In the Wars of the Roses: A Story for the Young

The band had been scouring the woods all that day in different detachments, and they had brought in Paul just before dark. The prince had escaped their vigilance, and Paul had maintained silence under their cruel questioning. Eva knew no more of him than the farmer, but all were full of hope that he had escaped. Well indeed for both-if Paul knew his hiding place-that he was out of the power of the robbers. They would scarce in any case have let him escape with his life, after the ill will many of them bore him; but had he continued to set them at defiance by his silence, there is no knowing to what lengths their baffled rage might not have gone. Eva had heard of things in bygone days which she could not recall without a shudder, and the farmer and Jack, with clenched hands and stern faces, vowed that they would leave no stone unturned until the country was rid of these lawless and terrible marauders.

"We have stood enough; this is the last!" cried the burly owner of Figeon's. "We will raise the whole countryside; we will send a deputation to the bold Earl of Warwick; we will tell him Paul's history, and beg him to come himself, or to send a band of five hundred of his good soldiers, and destroy these bandits root and branch. If these outrages are committed in the name of the House of York, then I and mine will henceforth wear the badge of Lancaster. What we simple country folks want is a king who can keep order in this distracted land; and if that brave boy who dwelt beneath our roof, and was kindly and gracious to all, is our future king, well, God bless and keep him, say I, and let the sceptre long be held in his kindly hands!"

In the village of Much Waltham next day the wildest excitement prevailed. Jack was down at his sister's house with the dawn to tell how Paul had been rescued from the hands of the robbers the previous night, and what cruel treatment he had received at their hands. He was going off on a secret errand to the Priory that very day on Paul's behalf, to ask for news of the prince; and when it was known that the bright-haired lad (Paul's kinsman, as he had been called) who had won all hearts was none other than their future Prince of Wales, a great revulsion of feeling swept over the hearts of the simple and loving rustics, and they became as warm in their sympathies for Lancaster as they had been loyal hitherto to York.

But the burning feeling of the hour was the desire to put down by a strong hand the depredations of these lawless robber hordes. Not a house in the place but had suffered from them, not a farmer but had complaints to make of hen roost robbed or beasts driven off in the night. Others had darker tales to tell; and Will Ives clenched his fists and vowed that he would be glad indeed to see the day when he and Simon Dowsett might meet face to face in equal combat. But it would be impossible to attack the robbers in their forest fastnesses unless they had military help; and a deputation was to start forthwith to London, to lay before the mighty earl the story of the ravages committed, and the deadly peril which had just threatened the heir of England, from which he might not yet have escaped.

Jack was in hopes that he might still be at the Priory, and that he might bring him back and set him at the head of a party of loyal rustics, who should escort him in triumph to his royal father in London. But that hope was of short duration; for the news he received at the Priory told that the prince was already far away, and safe at sea on his way to France.

He had arrived just at dusk the previous evening, and when he had told his adventures and proved his identity to the satisfaction of the Prior, strenuous efforts were made to convey him safely away before further peril could menace him. It chanced that one of the brothers was about to start for the coast on a mission for the Prior; and disguised in a friar's gown, Edward could travel with him in the most perfect safety. Stout nags were in readiness for the pair; and after the lad had been well fed, and had enjoyed a couple of hours' sleep beside the fire, he was sufficiently refreshed to proceed on his way, only charging the Prior either to send Paul after him if he should arrive in time, or to keep him in safe hiding if that should not be possible.

Before Jack left the place, the brother who had been the prince's companion returned with the news that Edward had been safely embarked in a small trading vessel bound for France, the captain of which, an ardent Lancastrian, would defend his passenger from every peril at risk of his own life if need be. The wind was favourable and light, and there was every hope of a rapid and safe passage. Before nightfall this very day Edward would probably be landed upon French soil, out of all chance of danger from foeman's steel.

As to the purposed overthrow of the robber band, the brothers most heartily approved of it. They too, though in some sort protected by the awe inspired by Holy Church, suffered from the bold dealings of these lawless men, and gladly would they see the band scattered or exterminated.

The Prior shook his head somewhat as Jack explained how he wished to wed the daughter of the chief of the crew; but when the lover pleaded his cause with all the eloquence at his command, and painted in piteous words the misery the gentle girl had endured in the midst of her unhallowed surroundings, the kind-hearted ecclesiastic relented, and forthwith despatched Brother Lawrence to examine and counsel the maid, hear her confession, and absolve her from her offences, and then, if all seemed well, to perform the rite of betrothal, which was almost as binding as the marriage service itself, and generally preceded it by a few weeks or months, as the case might be. So Jack rode off in high feather, and talked so unceasingly of his Eva the whole way to the farm, that the good brother was almost convinced beforehand of the virtue and devotion of the maid, and was willing enough a few hours later to join their hands in troth plight. After that, unless the father were prepared to draw upon himself the fulminations of the Church, he could not lay claim to his daughter, or try to give her in wedlock to another. Her place was now with her betrothed's kindred, where she would remain until the marriage ceremony itself took place, and made her indeed the daughter of the farm.

Meantime Paul lay for a while sorely sick, and was tended with motherly devotion by good Mistress Devenish, who learned to love him almost as a son. Hardy and tough as he was, the fatigue and suffering he had undergone had broken him down, and a fever set in which for a time made them fear for his very life. But his hardy constitution triumphed over the foe, and in a week's time from the night he first set foot across the threshold of Figeon's Farm he was held to be out of danger, though excessively weak and ill.

During the long nights when his hostess had watched beside him, thinking that he was either unconscious or delirious, Paul had seen and heard more than she knew. He had heard her read, as if to herself, strange and beautiful words from a book upon her knee-words that had seemed full of peace and light and comfort, and which had sunk into his weary brain with strangely soothing power. Some of these same words were not quite unfamiliar to him-at least he knew their equivalents in the Latin tongue; but somehow when spoken thus in the language of everyday life, they came home to him with tenfold greater force, whilst some of the sweetest and deepest and most comforting words were altogether new to him.

And as his strength revived, Paul's anxiety to hear more of such words grew with it; and one forenoon, as his nurse sat beside him with her busy needle flying, he looked up at her and said, "You do not read out of the book any more, and I would fain hear those wonderful words again."

"I knew not that you had ever heard."

"Yes, I heard much, and it seemed to ease my pain and give me happy thoughts. It is a beautiful and a goodly book. May I not hear more?"

"I would that all the world might hear the life giving words of that book, Paul," said the good woman with a sigh. "But they come from Wycliffe's Bible, and the holy brothers tell us that it is a wicked book, which none of us should read."

"It cannot be a wicked book which holds such goodly words-words that in the Latin tongue the Holy Church herself makes use of," said Paul stoutly. "It may be bad for unlettered and ignorant men to try to teach and expound the words they read, but the words themselves are good words. May I not see the book myself?"

"You know the risk you run in so doing, Paul?"

"Ay; but I am a good son of the Church, and I fear not to see what manner of book this be. If it is bad, I will no more of it."

The woman smiled slightly as she rose from her seat and touched a spring in the wall hard by the chimney. A sliding panel sprang back and disclosed a small shelf, upon which stood a large book, which the woman placed in Paul's hands, closing the panel immediately.

He lay still, turning the leaves with his thin hands, and marvelling what the Church found to condemn in so holy a book as this seemed, breathing peace and goodwill and truest piety; but a slight stir without the house, and the trampling of horse hoofs in the court below, caused the woman to raise her head with an instinct of caution, and Paul to thrust the volume hastily but cautiously deep beneath the pillows on which he lay.

There were strange voices in the house, and the door was opened by Brother Lawrence, who came in with a troubled look upon his face. He was followed by three tall monks in a different habit, and with none of the rubicund joviality upon their faces that was seen in those of the brothers of Leighs Priory; whilst last of all, with a cunning and malicious leer upon his face, followed the little peddler, who, when he met the steady glance of Paul's eyes, shrank back somewhat and looked discomfited.

But the foremost of the tall monks, scarce heeding the respectful salutation made him by Paul and the mistress, turned upon the peddler and said:

"Fellow, come forward and bear your testimony. It was, you who laid the information that heretical books were hidden in this house, and that you knew the hiding place. Make good your words, now that you have brought us to the spot; for our worthy brother here speaks well of those that live beneath this roof."

"May it please your reverence, I know the place well, and that there are heretical books concealed there always. If you will press that spring in the wall here, you will see for yourself. If you find not the forbidden Bible there, call me a prating and a lying knave.",

Brother Lawrence was looking both troubled and curious, but the face of Mistress Devenish was perfectly calm, and Paul commanded his countenance to a look of simple wonderment and surprise.

The monk obeyed the direction of the peddler; the secret spring, gave a sharp click, and the door flew open. But the little shelf was bare, and told no tales, and the face of the peddler fell.

"It has been removed-they have had notice of this visitation," stammered the discomfited man; but Brother Lawrence cut him short.

"Your reverence knows that that is impossible," he said, addressing the tall monk: "no word of this visitation had reached even our ears till your arrival this very morning. This house has ever been well thought of by our fraternity, and pays its dues to Holy Church as I would all other houses did. I trust your mind is satisfied."

The monk bent his head; but before he could speak, Paul had raised himself on his pillows, and was speaking in quick, earnest tones.

"Holy father, listen, I pray you, to me," he said, "and trust not the testimony of yon traitorous fellow, who, if he had had his will, would have done to death the son of our sainted monarch King Henry.

"Nay, let him not escape," he cried, as he saw the man make an attempt to reach the door, which was promptly frustrated by the sudden appearance of Jack Devenish, who had heard of this sudden incursion of monks, and had rushed to the house in some fear of what might be happening there.

"Hold him fast, Jack," cried Paul, with increasing energy, "till I have told my tale;" and forthwith he described in graphic words how this man had identified the prince, and had striven to sell him to the enemy, that the House of York might triumph in his death, or in possession of the heir whose life alone could redeem the cause of Lancaster from destruction. The story was listened to with deep attention and no little sympathy, for the visit, the peril, and the flight of the prince were becoming known in this part of the country, and the clergy of all degrees were thankful indeed that the heir of England was safe, as they were all deeply attached to the cause of the Red Rose.

So Paul's story roused a great wave of anger against the mean fellow, who would thus earn his own living by betraying those whose bread he had eaten, or one whose life it should be his care to protect; and scarce had Paul done speaking before Brother Lawrence took up the gauntlet, and addressing himself to the tall monk, pointed to Paul, as he lay still white and weak upon his pillows.

"And hear farther, reverend father: this youth who now speaks to you is he of whom I told you as we rode along, who bore torture without yielding up the name of the hiding place to which he knew the prince had escaped. But for him young Edward might yet have fallen into the hands of these robbers; for they would have watched our Priory and have set upon all who went or came, and ravaged the whole country, so that even the habit of the monk would not have protected or disguised him. And these good folks here at this farm were they who rescued him from the hands of the robbers; for the maiden alone, without the help of this stalwart youth, could not have brought him, ill and fainting as he was, all these long weary miles. And they took him in; and this woman, whom yon informer would have you believe is a vile heretic, has nursed him like his own mother, and brought him back from the very jaws of death. And is she who has done a service that royal Henry will one day thank her for publicly (for this pallid youth is as a brother in love to young Edward, and his especial charge to us till he comes again to claim him and bestow his well-earned knighthood upon him) – is she to suffer from the unproven charges of a base spy and Yorkist tool like yon fellow there, who would have betrayed his own king's son to death? Away with such a fellow from the earth, I say; and let those who have sheltered England's heir, and rescued this bold youth from worse than death-let them, I say, live in peace and honour for the service they have done their country! For I wot that when young Edward comes in his own proper state again, his first care will be for those who befriended him in his hour of need, his first chastisement against those who have done aught to harm them, if they be still cumbering the earth."

And with that the usually jovial brother, moved now by a great access of wrath, which had given him unwonted eloquence, pointed a finger significantly at the trembling peddler; and Jack, who held him by the collar, gave him a shake and said:

"Give me leave to carry him to the village green and tell the good folks there the tale, and I warrant that he will not cumber the ground much longer."

"Do with him as you will," said the tall monk, "he is no charge of mine; and if all be true that is said, he well deserves his fate."

The peddler was borne away, crying and entreating, and before an hour had passed, his dead body was hanging on an oak tree nigh to the blacksmith's forge-a warning to all informers; and when he had gone the tall monk turned to Paul with a more benign air, and laid his hand upon his head as he said:

"Thou art a stanch lad; and for their care to thee these honest folks deserve the gratitude of the Church. I believe none of the accusations of that lewd fellow. I trow this is a godly house, where the Lord is rightly honoured in His holy ordinances."

"That indeed is so," answered Paul fervently.

The visitors departed well satisfied; whilst Paul heaved a great sigh of relief, and wondered if he had in any way sinned by thought or word or deed. But his conscience was clear; he could not see that there was sin in reading holy words from God's own Book. Such matters of dispute were too hard for him, and he closed his tired eyes and was soon sound asleep. He saw the great Bible no more whilst he remained beneath that roof; but many of its words were engraved upon his heart, and were a guide to his steps and a light to his path throughout his subsequent life.

"You have saved us from a great peril this day, Paul," said the farmer that night, with a moisture in his eyes and a gravity upon his jolly face. "If we have given shelter and protection to you, your protection of us has been equally great. You must make this your home, my boy, so long as you need one."

The next days were full of excitement for Much Waltham. The request made by the people of Essex had been listened to by the great earl, and though he could scarce credit the fact that the king's son had been so near, he was convinced at last, and burned to avenge himself on those who had tried to take him captive. A band of armed men was sent down, and the forest swept clear of the marauders-at least for a while. Will Ives had his wish, and met Simon Dowsett face to face in a hand-to-hand struggle; and although the latter did all to deserve his undesirable sobriquet, he was overpowered at last and slain, and his head carried in triumph to his native village, where, after the savage custom of the day, it was exposed on a pike on the village green.

Paul heard of this fight by report alone, for he was able to get only as far as the great kitchen fire, where he and Eva spent a great part of their time in eagerly discussing the questions of the day. Her father, the chief of the band, made his escape with some few of his followers, and was heard of no more in those parts. His daughter was glad he was not killed, though she could not desire to see him more; and in a short time she and Jack were married, and she almost forgot that she had been for so many years living amongst the robbers of Black Notley.

Chapter 8: The Rally Of The Red Rose

"Paul! Is it really you? Now indeed I feel that I have reached my native land again. O Paul, I have wearied sorely for you. Why followed you not me to France, as we planned? Every day I looked for tidings of you, and none came. But this meeting atones for all."

It was the bright dawn of an Easter day, and Paul, after a night's hard riding, stood within the precincts of the Abbey of Cerne, not far from the seaport of Weymouth. His hands were closely grasped in those of young Edward, who was looking into his face with beaming eyes.

It was no longer the fugitive Edward of the winter months, but a royally equipped and accoutred youth, upon whose noble face and figure Paul's eyes dwelt with fond pride. Weary and tempestuous as had been the voyage from France to England-a voyage that had lasted seventeen days, in lieu of scarce so many hours-yet the bright face of the Prince of Wales bore no signs of fatigue or disappointment. The weary days of waiting were over. He and his mother had come to share his father's royal state, and drive from the shores-if he came-the bold usurper who had hitherto triumphed in the strife of the Roses. His heart beat high with hope and lofty purpose; and in joy at the eager welcomes poured upon him by the friends and warriors who came flocking to his standard he forgot all the doubts and fears of the past, and looked upon himself as the saviour of his country, as indeed he was regarded by all his party.

The old comrades and friends looked each other well over with smiling glances, and it seemed as if Edward marked in Paul as much change in the outward man as he had done in the prince.

"By my troth, Paul, fair fortune has smiled upon you since last we met. And the gold spurs of knighthood too-nay, now, what means that, good comrade? Were we not to have knelt side by side to receive that honour? Have you outstripped me from the first?"