and responded to thosearound him, nor could they have gathered whether he were ill at ease ornot. Iron was he to all circumstances, and naught could seem to move himmuch, save his ire, if that should be stirred.

  And now he arose, and his dismissal of the assembly was but as if hesent them to their noontide refections, but he himself refused otherattendance, and passed out by a private door with his son.

  "Neville of Wartmont, from the archbishop?" sternly replied the king tothe first words of the prince. "Why tarried he on the road?"

  "That he did not," said the prince. "He hath ridden four horses. Onewearied out, twain were ridden to death, and the last bore him to ourgate. He hath been sore beset on the way. He hath slain De Bellamont andanother, and he hath much to tell concerning treason. I bade him wait inthe southerly corridor and to have speech with none."

  "It shall be well with him!" exclaimed the king. "Glad am I of theNevilles and the Beauchamps in a day when so few may be trusted. Bringhim to me in my retiring room."

  Unhelmeted, but otherwise clad as he had ridden, Richard Neville wasquietly conducted to the apartment which so few were ever allowed toenter, and he was brought face to face with the king.

  "Nay, Richard, sit thee down," commanded Edward, for the wornoutmessenger hardly could rise from his bended knees. "I would hear theeslowly and long. Begin with thy going, and see that thou miss no placenor any man, gentle or simple."

  Richard began his tale, and there was no interruption until he came tothe message sent by the Earl of Arundel.

  "I will remember him for that," he said. "A wise man and true. Speakon."

  There was no other stopping until the story reached the York gate.

  "Sir Robert," said the king, "then I may trust the Johnstones. It iswell. Come now to the archbishop. Nay, hold thy letters until thy wordsare done."

  There were questions concerning his Grace and some others, but mostcareful were the king's inquiries relating to the Knight of Liddesdale.

  "Now, thy ride hitherward," said the king, and Richard told it all. Hesaw the eyes of the prince flash admiringly at the passage of arms, butthe king chafed sorely that he could not guess by whom Richard had beenassailed.

  "Thou didst well not to slay him," he decided, after a moment'sthinking. "If thou ever meetest him again, to know him by his voice orotherwise, tell me."

  When all the rest was said, to the London gate, the letters weredelivered, but the king as yet opened them not.

  "Richard of Wartmont," he said, rising, "the Earl of Warwick waiteth forthee without. Go thou to him. God send me alway as good a messenger!Thou wilt win thy spurs in good season. When thou returnest fromWarwick, thou art of the king's household. I promise thee that thoushalt be captain of thine own bowmen when we sail for France."

  A proud youth was Richard, but so lame he walked not easily when theprince led him to the door.

  "I envy thee, I envy thee!" exclaimed the latter. "A joust of arms bymoonlight! A fray i' the night! And thou hast seen the Liddesdale! Iwould give much to meet him."

  Something of romance and of knight errantry, therefore, was in the hotyoung head of the heir of the throne of England, and they twain partedright friendly, as became such youths, who were to be companions inarms.

  In one moment more, upon Richard's shoulders were the strong hands ofthe Earl of Warwick.

  "Thou art as my son!" he exclaimed. "Thou art strengthening thy house.These be times when a man should stand by his own."

  Few were the words of their further greeting till they were bythemselves in the Warwick palace at London. Nor then was much converse,until Richard had slept long and well. Afterward he was talked with byhis uncle as if he had been a grown man and a belted knight, but thatwas on the morrow.

  "Moreover," said the earl, at the end of all, "I have thy freedom fromthe king. Thou mayest pause in Warwick to see thy mother. Then go thouto Wartmont. Spend what time thou mayest among thy men, but be sure thatthy levy shall be full. So shalt thou keep the favor of the king. Thenthou wilt return to London town."

  One day only was required, and beyond that was the homeward road. Oh,but it was a bright even, full of happiness, when the young warrior--forsuch he now was--once more was folded in the arms of the Lady Maud! Herlong, white hair fell over his shoulders like a veil, and she sobbedmost peacefully.

  "Alas, my son," she said, "that I can not keep thee with me! Thou artmine all! But obey thou the mandates of the king and of the earl."

  "I must speed me to Wartmont, mother," said Richard. "I will return tothee, but it will please me much to see the old tower again, and mymerry men."

  There we
re two sunsets after that before he left the castle, and proudwas she at the manner of his treatment by the great men who were comingand going. Any were ready to speak graciously to a youth who was knownto have won royal favor.

  Only the third sun was going down thereafter, when Richard, in fullarmor but alone, save a serving man with a pack beast heavily laden,drew rein before the portal of his own castle. But all behind him thevillage had risen as he rode through. Farmer men were also coming in,while every cottage poured forth old and young.

  The warders raised the portcullis and swung open the gate, while in thetower the bell swung heels over head. So in the village church theringers were busy, to show their young lord their gladness at his safereturn. For there had been rumors of his going to the north, even untoScotland. He had slain men. He had served the king. He had done wondrouswell, and all his own were joyful.

  Hardly could he dismount from his good steed, so close was the pressaround him, but he bade the castle keepers make ready a goodly feast forall comers.

  "Guy the Bow!" he shouted suddenly, "art thou here?"

  Not quite had he arrived, but up the street a galloway was coming at hisswiftest, and on his bare back rode the best archer of Arden. Downsprang Richard now, and so did Guy, but there was no handshaking, forRichard's arms were around the forester.

  "Come thou within!" he shouted. "I have much to tell thee. Much to tellthe men. How goeth it with them all?"

  "Right well, my Lord Richard," said Guy, greatly delighted. "I tellthee, they came back loyal men. A fortnight's gay drilling with theking's troops. Good fare. Wages as if in war. A new suit each. Thenmarched they home, avowing they would bring each his man to double thelevy."

  "I trust they may," said Richard. "I will have speech with them."

  "But seest thou not," said Guy, "what the earl's masons are doing forthy castle? I wonder at it, for the time hath been but brief. They workfast, and the walls are nobly mended."

  "I will see to that," said Richard eagerly, and they pushed on into thekeep, but not till he had spoken many good words to the villagers. Trulythe workmen had plied their tools with industry, but they had done morethan mend. Some well-skilled engineer of the earl had plannedenlargements and outer walls on the farther side. There were to bebastions and stronger battlements and better storage within for theprovenders that might withstand a siege. It was a good fort, had saidthe engineer, and in some dark day it might be worth the holding.

  That evening was a feast of welcome and of news-telling, but with thedawn both Guy and Richard rode away. Nor did any at the castle knowwhither they had gone nor what they did while they were away. All thewhile the masons and their helpers toiled on, and the stonework grewapace. It was four days before the young lord of Wartmont returned tosee what they had done. A score of men on galloways came with him to theedge of the forest, but there they drew rein, and it was Ben of Coventrywho spoke for them.

  "Fare thee well, Lord Richard of Wartmont!" he said merrily. "We willcome at the king's summons, hear it when we may. Only this, that thou donot get thyself slain too soon, for many of us will follow the Neville,and not another."

  If he had won them, so had they won him, and well did he love hisbowmen, as one loveth kith and kin.

  Not long might be his further lingering at the castle nor on the road toWarwick. There, indeed, he found not only his mother, but a message fromthe earl, bidding him to London speedily. It was a grief, and yet shewas willing to have him go, for in it was his future good fortune, andshe kissed him farewell after a long talk about Wartmont, and the grangein the forest, and the troop he was to command, although so young.

  Two mounted spearmen went with him on the road to London, but none whomet him questioned him for harm. It was as if the roads were as safe andpeaceful as was their seeming; but Richard knew better than that. Evenat the London gate he found himself turning quickly in his saddle togaze after one who passed him.

  "'Twas a scowling face," he thought. "Where have I met that knight? Hecarrieth his bridle arm in a sling, as if he were wounded there. Did Inot smite a left arm with mine axe on the road? I will watch for thatman."

  So he told the prince when they came together, but there was wisdom ofkingcraft in the answer given.

  "O true and loyal heart, good comrade," spoke the prince, "if thouthinkest thou knowest him, be sure that thou know him not. If he meetthee, greet him well, as if he were thy kinsman. 'Tis ever well for aman to know his foemen. 'Tis ever ill to let his foemen know that heknoweth them. Safety is in secrecy until the sword is out of thesheath."

  "I will obey," said Richard, "but my blade will be out quickly if anyseem to threaten thee or my royal master."

  The prince inquired with care concerning the archery levy, and he seemedwell pleased, but he had somewhat more of counsel for his companion inarms.

  "Wert thou ever on shipboard?" he asked. "Hast thou been ever at sea?"

  "Never saw I the salt water," responded Richard. "I have but looked uponthe masts in the Thames, but I can row a boat."

  "A wherry?" said the prince. "There will be no wherry fighting. Evennow we are sweeping the French pirate craft from the Channel. Do thouthis: at every hour of thy liberties haunt thou the riverside. Read thoueach craft thou seest, great and small. I will get thee an order toboard any in the king's errand. Talk with seafaring men, and learn thepoints of shipping and of the manner of all fights at sea. Go not out ofthe harbor, however, for thou mayest not at any day be beyond recall ifthou art needed as a messenger. Thou art of the king's pages. The earlwill see to thy equipment, for thou mayest often serve at court and atroyal banquets."

  Gladly did he hear of that appointment. None of lower rank than his ownmight carry a dish or hand a napkin at the royal table, or stand behindany of the king's guests in the banquet hall. But hardly less than anearl might deliver the king's own cup or carve or hand for him.

  Much teaching of these matters did Richard receive thereafter from theEarl of Warwick, and likewise one of his near friends and tutors was thegood Earl of Arundel, brave knight and skillful captain, fitted to leadan army. Noble ladies also smiled upon him, for he was well favored andof goodly stature, and he knew somewhat of music. Even the queen herselfspoke graciously to him before long. Nevertheless did he walk alwayscautiously, knowing more and more of the bitter jealousies andheartburnings which ever beset a court, and of the feuds of houses, andof the plots and cunnings, and of the endless rivalries for place andpower and the favor of the king.

  Long hours were to be spent each day in the hall of arms of the Warwickpalace. There were duties of drill and exercise among the soldiery, thathe might know how to work maneuverings on a field or placings on amarch, or the choosing and the putting in order of a camp. He learnedalso of forts and of defenses, and of attacks and of artful dealingswith foemen by night or day.

  "I will make thee fitted to command thy men," said Earl Warwick. "Thoushalt not go into battle untrained. We learn that Philip of France istaking no such pains with his musterings. He will trust to his countsand barons and to his allies. He will bring against us a multitude, andthen he will see what Edward of England will do with his motley array."

  Greater and greater grew Richard's confidence, like that of other men,in the war wisdom of his king, but he marveled much from time to time atthe words and the deep thinking of his friend the prince. He could speakseveral tongues, and prudently, and he was notable for his feats ofskill and strength in the royal hall of arms.

  It was not at first that Richard had leisure to learn much of the sea,save in listening to the talk of knights and captains who had served onshipboard. But he forgot not the counsel of the prince, and in dueseason he was busy with his new learning.

  "Hard work," he said at the beginning. "Even the ropes have names, andevery rope hath a place of its own. So have the spars and the sails.'Tis another tongue to win, and the sailors are not like our inland men.They believe, too, that a man who liveth not on the sea is of smallaccount. They have more resp
ect for a good sailor than for a lord, if sobe his lordship knoweth not how to win a sea fight. But they believethat our king is an admiral. What pirates they are in their talk! I havemet no sailor yet who thinketh it ill to capture and plunder any foreigncraft that he may encounter out of sight of land."

  That was the fashion of those times, for all the open seas were asdisputed territory, and the best sailors of those waters adjacent to thecoasts of the British isles were but as the grandsons of the vikings.Not at all as yet had they abandoned the wild traditions of their rovingancestors.

  Ever and anon came tidings from the north counties, but such as came tothe public ear were favorable to a continued peace with Scotland; onlythat all men knew that a Scottish peace was only a war asleep, and wasto be kept with the English sword halfway out of the scabbard.

  From the Continent of Europe came no peace at all, but from everyquarter was heard the clash of arms or the sound of militarypreparation. Embassies came and went continually, and Richard saw manymen whose names were of note in the lands beyond the sea. He studiedthem well, and he inquired as he might of their deeds in camp and fieldand council, but none did he see who seemed to him the equals of his owngreat captains.

  Slowly wore on the winter, and the spring went by. His mother came tocourt with the Countess of Warwick, and Richard was proud to see her inthe throne room, unsurpassed by any dame therein for her stately beautyof form and face, and for the sweet graciousness with which she greetedall.

  'Twas a fine, fair morn in June when Richard at last was summoned inhaste by the Earl of Warwick.

  "Grand news, my young kinsman!" shouted the stout earl. "The die iscast! The war with France hath come! Be thou ready!"

  "Ready am I," said Richard gladly. "But I must bring my bowmen with me."

  "Go thou not, then," said the earl. "Send but thy token by thy ownmessengers. Bid all the archers of Arden to speed them to Portsmouth inthe king's name. The ships are even now gathering rapidly. Thousands ofmen are in perfect training, and the new levies are in hand to learnthe way and the will of the king. Thither wilt thou go thyself. Bid thymother a long farewell, and haste thee. I trust that when thou seest heragain thou wilt wear golden spurs."

  "Please God," said Richard, "I will strive to earn the good will of theking. I would not be knighted by any lesser hand than his. Canst thoutell me where is my noble friend Sir Walter de Maunay?"

  "Somewhere in Guienne," said the earl, "and the king's enemies there mayroundly will that he were somewhere else. Now up and out, RichardNeville! Thou wilt get thy orders further from Geoffrey Harcourt, at theport. I go to Warwick first, and then I come. The days of this mockpeace are ended, and may God give his blessing to the armies of Englandand to our good lord the king! Amen."