THE HERD BOY AND HIS HERMIT

BY

CHARLOTTE M. YONGE

Henry, thou of holy birth, Thou, to whom thy Windsor gaveNativity and name and graveHeavily upon his headAncestral crimes were visited. Meek in heart and undefiled, Patiently his soul resigned, Blessing, while he kissed the rod, His Redeemer and his God. SOUTHEY

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I. IN THE MOSS

II. THE SNOW-STORM

III. OVER THE MOOR

IV. A SPORTING PRIORESS

V. MOTHER AND SON

VI. A CAUTIOUS STEPFATHER

VII. ON DERWENT BANKS

VIII. THE HERMIT

IX. HENRY OF WINDSOR

X. THE SCHOLAR OF THE MOUNTAINS

XI. THE RED ROSE

XII. A PRUDENT RECEPTION

XIII. FELLOW TRAVELLERS

XIV. THE JOURNEY

XV. BLETSO

XVI. THE HERMIT IN THE TOWER

XVII. A CAPTIVE KING

XVIII. AT THE MINORESSES

XIX. A STRANGE EASTER EVE

XX. BARNET

XXI. TEWKESBURY

XXII. THE NUT BROWN MAID

XXIII. BROUGHAM CASTLE

THE HERD BOY AND HIS HERMIT

CHAPTER I. IN THE MOSS

I can conduct you, lady, to a lowBut loyal cottage where you may be safeTill further quest. --MILTON. 

On a moorland slope where sheep and goats were dispersed among therocks, there lay a young lad on his back, in a stout canvas cassockover his leathern coat, and stout leathern leggings over woodenshoes. Twilight was fast coming on; only a gleam of purple lightrested on the top of the eastern hills, but was gradually fadingaway, though the sky to the westward still preserved a little palegolden light by the help of the descending crescent moon. 

'Go away, horned moon, ' murmured the boy. 'I want to see my starscome out before Hob comes to call me home, and the goats are gettingup already. Moon, moon, thou mayst go quicker. Thou wilt havelonger time to-morrow--and be higher in the sky, as well as bigger, and thou mightst let me see my star to-night! Ah! there is one highin the sunset, pale and fair, but not mine! That's the evening star--one of the wanderers. Is it the same as comes in the morningbetimes, when we do not have it at night? Like that it shines withsteady light and twinkles not. I would that I knew! There! there'smine, my own star, far up, only paling while the sun glaring blazesin the sky; mine own, he that from afar drives the stars in Charles'sWain. There they come, the good old twinkling team of three, and thefour of the Wain! Old Billy Goat knows them too! Up he gets, andall in his wake "Ha-ha-ha" he calls, and the Nannies answer. Ay, andthe sheep are rising up too! How white they look in the moonshine!Piers--deaf as he is--waking at their music. Ba, they call thelambs! Nay, that's no call of sheep or goat! 'Tis some childcrying, all astray! Ha! Hilloa, where beest thou? Tarry till Icome! Move not, or thou mayst be in the bogs and mosses! Come, Watch'--to a great unwieldy collie puppy--'let us find her. '

A feeble piteous sound answered him, and following the direction ofthe reply, he strode along, between the rocks and thorn-bushes thatguarded the slope of the hill, to a valley covered with thick moss, veiling treacherously marshy ground in which it was easy to sink. 

The cry came from the further side, where a mountain stream had forceenough to struggle through the swamp. There were stepping-stonesacross the brook, which the boy knew, and he made his way from one tothe other, calling out cheerily to the little figure that he began todiscern in the fading light, and who answered him with tonesevidently girlish, 'O come, come, shepherd! Here I am! I am lostand lorn! They will reward thee! Oh, come fast!'

'All in good time, lassie! Haste is no good here! I must look to myfooting. '

Presently he was by the side of the wanderer, and could see that itwas a maiden of ten or twelve years old, who somehow, even in thedarkness, had not the air of one of the few inhabitants of that wildmountain district. 

'Lost art thou, maiden, ' he said, as he stood beside her; 'where isthine home?'

'I am at Greystone Priory, ' replied the girl. 'I went out hawkingto-day with the Mother Prioress and the rest. My pony fell with mewhen we were riding after a heron. No one saw me or heard me, and mypony galloped home. I saw none of them, and I have been wanderingmiles and miles! Oh take me back, good lad; the Mother Prioress willgive thee--'

''Tis too far to take thee back to-night, ' he said. 'Thou must comewith me to Hob Hogward, where Doll will give thee supper and bed, andwe will have thee home in the morning. '

'I never lay in a hogward's house, ' she said primly. 

'Belike, but there be worse spots to be harboured in. Here, I mustcarry thee over the burn, it gets wider below! Nay, 'tis no usetrying to leap it in the dark, thou wouldst only sink in. There!'

And as he raised her in his arms, the touch of her garment wasdelicate, and she on her side felt that his speech, gestures andtouch were not those of a rustic shepherd boy; but nothing was saidtill he had waded through the little narrow stream, and set her downon a fairly firm clump of grass on the other side. Then she asked, 'What art thou, lad?--Who art thou?'

'They call me Hal, ' was the answer; 'but this is no time forquestions. Look to thy feet, maid, or thou wilt be in a swamp-holewhence I may hardly drag thee out. '

He held her hand, for he could hardly carry her farther, since shewas almost as tall as himself, and more plump; and the rest of theconversation for some little time consisted of, 'There!' 'Where?''Oh, I was almost down!' 'Take heed; give me thy other hand! Thoumust leap this!' 'Oh! what a place! Is there much more of it?''Not much! Come bravely on! There's a good maid. ' 'Oh, I must getmy breath. ' 'Don't stand still. That means sinking. Leap! Leap!That's right. No, not that way, turn to the big stair. ' 'Oh--h!''That's my brave wench! Not far now. ' 'I'm down, I'm down!' 'Up!Here, this is safe! On that white stone! Now, here's sound ground!Hark!' Wherewith he emitted a strange wild whoop, and added, 'That'sHob come out to call me!' He holloaed again. 'We shall soon be athome now. There's Mother Doll's light! Her light below, the starabove, ' he added to himself. 

By this time it was too dark for the two young people to see morethan dim shapes of one another, but the boy knew that the hand hestill held was a soft and delicate one, and the girl that those whichhad grasped and lifted her were rough with country labours. Shebegan to assert her dignity and say again, 'Who art thou, lad? Wewill guerdon thee well for aiding me. The Lord St. John is myfather. And who art thou?'

'I? Oh, I am Hob Hogward's lad, ' he answered in an odd off-handtone, before whooping again his answer to the shouts of Hob, whichwere coming nearer. 

'I am so hungry!' said the little lady, in a weak, famished tone. 'Hast aught to eat?'

'I have finished my wallet, more's the pity!' said the boy, 'butnever fear! Hold out but a few steps more, and Mother Doll will givethee bite and sup and bed. '

'Alack! Is it much further! My feet! they are so sore and weary--'

'Poor maiden, let me bear thee on!'

Hal took her up again, but they went more slowly, and were glad tosee a tall figure before them, and hear the cry, 'How now, Hal boy, where hast been? What hast thou there?'

'A sorely weary little lady, Daddy Hob, lost from the hawking folkfrom the Priory, ' responded Hal, panting a little as he set hisburthen down, and Hob's stronger arms received her. 

Hal next asked whether the flock had come back under charge of Piers, and was answered that all were safely at home, and after 'telling thetale' Hob had set out to find him. 'Thou shouldst not stray so far, 'he said. 

'I heard the maid cry, and went after her, ' said Hal, 'all the way tothe Blackreed Moss, and the springs, and 'twas hard getting over theswamp. '

'Well indeed ye were not both swallowed in it, ' said Hob; 'God bepraised for bringing you through! Poor wee bairn! Thou hast comefar! From whence didst say?'

'From Greystone Priory, ' wearily said the girl, who had her head downon Hob's shoulder, and seemed ready to fall asleep there. 

'Her horse fell with her, and they were too bent on their sport toheed her, ' explained the boy, as he trudged along beside Hob and hischarge, 'so she wandered on foot till by good hap I heard her moan. '

'Ay, there will be a rare coil to-night for having missed her, ' saidHob; 'but I've heard tell, my Lady Prioress heeds her hawks more thanher nuns! But be she who she may, we'll have her home, and MotherDoll shall see to her, for she needs it sure, poor bairn. She isasleep already. '

So she was, with her head nestled into the shepherd's neck, nor didshe waken when after a tramp of more than a mile the bleatings of thefolded sheep announced that they were nearly arrived, and in the lowdoorway there shone a light, and in the light stood a motherly form, in a white woollen hood and dark serge dress. Tired as he was, Halran on to her, exclaiming 'All well, Mammy Doll?'

'Ah well!' she answered, 'thank the good God! I was in fear forthee, my boy! What's that Daddy hath? A strayed lamb?'

'Nay, Mammy, but a strayed maiden! 'Twas that kept me so long. Ihad to bear her through the burn at Blackreed, and drag her on asbest I might, and she is worn out and weary. '

'Ay, ' said Hob, as he came up. 'How now, my bit lassie?' as he puther into the outstretched arms of his wife, who sat down on thesettle to receive her, still not half awake. 

'She is well-nigh clemmed, ' said Hal. 'She has had no bite nor supall day, since her pony fell with her out a-hawking, and all were sohot on the chase that none heeded her. '

Mother Doll's exclamations of pity were profuse. There was a kettleof broth on the peat fire, and after placing the girl in a corner ofthe settle, she filled three wooden bowls, two of which she placedbefore Hal and the shepherd, making signs to the heavy-browed Piersto wait; and getting no reply from her worn-out guest, she took herin her arms, and fed her from a wooden spoon. Though without clearwaking, mouthfuls were swallowed down, till the bowl was filled againand set before Piers. 

'There, that will be enough this day!' said the good dame. 'Poorbairn! 'Twas scurvy treatment. Now will we put her to bed, and inthe morn we will see how to deal with her. '

Hal insisted that the little lady should have his own bed--a chaff-stuffed mattress, covered with a woollen rug, in the recess behindthe projecting hearth--a strange luxury for a farm boy; and Dollyielded very unwillingly when he spoke in a tone that savoured ofcommand. The shaggy Piers had already curled himself up in a cornerand gone to sleep. 

CHAPTER II. THE SNOW-STORM

Yet stay, fair lady, rest awhileBeneath the cottage wall;See, through the hawthorns blows the cold wind, And drizzling rain doth fall. --OLD BALLAD. 

Though Hal had gone to sleep very tired the night before, and only ona pile of hay, curled up with Watch, having yielded his own bed tothe strange guest, he was awake before the sun, for it was thedecline of the year, and the dawn was not early. 

He was not the first awake--Hob and Piers were already busy on theoutside, and Mother Doll had emerged from the box bed which madealmost a separate apartment, and was raking together the peat, so asto revive the slumbering fire. The hovel, for it was hardly more, was built of rough stone and thatched with reeds, with large stonesto keep the roof down in the high mountain blasts. There was onlyone room, earthen floored, and with no furniture save a big chest, arude table, a settle and a few stools, besides the big kettle and afew crocks and wooden bowls. Yet whereas all was clean, it had anair of comfort and civilisation beyond any of the cabins in theneighbourhood, more especially as there was even a rude chimney-pieceprojecting far into the room, and in the niche behind this lay thelittle girl in her clothes, fast asleep. 

Very young and childish she looked as she lay, her lips partlyunclosed, her dark hair straying beyond her hand, and her blacklashes resting on her delicate brunette cheeks, slightly flushed withsleep. Hal could not help standing for a minute gazing at her in asort of wondering curiosity, till roused by the voice of Mother Doll. 

'Go thy ways, my bairn, to wash in the burn. Here's thy comb. Imust have the lassie up before the shepherd comes back, though 'tisamost a pity to wake her! There, she is stirring! Best be off withthee, my bonnie lad. '

It was spoken more in the tone of nurse to nursling than of mother toson, still less that of mistress to farm boy; but Hal obeyed, onlyobserving, 'Take care of her. '

'Ay, my pretty, will not I, ' murmured the old woman, as the childturned round on her pillow, put up a hand, rubbed her eyes, anddisclosed a pair of sleepy brown orbs, gazed about, and demanded, 'What's this? Who's this?'

''Tis Hob Hogward's hut, my bonnie lamb, where you are full welcome!Here, take a sup of warm milk. '

'I mind me now, ' said the girl, sitting up, and holding out her handsfor the bowl. 'They all left me, and the lad brought me--a greatlubber lout--'

'Nay, nay, mistress, you'll scarce say so when you see him by day--awell-grown youth as can bear himself with any. '

'Where is he?' asked the girl, gazing round; 'I want him to take meback. This place is not one for me. The Sisters will be seeking me!Oh, what a coil they must be in!'

'We will have you back, my bairn, so soon as my goodman can go withyou, but now I would have you up and dressed, ay, and washed, ere heand Hal come in. Then after meat and prayer you will be ready togo. '

'To Greystone Priory, ' returned the girl. 'Yea, I would have thee toknow, ' she added, with a little dignity that sat drolly on her barefeet and disordered hair and cap as she rose out of bed, 'that theSisters are accountable for me. I am the Lady Anne St. John. Myfather is a lord in Bedfordshire, but he is gone to the wars inBurgundy, and bestowed me in a convent at York while he was abroad, but the Mother thought her house would be safer if I were away at thecell at Greystone when Queen Margaret and the Red Rose came north. '

'And is that the way they keep you safe?' asked the hostess, whomeanwhile was attending to her in a way that, if the Lady Anne hadknown it, was like the tendance of her own nurse at home, instead ofthat of a rough peasant woman. 

'Oh, we all like the chase, and the Mother had a new cast of hawksthat she wanted to fly. There came out a heron, and she threw offthe new one, and it went careering up--and up--and we all rode after, and just as the bird was about to pounce down, into a dyke went mypony, Imp, and not one of them saw! Not Bertram Selby, the Sisters, nor the groom, nor the rabble rout that had come out of Greystone;and before I could get free they were off; and the pony, Imp of Evilthat he is, has not learnt to know me or my voice, and would not letme catch him, but cantered off--either after the other horses or tothe Priory. I knew not where I was, and halloaed myself hoarse, butno one heard, and I went on and on, and lost my way!'

'I did hear tell that the Lady Prioress minded her hawks more thanher Hours, ' said Mother Doll. 

'And that's sooth, ' said the Lady Anne, beginning to prove herself achatterbox. 'The merlins have better hoods than the Sisters; and asto the Hours, no one ever gets up in the night to say Nocturns oreven Matins but old Sister Scholastica, and she is as strict andcross as may be. '

Here the flow of confidence was interrupted by the return of Hal, whogazed eagerly, though in a shamefaced way, at the guest as he setdown a bowl of ewe milk. She was a well-grown girl of ten, slender, and bearing herself like one high bred and well trained indeportment; and her face was delicately tinted on an olive skin, withfine marked eyebrows, and dark bright eyes, and her little huntingdress of green, and the hood, set on far back, became the dark locksthat curled in rings beneath. 

She saw a slender lad, dark-haired and dark-eyed, ruddy and embrownedby mountain sun and air; and the bow with which he bent before herhad something of the rustic lout, and there was a certain shynessover him that hindered him from addressing her. 

'So, shepherd, ' she said, 'when wilt thou take me back to Greystone?'

'Father will fix that, ' interposed the housewife; 'meanwhile, ye hadbest eat your porridge. Here is Father, in good time with the cows'milk. '

The rugged broad-shouldered shepherd made his salutation duly to theyoung lady, and uttered the information that there was a black cloud, like snow, coming up over the fells to the south-west. 

'But I must fare back to Greystone!' said the damsel. 'They will bein a mighty coil what has become of me. '

'They would be in a worse coil if they found your bones under a snowwreath. '

Hal went to the door and spied out, as if the tidings were ratherpleasant to him than otherwise. The goodwife shivered, and reachedout to close the shutter, and there being no glass to the windows, all the light that came in was through the chinks. 

'It would serve them right for not minding me better, ' said themaiden composedly. 'Nay, it is as merry here as at Greystone, withSister Margaret picking out one's broidery, and Father Cuthbertmaking one pore over his crabbed parchments. '

'Oh, does this Father teach Latin?' exclaimed Hal with eagerinterest. 

'Of course he doth! The Mother at York promised I should learnwhatever became a damsel of high degree, ' said the girl, drawingherself up. 

'I would he would teach me!' sighed the boy. 

'Better break thy fast and mind thy sheep, ' said the old woman, as ifshe feared his getting on dangerous ground; and placing the bowl ofporridge on the rough table, she added, 'Say the Benedicite, lad, andfall to. ' Then, as he uttered the blessing, she asked the guestwhether she preferred ewes' milk or cows' milk, a luxury no one elsewas allowed, all eating their porridge contentedly with a pinch ofsalt, Hob showing scant courtesy, the less since his guest's rank hadbeen made known. 

By the time they had finished, snowflakes--an early autumn storm--were drifting against the shutter, and a black cloud was loweringover the hills. Hob foretold a heavy fall of snow, and called on Halto help him and Piers fold the flock more securely, sleepy Watch andhis old long-haired collie mother rising at the same call. Lady Annesprang up at the same time, insisting that she must go and help tofeed the poor sheep, but she was withheld, much against her will, byMother Dolly, though she persisted that snow was nothing to her, andit was a fine jest to be out of the reach of the Sisters, who mewedher up in a cell, like a messan dog. However, she was much amused bywatching, and thinking she assisted in, Mother Dolly's preparationsfor ewe milk cheese-making; and by-and-by Hal came in, shaking thesnow off the sheepskin he had worn over his leathern coat. Hob hadsent him in, as the weather was too bad for him, and he and Annecrouched on opposite sides of the wide hearth as he dried and warmedhimself, and cosseted the cat which Anne had tried to caress, butwhich showed a decided preference for the older friend. 

'Our Baudrons at Greystone loves me better than that, ' said Anne. 'She will come to me sooner than even to Sister Scholastica!'

'My Tib came with us when we came here. Ay, Tib! purr thy best!' ashe held his fingers over her, and she rubbed her smooth head againsthim. 

'Can she leap? Baudrons leaps like a horse in the tilt-yard. '

'Cannot she! There, my lady pussy, show what thou canst do to pleasethe demoiselle, ' and he held his arms forward with clasped hands, sothat the grey cat might spring over them, and Lady Anne cried outwith delight. 

Again and again the performance was repeated, and pussy was inducedto dance after a string dangled before her, to roll over and play inapparent ecstasy with a flake of wool, as if it were a mouse, andWatch joined in the game in full amity. Mother Dolly, busy with herdistaff, looked on, not displeased, except when she had to guard herspindle from the kitten's pranks, but she was less happy when thechildren began to talk. 

'You have seen a tilt-yard?'

'Yea, indeed, ' he answered dreamily. 'The poor squire was hurt--Idid not like it! It is gruesome. '

'Oh, no! It is a noble sport! I loved our tilt-yard at Bletso. Twoknights could gallop at one another in the lists, as if they were outhunting. Oh! to hear the lances ring against the shields made one'sheart leap up! Where was yours?'

Here Dolly interrupted hastily, 'Hal, lad, gang out to the shed andbring in some more sods of turf. The fire is getting low. '

'Here's a store, mother--I need not go out, ' said Hal, passing to apile in the corner. 'It is too dark for thee to see it. '

'But where was your castle?' continued the girl. 'I am sure you havelived in a castle. '

Insensibly the two children had in addressing one another changed thehomely singular pronoun to the more polite, if less grammatical, second person plural. The boy laughed, nodded his head, and said, 'You are a little witch. '

'No great witchcraft to hear that you speak as we do at home inBedfordshire, not like these northern boors, that might as well beScots!'

'I am not from Bedfordshire, ' said the lad, looking much amused ather perplexity. 

'Who art thou then?' she cried peremptorily. 

'I? I am Hal the shepherd boy, as I told thee before. '

'No shepherd boy are you! Come, tell me true. '

Dolly thought it time to interfere. She heard an imaginary bleat, and ordered Hal out to see what was the matter, hindering the girl byforce from running after him, for the snow was coming down in largerflakes than ever. Nevertheless, when her husband was heard outsideshe threw a cloak over her head and hurried out to speak with him. 'That maid will make our lad betray himself ere another hour is overtheir heads!'

'Doth she do it wittingly?' asked the shepherd gravely. 

'Nay, 'tis no guile, but each child sees that the other is of gentleblood, and women's wits be sharp and prying, and the maid will neverrest till she has wormed out who he is. '

'He promised me never to say, nor doth he know. '

'Thee! Much do the hests of an old hogherd weigh against the wilesof a young maid!'

'Lord Hal is a lad of his word. Peace with thy lords and ladies, woman, thou'lt have the archers after him at once. '

'She makes no secret of being of gentle blood--a St. John of Bletso. '

'A pestilent White Rose lot! We shall have them on the scent eremany days are over our head! An unlucky chance this same snow, or Ishould have had the wench off to Greystone ere they could exchange aword. '

'Thou wouldst have been caught in the storm. Ill for the maid tohave fallen into a drift!'

'Well for the lad if she never came out of it!' muttered the gruffold shepherd. 'Then were her tongue stilled, and those of theclacking wenches at York--Yorkists every one of them. '

Mother Dolly's eyes grew round. 'Mind thee, Hob!' she said; 'I kenthy bark is worse than thy bite, but I would have thee to know thatif aught befall the maid between this and Greystone, I shall holdthee--and so will my Lady--guilty of a foul deed. '

'No fouler than was done on the stripling's father, ' muttered theshepherd. 'Get thee in, wife! Who knows what folly those two may beafter while thou art away? Mind thee, if the maid gets an inkling ofwho the boy is, it will be the worse for her. '

'Oh!' murmured the goodwife, 'I moaned once that our Piers thereshould be deaf and well-nigh dumb, but I thank God for it now! Nofear of perilous word going out through him, or I durst not have keptmy poor sister's son!'

Mother Doll trusted that her husband would never have the heart toleave the pretty dark-haired girl in the snow, but she was relievedto find Hal marking down on the wide flat hearth-stone, with a bit ofcharcoal, all the stars he had observed. 'Hob calls that the Plough--those seven!' he said; 'I call it Charles's Wain!'

'Methinks I have seen that!' she said, 'winter and summer both. '

'Ay, he is a meuseful husbandman, that Charles! And see here! Thismiddle mare of the team has a little foal running beside her'--hemade a small spot beside the mark that stood for the central star ofwhat we call the Bear's Tail. 

'I never saw that!'

'No, 'tis only to be seen on a clear bright night. I have seen it, but Hob mocks at it. He thinks the only use of the Wain is to findthe North Star, up beyond there, pointing by the back of the Plough, and go by it when you are lost. '

'What good would finding the North Star do? It would not have helpedme home if you had not found me!'

'Look here, Lady Anne! Which way does Greystone lie?'

'How should I tell?'

'Which way did the sun lie when you crossed the moor?'

Anne could not remember at first, but by-and-by recollected that itdazzled her eyes just as she was looking for the runaway pony; andHal declared that it proved that the convent must have been to thesouth of the spot of her fall; but his astronomy, though eagerlydemonstrated, was not likely to have brought her back to Greystone. Still Doll was thankful for the safe subject, as he went on to markout what he promised that she should see in the winter--the swarm ofglow-worms, as he called the Pleiades; and 'Our Lady's Rock, ' namely, distaff, the northern name for Orion; and then he talked of the starsthat so perplexed him, namely, the planets, that never stayed intheir places. 

By-and-by, when Mother Dolly's work was over the kettle was on thefire, and she was able to take out her own spinning, she essayed tofill up the time by telling them lengthily the old stories andballads handed down from minstrel to minstrel, from nurse to nurse, and they sat entranced, listening to the stories, more than even Halknew she possessed, and holding one another by the hand as theylistened. 

Meantime the snow had ceased--it was but a scud of early autumn onthe mountains--the sun came out with bright slanting beams before hissetting, there was a soft south wind; and Hob, when he came in, growled out that the thaw had set in, and he should be able to takethe maid back in the morning. He sat scowling and silent duringsupper, and ordered Hal about with sharp sternness, sending him outto attend to the litter of the cattle, before all had finished, andmanifestly treated him as the shepherd's boy, the drudge of thehouse, and threatening him with a staff if he lingered, soonfollowing himself. Mother Dolly insisted on putting the little ladyto bed before they should return, and convent-bred Anne hadsufficient respect for proprieties to see that it was becoming. Sheheard no more that night. 

CHAPTER III. OVER THE MOOR

In humblest, simplest habit clad, But these were all to me. --GOLDSMITH. 

'Hal! What is your name?'

She stood at the door of the hovel, the rising sun lighting up herbright dark eyes, and smiling in the curly rings of her hair whileHal stood by, and Watch bounded round them. 

'You have heard, ' he said, half smiling, and half embarrassed. 

'Hal! That's no name. '

'Harry, an it like you better. '

'Harry what?' with a little stamp of her foot. 

'Harry Hogward, as you see, or Shepherd, so please you. '

'You are no Hogward, nor shepherd! These folk be no kin to you, Ican see. Come, an you love me, tell me true! I told you true who Iam, Red Rose though I see you be! Why not trust me the same?'

'Lady, I verily ken no name save Harry. I would trust you, verily Iwould, but I know not myself. '

'I guess! I guess!' she cried, clapping her hands, but at the momentDolly laid a hand on her shoulder. 

'Do not guess, maiden, ' she said. 'If thou wouldst not bring evil onthe lad that found thee, and the roof that sheltered thee, guess not, yea, and utter not a word save that thou hast lain in a shepherd'shut. Forget all, as though thou hadst slept in the castle on thehill that fades away with the day. '

She ended hastily, for her husband was coming up with a rough pony'shalter in his hand. He was in haste to be off, lest a search for thelost child might extend to his abode, and his gloomy displeasure andill-masked uneasiness reduced every-one to silence in his presence. 

'Up and away, lady wench!' he said. 'No time to lose if you are tobe at Greystone ere night! Thou Hal, thou lazy lubber, go with Piersand the sheep--'

'I shall go with you, ' replied Hal, in a grave tone of resolution. 'I will only go within view of the convent, but go with you I will. '

He spoke with a decided tone of authority, and Hob Hogward muttered alittle to himself, but yielded. 

Hal assisted the young lady to mount, and they set off along thetrack of the moss, driving the cows, sheep, and goats before them--not a very considerable number--till they came to another hut, muchsmaller and more rude than that where they had left Mother Doll. 

Piers was a wild, shaggy-haired lad, with a sheepskin over hisshoulders, and legs bare below the knee, and to him the charge of theflock was committed, with signs which he evidently understood andreplied to with a gruff 'Ay, ay!' The three went on the way, overthe slope of a hill, partly clothed with heather, holly and birchtrees, as it rose above the moss. Hob led the pony, and there wassomething in his grim air and manner that hindered any conversationbetween the two young people. Only Hal from time to time gathered aflower for the young lady, scabious and globe flowers, and once avery pink wild rose, mingled with white ones. Lady Anne took themwith a meaning smile, and a merry gesture, as though she were goingto brush Hal's face with the petals. Hal laughed, and said, 'Youwill make them shed. '

'Well and good, so the disputes be shed, ' said Anne, with moremeaning than perhaps Hal understood. 'And the white overcomes thered. '

'May be the red will have its way with spring--'

But there Hob looked round on them, and growled out, 'Have done withthat folly! What has a herd boy like thee to do with roses andfrippery? Come away from the lady's rein. Thou art over-held tothrust thyself upon her. '

Nevertheless, as Hal fell back, the dark eyes shot a meaning glanceat him, and the party went on in silence, except that now and thenHob launched at Hal an order that he endeavoured to render savagelycontemptuous and harsh, so that Lady Anne interfered to say, 'Nay, the poor lad is doing no harm. '

'Scathe enough, ' answered Hob. 'He always will be doing ill if hecan. Heed him not, lady, it only makes him the more malapert. '

'Malapert, ' repeated Anne, not able to resist a little teasing of thegrim escort; 'that's scarce a word of the dales. 'Tis more like aman-at-arms. '

This Hob would not hear, and if he did, it produced a roughimprecation on the pony, and a sharp cut with his switch. 

They had crossed another burn, travelled through the moss, andmounted to the brow of another hill, when, far away against the sky, on the top of yet another height, were to be seen moving figures, notcattle, but Anne recognised them at once. 'Men-at-arms! archers!lances! A search party for me! The Prioress must have sent to theWarden's tower. '

'Off with thee, lad!' said Hob, at once turning round upon Hal. 'I'll not have thee lingering to gape at the men-at-arms! Off I say, or--'

He raised his stout staff as though to beat the boy, who looked up inhis face with a laugh, as if in very little alarm at his threat, smiled up in the young lady's face, and as she held out her hand with'Farewell, Hal; I'll keep your rose-leaves in my breviary, ' he bentover and kissed the fingers. 

'How now! This impudence passes! As if thou wert of the same bloodas the damsel!' exclaimed Hob in considerable anger, bringing downhis stick. 'Away with thee, ill-bred lubber! Back to thy sheep, thou lazy loiterer! Get thee gone and thy whelp with thee!'

Hal obeyed, though not without a parting grin at Anne, and had spedaway down the side of the hill, among the hollies and birches, whichentirely concealed him and the bounding puppy. 

Hob went on in a gruff tone: 'The insolence of these loutish lads!See you, lady, he is a stripling that I took up off the roadside outof mere charity, and for the love of Heaven--a mere foundling as youmay say, and this is the way he presumes!'

'A foundling, sayest thou?' said Anne, unable to resist teasing him alittle, and trying to gratify her own curiosity. 

'Ay, you may say so! There's a whole sort of these orphans, afterall the bad luck to the land, to be picked up on every wayside. '

'On Towton Moor, mayhap, ' said Anne demurely, as she saw her surlyguide start. But he was equal to the occasion, and answered:

'Ay, ay, Towton Moor; 'twas shame to see such bloody work; and therewere motherless and fatherless children, stray lambs, to be met with, weeping their little hearts out, and starving all around unless somegood Christian took pity on them. '

'Was Hal one of these?' asked Lady Anne. 

'I tell you, lady, I looked into a church that was full of weepingand wailing folk, women and children in deadly fear of the cruel, bloody-minded York folk, and the Lord of March that is himself KingEdward now, a murrain on him!'

'Don't let those folk hear you say so!' laughed Lady Anne. 'Theywould think nothing of hauling thee off for a black traitor, orhanging thee up on the first tree stout enough to bear thee. '

She said it half mischievously, but the only effect was a grunt, anda stolid shrug of his shoulders, nor did he vouchsafe another wordfor the rest of the way before they came through the valley, andthrough the low brushwood on the bank, and were in sight of thesearch party, who set up a joyful halloo of welcome on perceivingher. 

A young man, the best mounted and armed, evidently an esquire, rodeforward, exclaiming, 'Well met, fair Lady Anne! Great have been theMother Prioress's fears for you, and she has called up half thecountry side, lest you should be fallen into the hands of Robin ofRedesdale, or some other Lancastrian rogue. '

'Much she heeded me in comparison with hawk and heron!' respondedAnne. 'Thanks for your heed, Master Bertram. '

'I must part from thee and thy sturdy pony. Thanks for the use ofit, ' added she, as the squire proceeded to take her from the pony. He would have lifted her down, but she only touched his hand lightlyand sprang to the ground, then stood patting its neck. 'Thanksagain, good pony. I am much beholden to thee, Gaffer Hob! Stay amoment. '

'Nay, lady, it would be well to mount you behind Archie. His beastis best to carry a lady. '

Archie was an elderly man, stout but active, attached to the serviceof the convent. He had leapt down, and was putting on a belt, andarranging a pad for the damsel, observing, 'Ill hap we lost you, damsel! I saw you not fall. '

'Ay, ' returned Anne, 'your merlin charmed you far more. MasterBertram, the loan of your purse. I would reward the honest man whohoused me. '

Bertram laughed and said, tossing up the little bag that hung to hisgirdle, 'Do you think, fair damsel, that a poor Border squire carriesabout largesse in gold and silver? Let your clown come with us toGreystone, and thence have what meed the Prioress may bestow on him, for a find that your poor servant would have given worlds to make. '

'Hearest thou, Hob?' said Anne. 'Come with us to the convent, andthou shalt have thy guerdon. '

Hob, however, scratched his head, with a more boorish air than he hadbefore manifested, and muttered something about a cow that needed hisattention, and that he could not spare the time from his herd for allthat the Prioress was like to give him. 

'Take this, then, ' said Anne, disengaging a gold clasp from her neck, and giving it to him. 'Bear it to the goodwife and bid her recollectme in her prayers. '

'I shall come and redeem it from thee, sulky carle as thou art, ' saidBertram. 'Such jewels are not for greasy porridge-fed housewives. Hark thee, have it ready for me! I shall be at thy hovel ere long'--as Anne waved to Hob when she was lifted to her seat. 

But Hob had already turned away, and Anne, as she held on by Archie'sleathern belt, in her gay tone was beginning to defend him bydeclaring that porridge and grease did not go together, so thenickname was not rightly bestowed on the kindly goodwife. 

'Ay! Greasy from his lord's red deer, ' said Bertram, 'or his taintedmutton. Trust one of these herds, and a sheep is tainted whenever hewants a good supper. Beshrew me but that stout fellow looks lustyand hearty enough, as if he lived well. '

'They were good and kind, and treated me well, ' said Anne. 'I shouldbe dead if they had not succoured me. '

'The marvel is you are not dead with the stench of their hovel, andthe foulness of their food. '

'It was very good food--milk, meat, and oaten porridge, ' repliedAnne. 

'Marvellous, I say!' cried Bertram with a sudden thought. 'Was itnot said that there were some of those traitorous Lancastrian folklurking about the mountains and fells? That rogue had the bearing ofa man-at-arms, far more than of a mere herd. Deemedst thou not so, Archie?' to the elderly man who rode before the young damsel. 

'Herdsmen here are good with the quarter-staff. They know how tostand against the Scots, and do not get bowed like our Midlandserfs, ' put in Anne, before Archie could answer, which he did withsomething of a snarl, as Bertram laughed somewhat jeeringly, anddeclared that the Lady Anne had become soft-hearted. She looked downat her roses, but in the dismounting and mounting again the petals ofthe red rose had floated away, and nothing was left of it save aslender pink bud enclosed within a dark calyx. 

Archie, hard pressed, declared, 'There are poor fellows lurking abouthere and there, but bad blood is over among us. No need to ferretabout for them. '

'Eh! Not when there may be a lad among them for whose head the kingand his brothers would give the weight of it in gold nobles?'

Anne shivered a little at this, but she cried out, 'Shame on you, Master Bertram Selby, if you would take a price for the head of abrave foe! You, to aspire to be a knight!'

'Nay, lady, I was but pointing out to Archie and the other groomshere, how they might fill their pouches if they would. I verilybelieve thou knowst of some lurking-place, thou art so prompt toargue! Did I not see another with thee, who made off when we came inview? Say! Was he a blood-stained Clifford? I heard of the motherhaving married in these parts. '

'He was Hob Hogward's herd boy, ' answered Anne, as composedly as shecould. 'He hied him back to mind his sheep. '

Nor would Anne allow another word to be extracted from her ere thegrey walls of the Priory of Greystone rose before her, and the laySister at the gate shrieked for joy at seeing her riding behindArchie. 

CHAPTER IV. A SPORTING PRIORESS

Yet nothing stern was she in cell, And the nuns loved their abbess well. --SCOTT. 

The days of the Wars of the Roses were evil times for the disciplineof convents, which, together with the entire Western Church, sufferedfrom the feuds of the Popes with the Italian princes. 

Small remote houses, used as daughters or auxiliaries to the largeconvents, were especially apt to fall into a lax state, and in truththe little priory of Greystone, with its half-dozen of Sisters, hadbeen placed under the care of the Lady Agnes Selby because she wastoo highly connected to be dealt with sharply, and too turbulent andunmanageable for the soberminded house at York. So there she wassent, with the deeply devout and strict Sister Scholastica, to keepthe establishment in order, and deal with the younger nuns and laySisters. Being not entirely out of reach of a raid from the Scottishborder, it was hardly a place for the timid, although the better sortof moss troopers generally spared monastic houses. Anne St. John hadbeen sent thither at the time when Queen Margaret was making herattempt in the north, where the city of York was Lancastrian, as theMother Abbess feared that her presence might bring vengeance upon theSisterhood. 

There was no great harm in the Mother Agnes, only she was a maidenwhom nothing but family difficulties could have forced into amonastic life--a lively, high-spirited, out-of-door creature, whomthe close conventionalities of castle life and even whipping couldnot tame, and who had been the despair of her mother and of thediscreet dames to whom her first childhood had been committed, to saynothing of a Lady Abbess or two. Indeed, from the Mother of Sopwell, Dame Julian Berners, she had imbibed nothing but a vehement taste forhawk, horse, and hound. The recluses of St. Mary, York, after beingheartily scandalised by her habits, were far from sorry to have agood excuse for despatching her to their outlying cell, where, asthey observed, she would know how to show a good face in case theArmstrongs came over the Border. 

She came flying down on the first rumour of Lady Anne's return, herveil turned back, her pace not at all accordant with the solemn gaitof a Prioress, her arms outstretched, her face, not young norhandsome, but sunburnt, weather-beaten and healthy, and full ofdelight. 'My child, my Nan, here thou art! I was just mounting toseek for thee to the west, while Bertram sought again over the mosseswhere we sent yester morn. Where hast thou been in the snow?'

'A shepherd took me to his hut, Lady Mother, ' answered Anne rathercoldly. 

'Little didst thou think of our woe and grief when thy palfrey wasfound standing riderless at the stable door, and Sister Scholasticatold us that there he had been since nones! And she had none to sendin quest but Cuddie, the neatherd. '

'My palfrey fell with me when you were in full chase of hawk andheron, 'and none ever turned a head towards me nor heard me call. '

'Poor maid! But it was such a chase as never you did watch. On andon went the heron, the falcon ever mounting higher and higher, tillshe was but a speck in the clouds, and Tam Falconer shouting andgalloping, mad lest she should go down the wind. Methought she wouldhave been back to Norroway, the foul jade!'

'Did you capture her, Mother?' asked Anne. 

'Ay, she pounced at last, and well-nigh staked herself on the heron'sbeak! But we had a long ride, and were well-nigh at the Tyne beforewe had caught her. Full of pranks, but a noble hawk, as I shallwrite to my brother by the next messenger that comes our way. I callit a hawk worth her meat that leads one such a gallop. '

'What would you have done, reverend Mother, if she had crossed theBorder?' asked Bertram. 

'Ridden after her. No Scot would touch a Lady Prioress on thechase, ' responded Mother Agnes, looking not at all like a reverendMother. 'Now, poor Anne, thou must be hungered. Thou shalt eat withMaster Bertram and me in the refectory anon. Take her, Sister Joan, and make her ready to break her fast with us. '

Anne quickly went to her chamber. It was not quite a cell, the barestone walls being hung with faded woollen tapestry, the floor coveredwith a deerskin, the small window filled with dark green glass, achest serving the double purpose of seat and wardrobe, and further, abed hung with thick curtains, in which she slept with the lay Sister, Joan, who further fetched a wooden bowl of water from the fountain inthe court that she might wash her face and hands. She changed hersoiled riding-dress for a tight-fitting serge garment of dark greenwith long hanging sleeves, assisted by Joan, who also arranged herdark hair in two plaits, and put over it a white veil, fastened overa framework to keep it from hanging too closely. 

All the time Joan talked, telling of the fright the Mother had beenin when the loss of the Lady Anne had been discovered, and how it wasfeared that she had been seized by Scottish reivers, or lost in thesnow on the hills, or captured by the Lancastrians. 

'For there be many of the Red Rose rogues about on the mosses--comrades, 'tis said, of that noted thief Robin of Redesdale. '

'I was with good folk, in a shepherd's sheiling, ' replied Anne. 

'Ay, ay. Out on the north hill, methinks. '

'Nay. Beyond Deadman's Pool, ' said Anne. 'By Blackreed Moss. Thatwas where the pony fell. '

'Blackreed Moss! That moor belongs to the De Vescis, the blackestLancaster fellow of all! His daughter is the widow of the red-handedClifford, who slew young Earl Edmund on Wakefield Bridge. They sayher young son is in hiding in some moss in his lands, for the Kingholds him in deadly feud for his brother's death. '

'He was a babe, and had nought to do with it, ' said Anne. 

'He is of his father's blood, ' returned Sister Joan, who in herconvent was still a true north country woman. 'Ay, Lady Anne, youfrom your shires know nought of how deep goes the blood feud in us ofthe Borderland! Ay, lady, was not mine own grandfather slain by theMusgrave of Leit Hill, and did not my father have his revenge on hisson by Solway Firth? Yea, and now not a Graeme can meet a Musgravebut they come to blows. '

'Nay, but that is not what the good Fathers teach, ' Anne interposed. 

'The Fathers have neither chick nor child to take up their quarrel. They know nought about blood crying for blood! If King Edward caughtthat brat of Clifford he would make him know what 'tis to be born ofa bloody house. '

Anne tried to say something, but the lay Sister pushed her along. 'There, there, go you down--you know nothing about what honourrequires of you! You are but a south country maid, and have nonotion of what is due to them one came from. '

Joan Graeme was only a lay Sister, her father a small farmer when nota moss trooper; but all the Border, on both sides, had the strongestideas of persistent vendetta, such as happily had never been held inthe midland and southern counties, where there was less infusion ofCeltic blood. Anne was a good deal shocked at the doctrinepropounded by the attendant Sister, a mild, good-natured woman indaily life, but the conversation confirmed her suspicions, and puther on her guard as she remembered Hob's warning. She had liked theshepherd lad far too much, and was far too grateful to him, to uttera word that might give him up to the revengers of blood. 

At the foot of the stone stairs that led into the quadrangle she metthe black-robed, heavily hooded Sister Scholastica on her way to thechapel. The old nun held out her arms. 'Safely returned, my child!God be thanked! Art thou come to join thy thanksgiving with ours atthis hour of nones?'

'Nay, I am bound to break my fast with the Mother and MasterBertram. '

'Ah! thou must needs be hungered! It is well! But do but utter thythanks to Him Who kept thee safe from the storm and from foul doers. '

Anne did not break away from the good Sister, but went as far as thechapel porch, was touched with holy water, and bending her knee, uttered in a low voice her 'Gratias ago, ' then hastened across thecourt to the refectory, where the Prioress received her with a laughand, 'So Sister Scholastica laid hands on thee; I thought I shouldhave to come and rescue thee ere the grouse grew cold. '

Bertram, as a courteous squire of dames, came forward bowing low, andthe party were soon seated at the board--literally a board, supportedupon trestles, only large enough to receive the Prioress, the squireand the recovered girl, but daintily veiled in delicate white napery. 

It was screened off from the rest of the refectory, where the fewSisters had already had their morning's meal after Holy Communion;and from it there was a slight barrier, on the other side of whichBertram Selby ought to have been, but rules sat very lightly on thePrioress Selby. Bertram was of kin to her, and she had no demur asto admitting him to her private table. He was, in fact, a squire ofthe household of the Marquess of Montagu, brother of the Kingmakerand had been despatched with letters to the south. He had made ahalt at his cousin's priory, had been persuaded to join in flying thenew hawks, and then had first been detained by the snow-storm, andthen joined in the quest for the lost Lady Anne St. John. 

No doubt had then arisen that the Nevils were firm in theirattachment to Edward IV. , and, as a consequence, in enmity to theHouse of Clifford, and both these scions of Selby had been excited ata rumour that the widow of the Baron who had slain young Edmund ofYork had married Sir Lancelot Threlkeld of Threlkeld, and that hereldest son, the heir of the line, might be hidden somewhere on the DeVesci estates. 

Bertram had already told the Prioress that his men had spied a ladaccompanying the shepherd who escorted the lady, and who, he thought, had a certain twang of south country speech; and no sooner had hecarved for the ladies, according to the courtly duty of an esquire, than the inquiry began as to who had found the maiden and where shehad been lodged. Prioress Agnes, who had already broken her fast, sat meantime with the favourite hawk on her wrist and a large dogbeside her, feeding them alternately with the bones of the grouse. 

'Come, tell us all, sweet Nan! Where wast thou in that untimelysnow-storm? In a cave, starved with cold, eh?'

'I was safe in a cabin with a kind old gammer. '

'Eh! And how cam'st thou there? Wandering thither?'

'Nay, the shepherd heard me call. '

'The shepherd! What, the churl that came with thee?'

'He carried me to the hut. '

Anne was on her guard, though Bertram probed her well. Was thereonly one shepherd? Was there not a boy with her on the hill-sidewhere Bertram met her? The shepherd lad in sooth! What became ofhim? The shepherd sent him back, he had been too long away from hisflock. What was his name? What was the shepherd's name? Who washis master? Anne did not know--she had heard no names save Hob andHal, she had seen no arms, she had heard nothing southland. The ladwas a mere herd-boy, ordered out to milk ewes and tend the sheep. She answered briefly, and with a certain sullenness, and young Selbyat last turned on her. 'Look thee here, fair lady, there's a sayingabroad that the heir of the red-handed House of Clifford is lurkinghere, on the look-out to favour Queen Margaret and her son. Couldstthou put us on the scent, King Edward would favour thee and make theea great dame, and have thee to his Court--nay, maybe give thee whatis left of the barony of Clifford. '

'I know nothing of young lords, ' sulkily growled Anne, who had beenhitherto busy with her pets, striking her hand on the table. 

'And I tell thee, Bertram Selby, ' exclaimed the Prioress, 'that ifthou art ware of a poor fatherless lad lurking in hiding in theseparts, it is not the part of an honest man to seek him out for hisdestruction, and still less to try to make the maid he rescued betrayhim. Well done, little Anne, thou knowest how to hold thy tongue. '

'Reverend Mother, ' expostulated Bertram, 'if you knew what some wouldgive to be on the scent of the wolf-cub!'

'I know not, nor do I wish to know, for what price a Selby would sellhis honour and his bowels of mercy, ' said Mother Agnes. 'Come away, Nan; thou hast done well. '

Bertram muttered something about having thought her a better Yorkist, women not understanding, and mischief that might be brewing; but thePrioress, taking Anne by the hand, went her way, leaving Bertramstanding confused. 

'Oh, mother, ' sighed Anne, 'do you think he will go after him? Hewill think I was treacherous!'

'I doubt me whether he will dare, ' said the Prioress. 'Moreover, itis too late in the day for a search, and another snow-shower seemscoming up again. I cannot turn the youth, my kinsman, from my door, and he is safer here than on his quest, but he shall see no more ofthee or me to-night. I may hold that Edward of March has the right, but that does not mean hunting down an orphan child. '

'Mother, mother, you are good indeed!' cried Anne, almost weeping forjoy. 

Bertram, though hurt and offended, was obliged by advance of eveningto remain all night in the hospitium, with only the chaplain to bearhim company, and it was reported that though he rode past Blackpool, no trace of shepherd or hovel was found. 

CHAPTER V. MOTHER AND SON

My own, my own, thy fellow-guestI may not be, but rest thee, rest--The lowly shepherd's life is best. --WORDSWORTH. 

The Lady Threlkeld stood in the lower storey of her castle, a sort ofrough-built hall or crypt, with a stone stair leading upward to thereal castle hall above, while this served as a place where she mether husband's retainers and the poor around, and administered totheir wants with her own hands, assisted by the maidens of herhousehold. 

Among the various hungry and diseased there limped in a sturdy beggarwith a wallet on his back, and a broad shady hat, as though onpilgrimage. He was evidently a stranger among the rest, and had hisleg and foot bound up, leaning heavily on a stout staff. 

'Italy pilgrim, what ails thee?' demanded the lady, as he approachedher. 

'Alack, noble dame! we poor pilgrims must ever be moving on, howevermuch it irks foot and limb, over these northern stones, ' he answered, and his accent and tone were such that a thrill seemed to pass overthe lady's whole person, but she controlled it, and only said, 'Tarrytill these have received their alms, then will I see to thee and thymaimed foot. Give him a stool, Alice, while he waits. '

The various patients who claimed the lady's assistance were attendedto, those who needed food were relieved, and in due time the hall wascleared, excepting of the lady, an old female servant, and Hob, whohad sat all the time with his foot on a stool, and his back againstthe wall, more than half asleep after the toils and long journey ofthe night. 

Then the Lady Threlkeld came to him, and making him a sign not torise, said aloud, 'Good Gaffer, let me see what ails thy leg. ' Thenkneeling down and busying herself with the bandages, she looked uppiteously in his face, with the partly breathed inquiry, 'My son?'

'Well, my lady, and grown into a stalwart lad, ' was Hob's answer, with an eye on the door, and in a voice as low as his gruff toneswould permit. 

'And wherefore? What is it?' she asked anxiously. 'Be they on thetrack of my poor boy?'

'They may be, ' answered Hob, 'wherefore I deemed it well to shift ourquarters. As hap would have it, the lad fell upon a little wenchlost in the mosses, and there was nothing for it but to bring herhome for the night. I would have had her away as soon as day dawned, and no questions asked, but the witches, or the foul fiend himself, must needs bring up a snow-storm, and there was nothing for it but tolet her bide in the cot all day, giving tongue as none but womenfolkcan do; and behold she is the child of the Lord St. John of Bletso. '

'Nay, what should bring her north?'

'She wonnes at Greystone with the wild Prioress Selby, who lost herout hawking. Her father is a black Yorkist. I saw him up to hisstirrups in blood at St. Albans!'

'But sure my boy did not make himself known to her?' exclaimed thelady. 

'I trow not. He has been well warned, and is a lad of his word; butthe two bairns, left to themselves, could scarce help finding outthat each was of gentle blood and breeding, and how much more mygoodwife cannot tell. I took the maid back so soon as it was safeyester morn, and sent back my young lord, much against his will, half-way to Greystone. And well was it I did so, for he was scarceover the ridge when a plump of spears came in sight on the search forhim, and led by the young squire of Selby. '

'Ah! and if the damsel does but talk, even if she knows nought, thefoe will draw their conclusions!' said the lady, clasping her hands. 'Oh, would that I had sent him abroad with his little brothers!'

'Nay, then might he have fallen into the hands of Bletso himself, andthey say Burgundy is all for the Yorkists now, ' said Hob. 'This iswhat I have done, gracious lady. I bade my good woman carry off allshe could from the homestead and burn the rest; and for him we woton, I sent him and his flock off westward, appointing each of themthe same trysting-place--on the slope beneath Derwent Hill, my lady--whence I thought, if it were your will and the good knight SirLancelot's, we might go nigher to the sea and the firth, where theSelby clan have no call, being at deadly feud with the Ridleys. Soif the maiden's tongue goes fast, and the Prioress follows up thequest with young Selby, they will find nought for their pains. '

'Thou art a good guardian, Hob! Ah! where would my boy be save forthee? And thou sayest he is even now at the very border of theforest ground! Sure, there can be no cause that I should not go andsee him. My heart hungers for my children. Oh, let me go withthee!'

'Sir Lancelot--' began Hob. 

'He is away at the Warden's summons. He will scarce be back for aweek or more. I will, I must go with thee, good Hob. '

'Not in your own person, good madam, ' stipulated Hob. 'As thouknowest, there are those in Sir Lancelot's following who might be tooapt to report of secret visits, and that were as ill as the Prioryfolk. '

It was then decided that the lady should put on the disguise of acountrywoman bringing eggs and meat to sell at the castle, and meetHob near the postern, whence a path led to Penrith. 

Hob, having received a lump of oatcake and a draught of very smallale, limped out of the court, and, so soon as he could find aconvenient spot behind the gorse bushes, divested himself of hisbandages, and changed the side of his shepherd's plaid to one mucholder and more weather-beaten; also his pilgrim's hat for one in hispouch--a blue bonnet, more like the national Scottish head-gear, hiding the hat in the gorse. 

Then he lay down and waited, where he could see a window, whence ared kerchief was to be fluttered to show when the lady would be readyfor him to attend her. He waited long, for she had first to disarmsuspicion by presiding at the general meal of the household, andshowing no undue haste. 

At last, though not till after he had more than once fallen asleepand feared that he had missed the signal, or that his wife and 'Hal'might be tempted to some imprudence while waiting, he beheld thekerchief waving in the sunset light of the afternoon, and presently, shrouded in such a black and white shepherd's maud as his own, and ina russet gown with a basket on her arm, his lady came forth andjoined him. 

His first thought was how would she return again, when the darknesswas begun, but her only answer was, 'Heed not that! My child, I mustsee. '

Indeed, she was almost too breathless and eager with haste, as heguided her over the rough and difficult path, or rather track, toanswer his inquiries as to what was to be done next. Her view, however, agreed with his, that they must lurk in the borders of thewoodland for a day or two till Sir Lancelot's return, when he woulddirect them to a place where he could put them under the protectionof one of the tenants of his manor. It was a long walk, longer thanHob had perhaps felt when he had undertaken to conduct the ladythrough it, for ladies, though inured to many dangers in those days, were unaccustomed to travelling on their own feet; but the mother'sheart seemed to heed no obstacle, though moments came when she had tolean heavily on her companion, and he even had to lift her overbrooks or pools; but happily the sun had not set when they made theirway through the tangles of the wood, and at last saw before them thefitful glow of a fire of dead leaves, branches and twigs, while thebark of a dog greeted the rustling, they made. 

'Sweetheart, my faithful!' then shouted Hob, and in another momentthere was a cry, 'Ha! Halloa! Master Hob--beest there?'

'His voice!--my son's!' gasped the lady, and sank for a moment ofoverwhelming joy against the faithful retainer, while the shaggy dogleapt upon them both. 

'Ay, lad, here--and some one else. '

The boy crashed through the underwood, and stood on the path in amoment's hesitation. Mother and son were face to face!

The years that had passed had changed the lad from almost a babe intoa well-grown strong boy but the mother was little altered, and as sheheld out her arms no word was wasted ere he sprang into them, and hisface was hidden on her neck as when he knew his way into her embraceof old!

When the intense rapturous hold was loosed they were aware ofGoodwife Dolly looking on with clasped hands and streaming eyes, giving thanks for the meeting of her dear lady and the charge whomshe and her husband had so faithfully kept. 

When the mother and son had leisure to look round, and there was apleased survey of the boy's height and strength, Goodwife Dolly cameforward to beg the lady to come to her fire, and rest under the gipsytent which she and nephew Piers--her _real_ herd-boy, a rough, shaggy, almost dumb and imbecile lad--had raised with branches, skinsand canvas, to protect their few articles of property. There was asmouldering fire, over which Doll had prepared a rabbit which the doghad caught, and which she had intended for Hal's supper and that ofher husband if he came home in time. While the lady lavished thanksupon her for all she had done for the boy she was intent on improvingthe rude meal, so as to strengthen her mistress after her long walk, and for the return. The lady, however, could see and think ofnothing but her son, while he returned her tearful gaze with openeyes, gathering up his old recollections of her. 

'Mother!' he said--with a half-wondering tone, as the recollectionsof six years old came back to him more fully, and then he nestledagain in her arms as if she were far more real to him than at first--'Mother!' And then, as she sobbed over him, 'The little one?'

'The babe is well, when last I heard of her, in a convent at York. Thou rememberest her?'

'Ay--my little sister! Ay, ' he said, with a consideringinterrogative sound, 'I mind her well, and old Bunce too, that taughtme to ride. '

But Hob interrupted the reminiscences by bringing up the pony onwhich Anne had ridden, and insisting that the lady should not tarrylonger. 'He, ' indicating Hal, might walk beside her through thewood, and thus prolong their interview, but, as she well knew, it wasentirely unsafe to remain any longer away from the castle. 

There were embraces and sobbing thanks exchanged between the lady andher son's old nurse, and then Hal, at a growling hint from Hob, cameforward, and awkwardly helped her to her saddle. He walked by herside through the wood, holding her rein, while Hob, going before, didhis best in the twilight to clear away the tangled branches andbrambles that fell across the path, and were near of striking thelady across the face as she rode. 

On the way she talked to her son about his remembrances, anxious toknow how far his dim recollections went of the old paternal castle inBedfordshire, of his infant sister and brother, and his father. Ofhim he had little recollection, only of being lifted in his arms, kissed and blessed, and seeing him ride away with his troop, clankingin their armour. After that he remembered nothing, save the beingput into a homelier dress, and travelling on Nurse Dolly's lap in awain, up and down, it seemed to him, for ever, till at last clearerrecollections awoke in him, and he knew himself as Hal the shepherd'sboy, with the sheep around him, and the blue starry sky above him. 

'Dost thou remember what thou wast called in those times?' asked hismother. 

'I was always Hal. The little one was Meg, ' he said. 

'Even so, my boy, my dear boy! But knowst thou no more than this?'

'Methinks, methinks there were serving-men that called me the youngLord. Ay, so! But nurse said I must forget all that. Mother dear, when that maiden came and talked of tilts and lances, meseemed that Irecollected somewhat. Was then my father a knight?'

'Alack! alack! my child, that thou shouldst not know!'

'Memories came back with that maiden's voice and thine, ' said Hal, ina bewildered tone. 'My father! Was he then slain when he rodefarther?'

'Ah! I may tell thee now thou art old enough to guard thyself, ' shesaid. 'Thy father, whom our blessed Lord assoilzie, was the LordClifford, slain by savage hands on Towton field for his faith to KingHarry! Thou, my poor boy, art the Baron of Clifford, though whilethis cruel House of York be in power thou must keep in hiding fromthem in this mean disguise. Woe worth the day!'

'And am I then a baron--a lord?' said the boy. 'Great lords havebooks. Were there not some big ones on the hall window seats? Didnot Brother Eldred begin to teach me my letters? I would that Icould go on to learn more!'

'Oh, I would that thou couldst have all knightly training, and learnto use sword and lance like thy gallant father!'

'Nay, but I saw a poor man fall off his horse and lie hurt, I do notwant those hard, cruel ways. And my father was slain. Must a lordgo to battle?'

'Boy, boy, thou wilt not belie thy Clifford blood, ' cried the lady inconsternation, which was increased when he said, 'I have no mind togo out and kill folks or be killed. I had rather mark the stars andtend my sheep. '

'Alack! alack! This comes of keeping company with the sheep. Thatmy son, and my lord's son, should be infected with their sheepishnature!'

'Never fear, madam, ' said Hob. 'When occasion comes, and strength isgrown, his blood will show itself. '

'If I could only give him knightly breeding!' sighed the lady. 'SirLancelot may find the way. I cannot see him grow up a mere shepherdboy. '

'Content you, madam, ' said Hob. 'Never did I see a shepherd boy withthe wisdom and the thought there is in that curly pate!'

'Wisdom! thought!' muttered the lady. 'Those did not save our goodKing, only made him a saint. I had rather hear the boy talk of swordand lance than prate of books and stars! And that wench, whom to ourmisfortune thou didst find! What didst tell her?'

'I told her nought, mother, for I had nought to tell. '

'She scented mystery, though, ' said Hob. 'She saw he was no herdboy. '

'Nay? Though he holds himself like a lout untrained! Would that Icould have thee in hand, my son, to make thee meet to tread in thybrave father's steps! But now, comrade of sheep thou art, and I fearme thou wilt ever be! But that maid, I trust that she perceivednothing in thy bearing or speech?'

'She will not betray whatever she perceived, ' said Hal stoutly. 

The wood was by this time nearly past, and the moment of parting hadcome. The lady had decided on going on foot to the little grey stonechurch whose low square tower could be seen rising like another rock. Thither she could repair in her plaid, and by-and-by throw it off, and return in her own character to the castle, as though she had goneforth to worship there. When lifted off the shaggy pony she threwher arms round Hal, kissed him passionately, and bade him neverbreathe a word of it, but never to forget that a baron he was, andbound to be a good brave knight, fit to avenge his father's death!

Hal came to understand from Dolly's explanations that his recentabode had been on the estate of his grandfather, Baron de Vesci, atLondesborough, but his mother had since married Sir LancelotThrelkeld, and had intimated that her boy should be removed thitheras soon as might be expedient, and therefore the house on theYorkshire moor had been broken up. 

CHAPTER VI. A CAUTIOUS STEPFATHER

Thou tree of covert and of restFor this young bird that was distrest. --WORDSWORTH. 

A baron--bound to be a good knight, and to avenge my father's death!What does it all mean?' murmured Hal to himself as he lay on his backin the morning sunshine, on the hill-side, the wood behind him, andbefore him a distance of undulating ground, ending in the straightmysterious blue-grey line that Hob Hogward had told him was the sea. 

'Baron! Lord Clifford, like my father! He was a man in steelarmour; I remember how it rang, and how his gorget--yes, that was thething round his throat--how it hurt me when he lifted me up to kissme, and how they blamed me for crying out. Ay, and he lived in acastle with dark, dull, narrow chambers, all save the hall, wherethere was ever a tramping and a clamouring, and smells of hot burningmeat, and horses, and all sorts of things, and they sat and sat overtheir meat and wine, and drank health to King Harry and the Red Rose. I mind now how they shouted and roared, and how I wanted to go andhide on the stairs, and my father would have me shout with them, anddrink confusion to York out of his cup, and shook me and cuffed mewhen I cried. Oh! must one be like that to be a knight? I hadrather live on these free green hills with the clear blue sky aboveme, and my good old ewe for my comrade'--and he fell to caressing theface of an old sheep which had come up to him, a white, mountain-bleached sheep with fine and delicate limbs. 'Yes, I love thee, good, gentle, little ewe, and thee, faithful Watch, ' as a youngcollie pressed up to him, thrusting a long nose into his hand, 'farbetter than those great baying hounds, or the fierce-eyed hawks thatonly want to kill. If I be a baron, must it be in that sort?Avenge! avenge! what does that mean? Is it, as in Goodwife Dolly'sballads, going forth to kill? Why should I? I had rather let thembe! Hark! Yea, Watch, ' as the dog pricked his ears and raised hisgraceful head, then sprang up and uttered a deep-mouthed bark. Thesheep darted away to her companions, and Hal rose to his feet, as thedog began to wave his tail, and Hob came forward accompanied by atall, grave-looking gentleman. 'Here he be, sir. Hal, come thou andask the blessing of thy knightly stepfather. '

Hal obeyed the summons, and coming forward put a knee to the ground, while Sir Lancelot Threlkeld uttered the conventional blessing, adding, 'Fair son, I am glad to see thee. Would that we might bebetter acquainted, but I fear it is not safe for thee to come and betrained for knighthood in my poor house. Thou art a well grown lad, I rejoice to see, and strong and hearty I have no doubt. '

'Ay, sir, he is strong enow, I wis; we have done our best for him, 'responded Hob, while Hal stood shy and shamefaced; but there wassomething about his bearing that made Sir Lancelot observe, 'Ay, ay, he shows what he comes of more than his mother made me fear. Onlythou must not slouch, my fair son. Raise thy head more. Put thyshoulders back. So! so! Nay. '

Poor Hal tried to obey, the colour mounting in his face, but he onlybecame more and more stiff when he tried to be upright, and hisexpression was such that Sir Lancelot cried out, 'Put not on thevisage of one of thine own sheep! Ah! how shalt thou be trained tobe a worthy knight? I cannot take thee to mine house, for I have menthere who might inform King Edward that thy mother harboured thee. And unless I could first make interest with Montagu or Salisbury, that would be thy death, if not mine. '

The boy had nothing to say to this, and stood shy by, while hisstepfather explained his designs to Hal. It was needful to removethe young Baron as far as possible from the suspicion of the greaterpart of Sir Lancelot Threlkeld's household, and the present resting-place, within a walk of his castle, was therefore unsafe; besidesthat, freebooters might be another danger, so near the outskirts ofthe wood, since the northern districts of moor and wood were by nomeans clear of the remnants of the contending armies, people who weregenerally of the party opposite to that which they intended to rob. 

But on the banks of the Derwent, not far from its fall into the sea, Sir Lancelot had granted a tenure to an old retainer of the DeVescis, who had followed his mistress in her misfortunes; and on hislands Hob Hogward might be established as a guardian of the herdswith his family, which would excite no suspicion. Moreover, he couldtrain the young Baron in martial exercises, the only other way offitting him for his station unless he could be sent to France orBurgundy like his brother; but besides that the journey was adifficulty, it was always uncertain whether there would be revengefulexiles of one or other side in the service of their King, who mightwreak the wrongs of their party on Clifford's eldest son. There wasreported to be a hermit on the coast, who, if he was a scholar, mightteach the young gentleman. To Sir Lancelot's surprise, his stepson'sface lighted up more at this suggestion than at that of being trainedin arms. 

Hob had done nothing in that way, not even begun to teach him thequarterstaff, though he avouched that when there was cause the younglord was no craven, no more than any Clifford ever was--witness whenhe drove off the great hound, which some said was a wolf, when itfell upon the flock, or when none could hold him from climbing downthe Giant's Cliff after the lamb that had fallen. No fear but he hadheart enough to make his hand keep his own or other folks' heads. 

'That is well, ' said Sir Lancelot, looking at the lad, who stoodtwisting his hands in the speechless silence induced by being thesubject of discussion; 'but it would be better, as my lady saith, ifhe could only learn not to bear himself so like a clown. '

However, there was no more time, for Simon Bunce, the old man-at-armswhom Sir Lancelot had appointed to meet him there, came in sightthrough the trees, riding an old grey war-horse, much resemblinghimself in the battered and yet strong and effective air of both. Springing down, the old man bent very low before the young Baron, raising his cap as he gave thanks to Heaven for permitting him to seehis master's son. Then, after obeisance to his present master, heand Hob eagerly shook hands as old comrades and fellow-soldiers whohad thought never to meet again. 

Then turning again to the young noble, he poured out his love, devotion and gratitude for being able to serve his beloved lord'snoble son; while poor Hal stood under the discomfort of beingsurrounded with friends who knew exactly what to say and do to him, their superior, while he himself was entirely at a loss how to showhimself gracious or grateful as he knew he ought to do. It was arelief when Sir Lancelot said 'Enough, good Simon! Forget hisnobility for the present while he goes with thee to Derwentside asherd boy to Halbert Halstead here; only thou must forget both theirnames, and know them only as Hal and Hob. '

With a gesture of obedience, Simon listened to the furtherdirections, and how he was to explain that these south country folkshad been sent up in charge of an especial flock of my lady's whichshe wished to have on the comparatively sheltered valley of theDerwent. Perhaps further directions as to the training of the youngBaron were added later, but Hal did not hear them. He was glad to bedismissed to find Piers and gather the sheep together in preparationfor the journey to their new quarters. Yet he did not fail to hearthe sigh with which his stepfather noted that his parting salutationwas far too much in the character of the herd boy. 

CHAPTER VII. ON DERWENT BANKS

When under cloud of fear he layA shepherd clad in homely grey. --WORDSWORTH. 

Simon Bunce came himself to conduct his new tenants to their abode. It was a pleasant spot, a ravine, down which the clear stream rushedon its course to mingle its waters with those of the ocean. Therocks and brushwood veiled the approach to an open glade where stooda rude stone hovel, rough enough, but possessing two rooms, a hearthand a chimney, and thus superior to the hut that had been left on themoor. There were sheds for the cattle around, and the grass wasfresh and green so that the sheep, the goat and the cow began eagerlyfeeding, as did the pony which Hal and Piers were unloading. 

On one side stretched the open moor rising into the purple hills, just touched with snow. On the other was the wooded valley of theDerwent, growing wider ever before it debouched amid rocks into thesea. The goodwife at once discovered that there had been recenthabitation, and asked what had become of the former dwellers there. 

'The woman fretted for company, ' said Simon, 'and vowed she was infear of the Scots, so I even let her have her way and go down to thetown. '

The town in north country parlance only meant a small village, andHob asked where it lay. 

It was near the junction of the two streams, where Simon livedhimself in a slightly fortified farmhouse, just high up enough to befairly safe from flood tides. He did not advise his newly arrivedtenants to be much seen at this place, where there were people whomight talk. They were almost able to provide for their daily needsthemselves, excepting for meal and for ale, and he would himself seeto this being supplied from a more distant farm on the coast, whichHob and Piers might visit from time to time with the pony. 

Goodwife Dolly inquired whether they might safely go to church, fromwhich she had been debarred all the time they had been on the move. 'So ill for both us and the lad, ' she said. 

Simon looked doubtful. 'If thou canst not save thy soul without, ' hesaid, 'thou mightst go on some feast day, when there is such aconcourse of folk that thou mightst not be noticed, and come away atonce without halting for idle clavers, as they call them here. '

'That's what the women folk are keen for with their church-going, 'said Hob with a grin. 

'Now, husband, thou knowst, ' said Dolly, injured, though she was morethan aware he spoke with intent to tease her. 'Have I not lived allthis while with none to speak to save thee and the blessed lads, andnever murmured. '

'Though thy tongue be sore for want of speech!' laughed Hob, 'thoubeest a good wife, Dolly, and maybe thy faithfulness will tell asmuch in the saving of thy soul as going to church. '

'Nay, but, ' said Hal with eagerness, 'is there not a priest?'

'The priest comes of a White Rose house--I trust not him. Ay, goodwife, beware of showing thyself to him. I give him my dues, thathe may have no occasion against me or Sir Lancelot, but I would nothave him pry into knowledge that concerns him not. '

'Did not Sir Lancelot say somewhat of a scholarly hermit who mightlearn me in what I ought to know?' asked the boy. 

'Never you fear, sir! Here are Hob Halstead and I, able to train anyyoung noble in what behoves him most to know. '

'Yea, in arms and sports. They must be learnt I know, but a nobleneeds booklore too, ' said the boy. 'Cannot this same hermit help me?Sir Lancelot--'

Simon Bunce interrupted sharply. 'Sir Lancelot knows nought of thehermit! He is--he is--a holy man. '

'A priest, ' broke in Dolly, 'a priest!'

'No such thing, dame, no clerk at all, I tell thee. And ye lads hadbest not molest him! He is for ever busy with his prayers, and wantsnone near him. '

Hal was disappointed, for his mind was far less set on the exercisesof a young knight than on the desire to acquire knowledge, that studywhich seemed to be thrown away on the unwilling ears of Anne St. John. 

Hob had been awakened by contact with his lady and her husband, aswell as with the old comrade, Simon Bunce, to perceive that if therewere any chance of the young Lord Clifford's recovering his trueposition he must not be allowed to lounge and slouch about likePiers, and he was continually calling him to order, making him sitand stand upright, as he had seen the young pages forced to do at thecastle, learn how to handle a sword, and use the long stick which wasthe substitute for a lance, and to mount and sit on the old pony as aknight should do, till poor Hal had no peace, and was glad to getaway upon the moor with Piers and the sheep, where there was no oneto criticise him, or predict that nothing would ever make him dohonour to his name if he were proved ten times a baron. 

It was still worse when Bunce came over, and brought a taller horse, and such real weapons as he deemed that the young lord might betaught to use, and there were doleful auguries and sharp reproofs, designed in comically respectful phrases, till he was almost besidehimself with being thus tormented, and ready to wish never to hear ofbeing a baron. 

His relief was to wander away upon the moors, watch the lights andshadows on the wondrous mountains, or dream on the banks of theriver, by which he could make his way to the seashore, a place ofendless wonder and contemplation, as he marvelled why the watersflowed in and retreated again, watched the white crests, and theglassy rolls of the waves, felt his mind and aspiration stretched asby something illimitable, even as when he looked up to the sky, andsaw star beyond star, differing from one another in brightness. There were those white birds too, differing from all the night-jarsand plovers he had seen on the moor, floating now over the waves, nowup aloft and away, as if they were soaring into the very skies. Oh, would that he could follow them, and rise with them to know what werethose great grey or white clouds, and what was above or below inthose blue vastnesses! And whence came all those strange things thatthe water spread at his feet the long, brown, wet streamers, or thedelicate red tracery that could be seen in the clear pools, wherewere sometimes those lumps like raw flesh when closed, but whichopened into flowers? Or the things like the snails on the heath, yetnot snails, and all the strange creatures that hopped and danced inthe water?

Why would no one explain such things to him? Nay, what a pityeveryone treated it as mere childish folly in him to be thusinterested! They did not quite dare to beat him for it--that was oneuse of being a baron. Indeed, one day when Simon Bunce struck himsharply and hard over the shoulders for dragging home a great pieceof sea-weed with numerous curious creatures upon it, Goodwife Dollyrushed out and made such an outcry that the esquire was fain toexcuse himself by declaring that it was time that my lord should knowhow to bide a buffet, and answer it. He was ready and glad to meetthe stroke in return! 'Come on, sir!'

And Hob put a stout headless lance in the boy's hand, while Simonstood up straight before him. Hob adjusted the weapon in his inerthand, and told him how and where to strike. But 'It is not in sooth. I don't want to hurt Master Simon, ' said the child, as they laughed, and yet with displeasure as his blow fell weak and uncertain. 

'Is it a mouse's tail?' cried Simon in derision. 

'Come, sir, try again, ' said Hob. 'Strike as you did when the blackbull came down. Why cannot you do the like now, when you aretingling from Bunce's stroke?'

'Ah! then I thought the bull would fall on Piers, ' said Hal. 

'Come on, think so now, sir. One blow to do my heart good, and showyou have the arm of your forebears. '

Thus incited, with Hob calling out to him to take heart of grace, while Simon made a feint of trying to beat Mother Dolly, Hal startedforward and dealt a blow sufficient to make Simon cry out, 'Ha, wellstruck, sir, if you had had a better grip of your lance! I even feelit through my buff coat. '

He spoke as though it had been a kiss; but oh! and alack! why werethese rough and dreary exercises all that these guardians--yea, andeven Sir Lancelot and his mother--thought worth his learning, whenthere was so much more that awoke his delight and interest? Was itreally childish to heed these things? Yet even to his young, undeveloped brain it seemed as if there must be mysteries in sky andsea, the unravelling of which would make life more worth having thanthe giving and taking of blows, which was all they heeded. 

CHAPTER VIII. THE HERMIT

No hermit e'er so welcome crostA child's lone path in woodland lost. --KEBLE. 

Hal had wandered farther than his wont, rather hoping to be out ofcall if Simon arrived to give him a lesson in chivalrous sports. Hefound himself on the slope of one of the gorges down which smallerstreams rushed in wet weather to join the Derwent. There was a soundof tinkling water, and leaning forward, Hal saw that a tiny thread ofwater dropped between the ferns and the stones. Therewith a low, soft chant in a manly voice, mingling with the drip of the water. 

The words were strange to him--

 Lucis Creator optime, Lucem dierum proferens--

but they were very sweet, and in leaning forward to look between therowan branches and hear and see more, his foot slipped, and withWatch barking round him, he rolled helplessly down the rock, andfound himself before a tall light-haired man, in a dark dress, whogave a hand to raise him, asking kindly, 'Art hurt, my child?'

'Oh, no, sir! Off, off, Watch!' as the dog was about to resentanyone's touching his master. 'Holy sir, thanks, great thanks, ' as along fair hand helped him to his feet, and brushed his soiledgarment. 

'Unhurt, I see, ' said that sweet voice. 'Hast thou lost thy way?Good dog, thou lovest thy master! Art thou astray?'

'No, sir, thank you, I know my way home. '

'Thou art the boy who lives with the shepherd at Derwentside, onBunce's ground?'

'Ay, Hob Hogward's herd boy, ' said Hal. 'Oh, sir, are you the holyhermit of the Derwent vale?'

'A hermit for the nonce I am, ' was the answer, with something of asmile responsive to the eager face. 

'Oh, sir, if you be not too holy to look at me or speak to me! Ifyou would help me to some better knowledge--not only of sword andsingle-stick!'

'Better knowledge, my child! Of thy God?' said the hermit, a sweetlook of joy spreading over his face. 

'Goodwife Dolly has told me of Him, and taught me my Pater and Credo, but we have lived far off, and she has not been able to go to churchfor weeks and years. But what I long after is to tell me what meansall this--yonder sea, and all the stars up above. And they will callme a simpleton for marking such as these, and only want me to heedhow to shoot an arrow, or give a stroke hard enough to hurt another. Do such rude doings alone, fit for a bull or a ram as meseems, go tothe making of a knight, fair sir?'

'They go to the knight's keeping of his own, for others whom he oughtto defend, ' said the hermit sadly; 'I would have thee learn andpractise them. But for the rest, thou knowest, sure, who made thestars?'

'Oh yes! Nurse Dolly told me. She saw it all in a mystery play longlong ago--when a Hand came out, and put in the stars and sun andmoon. '

'Knowest thou whose Hand was figured there, my child?'

'The Hand of God, ' said Hal, removing his cap. 'They be sparks toshow His glory! But why do some move about among the others--one bigone moves from the Bull's face one winter to half-way beyond it. Andis the morning star the evening one?'

'Ah! thou shouldst know Ptolemy and the Almagest, ' said the hermitsmiling, 'to understand the circuits of those wandering stars--Coelienarrant gloriam Dei. '

'That is Latin, ' said the boy, startled. 'Are you a priest, sir?'

'No, not I--I am not worthy, ' was the answer, 'but in some things Imay aid thee, and I shall be blessed in so doing. Canst say thyprayers?'

'Oh, yes! nurse makes me say them when I lie down and when I get up--Credo and Pater. She says the old parson used to teach them our owntongue for them, but she has well-nigh forgot. Can you tell me, holyman?'

'That will I, with all my heart, ' responded the hermit, laying hislong delicate hand on Hal's head. 'Blessed be He who has sent theeto me!'

The boy sat at the hermit's feet, listening with the eagerness of onewhose soul and mind had alike been under starvation, and how timewent neither knew till there was a rustling and a step. Watch sprangup, but in another moment Simon Bunce, cap in hand, stood before thehut, beginning with 'How now, sir?'

The hermit raised his hand, as if to make a sign, saying, 'Thou seestI have a guest, good friend. '

Bunce started back with 'Oh! the young Lord! Sworn to silence, Itrust! I bade him not meddle with you, sir. '

'It was against his will, I trow, ' said the hermit. 'He fell overthe rock by the waterfall, but since he is here, I will answer forhim that he does no hurt by word or deed!'

'Never, holy sir!' eagerly exclaimed Hal. 'Hob Hogward knows that Ican keep my mouth shut. And may I come again?'

Simon was shaking his head, but the hermit took on him to say, 'Gladly will I welcome thee, my fair child, whensoever thou canstfind thy way to the weary old anchoret! Go thy way now! Or hastthou lost it?'

'No, sir; I ken the woodland and can soon be at home, ' replied Hal;then, putting a knee to the ground, 'May I have your blessing, holyman?'

'Alack, I told thee I am no priest, ' said the hermit; 'but for suchas I am, I bless thee with all my soul, thou fatherless lad, ' and helaid his hand on the young lad's wondering brow, then bade himbegone, since Simon and himself had much to say to one another. 

Hal summoned Watch, and turned to a path through the wood, leadingtowards the coast, wondering as he walked how the hermit seemed toknow him--him whose presence had been so sedulously concealed. Couldit be that so very holy a man had something of the spirit ofprophecy?

He kept his promise of silence, and indeed his guardians were so muchaccustomed to his long wanderings that he encountered no questions, only one of Hob's growls that he should always steal away wheneverthere was a chance of Master Bunce's coming to try to make a man ofhim. 

However, Bunce himself arrived shortly after, and informed Hob thatsince young folks always pried where they were least wanted, and mylord had stumbled incontinently on the anchoret's den, it was theholy man's will that he might come there whenever he chose. A pityand shame it was, but it would make him more than ever a merepriestling, ever hankering after books and trash!

'Were it not better to ask my lady and Sir Lancelot if they wouldhave it so? I could walk over to Threlkeld!'

'No, no, no, on your life not, ' exclaimed Simon, striking his staffon the ground in his vehemence. 'Never a word to the Threlkeld orany of his kin! Let well alone! I only wish the lad had never gonea-roaming there! But holy men must not be gainsaid, even if it doesmake a poor craven scholar out of his father's son. '

And thus began a time of great contentment to the Lord Clifford. There were few days on which he did not visit the hermitage. It wasa small log hut, but raised with some care, and made weatherproofwith moss and clay in the crevices, and there was an inner apartment, with a little oil lamp burning before a rough wooden cross, whereHal, if the hermit were not outside, was certain to find him sayinghis prayers. Food was supplied by Simon himself, and, since Hal'sadmission, was often carried by him, and the hermit seemed to spendhis time either in prayer or in a gentle dreamy state of meditation, though he always lighted up into animation at the arrival of the boywhom he had made his friend. Hal had thought him old at first, onthe presumption that all hermits must be aged, nor was it likely thatage should be estimated by one living such a life, but the lighthair, untouched with grey, the smooth cheeks and the graceful figuredid not belong to more than a year or two above forty. And he had noair of ill health, yet this calm solitary residence in the woodedvalley seemed to be infinite rest to him. 

Hal had no knowledge nor experience to make him wonder, and acceptedthe great quiet and calm of the hermit as the token of his extremeholiness and power of meditation. He himself was always made welcomewith Watch by his side, and encouraged to talk and ask questions, which the hermit answered with what seemed to the boy the utmostwisdom, but older heads would have seen not to be that of a cleverman, but of one who had been fairly educated for the time, had hadexperience of courts and camps, and referred all the inquiries andwonderments which were far beyond him direct to Almighty Power. 

The mind of the boy advanced much in this intercourse with the firstcultivated person he had encountered, and who made a point ofactually teaching and explaining to him all those mysteries ofreligion which poor old Dolly only blindly accepted and imparted asblindly to her nursling. Of actual instruction, nothing wasattempted. A little portuary, or abbreviated manual of the service, was all that the hermit possessed, treasured with his small crucifixin his bosom, and of course it was in Latin. The Hours of the Churchhe knew by heart, and never failed to observe them, training hisyoung pupil in the repetition and English meaning of such as occurredduring his visits. He also told much of the history of the world, ashe knew it, and of the Church and the saints, to the eager mind thatabsorbed everything and reflected on it, coming with fresh questionsthat would have been too deep and perplexing for his friend if he hadnot always determined everything with 'Such is the will of God. '

Somewhat to the surprise of Simon Bunce and Hob Hogward, Hal improvedgreatly, not only in speech but in bearing; he showed no such dislikeor backwardness in chivalrous exercises as previously; and when onceSir Lancelot Threlkeld came over to see him, he was absolutelycongratulated on looking so much more like a young knight. 

'Ay, ' said Bunce, taking all the merit to himself, 'there's noughtlike having an old squire trained in the wars in France to show astripling how to hold a lance. '

Hal had been too well tutored to utter a word of him to whom hisimprovement was really due, not by actual training, but partly byunconscious example in dignified grace and courtesy of demeanour, andpartly by the rather sad assurances that it was well that a man bornto his station, if he ever regained it, should be able to defendhimself and others, and not be a helpless burthen on their hands. Tales of the Seven Champions of Christendom and of King Arthur andhis Knights likewise had their share in the moulding of the youthfulLord Clifford. 

His great desire was to learn to read, but it was not encouraged bythe hermit, nor was there any book available save the portuary, crookedly and contractedly written on vellum, so as to be illegibleto anyone unfamiliar with writing, with Latin, or the service. However, the anchoret yielded to his importunity so far as to let himlearn the alphabet, traced on the door in charcoal, and identify themore sacred words in the book--which, indeed, were all in gold, redand blue. 

He did not advance more than this, for his teacher was apt to go offin a musing dream of meditation, repeating over and over in low sweettones the holy phrases, and not always rousing himself when his pupilmade a remark or asked a question. Yet he was always concerned athis own inattention when awakened, and would apologise in a tone ofhumility that always made Hal feel grieved and ashamed of having beenimportunate. For there was a dignity and gentleness about the hermitthat always made the boy feel the contrast with his own roughness anduncouthness, and reverence him as something from a holier world. 

'Nurse, I do think he is a saint, ' one day said Hal. 

'Nay, nay, my laddie, saints don't come down from heaven in thesedays of evil. '

'I would thou could see him when one comes upon him at his prayers. His face is like the angel at the cross I saw so long ago in thecastle chapel. '

'Dost thou remember that chapel? Thou wert a babe when we quittedit. '

'I had well nigh forgotten it, but the good hermit's face brought allback again, and the voice of the father when he said the Service. '

'That thou shouldst mind so long! This hermit is no priest, thousayst?'

'No, he said he was not worthy; but sure all saints were not priests, nurse. '

'Nay, it is easy to be more worthy than the Jack Priests I haveknown. Though I would they would let me go to church. But look theehere, Hal, if he be such a saint as thou sayst, maybe thou couldstget him to bestow a blessing on poor Piers, and give him his hearingand voice. '

Hal was sure that his own special saint was holy enough for anything, and accordingly asked permission of him to bring his silent companionfor blessing and healing. 

The mild blue eye lighted for a moment. 'Is the poor child thenafflicted with the King's Evil?' the hermit asked. 

'Nay, he is sound enough in skin and limb. It is that he can neitherhear nor speak, and if you, holy sir, would lay thine hand on him, and sign him with the rood, and pray, mayhap your holiness--'

'Peace, peace, ' cried the hermit impetuously, lifting up his hand. 'Dost not know that I am a sinner like unto the rest--nay, a greatersinner, in that a burthen was laid on me that I had not the soul torise to, so that the sin and wickedness of thousands have been causedby my craven faint heart for well nigh two score years? O miserereDomine. '

He threw himself on the ground with clasped hands, and Hal, standingby in awestruck amazement, heard no more save sobs, mingled with thesupplications of the fifty-first Psalm. 

He was obliged at last to go away without having been able to recallthe attention of his friend from his agony of prayer. With thereticence that had grown upon him, he did not mention at home thefull effect of his request, but when he thought it over he was allthe more convinced that his friend was a great saint. Had he notalways heard that saints believed themselves great sinners, and wentthrough many penances? And why did he speak as if he could havecured the King's Evil? He asked Dolly what it was, and she repliedthat it was the sickness that only the King's touch could heal. 

CHAPTER IX. HENRY OF WINDSOR

My crown is in my heart, not on my head;Not deck'd with diamonds, and Indian stones, Nor to be seen. My crown is call'd Content. --SHAKESPEARE. 

Summer had faded, and an early frost had tinted the fern-leaves withgold here and there, and made the hermit wrap himself close in acloak lined with thick brown fur. 

Simon, who was accustomed very respectfully to take the command ofhim, insisted that he should have a fire always burning on a rockclose to his door, and that Piers, if not Hal, should always takecare that it never went out, smothering it with peat, as everyshepherd boy knew how to do, so as to keep it alight, or, in case ofneed, to conceal it with turf. 

One afternoon, as Hal lay on the grass, whiling away the time byalternately playing with Watch and trying to unravel the mysteries ofa flower of golden-rod, until the hermit should have finished hisprayers and be ready to attend to him, Piers came through the wood, evidently sent on a message, and made him understand that he wasimmediately wanted at home. 

Hal turned to take leave of his host, but the hermit's eyes wereraised in such rapt contemplation as to see nought, and, indeed, itmight be matter of doubt whether he had ever perceived the presenceof his visitor. 

Hal directed Piers to arrange the fire, and hurried away, becomingconscious as he came in sight of the cottage that there were horsesstanding before it, and guessing at once that it must be a visit fromSir Lancelot Threlkeld. 

It was Simon Bunce, however, who, with demonstrations of looking forhim, came out to meet him as he emerged from the brushwood, and saidin a gruff whisper, clutching his shoulder hard, 'Not a word to givea clue! Mum! More than your life hangs on it. '

No more could pass, to explain the clue intended, whether to thepresence of the young Lord Clifford himself, which was his firstthought, or to the inhabitant of the hermitage. For Sir Lancelot'scheerful voice was exclaiming, 'Here he is, my lady! Here's yourson! How now, my young lord? Thou hast learnt to hold up thy head!Ay, and to bow in better sort, ' as, bending with due grace, Halpaused for a second ere hurrying forward to kneel before his mother, who raised him in her arms and kissed him with fervent affection. 'My son! mine own dear boy, how art thou grown! Thou hast well nigha knightly bearing!' she exclaimed. 'Master Bunce hath done well bythee. '

'Good blood will out, my lady, ' quoth Simon, well pleased at herpraise. 

'He hath had no training but thine?' said Sir Lancelot, looking fullat Simon. 

'None, Sir Knight, unless it be honest Halstead's here. '

'Methought I heard somewhat of the hermit in the glen, ' put in thelady. 

'He is a saint!' declared two or three voices, as if this precludedhis being anything more. 

'A saint, ' repeated the lady. 'Anchorets are always saints. Whatdoth he?'

'Prayeth, ' answered Simon. 'Never doth a man come in but he is athis prayers. 'Tis always one hour or another!'

'Ay?' said Sir Lancelot, interrogatively. 'Sayest thou so? Is he anold man?'

Simon put in his word before Hal could speak: 'Men get so knockedabout in these wars that there's no guessing their age. I myselfshould deem that the poor rogue had had some clouts on the head thatdazed him and made him fit for nought save saying his prayers. '

Here Sir Lancelot beckoned Simon aside, and walked him away, so as toleave the mother and son alone together. 

Lady Threlkeld questioned closely as to the colour of the eyes andhair, and the general appearance of the hermit, and Hal replied, without suspicion, that the eyes were blue, the hair, he thought, ofa light colour, the frame tall and slight, graceful though stooping;he had thought at first that the hermit must be old, very old, buthad since come to a different conclusion. His dress was a plainbrown gown like a countryman's. There was nobody like him, no onewhom Hal so loved and venerated, and he could not help, as he stoodby his mother, pouring out to her all his feeling for the hermit, andthe wise patient words that now and then dropped from him, such as'Patience is the armour and conquest of the godly;' or, 'Shall a mancomplain for the punishment of his sins?' 'Yet, ' said Hal, 'whatsins could the anchoret have? Never did I know that a man could beso holy here on earth. I deemed that was only for the saints inheaven. '

The lady kissed the boy and said, 'I trow thou hast enjoyed a greathonour, my child. '

But she did not say what it was, and when her husband summoned her, she joined him to repair to Penrith, where they were keeping anautumn retirement at a monastery, and had contrived to leave theirescort and make this expedition on their way. 

Simon examined Hal closely on what he had said to his mother, sighedheavily, and chided him for prating when he had been warned againstit, but that was what came of dealing with children and womenfolk. 

'What can be the hurt?' asked Hal. 'Sir Lancelot knows well who Iam! No lack of prudence in him would put men on my track. '

'Hear him!' cried Simon; 'he thinks there is no nobler quarry in thewoods than his lordship!'

'The hermit! Oh, Simon, who is he?'

But Simon began to shout for Hob Hogward, and would not hear anyfurther questions before he rode away, as far as Hal could see, inthe opposite direction to the hermitage. But when he repairedthither the next day he was startled by hearing voices and the stampof horses, and as he reconnoitred through the trees he saw half adozen rough-looking men, with bows and arrows, buff coats, and steel-guarded caps--outlaws and robbers as he believed. 

His first thought was that they meant harm to the gentle hermit, andhis impulse was to start forward to his protection or assistance, butas he sprang into sight one of the strangers cried out: 'How now!Here's a shepherd thrusting himself in. Back, lad, or 'twill be theworse for you. '

'The hermit! the hermit! Do not meddle with him! He's a saint, 'shouted Hal. 

But even as he spoke he became aware of Simon, who called out: 'Hold, sir; back, Giles; this is one well nigh in as much need of hiding ashim yonder. Well come, since you be come, my lord, for we cannot get_him_ there away without a message to you, and 'tis well he should beoff ere the sleuth-hounds can get on the scent. '

'What! Where! Who?' demanded the bewildered boy, breaking off, asat that moment his friend appeared at the door of the hovel, nolonger in the brown anchoret's gown but in riding gear, partiallydefended by slight armour, and with a cap on his head, which made himlook much younger than he had before done. 

'Child, art thou there? It is well; I could scarce have gone withoutbidding thee farewell, ' he said in his sweet voice; 'thou, the dearcompanion of my loneliness. '

'O sir, sir, and are you going away?'

'Yea, so they will have it! These good fellows are come to guardme. '

'Oh! may I not go with thee?'

'Nay, my fair son. Thou art beneath thy mother's wing, while I amlike one who was hunted as a partridge on the mountains. '

'Whither, oh whither?' gasped Hal. 

'That I know not! It is in the breasts of these good men, who arecharged by my brave wife to have me in their care. '

'Oh! sir, sir, what shall I do without you? You that have helped me, and taught me, and opened mine eyes to all I need to know. '

'Hush, hush; it is a better master than I could ever be that thouneedest. But, ' as tokens of impatience manifested themselves amongthe rude escort, 'take thou this, ' giving him the little service-book, as he knelt to receive it, scarce knowing why. 'One day thouwilt be able to read it. Poor child! whose lot it is to befatherless and landless for me and mine, I would I could do more forthee. '

'Oh! you have done all, ' sobbed Hal. 

'Nay, now, but this be our covenant, my boy! If thou, and if mineown son both come to your own, thou wilt be a true and loyal man tohim, even as thy father was to me, and may God Almighty make it gobetter with you both. '

'I will, I will! I swear by all that is holy!' gasped Hal Clifford, with a flash of perception, as he knelt. 

'Come, my liege, we have far to go ere night. No time for moreparting words and sighs. '

Hal scarcely knew more except that the hands were laid on his head, and the voice he had learnt to love so well said: 'The blessing ofGod the Father be upon thee, thou fatherless boy, and may He rewardthee sevenfold for what thy father was, who died for his faithfulnessto me, a sinner! Fare thee well, my boy. '

As the hand that Hal was fervently kissing was withdrawn from him hesank upon his face, weeping as one heartbroken. He scarce heard thesounds of mounting and the trampling of feet, and when he raised hishead he was alone, the woods and rocks were forsaken. 

He sprang up and ran along at his utmost speed on the trampled path, but when he emerged from it he could only see a dark party, containing a horseman or two, so far on the way that it was hopelessto overtake them. 

He turned back slowly to the deserted hut, and again threw himself onthe ground, weeping bitterly. He knew now that his friend and masterhad been none other than the fugitive King, Henry of Windsor. 

CHAPTER X. THE SCHOLAR OF THE MOUNTAINS

Not in proud pomp nor courtly state;Him his own thoughts did elevate, Most happy in the shy recess. --WORDSWORTH. 

The departure of King Henry was the closing of the whole intellectualand religious world that had been opened to the young Lord Clifford. To the men of his own court, practical men of the world, there weretimes when poor Henry seemed almost imbecile, and no doubt his attackof melancholy insanity, the saddest of his ancestral inheritances, had shattered his powers of decision and action; but he was one who'saw far on holy ground, ' and he was a well-read man in humanlearning, besides having the ordinary experience of having lived inthe outer world, so that in every way his companionship wasdelightful to a thoughtful boy, wakening to the instincts of hisrace. 

To think of being left to the society of the sheep, of dumb Piers andhis peasant parents was dreariness in the extreme to one who hadbegun to know something like conversation, and to have his countlessquestions answered, or at any rate attended to. Add to this, he hada deep personal love and reverence for his saint, long before theknowing him as his persecuted King, and thus his sorrow might well beprofound, as well as rendered more acute by the terror lest his evenunconscious description to his mother might have been treason!

He wept till he could weep no longer, and lay on the ground in hisdespair till darkness was coming on, and Piers came and pulled himup, indicating by gestures and uncouth sounds that he must go home. Goodwife Dolly was anxiously looking out for him. 

'Laddie, there thou beest at last! I had begun to fear me whetherthe robber gang had got a hold of thee. Only Hob said he saw MasterSimon with them. Have they mishandled thee, mine own lad nurse'sdarling? Thou lookest quite distraught. '

All Hal's answer was to hide his head in her lap and weep like ababe, though she could, with all her caresses, elicit nothing fromhim but that his hermit was gone. No, no, the outlaws had not hurthim, but they had taken him away, and he would never come back. 

'Ay, ay, thou didst love him and he was a holy man, no doubt, but oneof these days thou shalt have a true knight, and that is better for ayoung baron to look to than a saint fitter for Heaven than for earth!Come now, stand up and eat thy supper. Don't let Hob come in andfind thee crying like a swaddled babe. '

With which worldly consolations and exhortations Goodwife Dollybrought him to rise and accept his bowl of pottage, though he couldnot swallow much, and soon put it aside and sought his bed. 

It was not till late the next day that Simon Bunce was seen ridinghis rough pony over the moor. Hal repaired to him at once, with thebreathless inquiry, 'Where is he?'

'In safe hands! Never you fear, sir! But best know nought. '

'O Simon, was I--? Did I do him any scathe?--I--I never knew--I onlytold my lady mother it was a saint. '

'Ay, ay, lad, more's the pity that he is more saint than king! If mylady guessed aught, she would be loyal as became your father's wife, and methinks she would not press you hard for fear she should beforced to be aware of the truth. '

'But Sir Lancelot?'

'As far as I can gather, ' explained Simon, 'Sir Lancelot is one thathath kept well with both sides, and so is able to be a protector. But down came orders from York and his crew that King Harry isreported to be lurking in some of these moors, and the CountessClifford being his wife, he fell under suspicion of harbouring him. Nay, there was some perilous talk in his own household, so that, as Iunderstand the matter, he saw the need of being able to show that heknew nothing; or, if he found that the King was living within theselands, of sending him a warning ere avowing that he had been there. So I read what was said to me. '

'He knew nothing from me! Neither he nor my lady mother, ' eagerlysaid Hal. 'When I mind me I am sure my mother cut me short when Idescribed the hermit too closely, lest no doubt she should guess whohe was. '

'Belike! It would be like my lady, who is a loyal Lancastrian atheart, though much bent on not offending her husband lest hisprotection should be withdrawn from you. '

'Better--O, a thousand times better!--he gave me up than the King!'

'Hush! What good would that do? A boy like you? Unless they tookyou in hand to make you a traitor, and offered you your lands if youwould swear allegiance to King Edward, as he calls himself. '

'Never, though I were cut into quarters!' averred Hal, with a fiercegesture, clasping his staff. 'But the King? Where and what havethey done with him?'

'Best not to know, my lord, ' said Simon. 'In sooth, I myself do notknow whither he is gone, only that he is with friends. '

'But who--what were they? They looked like outlaws!'

'So they were; many a good fellow is of Robin of Redesdale's train. There are scores of them haunting the fells and woods, all Red Rosemen, keeping a watch on the King, ' replied Simon. 'We had made upour minds that he had been long enough in one place, and that he musthave taken shelter the winter through, when I got notice of thesenotions of Sir Lancelot, and forthwith sent word to them to have himaway before worse came of it. '

'Oh! why did you not let me go with him? I would have saved him, waited on him, fought for him. '

'Fine fighting--when there's no getting you to handle a lance, exceptas if you wanted to drive a puddock with a reed! Though you havebeen better of late, little as your hermit seemed the man to teachyou. '

'He said it was right and became a man! Would I were with him! He, my true King! Let me go to him when you know where, good Simon. I, that am his true and loving liegeman, should be with him. '

'Ay! when you are a man to keep his head and your own. '

'But I could wait on him. '

'Would you have us bested to take care of two instead of one, and mylady, moreover, in a pother about her son, and Sir Lancelot stirredto make a hue and cry all the more? No, no, sir, bide in peace inthe safe homestead where you are sheltered, and learn to be a man, minding your exercises as well as may be till the time shall come. '

'When I shall be a man and a knight, and do deeds of derring-do inhis cause, ' cried Hal. 

And the stimulus drove him on to continual calls to Hob, in Simon'sdefault, to jousts with sword or spear, represented generally bystaves; and when these could not be had, he was making arrows andpractising with them, so as to become a terror to the wild ducks andother neighbours on the wolds, the great geese and strange birds thatcame in from the sea in the cold weather. When it was not possibleto go far afield in the frosts and snows, he conned King Henry'sportuary, trying to identify the written words with those he knew byheart, and sometimes trying to trace the shapes of the letters on thesnow with a stick; visiting, too, the mountains and looking into thelimpid grey waters of the lakes, striving hard to guess why, when thesea rose in tides, they were still. More than ever, too, did thestarry skies fill him with contemplation and wonder, as he dwelt onthe scraps alike of astronomy, astrology, and devotion which he hadgathered from his oracle in the hermitage, and longed more and morefor the time to return when he should again meet his teacher, hissaint, and his King. 

Alas! that time was never to come. The outlawed partisans of the RedRose had secret communications which spread intelligence rapidlythroughout the country, and long before Sir Lancelot and his ladyknew, and thus it was that Simon Bunce learnt, through the outlaws, that poor King Henry had been betrayed by treachery, and seized byJohn Talbot at Waddington Hall in Lancashire. Deep were the cursesthat the outlaws uttered, and fierce were the threats against theTalbot if ever he should venture himself on the Cumbrian moors; andstill hotter was their wrath, more bitter the tears of the shepherdlord, when the further tidings were received that the Earl of Warwickhad brought the gentle, harmless prince, to whom he had repeatedlysworn fealty, into London with his feet tied to the stirrups of asorry jade, and men crying before him, 'Behold the traitor!'

The very certainty that the meek and patient King would bear all withrejoicing in the shame and reproach that led him in the steps of hisMaster, only added to the misery of Hal as he heard the tale; and helay on the ground before his hut, grinding his teeth with rage andlonging to take revenge on Warwick, Edward, Talbot--he knew not whom--and grasping at the rocks as if they were the stones of the Towerwhich he longed to tear down and liberate his beloved saint. 

Nor, from that time, was there any slackness in acquiring orpractising all skill in chivalrous exercises. 

CHAPTER XI. THE RED ROSE

That Edward is escaped from your brotherAnd fled, as he hears since, to Burgundy. --SHAKESPEARE. 

Years passed on, and still Henry Clifford continued to be theshepherd. Matters were still too unsettled, and there were too manyYorkists in the north, keeping up the deadly hatred of the familyagainst that of Clifford, for it to be safe for him to show himselfopenly. He was a tall, well-made, strong youth, and his stepfatherspoke of his going to learn war in Burgundy; but not only was hismother afraid to venture him there, but he could not bear to leaveEngland while there was a hope of working in the cause of the captiveKing, though the Red Rose hung withered on the branches. 

Reports of misunderstandings between King Edward and the Earl ofWarwick came from time to time, and that Queen Margaret and her sonwere busy beyond seas, which kept up hope; and in the meantime Halgrew in the knowledge of all country lore, of herd and wood, andadded to it all his own earnest love of the out-of-door world, ofsun, moon, and stars, sea and hills, beast and bird. The hermitKing, who had been a well-educated, well-read man in his earlierdays, had given him the framework of such natural science as had comedown to the fifteenth century, backed by the deepest faith inscriptural descriptions; and these inferences and this philosophywere enough to lead a far acuter and more able intellect, withgreater opportunities of observation, much further into the fields ofthe mystery of nature than ever the King had gone. 

He said nothing, for never had he met one who understood a word hesaid apart from fortune telling, excepting the royal teacher afterwhom he longed; but he watched, he observed, and he dreamt, and cameto conclusions that his King's namesake cousin, Enrique of Portugal, the discoverer, in his observatory at St. Vincent, might haveprofited by. Brother Brian, a friar, for whose fidelity SimonBunce's outlaw could absolutely answer, and who was no Friar Tuck, inspite of his rough life, gave Dolly much comfort religiously, carriedon some of the education for which Hal longed, and tried to teach himastrology. Some of the yearnings of his young soul were thusgratified, but they were the more extended as he grew nearer manhood, and many a day he stood with eyes stretched over the sea to the dimline of the horizon, with arms spread for a moment as if he wouldjoin the flight of the sea-gulls floating far, far away, then claspedover his breast in a sort of despair at being bound to one spot, thenpressed the tighter in the strong purpose of fighting for hisimprisoned King when the time should come. 

For this he diligently practised with bow and arrow when alone, oronly with Piers, and learnt all the feats of arms that Simon Runce orGiles Spearman could teach him. Spearman was evidently anaccomplished knight or esquire; he had fought in France as well as inthe home wars, and knew all the refinements of warfare in an age whenthe extreme weight of the armour rendered training and skill doublynecessary. Spearman was evidently not his real name, and it wasevident that he had some knowledge of Hal's real rank, though henever hazarded mention of other name or title. The great drawbackwas the want of horses. The little mountain ponies did not adequatelyrepresent the warhorses trained to charge under an enormous load, andthe buff jerkins and steel breast-plates of the outlaws were equallyfar from showing how to move under 'mail and plates of Milan steel. 'Nor would Sir Lancelot Threlkeld lend or give what was needful. Indeed, he was more cautious than ever, and seemed really alarmed aswell as surprised to see how tall and manly his step-son was growing, and how like his father. He would not hear of a visit to Threlkeldunder any disguise, though Lady Clifford was in failing health, norwould he do anything to forward the young lord's knightly training. In effect, he only wanted to keep as quiet and unobserved aspossible, for everything was in a most unsettled and dangerouscondition, and there was no knowing what course was the safest forone by no means prepared to lose life or lands in any cause. 

The great Earl of Warwick, on whom the fate of England had hithertohinged, was reported to have never forgiven King Edward for hismarriage with Dame Elizabeth Grey, and to be meditating insurrection. Encouraged by this there was a great rising in Yorkshire of thepeasants under Robin of Redesdale, and a message was brought to GilesSpearman and his followers to join them, but he and Brother Briandemurred, and news soon came that the Marquess of Montagu haddefeated the rising and beheaded Redesdale. 

Sir Lancelot congratulated his step-son on having been too late totake up arms, and maintained that the only safe policy was to donothing, a plan which suited age much better than youth. 

He still lived with Hob and Piers, and slept at the hut, but he wentfurther and further afield among the hills and mosses, often with nocompanion save Watch, so that he might without interruption watch theclear streams and wonder what filled their fountains, and why the seawas never full, or stand on the sea-shore studying the tides, andtrying to construct a theory about them. King Henry was satisfiedwith 'Hitherto shalt thou come and no farther, ' but He who gave thatdecree must have placed some cause or rule in nature thus to affectthem. Could it be the moon? The waves assuredly obeyed the changesof the moon, and Hal was striving to keep a record in strokes markedby a stick on soft earth or rows of pebbles, so as to establish arule. 'Aye, aye, ' quoth Hob. 'Poor fellow, he is not much wiserthan the hermit. See how he plays with pebbles and stones. You'llmake nought of him, fine grown lad as he is. Why, he'll sit dazedand moonstruck half a day, and all the night, staring up at the starsas if he would count them!'

So spoke the stout shepherd to Simon Bunce, pointing to the youngman, who lay at his length upon the grass calculating the proportionsof the stones that marked the relations of hours of the flood tideand those of the height of the moon. Above and beyond was a sundialcut out in the turf, from his own observations after the hints thatthe hermit and the friar had given him. 

'Ha now, my lord, I have rare news for you. '

The unwonted title did not strike Hal's unaccustomed ears, and hecontinued moving his lips, 'High noon, spring tide. '

'There, d'ye see?' said Hob, 'he heeds nothing. 'That I and mygoodwife should have bred up a mooncalf! Here, Hal, don't you knowSimon? Hear his tidings!'

'Tidings enow! King Henry is freed, King Edward is fled. My Lord ofWarwick has turned against him for good and all. King Henry isproclaimed in all the market-places! I heard it with my own ears atPenrith!' And throwing up his cap into the air, while the examplewas followed by Hob, with 'God save King Henry, and you my Lord ofClifford. '

The sound was echoed by a burst of voices, and out of the brakesuddenly stood the whole band of outlaws, headed by Giles Spearman, but Hal still stood like one dazed. 'King Harry, the hermit, freeand on his throne, ' he murmured, as one in a dream. 

'Ay, all things be upset and reversed, ' said Spearman, with a hand onhis shoulder. 'No herd boy now, but my Lord of Clifford. '

'Come to his kingdom, ' repeated Hal. 'My own King Harry the hermit!I would fain go and see him. '

'So you shall, my brave youth, and carry him your homage and mine, 'said Spearman. 'He will know me for poor Giles Musgrave, who upheldhis standard in many a bloody field. We will off to Sir Lancelot atThrelkeld now! Spite of his policy of holes and corners, he will notnow refuse to own you for what you are, aye, and fit you out asbecomes a knight. '

'God grant he may!' muttered Bunce, 'without his hum and ha, andswaying this way and that, till he never moves at all! Betwixt hiscaution, and this lad's moonstruck ways, you have a fair coursebefore you, Sir Giles! See, what's the lad doing now?'

The lad was putting into his pouch the larger white pebbles that hadrepresented tens in his calculation, and murmuring the numbers theystood for. 'He will understand, ' he said almost to himself, but heshowed himself ready to go with the party to Threlkeld, merelypausing at Hob's cottage to pick up a few needful equipments. In theskin of a rabbit, carefully prepared, and next wrapped in a silkenkerchief, and kept under his chaff pillow, was the hermit's portuary, which was carefully and silently transferred by Hal to his own bosom. Sir Giles Musgrave objected to Watch, in city or camp, and Hal wasobliged to leave him to Goodwife Dolly and to Piers. 

With each it was a piteous parting, for Dolly had been as a mother tohim for almost all his boyhood, and had supplied the tenderness thathis mother's fears and Sir Lancelot's precautions had prevented hisreceiving at Threlkeld. He was truly as a son to her, and she sobbedover him, declaring that she never would see him again, even if hecame to his own, which she did not believe was possible, and whowould see to his clean shirts?

'Never fear, goodwife, ' said Giles Musgrave; 'he shall be looked toas mine own son. '

'And what's that to a gentle lad that has always been tended asbecomes him?'

'Heed not, mother! Be comforted! I must have gone to the wars, anyway. If so be I thrive, I'll send for thee to mine own castle, toreign there as I remember of old. Here now! Comfort Piers as thouonly canst do. '

Piers, poor fellow, wept bitterly, only able to understand thatsomething had befallen his comrade of seven years, which would takehim away from field and moor. He clung to Hal, and both lads shedtears, till Hob roughly snatched Piers away and threw him to hisaunt, with threats that drew indignant, though useless, interferencefrom Hal, though Simon Bunce was muttering, 'As lief take one lad asthe other!' while Dolly's angry defence of her nursling's wisdombroke the sadness of the parting. 

CHAPTER XII. A PRUDENT RECEPTION

So doth my heart misgive me in these conflicts, What may befall him to his harm and ours. --SHAKESPEARE. 

Through the woods the party went to the fortified house of Threlkeld, where the gateway was evidently prepared to resist any passingattack, by stout gates and a little watch-tower. 

Sir Giles blew a long blast on his bugle-horn, and had to repeat ittwice before a porter looked cautiously out at a wicket opening inthe heavy door, and demanded 'Who comes?'

'Open, porter, open in the name of King Harry, to the Lords ofClifford and of Peelholm. '

The porter fell back, observing, 'Sir, pardon, while I have speechwith my master, Sir Lancelot Threlkeld. '

Some delay and some sounds of conversation were heard, then, on arenewed and impatient blast on Sir Giles's horn, Sir LancelotThrelkeld himself came to the wicket, and his thin anxious voicemight be heard demanding, 'What madness is this?'

'The madness is past, soundness is come, ' responded Sir Giles. 'KingHarry is on his throne, the traitors are fled, and your own fair soncomes forth in his proper person to uphold the lawful sovereign; buthe would fain first see his lady mother, and take her blessing withhim. '

'And by his impatience destroy himself, after all the burthen of careand peril he hath been to me all these years, ' lamented Sir Lancelot. 'But come in, fair lad. Open the gates, porter. I give you welcome, Lord Musgrave of Peelholm. But who are these?' he added, looking atthe troop of buff-coated archers in the rear. 

'They are bold champions of the Red Rose, returned Sir Giles, 'whohave lived with me in the wolds, and now are on the way to maintainour King's quarrel. ''

Sir Lancelot, however, would not hear of admitting the outlaws. Young Clifford and the Lord of Peelholm should be welcome, or moretruly he could not help receiving them, but the archers must stayoutside, their entertainment in beef and ale being committed to Bunceand the chief warder, while the two noblemen were conducted to thecastle hall. For the first time in his life Clifford was received inhis mother's home, and accepted openly, as he knelt before her to askher blessing. A fine, active, handsome youth was he, with bright, keen eyes, close-curled black locks and hardy complexion, telling ofhis out-of-door life, and a free use of his limbs, and uprightcarriage, though still with more of the grace of the free mountainthan of the training of pagedom and squiredom. 

Nor could he speak openly and freely to her, not knowing how much hemight say of his past intercourse with King Henry, and of herendeavour to discover it; and he sat beside her, neither of themgreatly at ease, at the long table, which, by the array of silvercups, of glasses and the tall salt cellar separating the nobility andtheir followers, recalled to him dim recollections of the scenes ofhis youth. 

He asked for his sister--he knew his little brother had died in theNetherlands--and he heard that she had been in the Priory of St. Helen's, and was now in the household of my Lady of Hungerford, whohad promised to find a good match for her. There was but one son ofthe union with the knight of Threlkeld, and him Hal had never seen;nor was he at home, being a page in the household of the Earl ofWestmoreland, according to the prevailing fashion of the castles ofthe great feudal nobles becoming schools of arms, courtesy andlearning for the young gentlemen around. Indeed, Lady Cliffordsurveyed her eldest son with a sigh that such breeding was deniedhim, as she observed one or two little deficiencies in what would becalled his table manners--not very important, but revealing that hehad grown up in the byre instead of the castle, where there was avery strict and punctilious code, which figured in catechisms for theyoung. 

She longed to keep him, and train him for his station, but in thefirst place, Sir Lancelot still held that it could not safely bepermitted, since he had little confidence in the adherence of theHouse of Nevil to the Red Rose; and moreover Hal himself utterlyrefused to remain concealed in Cumberland instead of carrying hisservice to the King he loved. 

In fact, when he heard the proposal of leaving him in the north, hestood up, and, with far more energy than had been expected from him, said, 'Go I must, to my lawful King's banner, and my father's cause. To King Harry I carry my homage and whatever my hand can do!'

Such an expression of energy lighted his hitherto dreamy eyes, thatall beholders turned their glances on his face with a look of wonder. Sir Lancelot again objected that he would be rushing to his ruin. 

'Be it so, ' replied Hal. 'It is my duty. '

'The time seems to me to be come, ' added Musgrave, 'that my younglord should put himself forward, though it may be only in a losingcause. Not so much for the sake of success, as to make himself a manand a noble. '

'But what can he do?' persisted Threlkeld; 'he has none of thetraining of a knight. How can you tilt in plate armour, you who havenever bestridden a charger? These are not the days of Du Guesclin, when a lad came in from the byre and bore down all foes before him. '

The objection was of force, for the defensive armour of the fifteenthcentury had reached a pitch of cumbrousness that required longpractice for a man to be capable of moving under it. 

'So please you, sir, ' said Hal, 'I am not wholly unskilled. The goodSir Giles and Simon Bunce have taught me enough to strike a blow witha good will for a good cause. '

'With horse and arms as befits him, ' began Musgrave. 

'I know not that a horse is here that could be depended on, ' beganThrelkeld. 'Armour too requires to be fitted and proved. '

He spoke in a hesitating voice that showed his unwillingness, and Halexclaimed, 'My longbow is mine own, and so are my feet. Sir Giles, will you own me as an archer in your troop, where I will strive notto disgrace you or my name?'

'Bravely spoken, young lord, ' said Sir Giles heartily; 'rightwillingly will I be your godfather in chivalry, since you find notone nigher home. '

'So may it best be, ' observed his mother, 'since he is bent on going. Thus his name and rank may be kept back till it be plain whether theenmity of my Lords of Warwick and Montagu still remain against ourpoor house. '

There was no desire on either side to object when the Lord Musgraveof Peelholm decided on departing early on the morrow. Their host wasevidently not sorry to speed them on their way, and his reluctanthospitality made them anxious to cumber him no longer than needful;and his mind was relieved when it was decided that the heir of the DeVescis and Cliffords should be known as Harry of Derwentdale. 

Only, when all was preparation in the morning, and a hearty servicehad been said in the chapel, the lady called her son aside, andlooking up into his dark eyes, said in a low voice, 'Be not angeredwith my lord husband's prudence, my son. Remember it is only bycaution that he has saved thine head, or mine, or thy sister's!'

'Ay, ay, mother, I know, ' he said, more impatiently than perhaps heknew. 

'It was by the same care that he preserved us all when Edgecotefieldwas fought. Chafe not at him. Thou mayst be thankful even now, mayhap, to find a shelter preserved, while that rogue and robberNevil holds our lands. '

'I am more like to have to protect thee, lady mother, and bring theeto thy true home again!' said Hal. 

'Meantime, my child, take this purse and equip thyself at York orwhenever thou canst. Nay, thou needst not shrug and refuse! Howlike thy father the gesture, though I would it were more gracious andseemly. But this is mine, mine own, none of my husband's, though hewould be willing. It comes from the De Vesci lands, and those willbe thine after me, and thine if thou winnest not back thy Cliffordinheritance. And oh! my son, crave of Sir Giles to teach thee how todemean thyself that they may not say thou art but a churl. '

'I trust to be no churl in heart, if I be in manners, ' said Hal, looking down on his small clinging mother. 

'Only be cautious, my son. Remember that you are the last of thename, and it is your part to bring it to honour. '

'Which I shall scarce do by being cautious, ' he said, with somethingof a smile. 'That was not my father's way. '

'Ah me! You have his spirit in you, and how did it end?'

'My Lord of Clifford, ' said a voice from the court, 'you are waitedfor!'

'And remember, ' cried his mother, with a last embrace, 'there will besafety here whenever thou shalt need it. '

'With God's grace, I am more like to protect you and your husband, 'said the lad, bending for another kiss and hurrying away. 

CHAPTER XIII. FELLOW TRAVELLERS

And sickerlie she was of great disport, And full pleasant and amiable of port;Of small hounds had she that she fedWith roasted flesh and milk and wastel bread. --CHAUCER. 

Sir Giles Musgrave of Peelholm was an old campaigner, and when Halcame out beyond the gate of the Threlkeld fortalice, he found himreviewing his troop; a very disorderly collection, as Sir Lancelotpronounced with a sneer, looking out on them, and strongly advisinghis step-son not to cast in his lot with them, but to wait and seewhat would befall, and whether the Nevils were in earnest in theirdesertion of the House of York. 

Hal restrained himself with difficulty enough to take a courteousleave of his mother's husband, to whose prudence and forbearance hewas really much beholden; though, with his spirit newly raised andburning for his King, it was hard to have patience with neutrality. 

He found Sir Giles employed in examining his followers, and rigidlysending home all not properly equipped with bow, sheaf of arrows, strong knife or pike, buff coat, head-piece and stout shoes; also awallet of provisions for three days, or a certain amount of coin. Hewould have no marauding on the way, and refused to take any merelawless camp follower, thus disposing of a good many disreputable-looking fellows who had flocked in his wake. Sir Lancelot's stewardseconded him heartily by hunting back his master's retainers; andthere remained only about five-and-twenty--mostly, in fact, yeomen ortheir sons--men who had been in arms for Queen Margaret and had nevermade their submission, but lived on unmolested in the hills, reallyoutlawed, but not coming in collision with the authorities enough tohave their condition inquired into. They had sometimes attackedYorkist parties, sometimes resisted Scottish raids, or even made aforay in return, and they were well used to arms. These all had fullequipments, and some more coin in their pouches than they cared toavow. Three or four of them brought an ox, calf or sheep, or a roughpony loaded with provisions, and driven by a herd boy or a son eagerto see life and 'the wars. ' Simon Bunce, well armed, was of thisparty. Hob Hogward, though he had come to see what became of hisyoung lord, was pronounced too stiff and aged to join the band, whichmight now really be called a troop, not a mere lawless crowd of roughlads. There were three trained men-at-arms, the regular retainers ofSir Giles, who held a little peel tower on the borders where nobodydurst molest him, and these marshalled the little band in fair order. 

It was no season for roses, but a feather was also the cognisance ofHenry VI. , and every one's barret-cap mounted a feather, generallyborrowed from the goodwife's poultry yard at home, but sometimespicked up on the moors, and showing the barred black and brownpatterns of the hawk's or the owl's plumage. It was a heron'sfeather that Hal assumed, on the counsel of Sir Giles, who told himit was an old badge of the Cliffords, and it became well his brightdark hair and brown face. 

On they went, a new and wonderful march to Hal, who had only lookedwith infant eyes on anything beyond the fells, and had very rarelybeen into a little moorland church, or seen enough people togetherfor a market day in Penrith. Sir Giles directed their course alongthe sides of the hills till he should gain further intelligence, andknow how they would be received. For the most part the people werewell inclined to King Henry, though unwilling to stir on his behalfin fear of Edward's cruelty. 

However, it was as they had come down from the hills intending toobtain fresh provisions at one of the villages, and Hal was beginningto recognise the moors he had known in earlier childhood, that theyperceived a party on the old Roman road before them, which theoutlaws' keen eyes at once discovered to be somewhat of their ownimputed trade. There seemed to be a waggon upset, persons bound, anda buzz of men, like wasps around a honeycomb preying on it. Something like women's veiled forms could be seen. 'Ha! Mererobbery. This must not be. Upon them! Form! Charge!' were thebrief commands of the leader, and the compact body ran at a rapid buta regulated pace down the little slope that gave them an advantage ofground with some concealment by a brake of gorse. 'Halt! Pikesforward!' was the next order. The little band were already closeupon the robbers, in whom they began to recognise some of those whomSir Giles had dismissed as mere ruffians unequipped a few daysbefore. It was with a yell of indignation that the troop fell onthem, Sir Giles with a sharp blow severing the bridle of a horse thata man was leading, but there was a cry back, 'We are for King Harry!These be Yorkists!'

'Nay! nay!' came back the voices of the overthrown. 'Help! help! forKing Harry and Queen Margaret! These be rank thieves who have set onus! Holy women are here!'

These exclamations came broken and in utter confusion, mingled withcries for mercy and asseverations on the part of the thieves, andfierce shouts from Sir Giles's men. All was hubbub, barking dogs, shouting men, and Hal scarcely knew anything till he was aware of twoor three shrouded nuns, as it seemed, standing by their ponies, ofmerchantmen or carters trying to quiet and harness frightened mules, of waggons overturned, of a general confusion over which arose LordMusgrave's powerful authoritative voice. 

'Kit of Clumber! Why should I not hang you for thieving on yondertree, with your fellow thieves?'

'Yorkists, sir! It was all in the good cause, ' responded a sullenvoice, as a grim red and scarred face was seen on a ruffian held bytwo of the archers. 

'No Yorkists we, sir!' began a stout figure, coming forward from thewaggon. 'We be peaceable merchants and this is a holy dame, the--'

'The Prioress Selby of Greystone, ' interrupted one of the nuns, coming forward with a hawk on her wrist. 'Sir Giles of Musgrave, Iam beholden to you! I was on my way to take the young damsel ofBletso to her father, the Lord St. John, with Earl Warwick in London. He sent us an escort, but they being arrant cravens, as it seems, wethought it well to join company with these same merchants, and thuswe became a bait for the outlaws of the Border. '

'Lady, lady, ' burst from one of the prisoners, 'I swear that wekenned not holy dames to be of the company! Sir, my lord, we thoughtto serve the cause of King Harry, and how any man is to guess whichside is Earl Warwick's is past an honest man. '

'An honest man whose cause is his own pouch!' returned Sir Giles. 'Miscreants all! But I trow we are scarce yet out of the land ofmisrule! So if the Lady Prioress will say a word for such a sort ofsorners, I'll e'en let you go on your way. '

'They have had a warning, the poor rogues, and that will suffice forthis time! Nay, now, fellows, let my wimple alone! You'll not findanother lord to let you off so easy, nor another Prioress to standyour friend. Get off, I say. '

An archer enforced her words with a blow, and by some means, rough orotherwise, a certain amount of order was restored, the ruffiansslinking off among the gorse bushes, their flight hastened by thepointing of pikes and levelling of arrows at them. While themerchants, diving into their packages, produced horns of ale which ayounger man offered to their defenders, the chief of the party, aportly fellow, interrupted certain civilities between the Prioressand Sir Giles by praying them to partake of a cup of malmsey, andadding an entreaty that they might be allowed to join company with sobrave an escort, explaining that he was a poor merchant of London andthe Hans towns who had been beguiled into an expedition to Scotlandto the young King James, who was said to have a fair taste. He wavedhis hands as if his sufferings had been beyond description. 

'Went for wool and came back shorn!' said the Prioress, laughing. 'Well, my Lord Musgrave, what say you to letting us join company?--asI see your band is afoot it will be no great delay, and the more thesafer as well as the merrier! Here, let me present to you my youngmaid, the Lady Anne of Bletso, whom I in person am about to deliverto her father. '

'And let me present privately to both ladies, ' said Sir Giles, 'theyoung squire Harry of Derwentdale, who hath been living as a shepherdin the hills during the York rule. '

'Ha! my lord, methinks this may not be the first meeting between LadyAnne and you, though she would not know who the herd boy was whofound her, a stray lambkin on the moor. '

The young people looked at each other with eyes of recognition, andas Hal made his best bow, he said, 'Forsooth, lady, I did not knowmyself till afterwards. '

'Your shepherd and his wife gave me to understand that I should dohurt by inquiring too much, ' said the young lady smiling, and holdingout her hand, which Hal did not know whether to kiss or to shake. 'Ihope the kind old goodwife is well, who cosseted me so lovingly. '

'She fares well, indeed, lady, only grieved at parting with me. '

'There now, ' said the Prioress, 'since we are quit of the robbers, methinks we cannot do better than halt awhile for Master Lorimer'sfolk to mend the tackling of their gear, while we make our noondaymeal and provide for our further journey. Allow me to be yourhostess for the nonce, my lords. '

And between the lady's sumpter mules and the merchant's stores a farmore sumptuous meal was produced than would have otherwise been theshare of the Lancastrian party. 

CHAPTER XIV. THE JOURNEY

'Twas sweet to see these holy maids, Like birds escaped to greenwood shades, --SCOTT. 

The Prioress Agnes Selby of Greystone was a person who would havemade a much fitter lady of a castle than head of a nunnery. Shewould have worked for and with her lord, defended his lands for him, governed his house and managed her sons with untiring zest andenergy. But a vow of her parents had consigned her to a monasticlife at York, where she could only work off her vigour by teasing themore devout and grave sisters, and when honourably banished to themore remote Greystone, in field sports, and in fortifying her conventagainst Scots or Lancastrians who, somewhat to her disappointment, never did attack her. No complaint or scandal had ever attacheditself to her name, and she let Mother Scholastica manage the nuns, and regulate the devotions, while Greystone was known as a placewhere a thirsty warrior might be refreshed, where tales and balladsof Border raids were welcome, and where good hawk or hound was notdespised. 

It had occurred to the Lord St. John of Bletso that the littledaughter whom he had left at York might be come to a marriageableage, and he had listened to the proposal of one of the cousins of thehouse of Nevil for a contract between her and his son, sending anescort northwards to fetch her, properly accompanied. 

She had been all these years at Greystone, and the Prioressimmediately decided that this would be an excellent opportunity ofseeing the southern world, and going on a round of pilgrimages whichwould make the expedition highly decorous. The ever restless spiritwithin her rose in delight, and the Sisterhood of York were ready toacquiesce, having faith in Mother Agnes' good sense to guide her andher pupil to his castle in Bedfordshire by the help of Father Martinthrough any tangles of the White and Red Roses that might await her, as well to her real principle for avoiding actual evil, though shemight startle monastic proprieties. 

There was no doubt but that conversation, when she could have it, wasas great a joy to her as ever was galloping after a deer; and thereshe sat with her beautiful hound by her side, and her hawk on a pole, exchanging sentiments of speculation as to Warwick's change of frontwith Sir Giles Musgrave, Father Martin, and Master Ralph Lorimer, while discussing a pasty certainly very superior to anything that hadcome out of the Penrith stores. 

Young Clifford and Lady Anne sat on the grass near, too shy for thepresent to renew their acquaintance, but looking up at one anotherunder their eyelashes, and the first time their eyes met, the girlbreaking into a laugh, but it was not till towards the end of therefection that they were startled into intercourse by a generalgrowling and leaping up of the great hound, and of the two bigungainly dogs chained to the waggon, as wet, lean, bristling butecstatic, Watch dashed in among them, and fell on his master. 

For four days (unless he was tied up at first) the good dog must havebeen tracking him. 'Off! off!' cried the Prioress, holding back herdeer-hound by main strength. 'Off, Florimond! he sets thee a patternof faithfulness! Be quiet and learn thy devoir!'

'O sir, I cannot send him back!' entreated Hal, also embracing andcaressing the shaggy neck. 

'Send him back! Nay, indeed. As saith the Reverend Mother, it werewell if some earls and lords minded his example, ' said Sir Giles. 

'Here! Watch, I mind thee well, ' added Anne. 'Here's a slice ofpasty to reward thee. Oh! thou art very hungry, ' as the big mouthbolted it whole. 

'Nearly famished, poor rogue!' said Hal, administering a bone. 'Howfar hast thou run, mine own lad! Art fain to come with thy masterand see the hermit?'

'Thou must e'en go, ' growled Simon Bunce, 'unless the lady's dog makean end of thee! 'Tis ever the worthless that turn up. '

'I would Florimond would show himself as true, ' said the Prioress. 'Don't show thy teeth, sir! I can honour Watch, yet love thee. '

''Tis jealousy as upsets faith, ' said the merchant. 'The hound is aknightly beast with his proud head, but he brooks not to see aWoodville creep in. '

'Nay, or a Beaufort!' suggested Sir Giles. 

'No treason, Lord Musgrave!' said the Prioress, laughing. 

'Ah, madam, ' responded Sir Giles, 'what is treason?'

'Whatever is against him that has the best of it, ' observed MasterLorimer. 'Well that it is not the business of a poor dealer inhorse-gear and leather-work. He asks not which way his bridles areto turn! How now, Tray and Blackchaps? Never growl and gird. Youhave no part in the fray!'

For they were chained, and could only champ, bark and howl, whileFlorimond and Watch turned one another over, and had to be pulledforcibly back, by Hal on the one hand and on the other by the MotherAgnes, who would let nobody touch Florimond except herself. Afterthis, the two dogs subsided into armed neutrality, and graduallybecame devoted friends. 

The curiously composed cavalcade moved on their way southward. ThePrioress was mounted on the fine chestnut horse that Sir Giles hadrescued. She was attended by a nun, Sister Mabel, and a lay Sister, both as hardy as herself, and riding sturdy mountain ponies; but herchaplain, a thin delicate-looking man with a bad cough, only venturedupon a sturdy ass; Anne St. John had a pretty little white palfreyand two men-at-arms. There were two grooms, countrymen, who had runaway on the onset of the thieves, but came sneaking back again, to besoundly rated by the Prioress, who threatened to send them home againor have them well scourged, but finally laughed and forgave them. 

The merchant, Master Lorimer--who dealt primarily in all sorts ofhorse furniture, but added thereto leather-work for knights and men-at-arms, and all that did not too closely touch the armourer's trade--had three sturdy attendants, having lost one in an attack by theScottish Borderers, and he had four huge Flemish horses, who spedalong the better for their loads having been lightened by sales inEdinburgh, where he had hardly obtained skins enough to make up forthe weight. His headquarters, he said, were at Barnet, since tanningand leather-dressing, necessary to his work, though a separate guild, literally stank in the nostrils of the citizens of London. 

To these were added Sir Giles Musgrave's twenty archers, making avery fair troop, wherewith to proceed, and the Prioress decided onnot going to York. She was not particularly anxious for an interviewwith the Abbess of her Order, and it would have considerablylengthened the journey, which both Musgrave and Lorimer were anxiousto make as short as possible. They preferred likewise to keep to thecountry, that was still chiefly open and wild, with all its destinyin manufactories yet to come, though there were occasionally suchtowns, villages and convents on the way where provisions and lodgingcould be obtained. 

Every fresh scene of civilisation was a new wonder to Hal Clifford, and scarcely less so to Anne St. John, though her life in themoorland convent had begun when she was not quite so young as he hadbeen when taken to the hills of Londesborough. He had only been twoor three times in the church at Threlkeld, which was simple and bare, and the full display of a monastic church was an absolute amazement, making him kneel almost breathless with awe, recollecting what theroyal hermit had told him. He was too illiterate to follow theservice, but the music and the majestic flow of the chantsoverwhelmed him, and he listened with hands clasped over his face, not daring to raise his eyes to the dazzling gold of the altar, lighted by innumerable wax tapers. 

The Prioress was amused. 'Art dazed, my friend? This is but a poorcountry cell; we will show you something much finer when we get toDerby. '

Hal drew a long breath. 'Is that meant to be like the saints inHeaven?' he said. 'Is that the way they sing there?'

'I should hope they pronounce their Latin better, ' responded thePrioress, who, it may be feared, was rather a light-minded woman. Atany rate there was a chill upon Hal which prevented him fromdirecting any of his remarks or questions to her for the future. Thechaplain told him something of what he wanted to know, but he metwith the most sympathy from the Lady Anne. 

'Which, think you, is the fittest temple and worship?' he said; asthey rode out together, after hearing an early morning service, gonethrough in haste, and partaking of a hurried meal. The sun wasrising over the hills of Derbyshire, dyeing them of a red purple, standing out sharply against a flaming sky, flecked here and therewith rosy clouds, and fading into blue that deepened as it rosehigher. The elms and beeches that bordered the monastic fields hadbegun to put on their autumn livery, and yellow leaves here and therewere like sparks caught from the golden light. 

Hal drew off his cap as in homage to the glorious sight. 

'Ah, it is fine!' said Anne, 'it is like the sunrise upon our ownmoors, when one breathes freely, and the clouds grow white instead ofgrey. '

'Ah!' said Hal, 'I used to go out to the high ground and say theprayer the hermit taught me--"Jam Lucis, " it began. He said it wasabout the morning light. '

'I know that "Jam Lucis, "' said Anne; 'the Sisters sing it at prime, and Sister Scholastica makes us think how it means about light comingand our being kept from ill, ' and she hummed the chant of the firstverse. 

'I think this blue sky and royal sun, and the moon and stars atnight, are God's great hall of praise, ' said Hal, still keeping hiscap off, as he had done through Anne's chant of praise. 

'Verily it is! It is the temple of God Almighty, Creator of Heavenand earth, as the Credo says, ' replied Anne, 'but, maybe, we comenearer still to Him in God the Son when we are in church. '

'I do not know. The dark vaulted roof and the dimness seem to crushme down, ' said the mountain lad, 'though the singing lifts mesometimes, though at others it comes like a wailing gust, allmournful and sad! If I could only understand! My royal hermit wouldtell me when I can come to him. '

'Do you think, now he is a king again, he will be able to take heedto you?'

'I know he cares for me, ' said Hal with confidence. 

'Ah yea, but will the folk about him care to let him talk to you? Ihave heard say that he was but a puppet in their hands. Yea, you area great lord, that is true, but will that great masterful EarlWarwick let you to him, or say all these thoughts of his and yoursare but fancies for babes?'

'Simon Bunce did mutter such things, and that one of us was as greatan innocent as the other, ' said Hal, 'but I trust my hermit's love. '

'Ay, you know you are going to someone you love, and who loves you, 'sighed Anne, 'but how will it be with me?'

'Your father?' suggested Hal. 

'My father! What knows he of me or I of him? I tell thee, HarryClifford, he left me at York when I was not eight years old, and Ihave never seen him since. He gave a charge on his lands to agoldsmith at York to pay for my up-bringing, and I verily believethought no more of me than if I had been a messan dog. He wedded alady in Flanders and had a son or twain, but I have never seen themnor my stepdame; and now Gilbert there, who brought the letter to theMother Prioress, says she is dead, and the little heir, whose birthmakes me nobody, is at a monastery school at Ghent. But my Lord ofRedgrave must needs make overtures to my father for me, whether forhis son or himself Gilbert cannot say. So my father sends to bringme back for a betrothal. The good Prioress goes with me. She saiththat if it be the old Lord, who is a fierce old rogue with as ill aname as Tiptoft himself, the butcher, she will make my Lord St. Johnknow the reason why! But what will he care?'

'It would be hard not to hear my Lady Prioress!' said Hal, lookingback at the determined black figure, gesticulating as she talked toSir Giles. 

Anne laughed, half sadly, 'So you think! But you have never seen thegrim faces at Bletso! They will say she is but a woman and a nun, and what are her words to alliance with a friend of the Lord ofWarwick? Ah! it is a heartless hope, when I come to that castle!'

'Nay, Anne, if my King gives me my place then--

'Lady Anne! Lady Anne!' called Sir Giles Musgrave, 'the MotherPrioress thinks it not safe for you to keep so much in the front. There might be ill-doers in the thickets. '

Anne perforce reined in, but Hal fed on the idea that had suddenlyflashed on him. 

CHAPTER XV. BLETSO

Matter of marriage was the charge he gave me. --SHAKESPEARE, The cavalcade journeyed on not very quickly, as the ridersaccommodated themselves to those on foot. They avoided the townswhen they came into the more inhabited country, the Prioresspreferring the smaller hostels for pilgrims and travellers, and, itmay be suspected, monasteries to the nunneries, where she said theladies had nothing to talk about but wonder at her journey, andadvice to stay in shelter till after the winter weather. Meantime itwas a fine autumn still, and with bright colours on the woods, wheredeer, hare, rabbit, or partridge tempted the hounds, not to say theirmistress, but she kept them well in leash, and her falcon with hoodand jesses, she being too well nurtured not to be well aware of thestrict laws of the chase, except when some good-natured monk gave herleave and accompanied her--generally Augustinians, who were more ofcountry squires than ecclesiastics. Watch needed no leash--he keptclose to his master, except when occasionally tempted to a littleamateur shepherding, from which Hal could easily call him off. Thegreat stag-hounds evidently despised him, and the curs of the waggonhated him, and snarled whenever he came near them, but the Prioressrespected him, and could well believe that the hermit King had lovedhim. 'He had just the virtues to suit the good King Harry, ' shesaid, 'dutifulness and harmlessness. '

The Prioress was the life of the party, with her droll descriptionsof the ways of the nuns who received her, while the males of theparty had to be content with the hostel outside. Sir Giles andMaster Lorimer, riding on each side of her, might often be heardlaughing with her. The young people were much graver, especially asthere were fewer and fewer days' journeys to Bletso, and Anne'sunknown future would begin with separation from all she had everknown, unless the Mother Prioress should be able to remain with her. 

And to Harry Clifford the loss of her presence grew more and more tobe dreaded as each day's companionship drew them nearer together insympathy, and he began to build fanciful hopes of the King'sinfluence upon the plans of Lord St. John, unless the contract ofbetrothal had been actually made, and therewith came a certain zestin looking to his probable dignity such as he had never felt before. 

The last day's journey had come. The escort who had acted as guideswere in familiar fields and lanes, and one, the leader, rode up toLady Anne and pointed to the grey outline among the trees of herhome, while he sent the other to hurry forward and announce her. 

Anne shivered a little, and Hal kept close to her. He had made thejourney on foot, because he had chosen to be reckoned amongMusgrave's archers till he had received full knightly training; and, besides, he had more freedom to attach himself to Anne's bridle rein, and be at hand to help through difficult passages. Now he came upclose to her, and she held out her hand. He pressed it warmly. 

'You will not forget?'

'Never, never! That red rose in the snow--I have the leaf in mybreviary. And Goodwife Dolly, tell her I'll never forget how shecosseted the wildered lamb. '

'Poor Mother Dolly, when shall I see her?'

'Oh! you will be able to have her to share your state, and Watch too!I take none with me. '

'If we are all in King Harry's cause, there will be hope of meeting, and then if--'

'Ah! I see a horseman coming! Is it my father?'

It was a horseman who met them, taking off his cap of maintenance andbowing low to the Prioress and the young lady, but it was theseneschal of the castle, not the father whom Anne so dreaded, but anold gentleman, Walter Wenlock, with whom there was a greeting as ofan old friend. My lord had gone with the Earl of Warwick to QueenMargaret in France, and had sent a messenger with a letter to meethis daughter at York, and tell her to go to the house of the PoorClares in London instead of coming home, 'and there await him. '

The route that had been taken by the party accounted for their nothaving met the messenger and it was plain that they must go on toLondon. The evening was beginning to draw in, and a night's lodgingwas necessary. Anne assumed a little dignity. 

'My good friends who have guarded me, I hope you will do me thehonour to rest for the night in my father's castle. '

The seneschal bowed acquiescence, but the poor man was evidentlysorely perplexed by such an extensive invitation on the part of hisyoung lady on his peace establishment, though the Prioress did herbest to assist Anne to set him at ease. 'Here is Sir Giles Musgrave, the Lord of Peelholm on the Borders, a staunch friend of King Harry, with a band of stout archers, and this gentleman from the north iswith him. ' (It had been agreed that the Clifford name should not bementioned till the way had been felt with Warwick, one of whosecousins had been granted the lands of the Black Lord Clifford. )

The seneschal bent before Musgrave courteously, saying he was happyto welcome so good and brave a knight, and he prayed his followers toexcuse if their fare was scant and homely, being that he wasunprovided for the honour. 

'No matter, sir, ' returned Musgrave; 'we are used to soldiers' fare. '

'And, ' proceeded Anne, 'Master Lorimer must lie here, and his wains. '

'Master Lorimer, ' said the Prioress, 'with whom belike--Lorimer ofBarnet--Sir Seneschal has had dealings, ' and she put forward themerchant, who had been falling back to his waggon. 

'Yea, ' said Walter Wenlock frankly, holding out his hand. 'We havebought your wares and made proof of them, good sir. I am glad towelcome you, though I never saw you to the face before. '

'Great thanks, good seneschal. All that I would ask would be licencefor my wains to stand in your court to-night while my fellows and Isup and lodge at the hostel. '

The hospitality of Bletso could not suffer this, and both Anne andthe seneschal were urgent that all should remain, Wenlock reflectingthat if the store for winter consumption were devoured, even to thehog waiting to be killed, he could obtain fresh supplies from thetenants, so he ushered all into the court, and summoned steward, cooks, and scullions to do their best. It was not a castle, only acastellated house, which would not have been capable of longresistance in time of danger, but the court and stables gave ampleaccommodation for the animals and the waggons, and the men werebestowed in the great open hall, reaching to the top of the house, where all would presently sup. 

In the meantime the seneschal conducted the ladies and their twoattendants to a tiny chamber, where an enormous bed was being madeready by the steward's wife and her son, and in which all four ladieswould sleep, the Prioress and Anne one way, the other two foot tofoot with them! They had done so before, so were not surprised, andthe lack of furniture was a matter of course. Their mails werebrought up, a pitcher of water and a bowl, and they made theirpreparations for supper. Anne was in high spirits at the dreadedmeeting, and still more dreaded parting, having been deferred, andshe skipped about the room, trying to gather up her oldrecollections. 'Yes, I remember that bit of tapestry, and the manthat stands there among the sheep. Is it King David, think you, Mother, about to throw his stone at the lion and the bear?'

'Lion and bear, child! 'Tis the three goddesses and Paris choosingthe fairest to give the golden apple. '

'Methought that was the lion's mane, but I see a face. '

'What would the Lady Venus say to have her golden locks taken for alion's mane?'

'I like black hair, ' said Anne. 

'Better not fix thy mind on any hue! We poor women have no choicesave what fathers make for us. '

'O good my mother, peace! They are all in France, and there's noneed to spoil this breathing time with thinking of what is coming!Good old Wenlock! I used to ride on his shoulder! I'm right glad tosee him again! I must tell him in his ear to put Hal well above thesalt! May not I tell him in his ear who he is?'

'Safer not, my maid, till we know what King Harry can do for him. Better that his name should not get abroad till he can have his own. '

A great bell brought all down, and Anne was pleased to see that herseneschal made no question about placing Harry Clifford beside thePrioress, who sat next to the Lord of Peelholm, who sat next to theyoung daughter of the house in the seat of honour. 

The nuns, Master Lorimer, and one of the archers, who was a Bordersquire, besides Master Wenlock, occupied the high table on the dais, and the archers, grooms, and the rest of the household were below. 

The fare was not scanty nor unsubstantial, but evidently hastilyprepared, being chiefly broiled slices of beef, on which salting hadbegun; but there was a lack of bread, even of barley, though therewas no want of drink. 

However, the Prioress was good-humoured, and forestalled all excusesby jests about travellers' meals and surprises in the way of guests, and both she and Sir Giles were anxious for Wenlock's news of thestate of things. 

He knew much more of the course of affairs than they in theirnorthern homes and on their journey. 

'The realm is divided, ' he said. 'Those who hold to King Harry, asyou gentles do, are in high joy, but there be many, spoken withrespect, who cannot face about so fast, and hold still for York, though they mislike the Queen's kindred. Of such are the merchantmenof London. '

'Is it so?' asked Lorimer. 'If King Edward be as deep in debt tothem as to me for housings and bridle reins methinks he should not bein good odour in their nostrils. '

'Yea, ' said Wenlock, 'but if he be gone a beggar to Burgundy whatbecomes of their debt?'

'I would not give much for it were he restored a score of times, 'said the Prioress. 'What would he do but plunge deeper?'

'There would be hope, though, of getting an order on the royaldemesne, or the crown jewels, or the taxes, ' said Lorimer. 'Nay, Ihold one even now that will be but waste if he come not back. '

'And this poor King spendeth nothing save on priests and masses, 'said Wenlock. 

Hal started forward, eager to hear of his King, and Musgrave said, 'Aholy man is he. '

'Too holy for a King, ' said the seneschal. 'He looked like awoolsack across a horse when my Lord of Warwick led him downCheapside; and only the rabble cried out "Long live King Harry!" butsome scoffed and said they saw a mere gross monk with a baby facewhere they had been wont to see a comely prince full of manhood, witha sword instead of beads. '

'His son will please them, ' said Musgrave. 'He was a goodly child, full of spirit, when last I saw him. '

'If so be he have not too much of the Frenchwoman, his mother, inhim, ' said Wenlock. 'A losing lot, as poor as any rats, and as proudas very peacocks. '

'She was gracious enough and won all hearts on the Border, ' repliedMusgrave. 

'Come, come!' put in the Prioress, 'you may have the chance yet tobreak a lance on her behalf. No fear but she is royal enough toshine down King Edward's low-born love, the Widow Grey!'

'Ay, there lay the cause of discontent, ' said Lorimer; 'the upstartways of her kin were not to be borne. To hear Dick Woodville chafferabout the blazoning of his horse-gear when he was wedding thefourscore-year-old Duchess of Norfolk, one would have thought he wasan emperor at the very least. '

'Widow Grey has done something for her husband's cause, ' said theseneschal, 'in bringing him at last a fair son, all in his exile, andshe in sanctuary at Westminster. The London citizens are evertouched through all the fat about their hearts by whatever wouldsound well in the mouth of a ballad-monger. '

'My King, my King, what of him?' sighed Hal in the Prioress's ear, and she made the inquiry for him: 'What said you of King Henry, SirSeneschal? How did he fare in his captivity?'

'Not so ill, methinks, ' said the seneschal. 'He had the range of theTower, and St. Peter's in the Fetters to pray in, which was what heheeded most; also he had a messan dog, and a tame bird. Indeed, mensaid he had laid on much flesh since he had been mewed up there; andmy lord, who went with my Lord of Warwick to fetch him, said hisgarments were scarce so cleanly as befitted. 'Twas hard to make himunderstand. First he clasped his hands, and bowed his head, cryingout that he forgave those who came to slay him, and when he found itwas all the other way, he stood like one dazed, let his hand bekissed, and they say is still in the hands of my Lord Archbishop ofYork just as if he were the waxen image of St. John in a procession. '

'The Earl and the Queen will have to do the work, ' said the Prioress, 'and they will no more hold together than a couple of wild hawks willhunt in company. How long do you give them to tear out one another'seyes?'

'Son and daughter may keep them together, ' said Musgrave, 'Hatred of the Woodvilles is more like, a poor band though it be, 'said the Prioress. 'These are stirring times! I'll not go back tomy anchoress lodge in the north till I see what works out of them!Meantime, to our beds, sweet Anne, since 'tis an early starttomorrow. '

The Prioress, who had become warmly interested in Hal, and haddivined the feeling between him and Anne, thought that if she couldobtain access to the Archbishop of York, Warwick's brother George, she could deal with him to procure Clifford's restitution in name andin blood, and at least his De Vesci inheritance, if Dick Nevil, whohad grasped the Clifford lands, could not be induced to give them up. 

'I have seen George Nevil, ' she said, 'when I was instituted toGreystone. He is of kindlier mood than his brothers, and more avaliant trencherman and hunter than aught else. If I had him on themoors and could show him some sport with a red deer, I could turn himround my finger. '

CHAPTER XVI. THE HERMIT IN THE TOWER

Thy pity hath been balm to heal their wounds, Thy mildness hath allayed their swelling griefs, Thy mercy dried their ever flowing tears. --SHAKESPEARE. 

Early in the morning, while the wintry sun was struggling with mists, and grass and leaves were dark with frost, the Prioress was in hersaddle. Perhaps the weather might have constrained a longer stay, but that it was clear to her keen eyes that, however welcome Wenlockmight make his young lady, there was little provision and no welcomefor thorough-going Lancastrians like Sir Giles's troop, who hadbesides a doubtful Robin Hood-like reputation; and as neither she norAnne wished to ride forward without them, they decided to go on alltogether as before. 

And a very wet and slightly snowy journey they had, 'meeting in snowand parting in snow, ' as Hal said, as he marched by Anne's bridle-rein, leading her pony, so as to leave her hands free to hold cloakand hood close about her. 

She sighed, and put one hand on his, but a gust of wind took thatopportunity of getting under her cloak and sending it fluttering overher back, so that he had to catch it and return it to her grasp. 

'Let us take that as a prophecy that storms shall not hinder ourfurther meeting! It may be! It may be! Who knows what my King maydo for us?'

'Only a storm can bring us together! But that may--'

Her breath was blown away again before the sentence was finished, ifit was meant to be finished, and Master Lorimer came to insist on theladies taking shelter in his covered waggon, where the Prioress wasalready installed. 

Through rain and sleet they reached Chipping Barnet in due time onthe third day's journey, and here they were to part from themerchant's wains. He had sent forward, and ample cheer was providedat the handsome timbered and gabled house at the porch of which stoodhis portly wife, with son, daughter, and son-in-law, ready to welcomethe party, bringing them in to be warmed and dried before sittingdown to the excellent meal which it had been Mistress Lorimer's prideand pleasure to provide. There was a small nunnery at Barnet, butnot very near, and the Prioress Agnes did not think herself bound tomake her way thither in the dark and snow, so she remained, mostdevoutly waited on by her hostess, and discussed the very lasttidings, which had been brought that morning by the foreman whomMistress Lorimer had sent to bring the news to her husband. 

It was probable that the Lord of Bletso was with Warwick and theQueen, as he had not been heard of at his home. The King was in theroyal apartments of the Tower, under the charge of the Chancellor. The Earl of Oxford, a steady partisan of the Red Rose, was Constableof the Kingdom, and was guarding the Tower. 

On hearing this, Musgrave decided to repair at once to the Earl, oneof the few men in whom there was confidence, since he had neverchanged his allegiance, and to take his counsel as to the recognitionof young Clifford. On the way to the Tower they would leave thePrioress and her suite at the Sister Minoresses', till news could beheard of the Baron St. John. 

So for the last time the travellers rode forth in slightly improvedweather. Harry's heart beat high with the longing soon to be in thepresence of him who had opened so many doors of life to his youngmind, whom he so heartily loved, and who, it might be, could give himthat which he began to feel would be the joy of his life. 

The archers, who had been lodged in the warehouses, were drawn up ina compact body, and Master Lorimer, who had a shop in Cheapside, decided on accompanying them, partly to be at the scene of action andpartly to facilitate their entrance. 

So Hal walked by the side of Anne St. John's bridle-rein, with a veryfull heart, swelling with sensations he did not understand, and whichkept him absolutely silent, untrained as he was in theconventionalities which would have made speech easier to him. Norhad Anne much more command of tongue, and all she did was to keep herhand upon the shoulder of her squire; but there was much involuntarymeaning in the yearning grasp of those fingers, and both fed on thehopes the Prioress had given them. 

Christmas was close at hand, and fatted cattle on their way to marketimpeded the way, so that Hal's time was a good deal taken up insteering the pony along, and in preventing Watch from getting into abattle with the savage dogs that guarded them. Penrith market, whereonce he had been, had never shown him anything like such a concourse, and he could hear muttered exclamations from the archers, who walkedby Sir Giles's orders in a double line on each side the horses, theirpikes keeping off the blundering approach of bullocks or sheep. 'Bythe halidome, if the Scots were among them, they might victual theirwhole kingdom till Domesday!'

The tall spire of old St. Paul's and the four turrets of the Towerbegan to rise on them, and were pointed out by Master Lorimer, foreven Sir Giles had only once in his life visited the City, and no oneelse of the whole band from the north had ever been there. The roadwas bordered by the high walls of monasteries, overshadowed by trees, and at the deep gateway of one of these Lorimer called a halt. Itwas the house of the Minoresses or Poor Clares, where the ladies wereto remain. The six weeks' companionship would come to an end, andthe Prioress was heartily sorry for it. 'I shall scarce meet suchgood company at the Clares', ' she said, laughing, as she took leaveof Lord Musgrave, 'Mayhap when I go back to my hills I shall rememberyour goodwife's offer of hospitality, Master Lorimer. '

Master Lorimer bowed low, expressed his delight in the prospect, andkissed the Prioress's hand, but the heavy door was already beingopened, and with an expressive look of drollery and resignation, thegood lady withdrew her hand, hastily brought her Benedictine hood andveil closely over her face, and rode into the court, followed by hersuite. Anne had time to let her hand be kissed by Sir Giles and Hal, who felt as if a world had closed on him as the heavy doors clangedtogether behind the Sisters. But the previous affection of his younglife lay before him as Sir Giles rode on to the fortified Aldgate, and after a challenge from the guard, answered by a watchword fromLorimer, and an inquiry for whom the knight held, they were admitted, and went on through an increasing crowd trailing boughs of holly andmistletoe, to the north gateway of the Tower. Here they parted withLorimer, with friendly greetings and promises to come and see hisstall at Cheapside. 

There was a man-at-arms with the star of the De Veres emblazoned onhis breast, and a red rosette on his steel cap, but he would notadmit the new-comers till Sir Giles had given his name, and it hadbeen sent in by another of the garrison to the Earl of Oxford. 

Presently, after some waiting in the rain, and looking up with awe atthe massive defences, two knights appeared with outstretched hands ofwelcome. Down went the drawbridge, up went the portcullis, thehorses clattered over the moat, and the reception was hearty indeed. 'Well met, my Lord of Musgrave! I knew you would soon be where RedRoses grew. '

'Welcome, Sir Giles! Methought you had escaped after the fight atHexham. '

'Glad indeed to meet you, brave Sir John, and you, good Lord ofHolmdale! Is all well with the King?'

'As well as ever it will be. The Constable is nigh at hand! Youhave brought us a stout band of archers, I see! We will find a usefor them if March chooses to show his presumptuous nose here again!'

'And hither comes my Lord Constable! It rejoices his heart to hearof such staunch following. '

The Earl of Oxford, a stern, grave man of early middle age, wascoming across the court-yard, and received Sir Giles with theheartiness that became the welcome of a proved and trustworthy ally. After a few words, Musgrave turned and beckoned to Hal, who advanced, shy and colouring. 

'Ha! young Lord Clifford! I am glad to see you! I knew your fatherwell, rest his soul! The King spoke to me of the son of a loyalhouse living among the moors. '

'The King was very good to me, ' faltered Hal, crimson with eagerness. 

'Ay, ay! I sent not after you, having enough to do here; andbesides, till we have the strong hand, and can do without that headykinsman of Warwick, it will be ill for you to disturb the rogue--what's his name--to whom your lands have been granted, and who mightturn against the cause and maybe make a speedy end of you if he knewyou present. Be known for the present as Sir Giles counsels. Betternot put his name forward, ' he added to Musgrave. 

'I care not for lands, ' said Hal, 'only to see the King. '

'See him you shall, my young lord, and if he be not in one of histrances, he will be right glad to see you and remember you. But heis scarce half a man, ' added Oxford, turning to Musgrave. 'Cares fornought but his prayers! Keeps his Hours like a monk! We can hardlybring him to sit in the Council, and when he is there he sits scarceknowing what we say. 'Tis my belief, when the Queen and Prince come, that we shall have to make the Prince rule in his name, and let himalone to his prayers! He will be in the church. 'Tis nones, or somehour as they call it, and he makes one stretch out to another. '

They entered the low archway of St. Peter ad Vincula, and there Halperceived a figure in a dark mantle just touched with gold, kneelingnear the chancel step, almost crouching. Did he not know theattitude, though the back was broader than of old? He paused, as didhis companions; but there was one who did not pause, and would not beleft outside. Watch unseen had pattered up, and was rearing up, jumping and fawning. There was a call of 'Watch! here sirrah!' but'Watch! Watch! Good dog! Is it thou indeed?' was exclaimed at thesame moment, and with Watch springing up, King Henry stood on hisfeet looking round with his dazed glance. 

'My King! my hermit father! Forgive! Down, Watch!' cried Hal, falling down at his feet, with one arm holding down Watch, who triedto lick his face and the King's hand by turns. 

'Is it thou, my child, my shepherd?' said Henry, his hands on thelad's head. 'Bless thee! Oh, bless thee, much loved child of mywanderings! I have longed after thee, and prayed for thee, and nowGod hath given thee to me at this shrine! Kneel and give the Lordthy best thanks, my lad! Ah! how tall thou art! I should not haveknown thee, Hal, but for Watch. '

'It is well, ' muttered Oxford to Musgrave. 'I have not seen him sowell nor so cheery all this day. The lad will waken him up and dohim good. '

CHAPTER XVII. A CAPTIVE KING

And we see far on holy ground, If duly purged our mental view. --KEBLE. 

The King held Harry Clifford by the hand as he left St. Peter'sChurch. 'My child, my shepherd boy, ' he said, and he called Watchafter him, and interested himself in establishing a kind ofsuspicious peace between the shaggy collie and his own 'Minion, ' asmall white curly-haired dog, which belonged to a family that hadbeen brought by Queen Margaret from Provence. 

His attendant knight, Sir Nicolas Romford, told Sir Giles Musgravethat he had really never seemed so happy since his deliverance, andSir Nicolas had waited on him ever since his capture, six yearspreviously. He led the youth along to the royal rooms, asking on theway after his sheep and the goodwife who had sent him presents ofeggs, then showing him the bullfinch, that greeted his return withloving chirps, and when released from its cage came and sat upon hisshoulder and played with his hair, 'A better pet than a fierce hawk, eh, Hal?' he said. 

He laughed when he found that Harry thought he had spent all thistime in a dark underground dungeon with fetters on his feet. 

'Oh no!' he said; 'they were kindly jailors. They dealt better withme than with my Master. '

'Sir, sir, that terrible ride through Cheapside!' said Harry. 'Weheard of it at Derwent-side, and we longed to have our pikes at thethroats of the villain traitors. '

The King looked as if he hardly remembered that cruel procession, when he was set upon a sorry jade with his feet tied to the stirrups, and shouts of 'Behold the traitor!' around him. Then with a sweetsmile of sudden recollection, he said, 'Ah! I recall it, and how Irejoiced to be led in the steps of my Lord, and how the criessounded, "We will not have this man to reign over us!" Gratias ago, unworthy me, who by my own fault could not reign. '

Harry was silenced, awe-struck, and by-and-by the King took him tosee his old chamber in the White Tower, up a winding stone stair. Itwas not much inferior to the royal lodgings, except in the matter ofdais, canopy, and tapestry, and the window looked out into thecountry, so that the King said he had loved it, and it had many ahappy thought connected with it. 

Hal followed him in a sort of silent wonder, if not awe, not daringto answer him in monosyllables. This was not quite the hermit ofDerwentdale. It was a broader man--not with the breadth of fullstrength, but of inactivity and advance of years, though the fiftiethyear was only lately completed--and the royal robe of crimson, touched with gold, suited him far less thaft the brown serge of theanchoret. The face was no longer thin, sunburnt, and worn, but pale, and his checks slightly puffed, and the eyes and smile, with more ofthe strange look of innocent happiness than of old, and of that whichseemed to bring back to his young visitor the sense of peace andwell-being that the saintly hermit had always given him. 

There was consultation that evening between Lord Oxford and Sir GilesMusgrave. It was better, they agreed, to let young Clifford remainwith the King as much as possible, but without divulging his name. The King knew it, and indeed had known it, when he received the boyat his hermitage, but he seemed to have forgotten it, as he had muchbesides. Oxford said that though he could be roused into actualfulfilment of such forms as were required of him, and understood whatwas set before him, his memory and other powers seemed to have beenmuch impaired, and it was held wiser not to call on him more thancould be helped, till the Queen and her son should come to supply theenergy that was wanting. They would make the gay and brilliantappearance that the Londoners had admired in Edward of York, andwhich could not be obtained from poor Henry. 

His memory for actual matters was much impaired. Never for two daystogether could he recollect that his son and Warwick's daughter weremarried, and it was always by an effort that he remembered that thePrince of Wales was not the eight-years-old child whom he had lastseen. As to young Clifford, he sometimes seemed to think the tallnineteen-years-old stripling was just where he had left the child oftwelve or thirteen, and if he perceived the age, was so far confusedthat it was not quite certain that he might not mix him up with hisown son, though the knight in constant attendance was sure that hewas clear on that point, and only looked on 'Hal' as the child of histeaching and prayers. 

But Harry Clifford could not persuade him to enter into that whichmore and more lay near the youthful heart, the rescuing Anne St. Johnfrom the suitor of whom little that was hopeful was heard; and theobtaining her from his father. Of course this could not be unlessHarry could win his father's property, and no longer be under theattaint in blood, so as to be able to lay claim to the lands of theDe Vescis through his mother; but though the King listened withkindly interest to the story of the children's adventure on theLondesborough moor, and the subsequent meeting in Westmorland, therescue from the outlaws, and the journey together, it was all like aromance to him--he would nod his head and promise to do what hecould, if he could, but he never remembered it for two days together, and if Hal ventured on anything like pressure, the only answer was, 'Patience, my son, patience must have her work! It is the will ofGod, it will be right. '

And when Hal began to despair and work himself up and seek to do morewith one so impracticable, Lord Oxford and Sir Giles warned him notto force his real name and claims too much, for he did not need toomany enemies nor to have Lord St. John and the Nevil who held hislands both anxious to sweep him from their path. 

Nor was anything heard from or of the Prioress of Greystone, andwhenever the name of George Nevil, the Chancellor and Archbishop ofYork, was heard, Hal's heart burnt with anxiety, and fear that thelady had forgotten him, though as Dick Nevil, who held the lands ofClifford, was known to be in his suite, it was probable that she wasacting out of prudence. 

The turmoil of anxious impatience seemed to be quelled when Hal saton a stool before the King, with Watch leaning against his knee. Theinstruction or meditation seemed to be taken up much where it hadbeen left six years before, with the same unanswerable questions, only the youth had thought out a great deal more, and the hermit hadadvanced in a wisdom which was not that of the rough, practicalworld. 

Part of Clifford's day was spent in the tilt-yard, where his twofriends, as well as himself, were anxious that he should acquireproficiency and ease such as would become his station, when herecovered it; and a martinet old squire of Oxford proved himselfnearly as hard a master as ever Simon Bunce had been. 

One very joyous day came to Henry in his regal capacity. ChristmasDay had been quietly spent. There was much noisy revelling in thecity, and the guards in the castle had their feastings, but Warwickwas daily expected to return from France, and neither his brother northe Archbishop thought that there was much policy in making a publicspectacle of a puppet King. 

But there was one ceremony from which Henry would not be debarred. He would make the public offering on the Epiphany in WestminsterAbbey. He had done so ever since he was old enough to totter up tothe altar and hold the offerings; and his heart was set on doing soonce more. So a large and quiet cream-coloured Flemish horse wasbrought for him, he was robed in purple and ermine, with a coronalaround the cap that covered his hair, fast becoming white. His trainin full array followed him, and the streets were thronged, but therewas an ominous lack of applause, and even a few audible jeers at themonk dressed up like the jackdaw in peacock's plumes, and comparisonswith Edward, in sooth a king worth looking at. 

Henry seemed not to heed or hear. His blue eyes looked upward, hisface was set in peaceful contemplation, his lips were moving, andthose who were near enough caught murmurs of 'Vidimus enim stellamEjus in Oriente et venimus adorare Eum. ' Truly the one might be aking to suit the kingdoms of this world, the other had a soul nearthe Kingdom of Heaven. 

The Dean and choir received him at the west door, and with the samerapt countenance he paced up to the sanctuary, and knelt before thechair appropriated to him, while the grand Epiphany Celebration wasgone through, in all its glory and beauty of sound and sight, andwith the King kneeling with clasped hands, and a radiant look ofhappiness almost transfiguring that worn face. 

When the offertory anthem was sung, he rose up, and advanced to thealtar. A salver of gold coins was presented to him, which he tookand solemnly laid on the altar, but paused for a moment, and removedhis crown with both hands, placing it likewise on the altar, andkneeling for a moment ere he turned to take the vase whence breathedthe fragrant odour of frankincense; and presenting this, andafterwards kneeling and bowing low with clasped hands, he again tookthe salver in which the myrrh was laid. This again he placed on thealtar, and remained kneeling in intense devotion through theremainder of the service, only looking up at the 'Sursum Corda, ' whenthose near enough to see his countenance said that they never knewbefore the full import of those words, nor how the heart could beuplifted. 

It was the first time that Hal Clifford had ever joined in the fullceremonial of the Church, or in such splendid accompaniment, forthough there had been the rightful ritual at St. Peter's in theTower, the space had been confined, and the clergy few, and thewhole, even on Christmas Day, had been more or less a training to himto enter into what he now saw and heard. He had in these last weeksgathered much of the meaning of all this from the King, who perhapsnever fully disentangled the full-grown youth from the boy he hadtaught at Derwentdale, but who, perhaps for that very cause, reallysuited better the strange mixture of ignorance, simplicity, observation and aspiration of the shepherd lord. 

The King did not help more but less than he had done before in Hal'sresearches and wonderings about natural objects; he had forgotten thephilosophies he had once read, and the supposed circuits of moon, planets and stars only perplexed and worried his brain. It was muchmore satisfactory to refer all to 'He hath made them fast for everand ever, He hath given them a law which shall not be broken, ' and hecould not understand Hal's desire to find out what that law was, andfar less his calculations about the tides. He had scarcely ever seenthe sea, and as to its motions, 'Hitherto shalt thou come and nofarther' was sufficient explanation, and when Hal tried to show himthe correspondence between spring tides and full moons he eitherwaved him away or fell asleep. 

But on the spiritual side of his mind there was no torpor. He lovedto explain the sense of the prayers to his willing pupil, and to tellhim the Gospel story, dwelling on whatever could waken or carry onthe Christian life; and between the tiltyard and the oratory Halspent a strange life. 

That question which had occurred to him on the journey Hal venturedto lay before his King--'Was it really and truly better and moreacceptable worship that came to breathe through him when alone withGod under the open vault of Heaven, with endless stars above andbeyond, or was the best that which was beautified and guided bypriests, with all that man's devices could lavish upon itsembellishment?' Such, though in more broken and hesitating words, was the herd boy's difficulty, and Henry put his head back, and afterhaving once said, 'Adam had the one, God directed the other, ' he shuthis eyes, and Hal feared he would put it aside as he had with themoon and the tides, but after some delay, he leant forward and said, 'My son, if man had always been innocent, that worship as Adam andEve had it might--nay, would--have sufficed them. The more innocentman is, the better his heart rises. But sin came into the world, andexpiation was needed, not only here on earth, but before the just Godin Heaven above. Therefore doth He, who hath once offered Himself insacrifice for us, eternally present His offering in Heaven before theMercy-Seat, and we endeavour as much as our poor feeble efforts can, to take part in what He does above, and bring it home to our sensesby all that can represent to us the glories of Heaven. '

There was much in this that went beyond Hal, who knitted his brow, and would have asked further, but the King fell into a state ofcontemplation, and noticed nothing, until presently he broke out intoa thanksgiving: 'Blessed be my Lord, who hath granted me once more tofollow in the steps of the kings of the East, though but as in adream, and lay my crown and my prayer before Him. Once more I thankThee, O my true King of kings, and Lord of lords. '

'Oh, do not say once more!' exclaimed Hal. 'Again and again, Itrust, sir. It is no dream. It is real. '

The King smiled and shook his head. 'It is all a dream to me, ' hesaid, 'the pageants and the whole. They will not last! Oh, no! Itis all but an empty show. '

Hal looked up anxiously, and the King went on: 'Well do I rememberthe day when, scarce able to walk, and weighed down by my robes, Itottered up to the altar and was well pleased to make my offering, and how my Lord of Warwick, who was then, took me in his arms, andshowed me my great father's figure on his grave, and told me I wasbound to be such a king as he! Alas! was it mine own error that I sofailed?--

 Henry born at Monmouth shall short live and gain all, Henry born at Windsor shall long live and lose all. '

'Oh, sir, sir, do not speak of that old saw!'

Still the King smiled. 'It has come true, my child. All is lost, and it may be well for my soul that thus it should be, and that Ishould go into the presence of my God freed from the load of what wasgained unjustly. I know not whether, if my hand had been stronger, Ishould have striven to have borne up the burthen of these two realms, but they never ought to have been mine, and if the sins of theforefathers be visited on the children to the third and fourthgeneration, no marvel that my brain and mine arm could but sink underthe weight. Would that I had yielded at once, and spared thebloodshed and sacrilege! Miserere mei! My son was a temptation. Oh, my poor boy! is he to be the heir to all that has come on me?Have pity on him, good Lord!'

'Nay, sir, your brave son will come home to comfort you, and help youand make all well. '

'I know not! I know not! I cannot believe that I shall see himagain, or that the visitation of these crimes is not still to come!My son, my sweet son, I can only pray that he might give up his soulsackless and freer of guilt than his father can be, when I rememberall that I ought to have hindered when I could think and use my will!Now, now all is but confusion! God has taken away my judgment, evenas He did with my French grandsire, and I can only let others act asthey will, and pray for them and for myself. '

He had never spoken at such length, nor so clearly, and whenever hewas required to come forward, he merely walked, rode, sat or signedrolls as he was told to do, and continually made mistakes as to thepersons brought to him, generally calling them by their fathers'names, if he recognised them at all, but still to his nearestattendants, and especially to his beloved herd boy, he was the samegentle, affectionate being, never so happy as at his prayers, andsometimes speaking of holy things as one almost inspired. 

CHAPTER XVIII. AT THE MINORESSES'

The bird that hath been limed in a bush, With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush. SHAKESPEARE. 

One day, soon after that Twelfth Day, Hal accompanied Sir GilesMusgrave to the shop or stall of Master Lorimer in Cheapside, a widespace, open by day but closed by shutters at night, where all sortsof gilded and emblazoned leather-works for man or horse weredisplayed, and young 'prentices called, 'What d'ye lack?' 'Saddle ofthe newest make?' 'Buff coat fit to keep out the spear of BlackDouglas himself?'

''Tis Master Lorimer himself I lack, ' said Musgrave with a good-humoured smile, and the merchant appeared from a room in the rear, something between a counting-house and a bedroom, where he welcomedhis former companions, and insisted on their tasting the good sherrissack that had been sent with his last cargo of Spanish leather. 

'I would I could send a flask to our good Prioress, ' he said, 'tocheer her heart. I went to the Minoresses' as she bade me, to settlesome matters of account with her, and after some ado, Sister Mabelcame down to the parlour and told me the Prioress is very sick with atertian fever, and they misdoubt her recovering. '

'And the young Lady of St. John. '

'She is well enough, but sadly woeful as to the Mother Prioress, andlikewise as to what they hear of the Lord Redgrave. It is the oldman, not his son, a hard and stark old man, as I remember. He wouldhave bargained with me for the coats of the poor rogues slain at St. Albans, and right evil was his face as he spoke thereof, he beingthen for Queen Margaret; but then he went over to King Edward, andglutted himself with slaughter at Towton, and here he calls himselfRed Rose again. Ill-luck to the poor young maid if she falls tohim!'

It was terrible news for Hal, and Musgrave could not but gratify himby riding by the Minories to endeavour to hear further tidings of thePrioress. 

It was a grand building in fine pointed architecture, for the Clares, though once poor, in imitation of St. Clara and St. Francis, had beendispensed collectively from their vow of poverty, and though singlyincapable of holding property, had a considerable accumulation enmasse. They were themselves a strict Order, but they often gavelodgings to ladies either in retreat or for any cause detained nearLondon. 

Sir Giles and Harry were only admitted to the outer court, whence theportress went with their message of inquiry. They waited a longtime, and then the Greystone lay Sister who had been the companion oftheir journey came back in company with the portress. 

'Benedicite, dear gentles, ' she said; 'oh, you are a sight for saireen. '

'And how fares the good Mother Prioress?' asked the Lord of Peelholm. 

'Alack! she is woefully ill when the fever takes her, and she iswasted away so that you would scarce know her; but this is one of thebetter days, and if you, sir, will come into the parlour, she willsee you. She was arraying herself as I came down. She was neitherto have nor to hold when she heard you were there, and said a northcountry face would be better to her than all the Sisters' potions!'

They were accordingly conducted through a graceful cloister, overgrown with trailing ivy, to a bare room, with mullioned windows, and frescoes on the Walls with the history of St. Francis relievingbeggars, preaching to the birds, &c. , and with a stout open workbarrier cutting off half the room. 

Presently the Prioress tottered in, leaning heavily on the arms ofSister Mabel and of Anne St. John, while her own lay Sister andanother placed a seat for her; but before she would sit down, shewould go up to the opening, and turning back her veil, put out a handto be grasped. 'Right glad am I to see you, good Sir Giles and youngHarry. Are you going back to the wholesome winds of our moors?'

'Not yet, holy Mother. It grieves me to see you faring so ill. '

'Ah! a breeze from the north would bring life back to my old bones. Aye, Giles, this place has made an old woman of me. ' And truly herbright ruddy face was faded to a purple hue, and her cheeks hunghaggard and almost withered, but as her visitors expressed theirgrief and sympathy, she went on in her own tone. 'And tell mesomewhat of how things are going. How doth Richard of Warwickcomport himself to the King? Hath your King zest enough to reign?Is my White Rose King still abroad in Burgundy?' And as Sir Gilesreplied to each inquiry in turn, and told all he could of politicalmatters, she exclaimed: 'Ah! that is better than the hearing whetherthe black hen hath laid an egg, or the skein of yellow silk matches. I am weary, O! I am weary. Moreover, young Hal, I know as mattersare that could I see George Nevil face to face I could do somewhatwith him, and I laid my plans to obtain a meeting, but therewith, what with vexation and weariness and lack of air, comes thissickness, and I am laid aside and can do nought but pray, and lay myplans to meet him some day in the fields, and show him what a hawkcan do, then shame him into listening to my tale. But I must be asound woman first! And maybe his brother Warwick, being a sturdygentleman who loves a brave man, will be better to deal with. I am asinful woman, and maybe my devotions here will help me to be moreworthy to be heard. Moreover, I hoped you had done somewhat in thineown cause with thy King and Earl Oxford, ' she proceeded. 'Thou hastan esquire's coat; hast thou any hope of thy lands?'

'I must strive to earn them by deeds, ' said Hal. 'And--'

'Well spoken, lad! 'Tis the manly way; but methought you hadstinterest with this King of thine, or hath he only a royal memory forservices?'

'He is good to me. Yea, most good, ' began Harry. 

'Ay, he loves the boy, ' said Sir Giles, 'no question about that; buthis memory for all that is about him hath failed, and there isnothing for it save to wait for the Queen and the Prince, who willbear the boy's father's services in mind. '

'And wherefore tarries the French woman? This maid's father is tocome over with her. He is forming her English court, I trow; she canhave few beside from England. '

'When he comes, ' said Harry, with a look into Anne's eyes that madethem droop and her cheeks burn, 'then shall we put it to the touch. Then shall I know whether I have mine own, and what is more than mineown. '

'Thine own, ' whispered Anne. 'Oh, better live in the sheepfolds withthee than with this Baron! I shudder at the thought. '

This, and a few more such words were an aside, while the Prioresscontinued her conversation with Sir Giles, and went on to say thatshe was sure she should never recover till she was out of thesewalls, and away from London smoke and London smells, and shenaughtily added in a whisper the weary talk of these good nuns, whohad never flown a hawk or chased a deer in their lives, and thoughtFlorimond a mere wolf, if not the evil one himself, and kept the poorhound chained up like a malefactor in gyves, till she was fain tosend him away with Master Lorimer to keep for her. 

She would not go back to her Priory till Anne's fate was settled, being in hopes of doing something yet for the poor wench; butmeantime she should die if she stayed there much longer, and shemeant to set forth on pilgrimage in good time, before she hadscandalised the good ladies enough to make them gossip to the damesof St. Helen's, who would be only too glad to have a story againstthe Benedictines. A ride over the Kentish downs was the only curefor her or for Anne, who had been pining ever since they had beenmewed up here, though, looking across at the girl, whose head wasleaning against the bars, Sir Giles seemed to have brought a remedyto judge by those cheeks. 

'Would that we could hope it would be an effectual and lastingremedy, ' sighed Sir Giles; 'but unless this poor King could be rousedto insist, or the Earl of Warwick fell out with his cousin, I do notsee much chance for the lad. '

'Is it Warwick who is his chief foe or King Edward?' asked thePrioress. 

'King Edward, doubtless, for his father's slaughter of young Rutlandat Wakefield. '

'That bodes ill, ' said the lady. 'By all I gather, King Edward is atiger when once roused, but at other times is like that same tiger, purring and slow to move. But there's a bell that warns us tovespers. They are mightily more strict here than ever we are atGreystone. Ah! you won't tell tales, Sir Giles! You'll soon hear ofme at St. Thomas's shrine at Canterbury. '

The knight took his leave. It was impossible not to like and pitythe Prioress, though the life among devout nuns was clearly beyondher powers. 

The dreamy peaceful days of the Tower of London were stirred by thearrival of the great Earl of Warwick, the Kingmaker, as peoplealready called him. He took up his residence in his own mightyestablishment at Warwick House near St. Paul's; and the day after hisarrival, he came clanking over London Bridge with a great followingof knights and squires to pay his respects to King Henry. 

Henry Clifford was not disposed to meet him, and only watched from awindow when the drawbridge was lowered, and the sturdy man, withgrizzled hair and marked, determined features, rode into the gateway, where he was received by the Earl of Oxford. 

The interview was long, and when it was finished, the two Earls madethe round of the defences, and Oxford drew up his garrison on theTower Green to be inspected. 

When Warwick had taken his leave, Hal was summoned to the Constable'shall. 'We must be jogging, my young master, ' he said. 'There arerumours of King Edward making another attempt for his crown, and myLord of Warwick would have me go and watch the eastern seaboard. Andyou had best go with me. '

'The King--' began Hal. 

'You will come back to the King by-and-by if so be he misses you, buthe was more dazed than ever to-day, and perhaps it was well, forWarwick brought with him Dick Nevil, who has got your lands ofClifford, and might be tempted to put you out of the way in one ofthe dungeons that lie so handy. '

'No one save the King knows who I am, ' said Hal, 'and he forgets fromday to day all save that I am the herd boy, and I think it cheers himto have me with him. I will stay beside him even as a varlet. '

'Nay, my lord, that may not be. 'Tis true he loves thee, but he willforget anon, and I may not suffer the risk. Too many know or guess. '

Harry Clifford repeated that he recked not of the risk when he couldserve and comfort his beloved King, and, indeed, his mind was made upon the subject. He had taken measures for remaining as one of themen-at-arms of the garrison; but King Henry himself surprised him bysaying, 'My young Lord of Clifford, fare thee well. Thou goest forthto-morrow with the Constable of Oxford. Take my blessing with thee, my child. Thou hast been granted to me to make life very sweet to meof late, and I thank God for it, but the time is come that thou mustpart from me. '

'Oh, sir, never! None was ever so dear to me! For weal or woe Iwill be with you! Suffer me to be your meanest varlet, and serve youas none other can do. '

Henry shook his head. 'It may not be, my child, let not thy bloodalso be on my head! Go with Oxford and his men. Thou hast learnt todraw sword and use lance. Thou wilt be serving me still if againthere be, which Heaven forefend, stricken fields in my cause or myson's. '

'Sir, if I must fight, let no less holy hand than thine layknighthood on my shoulder, ' sobbed Hal, kneeling. 

Henry smiled. 'I have well-nigh forgotten the fashion. But if itwill please thee, my son, give me thy sword, Oxford. In the name ofGod and St. George of England I dub thee knight. For the Church, forthe honour of God, for a good cause, fight. Arise, Sir HenryClifford!'

CHAPTER XIX. A STRANGE EASTER EVE

And spare, O spareThe meek usurper's holy head. --GRAY. 

Once more, at the close of morning service, while it was still dark, did Harry Clifford, the new-made knight, kneel before King Henry andfeel his hand in blessing on his head. Then he went forth to joinMusgrave and the troop that the Earl of Oxford was leading from theTower to raise the counties of East Anglia and watch the coastagainst a descent of King Edward from the Low Countries. 

As they passed the walls enclosing the Minories Convent, and Halgazed at it wistfully, the wide gateway was opened and out came aparty of black-hooded nuns, mounted on ponies and mules, evidentlywaiting till Oxford's band had gone by. Harry drew Sir Giles'sattention, and they lingered, as they became certain that they beheldthe Prioress Selby of Greystone, hawk, hound and all, riding forth, nearly smothered in her hood, and not so upright as of old. 

'Ay, here I am!' she said, as he reined up and bowed his greeting. 'Here I am on my pilgrimage! I got Father Ridley, the Benedictinehead, to order me forth. Methinks he was glad, being a northcountryman, to send me out before I either died on the Poor Clares'hands, or gave them a fuller store of tales against us of St. Bennet's! Not but that they are good women, too godly and devout fora poor wild north country Selby like me, who cannot live without air. 

 O the oak and the ash and the bonny ivy tree, They flourish best at home in the north countree. 

Flori, Flori, whither away? Ah! thou hast found thine old friend. Birds of a feather. Eh? the young folk have foregathered likewise. Watch! And thou, sir knight, whither are you away?'

'On our way to Norfolk in case the Duke of York should show himselfon the coast. And yours, reverend Mother?'

'To Canterbury first by easy journeys. We sleep to-night at theTabard, where we shall meet other pilgrims. '

'Here, alack! our way severs from yours. Farewell, holy Mother, mayyou find health on your pilgrimage. '

'Every breath I take in is health, ' said the Mother, who had alreadymanoeuvred an opening in her veil, and gasped to throw it back assoon as she should attain an unfrequented place. 'There are so manycoming and going here that all the air is used up by their greasynostrils! Well! good luck, and God's blessing go with you, and you, young Hal, I may say so far, whichever side ye be, but still I holdthat York has the right, and yours may be a saint, but not a king. '

Hal had meantime 'forgathered' as the Prioress said with Anne, marching, in spite of his new honours, close to her stirrup, andventuring to whisper to her that he was now her knight, and 'hercolours, ' which he was to wear for her, were only a tiny scrap ofribbon from her glove, which he cut off with his dagger, and kissed, saying he should wear it next his heart, though he might not do soopenly. 

Their love was more implied than ever it had been before, and sherepeated her confidence that the kind Prioress would never leave hertill she had done her utmost for them both. 

'But you, my good stripling, I am ashamed to see you. I have donenothing for you. I sent a humble message to ask to see theArchbishop, but had no answer, and by-and-by, when I stirred again, who should come to sec me but young Bertram Selby, and "Kinswoman, "said he, "you had best keep quiet. The Archbishop hath asked mewhether rumours were sooth that yours was scarce a regular Priory. "The squire stood up for me and said, as became one of the family, that an outlying cell, where there were ill neighbours of Scots, thieves, borderers, and the like, could scarce look to be as trim asa city nunnery, and that none had ever heard harm of Mother Agnes. But then one of his priests took on him to whisper in his ear, and hedemanded whether we had not gone so far as to hide traitors fromjustice, to which Bertram returned a stout denial as well he might, though he thought it well to give me warning, but for the presentthere was no use in attempting anything more. The Archbishop wasexceedingly busy with the work of his office and the defence ofLondon in case of Edward's threatened return; but he had not yetcome, and no one thought there was a reasonable doubt that Warwick, the Kingmaker, would not be victorious, and he had carried his son-in-law, the Duke of Clarence, with him. ' After the cause of the RedRose was won, there was no fear but that the services of Cliffordwould be remembered. So Harry Clifford parted with Anne, promisinghimself and her that there should be fresh Clifford services, winninga recognition of the De Vesci inheritance if of no more. 

The ladies went on their way in the track which Chaucer has madememorable, laying their count to meet Queen Margaret and her son, andwin their ears beforehand, and wondering that they came not. Kentishbreezes soon revived the Prioress, and she went through many strangedevotions at the shrine of Becket, which, it might be feared, did notimprove her spiritual, so much as her bodily, health, while Anne'schiefly resolved themselves into prayers that Harry Clifford might beguarded and restored, and that she herself might be saved from thedreaded Lord Redgrave. 

They did not set out on the return to London till they had inhaledplenty of sea breezes by visiting the shrine of St. Mildred in theisle of Thanet, and St. Eanswith at Folkestone, till Lent had begun, and the first fresh tidings that they met were that Edward had landedin Yorkshire, but his fleet had been dispersed by storms, and thepeople did not rise to join him, so that he was fain to proclaim thathe only came to assert his right to his father's inheritance of theDukedom of York. 

At the Minoresses' Convent they found that a messenger had arrived, bidding Anne go to meet her father at his castle in Bedfordshire. Hewas coming over with the Queen whenever she could obtain a convoyfrom King Louis of France. Lord Redgrave was with him, and themarriage should take place as soon as they arrived. 

'Never fear, child, ' said the Prioress; 'many is the slip between thecup and the lip. '

Further tidings came that Edward had thrown off his first plea, thathe had passed Warwick's brother Montagu at Pontefract, and that menfrom his own hereditary estates were flocking to his royal banner. Warwick was calling up his men in all directions, and both armieswere advancing on London. Then it was known that 'false, fleeting, perjured Clarence' had deserted his father-in-law, and returned tohis brother; and worthless as he individually was, it boded ill forLancaster, though still hope continued in the uniform success of theKingmaker. Warwick was about twenty miles in advance of Edward, tillthat King actually passed him and reached the town of Warwick itself. Still the Earl wrote to his brother that if he could only hold outLondon for forty-eight hours all would be well. 

Once more poor King Henry was set on horseback and paraded throughthe streets. Brother Martin went out with the chaplain of the PoorClares to gaze upon him, and they came back declaring that he wasmore than ever like the image carried in a procession, seeming quiteas helpless and indifferent, except, said Brother Martin, when hepassed a church, and then a heavenly look came over his stillfeatures as he bowed his head; but none of the crowd who came out togaze cried 'Save King Harry!' or 'God bless him!'

There were two or three thousand Yorkists in the various sanctuariesof London, and they were preparing to rise in favour of their KingEdward, and only a few hundred were mustering in St. Paul'sChurchyard for the Red Rose. 

The Poor Clares were in much terror, though nunneries and religioushouses, and indeed non-combatants in general, were usually respectedby each side in these wars; but the Prioress of Greystone was notsorry that the summons to her protegee called her party off on theway to Bedfordshire, and they all set forward together, intending tomake Master Lorimer's household at Chipping Barnet their first stage, as they had engaged to do. 

Their intention had been notified to Lorimer's people in his Londonshop, who had sent on word to their master, and the good man came outto meet them, full of surprise at the valour of the ladies inattempting the journey. But they could not possibly go further. King Edward was at St. Albans, and was on his way to London, and theEarl of Warwick was coming up from Dunstable with the Earls ofSomerset and Oxford. For ladies, even of religious orders, to rideon between the two hosts was manifestly impossible, and he and hiswife were delighted to entertain the Lady Prioress till the roadsshould be safe. 

The Prioress was nothing loth. She always enjoyed the freedom of asecular household, and she was glad to remain within hearing of thelast news in this great crisis of York and Lancaster. 

'I marvel if there will be a battle, ' she said. 'Never have I hadthe good luck to see or hear one. '

'Oh! Mother, are you not afraid?' cried Sister Mabel. 

'Afraid! What should I be afraid of, silly maid? Do you think themen-at-arms are wolves to snap you up?'

'And, ' murmured Anne, 'we shall know how it goes with my Lord ofOxford's people. '

These were the last days of Lent, and were carefully kept in thematter of food by the household, but the religious observances weremuch disturbed by the tidings that poured in. King Henry andArchbishop Nevil had taken refuge in the house of Bishop Kemp ofLondon, Urswick the Recorder, with the consent of the Aldermen, hadopened the gates to Edward, and the Good Friday Services at Barnet, the Psalms and prayers in the church, were disturbed by men-at-armsgalloping to and fro, and reports coming in continually. 

There could be no going out to gather flowers to deck the Church thenext day, for King Edward was on the London side, and Warwick withhis army had reached the low hills of Hadley, and their tents, theirbanners, and the glint of their armour might be seen over the heathyslope between them and the lanes and fields, surrounded by hedges, that fenced in the valley of Barnet. The little town itself, thoughlying between the two armies, remained unoccupied by either party, and only men-at-arms came down into it, not as plunderers, but to buyfood. 

Warwick's cannon, however, thundered all night, a very awful sound tosuch unaccustomed ears, but they were so directed that the chargesflew far away from Barnet, under a false impression as to thesituation of the Yorkist forces. 

Mistress Lorimer had heard them before, but accompanied every reportwith a pious prayer; Sister Mabel screamed at each, then joined in;the Prioress was greatly excited, and walked about with MasterLorimer, now on the roof, trying to see, now at the gate, trying tohear. Anne fancied it meant victory to Hal's party, but knelt, triedto pray while she listened, and the dogs barked incessantly. Andthat Hal must be in the army above the little town they guessed, forin the evening Watch came floundering into the courtyard, hungry andmuddy, but full of affectionate recognition of his old friends andthe quarters he had learnt to know. Florimond, who happened to beloose, had a romp with him in their old fashion, and to the vexationand alarm of his mistress, they both ran off together, and must havegone hunting on the heath, for there was no response to her silverwhistle. 

CHAPTER XX. BARNET

A dead hush fell; but when the dolorous dayGrew drearier toward twilight falling, cameA bitter wind, clear from the North, and blewThe mist aside. --TENNYSON. 

And Sir Henry Clifford? Still he was Hal of Derwentdale, for theperilous usurper, Sir Richard Nevil, was known to be continually withWarwick, and Musgrave was convinced that the concealment was safest. 

The youth then remained with the Peelholm men, and became a good dealmore 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 besidehim, his shepherd's plaid round him, his heart rising as he thoughthimself near upon gaining fame and honour wherewith to win his earlylove, and winning victory and safety for his beloved King, or ratherhis hermit. For as his hermit did that mild unearthly face alwayscome 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, afterhis old habit looking up at the stars, either he saw and recognisedthe Northern Crown, or his dazed and sleepy fancy wove a radiantcoronet of stars above that meek countenance that he knew and lovedso well; and as at intervals the cannon boomed and wakened him, helooked on at the bright Northern Cross and dreamily linked togetherthe cross and crown. 

Easter Sunday morning came dawning, but no one looked to see the sundance, even if the morning had not been dull and grey, a thick fogcovering everything; but through it came a dull and heavy sound, andthe clang of armour. Even by their own force the radiant star of theDe Veres could hardly be seen on the banner, as the Earl of Oxfordrode up and down, putting his men in battle array. Hal was on footas 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 continualrain of arrows darkened the air; but as the sun rose and the twoarmies saw one another, Oxford's star was to be seen carried into thevery midst of the opposing force under Lord Hastings. On, on, withcries of victory, the knights rode, the archers ran across the heathcarrying all before them, never doubting that the day was theirs, butnot knowing where they were till trumpets sounded, halt was called, and they were drawn up together, as best they might, round theirleading star. But as they advanced, behold there was an unexpectedshout of treason. Arrows came thickly on them, men-at-arms bearingWarwick's ragged staff came thundering headlong upon them. 'Treason, treason, ' echoed on all sides, and with that sound in his ears HarryClifford was cut down, and fell under a huge horse and man, and laysenseless under a gorse-bush. 

He knew no more but that horses and men seemed for ever tramplingover him and treading him down, and then all was lost to him--for howlong he knew not, but for one second he was roused so far as to heara furious growling and barking of Watch, but with dazed senses hethought 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 gearbetter 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, andopened his eyes. It was dark, but he knew he was under the tilt ofLorimer's waggon, which was moving on. The Prioress was kneelingover him on one side, Lorimer on the other, and his head was on asoft lap--nay, a warm tear dropped on his face, a sweet thoughstifled voice said, 'Is he truly better?'

Then came sounds of 'hushing, ' yet of reassurance; and when there wasa halt, and clearer consciousness began to revive, while kind handswere busy about him, and a cordial was poured down his throat, by thelight of a lantern cautiously shown, Hal found speech to say, as hefelt 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! Itis to him you owe all, and to my good Florimond. '

'But what--how--where am I?' asked Hal, trying to look round, butfeeling 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 holdand press Anne's hand, the Prioress went on, 'You are in goodLorimer's warehouse. Safer thus, though it is too odorous, for themen of York do not respect sanctuary in the hour of victory. '

The word roused Hal further. 'The victory was ours!' he said. 'Wehad driven Hastings' banner off the field! Say, was there a cry oftreason?'

'Even so, my son. So far as Master Lorimer understands, LordOxford'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 whonot, 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 trumpetswere sounding round it. And here come Master Lorimer and thegoodwife to bind these wounds. '

'But Sir Giles Musgrave?' still asked Hal. 

'Belike fled with Lord Oxford and his men, who all made off at thecry of treason, ' was the answer. 

Lorimer returned with his wife and various appliances, and likewisewith fresh tidings. There was no doubt that the brothers Warwick andMontagu had been slain. They had been found--Warwick under a hedgeimpeded by his heavy armour, and Montagu on the field itself. Eachbody had been thrown over a horse, and shown at the market cross; andthey would be carried to London on the morrow. 'And so end, ' saidLorimer, 'two brave and open-handed gentlemen as ever lived, withwhom I have had many friendly dealings. '

One thing more Hal longed to hear--namely, how he had been saved. Heremembered that Watch had come back to him with Florimond the eveningbefore. They had probably been hunting together, and the hound, whohad always been very fond of him on the journey, had accompaniedWatch to his side before going back to his chain in Barnet; but hehad lost sight of them in the morning, and regretted that he couldnot find Watch to provide for his safety. He knew, he said, by thepresence of Florimond, who must be in Barnet. And he also had a dimrecollection of being licked by Watch's tongue as he lay, andlikewise of hearing a furious barking, yelling and growling, whetherof one or both dogs he was not sure. 

It seemed that towards the evening, when the battle-cries had grownfainter, and the sun was going down, Florimond had burst in on hismistress, panting and blood-stained--but not with his own blood, aswas soon ascertained--and made vehement demonstrations by which, as atrue dog-lover, the Prioress perceived that he wanted her to followhim. And Anne, who thought she saw a piece of Hal's plaid caught inhis 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, butthe Prioress declared that it was the part of the religious to takecare of the wounded, and not inconsistent with her vow. See theSisters of St. Katharine's of the Tower! And though herinterpretation was a broad one, and would have shocked alike her ownAbbess and her of the Minoresses, he was fain to accept it in such acause; but he commanded his waggoners to bring the wain in the rear, both as an excuse, and a possible protection for the ladies, and, itmight be, a conveyance for the wounded. 

Florimond, who had sprung about, barked, fawned and made entreatingsounds 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 beyondthe place of Hal's fall, discovering the fatal error that spreadconfusion through their ranks, where everyone distrusted his fellowleader. 

There, after a weary and perilous way, diversified by the horridshouts of plunderers of the slain, happily not near at hand, and whenLorimer, but for the ladies, would have given up the quest asuseless, they were greeted by Watch's bark, and found him lying withhis fine head alert and ready over his senseless master. 

There was no doubt but that the two good creatures, both powerful andformidable animals, must have saved him from the spoilers, and thenbeen sagacious enough to let the hound go down to fetch assistancewhile the sheep-dog remained as his master's faithful guardian. Howhonoured and caressed they were can hardly be described, but all willknow. 

The joy and gratitude of knowing of Anne's devotion, and the pleasureof his good dog's faithfulness, helped Hal through the painfulprocess of having his hurts dealt with. Surgeons, even barbers, werefully occupied, and Lorimer did not wish to have it known that aLancastrian was in his house. His wife and her old nurse, as well asthe Prioress, had some knowledge of simple practical surgery; andHal's disasters proved to be a severe cut on the head, a slash on theshoulder, various bruises, and a broken rib and thigh-bone, all whichwere within their capabilities, with assistance from the master'sstronger hand. No one could tell whether the savage nature of theYork brothers might not slake their revenge in a general massacre oftheir antagonists; so Lorimer caused Hal's bed to be made in thewaggon in the warehouse, where he was safe from detection until thevictorious army should have quitted Barnet. 

CHAPTER XXI. TEWKESBURY

The last shoot of that ancient treeWas budding fair as fair might be; Its buds they crop Its branches lopThen leave the sapless stem to die. SOPHOCLES (Anstice). 

Harry Clifford lay fevered, and knowing little of what passed, forseveral days, only murmuring sometimes of his flock at home, sometimes of the royal hermit, and sometimes in distress of the men-at-arms with whom he had been thrown, and whose habits and languagehad plainly been a great shock to his innocent mind, trained by thecompany of the sheep, and the hermit. He took the Prioress's handfor Good-wife Dolly's, but he generally knew Anne, who could soothehim better than any other. 

Master Lorimer was fully occupied by combatants who came to havetheir equipments renewed or repaired, and he spent the days in hisshop in London, but rode home in the long evenings with his budget ofnews. King Henry was in the Tower again, as passive as ever, but onthe very day of the battle of Barnet Queen Margaret had landed atWeymouth with her son, and the war would be renewed in Somersetshire. 

Search for prisoners being over at Barnet, Hal was removed to theguest chamber of his hosts, where he lay in a huge square bed, and inthe better air began to recover, understand what was going on roundhim, and be anxious for his friends, especially Sir Giles Musgraveand Simon Bunce. The ladies still attended to him, as Lorimerpronounced the journey to be absolutely unsafe, while so manysoldiers disbanded, or on their way to the Queen's army, were roamingabout, and the Burgundians brought by Edward might not be respectfulto an English Prioress. It was safer to wait for tidings from LordSt. John, which were certain to come either from Bletso or theMinoresses'. 

So May had begun when Lorimer hurried home with the tidings that amessenger had come in haste from King Edward from the battlefield ofTewkesbury, with the tidings of a complete victory. Prince Edward, the fair and spirited hope of Lancaster, was slain, Somerset and hisfriends had taken sanctuary in the Abbey Church, Queen Margaret andthe young wife of the prince in a small convent, and beyond all hadbeen flight and slaughter. 

For a few days no more was known, but then came fuller and saddertidings. The young prince had been brutally slain by his cousins, Edward, George, and Richard, excited as they were to tiger-likeferocity by the late revolt. The nobles in the sanctuary, who hadfor one night been protected by a cord drawn in front of them by apriest, had in the morning been dragged out and beheaded. Among themwas Anne's father, Lord St. John of Bletso, and on the field theheralds had recognised the corpse of her suitor, Lord Redgrave. Toexpect that Anne felt any acute sorrow for a father whom she hadnever seen since she was six years old, and who then had never seemedto care for her, was not possible. 

And what was to be her fate? Her young brother, the heir of Bletso, was in Flanders with his foreign mother, and she knew not what mightbe her own claims through her own mother, though the Prioress andMaster Lorimer knew that it could be ascertained through theseneschal at Bletso, if he had not perished with his lord, or theagents at York through whom Anne's pension had been paid. If shewere an heiress, she would become a ward of the Crown, a drearyprospect, for it meant to be disposed of to some unknown minion ofthe Court. 

CHAPTER XXII. THE NUT-BROWN MAID

All my wellfare to trouble and care Should change if you were gone, For in my mynde, of all mankind I love but you alone. --NUT-BROWN MAID. 

Anne St. John, in her 'doul' or deep mourning, sat by Hal's couch ordaybed in tears, as he lay in the deep bay of the mullioned window, and told him of the consultation that had been held. 

'Ah, dear lady!' he said, 'now am I grieved that I have not mine ownto endow you with! Well would I remain the landless shepherd were itnot for you. '

'Nay, ' she said, looking up through her tears, 'and wherefore shouldI not share your shepherd's lot?'

'You! Nan, sweet Nan, tenderly nurtured in the convent while I haveever lived as a rough hardy shepherd!'

'And I have ever been a moorland maid, ' she answered, 'bred to nosoft ways. I know not how to be the lady of a castle--I shall be amuch better herdsman's wife, like your good old Dolly, whom I havealways loved and envied. '

'You never saw us snowed up in winter with all things scarce, andhardly able to milk a goat. '

'Have not we been snowed up at Greystone for five weeks at a time?'

'Ay, but with thick walls round and a stack of peat at hand, ' saidHal, his heart beating violently as more and more he felt that themaiden did not speak in jest, but in full earnestness of love. 

'Verily one would deem you took me for a fine dainty dame, such as Isaw at the Minoresses', shivering at the least gust of fresh wind, and not daring to wet their satin shoes if there had been a shower ofrain in the cloisters. Were we not all stifled within the walls, andnever breathed till we were out of them? Nay, Hal, there is none tocome between us now. Take me to your moors and hills! I will beyour good housewife and shepherdess, and make you such a home! Andyou will teach me of the stars and of the flowers and all the holylore of your good royal hermit. '

'Ah! my hermit, my master, how fares it with him? Would that I couldgo and see!'

'Which do you love best--me or the hermit?' asked Anne archly, lifting up her head, which was lying on his shoulder. 

'I love you, mine own love and sweetheart, with all my heart, ' hesaid, regaining her hand, 'but my King and master with my soul; andoh! that I had any strength to give him! I love him as my master inholy things, and as my true prince, and what would I not give to knowhow it is with him and how he bears these dreadful tidings!'

He bent his head, choking with sobs as he spoke, and Anne wept withhim, her momentary jealousy subdued by the picture of the lonelyprisoner, his friends slain in his cause, and his only child cut offin early prime; but she tried the comfort of hoping that his Queenwould be with him. Thus talking now of love, now of grief, now ofthe future, now of the past, the Prioress found them, and as she wasinclined to blame Anne for letting her patient weep, the maidenlooked up to her and said, 'Dear Mother, we are disputing--I wantthis same Hal to wed me so soon as he can stand and walk. Then Iwould go home with him to Derwentside, and take care of him. '

The Prioress burst out laughing. 'Make porridge, milk the ewes andspin their wool? Eh? Meet work for a baron's daughter!'

'So I tell her, ' said Harry. 'She knows not how hard the life is. '

'Do I not?' said Anne. 'Have I not spent a night and day, thehappiest my childhood knew, in your hut? Has it not been a dream ofjoy ever since?'

'Ay, a summer's dream!' said Hal. 'Tell her the folly of it. '

'I verily believe he does not want me. If he had not a lame leg, Itrow he would be trying to be mewed up with his King!'

'It would be my duty, ' murmured Hal, 'nor should I love thee theless. '

''Tis a duty beyond your reach, ' said the Prioress. 'Master Lorimerhears that none have access to King Henry, God help him! and he sitsas in a trance, as though he understood and took heed of nothing--noteven of this last sore battle. '

'God aid him! Aye, and his converse is with Him, ' said Hal, with agush of tears. 'He minds nought of earth, not even earthly griefs. '

'But we, we are of earth still, and have our years before us, ' saidAnne, 'and I will not spend mine the dreary lady of a dull castle. Either I will back and take my vows in your Priory, reverend Mother, if Hal there disdains to have me. '

'Nan, Nan! when you know that all I dread is to have you mewed behinda wall of snow as thick as the walls of the Tower and freezing to thebone!'

'With you behind it telling all the tales. Mother, prithee prove tohim that I am not made of sugar like the Clares, but that I love afresh wind and the open moorlands. '

The Prioress laughed and took her away, but in private the maidenconvinced her that the proposal, however wild, was in full earnest, and not in utter ignorance of the way of life that was preferred. 

Afterwards the good lady discussed it with the Lorimers. 'For mypart, ' she said, 'I see nought to gainsay the children having theirway. They are equal in birth and breeding, and love one anotherheartily, and the times may turn about to bring them to their ownproper station. '

'But the hardness and the roughness of the life, ' objected MistressLorimer, 'for a dainty, convent-bred lady. '

'My convent--God, forgive me!--is not like the Poor Clares. We knewthere what cold and hunger mean, as well as what free air andmountains are. Moreover, though the maid thinks not of it, I do notbelieve the life will be so bare and comfortless. The lad's motherhath not let him want, and there is a heritage through the Vescisthat must come to him, even if he never can claim the lands ofClifford. '

'And now that all Lancaster is gone, King Edward may be lessvindictive against the Red Rose, ' said Lorimer. 

'There must be a dowry secured to the maid, ' said the Prioress. 'Letthem only lie quiet for a time till the remains of the late tempesthave blown over, and all will be well with them. Ay, and MasterLorimer, the Lady Threlkeld, as well as myself, will fully acquitourselves of the heavy charges you have been put to for yourhospitality to us. '

Master Lorimer disclaimed all save his delight in the honour paid tohis poor house, and appealed to his wife, who seconded himcourteously, though perhaps the expenses of a wounded knight, threenuns, a noble damsel and their horses, were felt by her enough tomake the promise gratifying. 

While the elders talked, a horseman was heard in the court, askingwhether the young demoiselle of Bletso were lodged there. It was theseneschal Wenlock, who had come with what might be called theofficial report of his lord's death, and to consider of the disposalof the young lady, being glad to find the Prioress of Greystone, towhom she had originally been committed by her father. 

Before summoning her, he explained to the Prioress that a smallestate which had belonged to her mother devolved upon her. Theproceeds of the property were not large, but they had been sufficientto keep her at the convent, on the moderate charges of the time. Anne was only eighteen, and at no time of their lives were women, even widows, reckoned able to dispose of themselves. She wouldnaturally become a ward of the Crown, and Lord Redgrave having beenkilled, the seneschal was about to go and inform King Edward of thesituation. 

'But, ' said the Prioress, 'suppose you found her already betrothed toa gentleman of equal birth, and with claims to an even greaterinheritance? Would you not be silent till the match was concluded, and the King had no chance of breaking it?'

'If it were well for the maid's honour and fortune, ' said theseneschal. 'If you, reverend Mother, have found a fair marriage forher, it might be better to let well alone. '

Then the Prioress set forth the situation and claims of youngClifford, and the certainty, that even if it were more prudent not toadvance them at present, yet the ruin of the house of Nevil removedone great barrier, and at least the Vesci inheritance held by hismother must come to him, and she was the more likely to make aportion over to him when she found that he had married nobly. 

The seneschal acquiesced, even though the Prioress confessed that thebetrothal had not actually taken place. In fact he was relieved thatthe maiden, whom he had known as a fair child, should be off hishands, and secured from the greed of some Yorkist partisan needing areward. 

When Anne, her dark eyes and hair shaded by her mourning veil, camedown, and had heard his greeting, with such details of her father'sdeath and the state of the family as he could give her, she rose andsaid: 'Sir, there have been passages between Sir Harry Clifford andmyself, and I would wed none other than him. '

Nor did the seneschal gainsay her. 

All that he desired was that what was decided upon should be donequickly, before heralds or lawyers brought to the knowledge of theWoodvilles that there was any sort of prize to be had in the damselof St. John, and he went off, early the next morning, back to Bletso, that he might seem to know nothing of the matter. 

The Prioress laughed at men being so much more afraid than women. She was willing to bear all the consequences, but then thePlantagenets were not in the habit of treating ladies as traitors. However, all agreed that it would be wiser to be out of reach ofLondon as soon as possible, and Master Lorimer, who had become deeplyinterested in this romance of true love, arranged to send one of hiswains to York, in which the bride and bridegroom might travelunsuspected, until the latter should be able to ride and all were outof reach of pursuit. The Prioress would go thus far with them, 'Andthen! And then, ' she said sighing, 'I shall have to dree my penancefor all my friskings!'

'But, oh, what kindly friskings!' cried Anne, throwing herself intothose tender arms. 

'Little they will reck of kindness out of rule, ' sighed the Prioress. 'If only they will send me back to Greystone, then shall I hear ofthee, and thou hadst better take Florimond, poor hound, or theSisters at York may put him to penance too!'

Henry Clifford was able to walk again, though still lame, when, inthe early morning of Ascension Day, he and Anne St. John were marriedin the hall of Master Lorimer's house by a trusty priest of Barnet, and in the afternoon, when the thanksgiving worship at the church hadbeen gone through, they started in the waggon for the first stage ofthe journey, to be overtaken at the halting-place by the Prioress andMaster Lorimer, who had had to ride into London to finish somebusiness. 

And he brought tidings that rendered that wedding-day one ofmournful, if peaceful, remembrances. 

For he had seen, borne from the Tower, along Cheapside, the bier onwhich lay the body of King Henry, his hands clasped on his breast, his white face upturned with that heavenly expression which Hal knewso well, enhanced into perfect peace, every toil, every grief at anend. 

Whether blood dropped as the procession moved along, Lorimer couldnot certainly tell. Whether so it was, or whoever shed it, there wasno marring the absolute rest and joy that had crowned the 'meekusurper's holy head, ' after his dreary half-century of sufferingunder the retribution of the ancestral sins of two lines offorefathers. All had been undergone in a deep and holy trust andfaith such as could render even his hereditary insanity an actualshield from the poignancy of grief. 

Tears were shed, not bitter nor vengeful. Such thoughts would haveseemed out of place with the memory of the gentle countenance oflove, good-will and peace, and as Harry and Anne joined in theservice that the Prioress had requested to have in the early daylightbefore starting, Hal felt that to the hermit saint of his boyhood heverily owed his own self. 

CHAPTER XXIII. BROUGHAM CASTLE

And now am I an Earlis son, And not a banished man. --NUT-BROWN MAID. 

That journey northward in the long summer days was a honeymoon to theyoung couple. The Prioress left them as much to themselves aspossible, trying to rejoice fully in their gladness, and not to thinkwhat might have been hers but for that vow of her parents, keepingher hours diligently in preparation for the stricter rule awaitingher. 

When they parted she sent Florimond with them, to be restored if shewere allowed to return to Greystone, and Anne parted with her withmany tears as the truest mother and friend she had ever known. 

By this time Harry was able to ride, and the two, with a couple ofmen-at-arms hired as escort, made their way over the moors, Harry'shead throbbing with gladness, as, with a shout of joy, he hailed hisown mountain-heads, Helvellyn and Saddleback, in all their purplecloud-like majesty. 

They agreed first to go to Dolly's homestead, drawn as much byaffection as by prudence. Delight it was to Hal to point out therocks and bushes of his home; but when he came in sight of Piers andthe sheep, the dumb boy broke out into a cry of terror, and rushedaway headlong, nor did he turn till he felt Watch's very substantialpaws bounding on him in ecstasy. 

Watch was indeed a forerunner, for Dolly and her husband couldscarcely be induced by his solid presence and caresses to come outand see for themselves that the tall knight and lady were no ghostlyshades, nor bewildered travellers, but that this was their ownnursling Hal, whom Simon Bunce had reported to be lying dead under agorse-bush at Barnet, and further that the lovely brunette lady wasthe little lost child whom Dolly had mothered for a night. 

While the happy goodwife was regaling them with the best she had tooffer, Hob set forth to announce their arrival at Threlkeld, beingnot certain what the cautious Sir Lancelot would deem advisable, since the Lancaster race had perished, and York was in the ascendant. 

There was a long time to wait, but finally Sir Lancelot himself cameriding through the wood, no longer afraid to welcome his stepson atthe castle, and the more willing since the bride newly arrived was nomaiden of low degree, but a damsel of equal birth and withunquestioned rights. 

So all was well, and the lady no longer had to embrace her son infear and trembling, but to see him a handsome and thoughtful youngman, well able to take his place in her halls. 

Since he had been actually in arms against King Edward it was notthought safe to assert his claims to his father's domains, but thelady gave up to him a portion of her own inheritance from the Vescis, where he and Anne were able to live in Barden Tower in Yorkshire, notfar from Bolton Abbey. So Hal's shepherd days were over, though hestill loved country habits and ways. Hob came to be once more hisattendant, Dolly was Anne's bower-woman, and Simon Bunce Sir Harry'ssquire, though he never ceased blaming himself for having left hismaster, dead as he thought, when even a poor hound was more trusty. 

Florimond was restored to the Prioress, who was reinstated atGreystone, a graver woman than before she had set forth, the betterfor having watched deeper devotion at the Minoresses', and still morefor the terrible realities of the battle of Barnet. At Bolton AbbeyHarry found monks who encouraged his craving for information onnatural science, and could carry him on much farther in theseresearches than his hermit, though he always maintained that theroyal anchorite and prisoner saw farther into heavenly things thanany other whom he had known, and that his soul and insight rose thehigher with his outward troubles and bodily decay. 

So peacefully went the world with them till Henry was one-and-thirty, and then the tidings of Bosworth Field came north. The great tragedyof Plantagenet was complete, and the ambitious and blood-stainedhouse of York, who had avenged the usurpation of Henry of Lancaster, had perished, chiefly by the hands of each other, and the distantlyrelated descendant of John of Gaunt, Henry Tudor, triumphed. 

The Threlkelds were not slow to recollect that it was time for theCliffords to show their heads; moreover, that the St. Johns of Bletsowere related to the Tudors. Though now an aged woman, she descendedfrom her hills, called upon her son and his wife with their littlenine-year-old son to come with her, and pay homage to the newsovereign in their own names, and rode with them to Westminster. 

There a very different monarch from the saint of Harry's memoryreceived and favoured him. The lands of Westmoreland were granted tohim as his right, and on their return, Master Lorimer coming byspecial invitation, the family were welcomed at Brougham Castle, thecradle of their race, where Harry Clifford, no longer an outlaw, began the career thus described:

 Love had he found in huts where poor men lie, His daily teachers had been woods and rills, The silence that is in the starry sky, The sleep that is among the lonely hills. 

 In him the savage virtue of the race, Revenge, and all ferocious thoughts were dead, Nor did he change, but kept in lofty place The wisdom that adversity had bred. 

 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. 

FINIS