Chapter 11: Bad News.
"This has been a strange adventure, Roger."
"A very strange one, master. Lord Grey would tear his hair, if he knewthat those two pretty birds had been hiding in the cage all day, and henever knew it. However, I see not that it can do us harm. Nay, more,there is a probability that it may even benefit us, for if it shouldhappen, by ill fortune, we should ever fall into the hands of theWelsh, and they should abstain from cutting our throats then and there,perchance these young ladies would repay the service we have renderedthem, by taking us under their protection."
"It may be so, indeed, Roger, though I hope that I shall never hearmore of tonight's adventure. We may reason as we will, but there is nodoubt that, although we had no instructions touching the capture ofwomen, we have failed in our duty."
"That will in no way trouble me, Master Oswald. When I was a monk, Ifailed in my duty scores of times, and am no whit the worse for it;rather the better, indeed, since it is owing to my failures that I amnow a free man-at-arms, instead of being mewed up for life in aconvent. I shall not sleep one wink less, for having saved two of theprettiest girls I ever saw from having been shut up, for years, in aprison."
"I am afraid your sense of duty is not strong, Roger."
"I am afraid not, master, saving in the matter of doing my duty in faceof an enemy."
"You mean, Roger, that you will do your duty when it so pleases you,and not otherwise."
"I expect that is the way with a good many of us," Roger laughed. "Iwonder whether Lord Grey had any idea that Glendower's daughters werein the house when we arrived there?"
"I know not, but I remember now that they had men searching, for sometime, for signs of secret passages. Whether it was from any idea thatGlendower's daughters might be hidden away, I know not."
"Truly it might have been," Roger said, "for I saw, among the spoilthat was carried off when the others rode for Chirk, some silks andstuffs that looked like feminine garments.
"There is somebody coming across from the next post," he broke off."Doubtless it is the captain. You would not tell him what we havedone?"
"Certainly not, Roger. My uncle is an old soldier, and though he wouldnot, for my sake, say anything about it, I think not that he wouldapprove of what has been done. 'Tis best, at any rate, to keep itentirely to ourselves."
"All quiet here, as elsewhere?" Alwyn asked as he came up.
"All quiet, Uncle."
"'Tis well; for although methinks that we could hold the place againstthe Welshmen, we could hardly hope that some of our posts would not becut off, before they could reach the house. It is well to keep watch,but the more I think of it, the more I feel that Glendower will scarceattack us. He could not hold the place, did he gain it; and it mightwell be that, after we were turned out again, the place would bedestroyed, seeing that it would need two or three hundred men to beshut up here, in garrison."
After waiting half an hour, Alwyn again made the round of the posts,and then went in to rouse the party that were to relieve them. As soonas these issued out, the sentries were called in, and stretchedthemselves for three hours' sleep.
Before day dawned, a messenger rode in from Chirk, bearing EarlTalbot's orders for the evacuation of the house, as there could be noadvantage in retaining it; and, were it empty, Glendower might returnthere, and afford them another opportunity for capturing him.
On the following day the party broke up. Lord Grey rode with his men toRuthyn, and the forty men-at-arms from Ludlow returned to that town;where, a few days later, the news arrived that Glendower, with a largefollowing, had established himself on the rugged height of Corwen, andwas engaged in strengthening the ancient fortifications on its summit.
For a time there was quiet on the border, and then came the startlingnews that Glendower had suddenly surprised, plundered, and burnt to theground the town of Ruthyn, where a fair was being held at the time.Then, having obtained great booty, and greatly injured his enemy LordGrey, he again retired. It was evident that no local force ofsufficient strength could be found to pursue Glendower into hisfastnesses on the ranges of Berwyn and Snowdon, and nothing was doneuntil, three months later, the king, on his return from Scotland,marched into Wales with the levies of Warwickshire, Leicestershire, andeight other adjacent counties, while orders were issued to the peopleof Shrewsbury, and other towns on the eastern border, to holdthemselves in readiness to repel any movement of the Welsh in thatdirection.
The king, however, accomplished nothing. Glendower, with his following,took refuge among the forests of Snowdon; and the English army marchedalong the north coast, putting to the sword a few bands of peasantry,who ventured to oppose them; crossed to the Isle of Anglesey and,entering the Franciscan monastery of Llanfaes, slew some of the monksand carried the rest to England, and established a community of Englishmonks in the convent. This was done because the Franciscans had beensupporters of the late king, and were believed to have given aid andencouragement to Glendower.
The Welsh expedition was, therefore, no more successful than the Scotchhad been.
For a time, matters settled down. Glendower was occupied instrengthening his position. So much had his reputation spread, thatlarge numbers of Welshmen who had settled in England now sold theirproperty, gave up their positions and abandoned their careers, and madetheir way across the border to join him. Still, for some months nooperations were undertaken, on either side; and, a week after thereturn of the king and his forces, Sir Edmund Mortimer said to Oswald:
"I will no longer keep you and your following from your lord's side. Ihave largely strengthened my garrison, and twenty men, however valiant,are no longer of importance. As you know, I should not have asked Percyto aid me, had I not thought that, perchance, he might have comehimself, bringing with him two or three hundred men; and that my sistermight have accompanied him. Maybe, if matters go on quietly on thenorthern marches, he may be able to do so yet; but I fear that theScotch will take advantage of the troubles here, and may, for aught Iknow, have entered into communication with Glendower, so that they maytogether harass the kingdom. I have written several times to him,telling him what good service you and his men have rendered; and that Iwould I had five hundred such good fighters with me, in which case Iwould undertake, single handed, to bring this fellow to reason.
"I have written a letter which I will hand you to deliver, saying that,as at present things are quiet and Glendower is in hiding among themountains, I have sent you back to him; not without the hope that,should greater events take place, he himself will come hither, for awhile, to give me the benefit of his knowledge of border warfare, evenif he comes accompanied only by my sister and a dozen spears. I maytell you that, some two months since, he wrote saying that he should beglad to have you, and the captain of his garrison of Alnwick, backagain; and I then wrote to him, saying that while the king was in WalesI would hold you, seeing that Glendower might make a great foray here,while the king was hunting for him in the north; but that, as soon ashe left with his army, I would send you home."
Alwyn and the men were all well pleased when they heard that they wereto return; for, since the raid on Glendower's house, their life hadbeen a dull one, to which even the fact that they were receiving payfrom Sir Edmund, as well as from Percy, was insufficient to reconcilethem; and it was with light hearts that they started, on the followingmorning, for the north, arriving at Alnwick ten days after leaving. SirHotspur came down into the courtyard, as they rode into the castle.
"Welcome back, Oswald; and you, my trusty Alwyn!
"I thank you all, my men, for the manner in which you have borneyourselves, and that you have shown the men of the west how stoutly weNorthumbrians can hold our own, in the day of battle. I am glad,indeed, to find that all that went have returned home; some bearingscars, indeed, but none disabled. I will instruct your captain to grantall of you a month's leave, to pay a visit to your families.
"You must sup with us tonight, Alwyn, and give us a full account ofyour doin
gs, and also your frank opinion as to the state of things inthe west, and the probability of long trouble with this strangeWelshman, who has so boldly taken up arms, and defied the strength ofEngland."
It was nearly a year since the party had left Alnwick, and Oswald had,in that time, greatly increased in height and strength. He was noweighteen, and as he was nearly six feet in height, and his figure hadfilled out greatly since he had left his home, he might well havepassed as three or four years older than his real age. That evening,Alwyn gave a full account of their fray with the Welsh.
"These men fight stoutly, Alwyn," Percy said, when he had concluded hisstory.
"Right stoutly, Sir Henry, and were their discipline equal to theirbravery, they would be formidable opponents, indeed; but as it is, theyare quite unable to stand against men-at-arms in a set battle. In thisrespect they are by no means equal to the Scotch, but for surprises, orirregular fighting, I could wish to see no better men."
"It is an unfortunate affair," Percy said. "It seemed that we hadfinished with Wales, at Llewellyn's death, and that the two nations hadbecome one. In London, and many other places, they were settled amongus. Numbers of them studied at our universities, and in Shropshire,Radnor, Flint, and other border counties I have heard that most of thelabouring men were Welsh, and have come to speak our language; andindeed, they form no small portion of the garrisons of the castles; somuch so that I fear that, should the Welsh really ravage the bordercounties, 'tis like that not a few of the castles will fall into theirhands by the treachery of their fellow countrymen in the garrisons.
"Sir Edmund speaks very highly of you, Oswald, not only for yourbehaviour in the fight, which was reported to him by Sir James Burgon,a knight well fitted to judge in such matters, but as an inmate of hiscastle. He said that, from your conversation, he has conceived a highopinion of you.
"At present things are somewhat quiet here, and it were well that youshould, like your uncle, take a holiday for a time, and visit yourfather and mother. They have sent over, several times, for news ofyou."
The next morning Oswald mounted and rode off, attended by Roger, whohad asked Oswald to take him with him, as he had no relations he caredto visit. Alwyn was going for a few days only, and indeed, wouldprobably have declined to take a holiday at all, had not Oswaldearnestly begged him to go with him.
"'Tis two years since you have been there," Oswald said.
"That is so, Oswald, but I have often been longer without seeing mybrother; and, in truth, of late I have had so little to do, with buttwenty men to look after, that I long for regular work and drill again.Still, it were best that I went with you. There are turbulent times onhand, both on this border, in Wales, and maybe in France. I may getmyself killed, and your father's house may be harried again by theBairds, and he may not succeed in getting off scatheless, as he didlast time; and I should blame myself, afterwards, if I had not seenhim, and shaken his hand, when I had an opportunity such as thepresent."
Oswald had seen so much, during the two years that had passed since hefirst left the hold that, as he rode towards it, it seemed strange thateverything should be going on as if it was but the day before that hehad ridden away--the only difference being that the hold lookedstrangely small, and of little account, after the many strong castleshe had seen.
As soon as they reached the moor, within sight of the hold, a horsemanwas seen to leave it, and ride at a gallop towards them.
"That is ever the way," Oswald said; "we like to know, when a visitoris seen, whether he comes as friend or foe."
As the moss trooper rode up, and was about to put the customaryquestion, he recognized Oswald; and, wheeling his pony without a word,dashed off at full gallop, waving his spear and shouting, as heapproached the hold.
They rode at a canter after him and, as they reached the entrance, hisfather and mother appeared at the door at the top of the steps. Thelatter ran down the steps and, as Oswald leapt from his horse, threwher arms round his neck.
"Thank God you are back again, my boy!" she cried; "though as yet, Ican hardly believe that this tall fellow is my Oswald. But otherwiseyou are in no way changed."
"I think, Mother, that you are looking better than when I saw youlast."
"I am well, dear," she said. "We have had a quiet year, and no causefor anxiety, and things have gone well with us; and it has beenpleasant, indeed, for us to have received such good news of yourdoings, and to know that you stood so well with Hotspur."
Oswald now ran up the steps to greet his father, who was alreadytalking with Alwyn, who had slipped off his horse and run to speak tohis brother, while Oswald was occupied with his mother.
"Well, lad," John Forster said, laying his hand upon his shoulder, andlooking him up and down, "you have grown well nigh into manhood. Ialways said that you would over top me, and though methinks that I havestill three inches of advantage, you have yet time to grow up to lookdown on me.
"Well, you have done credit to us, boy, and your monkish reading andwriting has not harmed you, as I was afraid it would. Alwyn tells methat no man of Percy's troop did better than you, in that fight withthe Welsh; save, mayhap, that big man-at-arms down there, who, he tellsme, cracked the skulls of four Welshmen who were trying to stab you,besides those he disposed of on his own account."
"I owe him my life, indeed, Father. He is a man after your own heart,strong and brave and hearty, even jovial when occasion offers. He cantroll out a border lay with the best, and can yet read and write aswell as an abbot. His name is Roger."
"Come up, Roger," John Forster shouted, "and give me a grip of yourhand. You have saved my son's life, as he tells me; and, so long as youlive, there will be a nook by the fire, here, and a hearty welcome,when you are tired of soldiering."
"In truth, you are a mighty man," he went on, after he and Roger hadexchanged a grip that would have well nigh broken the bones of anordinary man. "I have been looked upon as one able to strike as hard ablow as any on the border; but assuredly, you would strike a heavierone. Why, man, you must be five or six inches bigger, round the chest,than I am."
"You have been an active man from your youth," Roger replied, "ever onhorseback and about, while I spent years with nought to do but eat anddrink, and build up my frame, in a monastery."
"Oswald told us, in his letters, that you had been a monk; but had,with the consent of the abbot, unfrocked yourself."
"It was so," Roger replied, with a laugh. "Methinks that it was a happyday for the abbot, as well as for myself, when I laid aside my gown;for I fear that I gave him more trouble than all the rest of hisconvent. Besides, it was as if a wolf's cub had been brought up among alitter of ladies' lapdogs--it was sure to be an ill time for both."
"And for how long are you at home with us, brother Alwyn?" John Forsterasked, presently.
"I am here for a week only, John; but Oswald has leave for a month,seeing that, at present, there is no great chance of Hotspur needinghis services. The Scotch are quiet since the king returned, I hear."
"Ay, they are as quiet as is their nature to be, but 'tis not likely tolast long. I went not with the army, but I hear that Henry behaved sogently that the Scotch feel that it would be almost an act ofingratitude to meddle with us, for a time. However, that will not lastlong. Next spring they will doubtless be storming down over the hillsagain."
The holiday passed delightfully to Oswald. Roger enjoyed it even more.It was so long since the latter had been permitted the freedom ofriding at will, over mountain and moor, that he was like a schoolboyenjoying an altogether unwonted holiday. He and Oswald scoured thecountry, sometimes returning late in the afternoon, but often stayingfor the night at the houses of one or other of Oswald's friends. Oncethey crossed the border, and rode to the Armstrongs', where theystopped for a couple of days, bringing Allan and Janet back with them;for Roxburgh was still held by the English, and unless when hostilitieswere actively going on, the people of the border, save the marauders,who were always ready to seize any opportunity that offered
of carryingoff booty, were on friendly terms, and maintained frequent intercoursewith each other.
Alwyn had returned to Alnwick when his leave was up. He had spent histime quietly at the hold. He and his brother had discussed many plansby which its defences could be strengthened, but arrived at the sameconclusion: that it could defend itself, at present, against any smallparty, but must yield, however much its defences were increased, at theapproach of an invading army; since, even with the assistance of theinhabitants of the surrounding districts, it could not maintain itselfuntil an army was gathered, and the invaders driven out.
Occasionally an afternoon was devoted to sports on the moor; and, onone occasion, John Forster sent messengers down to Yardhope, and othervillages on the Coquet, and to the holds of his neighbours; invitingthem to come to a gathering, at which there would be prizes for riding,wrestling, running, shooting, and feats of arms on horseback and foot,and at which all comers would be entertained.
The result was a gathering such as had not taken place, in that part ofthe country, for years. Over a thousand people assembled, comprisingwomen as well as men. The sports began early, and the various eventswere all eagerly contested. Ralph Gray won the horse race, a horsewhich he had brought from the south being far superior, in speed, toany of the smaller border horses; although, had the trial been forendurance, it would have had but small chance with them. The shootingwas close, one of Percy Hope's men winning at last. The quarterstaffprize was awarded to Long Hackett, one of John Forster's retainers. Atwrestling Roger bore off the palm. Some of his opponents were, in theopinion of lookers on, more skilled at the sport; but his weight andstrength more than counterbalanced this, and one after another tried,in vain, to throw him to the ground; succumbing, themselves, as soon ashe put out his strength, and theirs began to be exhausted; when,drawing them up to him with irresistible strength, he laid them quietlyon the ground.
Oswald himself carried off the palm in a mile foot race.
At one o'clock the sports were concluded. While they had been going on,a score of men were attending to the great joints roasting overbonfires, six bullocks having been slaughtered the day before. Ducks,geese, and chickens innumerable were also cooking; while, for the tablein the hold, at which the principal guests sat down, were trout, game,and venison pasties. Here wine was provided, while outside a long rowof barrels of beer were broached, for the commonalty.
Dinner over, there was singing and dancing. Alwyn had engaged, and sentfrom Alnwick, a score of musicians. These were divided into fiveparties, stationed at some little distance apart, and round these theyounger portion of the gathering soon grouped themselves; while theelders listened to border lays sung by wandering minstrels. The dayswere shortening fast and, as many of those present had twenty miles toride, by six o'clock the amusements came to an end, and the gatheringscattered in all directions, delighted with the day's proceedings;which, although they would have been thought of but small account inthe southern counties, were rare, indeed, in a district so thinlypopulated, and so frequently engaged in turmoil and strife.
Except in the running match, Oswald had engaged in none of thecontests, he being fully occupied in aiding his mother in welcoming theguests, and seeing to their comfort; while his father, assisted by hisfriends, Hope, Gray, and Liddel, superintended the arrangements for thesports, and acted as judges. In the afternoon, Oswald and his cousinshad joined heartily in the dances, and enjoyed the day to the full asmuch as their visitors.
Gatherings of this kind were not uncommon. Shooting, wrestling, andsword-playing for the men, and dancing on the green for the youngpeople, took place at most of the village fairs; but the gathering atYardhope was long talked about, as a special occasion, from thehospitality in which all were included, and the number of the heads ofthe border families who were present, and took part in the proceedings.
Oswald's mother had been the prime mover in the matter. She was proudof her son, and thought that it was a good occasion to present him tothe countryside, as one who was now arriving at manhood, and waslikely, in time, to make a figure on the border. John Forster had atfirst declared that it was wholly unnecessary, and that such a thinghad never taken place in his time, or in his father's before him.
"That may be, husband," she said, "but Oswald has been away from us fortwo years, and it may be as much more before he returns. He is like tobecome a knight, before long--Alwyn said that the lad was sure to winhis spurs--and it would be well that he should not slip out of thememory of folks here. Besides, we have his cousins, and it is well thatthey should carry back news that, in spite of the troublous times, wecan yet be merry on suitable occasions.
"The cost will not be very great. The meat can scarcely be counted,seeing that we have as many cattle on the moor as can pick up a livingthere. Moreover, our neighbours all gave us a helping hand, to repairthe hold after it was sacked last year, and 'tis but right that weshould hold some sort of gathering, and this will do for the twopurposes."
The last argument had more weight with John Forster than the formerones. Once having consented, he took as much interest in it as did hiswife; and dug up the pot in which he stowed away any sums thatremained, at the end of each year, over and above the expenses of thehold; and provided all that was required, without stinting.
Three days after the gathering, the Armstrongs returned home, andOswald rode with Roger to Alnwick. The next three months passed quietlyand uneventfully. Snow was lying deep on the Cheviots, and until springthere was little chance of the Scotch making a foray.
Oswald worked hard in the hall, where the knights kept themselves inexercise, practised with the young squires, and superintended thedrilling and practice of the men-at-arms, of whom the number at thecastle had been much increased; for none doubted that in the spring theScots would, after Henry's invasion, pay a return visit to England, andthat the northern counties would need a very strong force to hold themin check.
He was, several times, sent by Percy with messages to the governors ofRoxburgh and Jedburgh, and to other commanders; calling upon them to bevigilant, and to send in lists of arms and stores required, so that allshould be in good order to make a stout resistance, when the need came.
When he had received no special orders to return with speed to Alnwick,Oswald generally found time to pay a visit of a few hours to theArmstrongs. On these excursions Roger and another man-at-arms alwaysrode with him, for it would not have been becoming for a squire, andmessenger of Hotspur, to ride without such escort.
Alwyn had picked out, for Roger's use, one of the strongest horses inthe castle. It was not a showy animal, having a big ugly head, andbeing vicious in temper; therefore, after some trial, it had beenhanded over to the men-at-arms, instead of being retained for theservice of the knights. It had, at first, tried its best to establish amastership over the trooper; but it soon found that its efforts were asnothing against the strength of its rider, and that it might as welltry to shake off its saddle as to rid itself of the trooper, the gripof whose knees almost stopped its breathing. Oswald, too, was very wellmounted, Sir Edmund Mortimer having presented him with one of the besthorses in the stable, upon his leaving him.
Upon nearing Hiniltie one day, just as the new year had begun, Oswaldwas alarmed at seeing smoke wreaths ascending from the knoll behind thevillage upon which the Armstrongs' hold stood. Galloping on, he soonsaw that his first impressions were correct, and that his uncle's towerwas on fire. He found the village in confusion.
"What has happened?" he asked, reining in his horse for a moment.
"The hold was suddenly attacked, two hours ago," a man said. "A partyof reivers rode through here. None had seen them coming, and there wasno time for us to take our women and children, and hurry to the shelterof the hold. Adam Armstrong is away at Roxburgh. Young Allan, with whatfew men there were at the hold, had but just time to shut the gates;but these were hewed down, in a short time, by the troopers. There wasa stout fight as they entered. Allan was cut down and left for dead,and the t
roopers were all killed. Dame Armstrong was slain, and herdaughters carried off by the reivers; and these, as soon as they hadsacked the house, set it alight and galloped off. Most of the men herewere away in the fields, or with the flocks in the valleys, and we weretoo few to hinder them, and could but shut ourselves up in the houses,until they had gone."
Oswald had dropped his reins, in speechless dismay.
"It is terrible," he said, at last. "Aunt killed, Janet and Jessiecarried away, and Allan wounded, perhaps to death!"
"Whence came these villains?" he asked suddenly. "From beyond theCheviots? It can hardly be so, for this part is under the governor ofRoxburgh, and no English raiders would dare to meddle with any here.Besides, my uncle has always been on good terms with them, holdinghimself aloof from all quarrels, and having friends and relations onboth sides of the border."
"We believe that it was the Bairds," a man said. "There has long been astanding quarrel between them and the Armstrongs, partly about stolencattle, but more, methinks, because of the relationship between theArmstrongs and your people"--for Oswald's visits to his uncle had madehis face familiar to the villagers--"and they say that the Bairds havesworn that they will never rest, until they have slain the last of theForsters."
"Where is Allan Armstrong?"
"They have carried him down to the last house in the village. Thepriest and Meg Margetson, who knows more of wounds and simples thananyone here, are with him."
"Has his mother's body been recovered?"
The man shook his head.
"The hold was on fire, from roof to cellar, before they left," he said."I and others ran up there, directly they had galloped away. The housewas like a furnace. And indeed, we knew not of her death until a boy,who had seen her slain, and had dropped from a window and hiddenhimself till they had gone, came out and told us. He, and two or threeothers, are the only ones left alive of those in the hold, when wearrived and saved young Allan; and indeed, whether he lives now, ornot, I know not. The priest said, when we carried him in, that hisstate was almost beyond hope."
Oswald galloped on to the end of the village, leapt from his horse, andthrew the reins to Roger, who had been muttering words that hecertainly would not have found in the missals, or the books, of themonastery.
"Is there nothing to be done, Master Oswald?"
"Not at present. We must wait till my uncle returns."
Then he entered the house. He had met the priest frequently, during hisstay with the Armstrongs; as he entered the room, he was standing by apallet on which Allan was laid, while a very old woman was attending toa decoction that was boiling over the fire.
"Is there any hope, father?"
"I know not," the priest replied, shaking his head sorrowfully. "Wehave stanched the wounds, but his head is well nigh cleft open. I havesome skill in wounds, for they are common enough in this unfortunatecountry, and I should say that there was no hope; but Meg here, who isnoted through the country round for her knowledge in these matters,thinks that it is possible he may yet recover. She is now making apoultice of herbs that she will lay on the wound; or rather on thewounds, for he has no less than four."
"I think that he will live, young master," the old woman said in aquavering, high-pitched voice. "'Tis hard to kill an Armstrong. Theyhave ever been a hardy race and, save the lad's father, have ever beenprone to the giving and taking of blows. I watched by his grandfather'sbed, when he was in as sore a strait as this; but he came round, andwas none the worse for it, though the blow would have killed any manwith a softer skull.
"A curse upon the Bairds, I say. They have ever been a race of thievesand raiders, and it is their doings that have brought trouble on theborder, as long as I can remember."
"Has any gone to bear the news to Adam Armstrong, father?"
"Yes. I sent off a messenger on horseback, as soon as they had gone.Adam left early, and the man will meet him on his way back."
Half an hour later, indeed, Adam Armstrong rode in. Oswald met himoutside. His face was set and hard, and Oswald would scarce haverecognized the kindly, genial man who had always received him soheartily.
"There are hopes that he will live," Oswald said.
There was a slight change in the expression of Armstrong's face.
"'Tis well," he said, "that one should be saved, to take revenge forthis foul business. All the others are gone."
"I hope we may rescue my cousins."
"We might as well try to rescue a young lamb, that had been carried offby an eagle," he said bitterly. "Even could an archer send a shaftthrough the bird's breastbone, the lamb would be bleeding and injured,beyond all hope, ere it touched the ground. We may revenge, Oswald, butI have no hope of rescue."
Then he went into the house, without further word.