"Every man hath his bow and his buckler," thought Richard, "and most of them are sturdy fellows. The king hath need of such. It is said that the outland men are smaller in the bones."
It was the prevailing opinion among the English of that day that one of their own was equivalent to four Frenchmen, and they counted as French nearly all of the dwellers beyond the Channel, except the Hollanders and the Danes, orNorsemen. The Norway folk were also, by the greater part, counted as Danes, and were believed to be hard fighters. So, among the country folk, still lingered the traditions of the ancient days, when Knut and his vikings had swept the coast and conquered the island.
It was a walk of a league, and there was some talking by the way, but the men all seemed in haste and they strode rapidly.
Then they were greeted by loud shouting, and Richard saw a red light grow beyond the trees.
"Here is cleared land," was his next thought, "and yonder is a balefire. Ho! In the king's name, what is this? Are there strongholds hidden among the woods?"
Before him, as he went forward, was an open area which may have contained hundreds of acres. He could see broad reaches of it by the glaring light of a huge heap of burning wood, a few score yards from the edge of the forest. Beyond the fire, as much farther, he could discern the outlines of a large building, and, even more distinctly, a long line of palisades in front of it.
"My lord," said Guy, "yonder is the hidden ward in Arden. If any that are great of thy kinsmen ever heard of it, they told thee not. There was thy mother fended, and there thy father lay long days, when Earl Mortimer's men were seekinghis head. Thou art welcome, only let thy lips be as our own concerning our hold. It will be kept well should strangers come."
Richard glanced at the rugged forms around him, and at many more that were walking hither and thither in the firelight. All were armed, and he could well believe that they would make Guy's word good for him. They crowded around as he drew near, and there was an increasing heartiness in their manner and words as he continually replied to them in the forgotten tongue. He knew not of gypsies, or the thought might have come to him that these half-outlaws, every man a deerslayer, under the ban of the stern forest laws, had need, as had the Romany or "Bohemians" as they were called, to possess a speech of their own. It was a protection, inasmuch as it aided them in detecting intruders and in secretly communicating with each other.
There seemed to be no chief man, no captain, but all stood on a kind of rude equality, save that much deference was paid to Guy the Bow.
"Right on to the house, if it please thee, my lord," he said. "It is late, and there is roast venison waiting. Thou mayest well be hungered. Is all ready, Ben o' Coventry?"
"All that's to be eaten," responded Ben, "but the talking with the men must be done on themorrow. They from the upper woods are not in. It was well to slay the Lancashire thieves. Some have gone out after what thou and he did leave. They may not tell tales of aught they have seen in Arden."
A few words more of explanation informed Richard that he was there sooner than had been expected, and he was quite willing to let his wild entertainers have their own way.
"I would see all," he said, "and talk to all at once."
"There might be jealousies," whispered Guy. "Thou doest wisely. Here is the gate."
A vast oaken portal heavily strengthened with iron swung open in the line of the bristling palisades while he was speaking. There was a moat, of course, with a bridge of planks to the gate, over which Richard and those who were with him went in. The inclosure beyond was large, and in it was blazing more than one log heap, the better to light up the buildings.
Some would have called it a grange, if there had not been so much of it, for there were more houses than one, all grouped, attached or built on to a central structure. There was no masonry, but the woodwork was exceedingly heavy and strong. If there were more than one story to the grange, it must have been hidden under the high-pitched roofs, for there were no upper windows. Such ofthese as could be seen below were all closed with heavy swing shutters, nor was there any chimney on any roof.
This was the manner in which the West Saxons of Harold's time builded the palaces of their chiefs and earls.
When Lady Maud Neville arose from her knees at the altar rail there was a beautiful light upon her noble face. Her long, white hair had fallen around her shoulders, but for some reason she seemed to have grown younger.
"I will give him to the king!" she loudly exclaimed. "I have prayed that my son may be as was his father, a knight without a stain. But here I may not tarry. It were better I made ready for a journey even ere I sleep, for when Richard returneth there will be haste. There is much that I would not leave behind. I will load no wain with goods, but the pack beasts will bear full panniers."
She walked out of the chapel and her serving men and maidens met her, eager to do her bidding. After that there were chambers and storerooms to visit and coffers to open and packs to bind, for she was not ill supplied with the garments that were suited to her rank, and above all there were small caskets of dark wood that were not opened. Itwas said that there were gems and jewels in Wartmont, and the saying may have reached the ears of such as Clod the Club to bring him thither. If so, well was it that he and his would never come again.
Ever and anon, however, as the good lady passed a window, she would pause and look out toward the forest, as if in that direction there might be some one that she longed to see.
Day waned and the night came on, and all preparations appeared to be completed, for again she visited the chapel before retiring to her chamber. Long since had the great gate been closed, and the portcullis lowered and the bridge over the moat drawn in. Now, at last, the curfew bell sounded from the tower and the lights in castle and village went out, save one bronze lamp that still burned in that corner of the keep to which the lady herself had retreated.
It was a large room and lofty, with twain of narrow windows that were as if for archers to ply their arrows through them rather than for lighting the space within. The floor was strewn with dry rushes for luxury, and the garnishing was such as became the mistress of Wartmont. Heavily carved, of oak, were the tables and the high-backed chairs and the settles. The mirror over the chest of drawers must have come from Venice itself. There were curtains at the windows and around the high-postbedstead which might have been woven in Flanders or Normandy, for none such could be made in England. The walls were wainscoted to the height of a man's shoulder, but there were no tapestries to tell of great wealth. It was as if in this place of retirement had been preserved all that remained of the broken prosperity of this branch of the great house of Neville.
The lady slept not, nor even looked at the bed, but sank into a great cushioned chair and seemed to be lost in thought.
No words escaped her lips although much time went by. There was no hand to turn the hourglass on the bureau near her, nor could she have known at what hour she was startled to her feet.
Loud rang the summoning sound of a clarion at the great gate, and louder was the sudden answer of the alarum bell in the tower. She was at a window ere she knew, and she heard a shouting:
"Open, O ye of Wartmont! In the king's name! It is John Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick. Is our lord the prince within?"
"Open will we right gladly," sent back the warder at the gate. "But the prince and my Lord of Maunay rode on to Warwick in the morn."
"Saints preserve them!" uttered another voice. "But we must needs come in. Bid the Lady Maud rest. I will trouble her not until day."
"My noble kinsman!" she exclaimed, turningquickly from her window. "I will make haste to greet him. Well is it that I am robed. I will meet him speedily in the hall."
Even so she did, and the minutes were few before she stood face to face with a tall man of noble presence, in full armor save the helmet he had doffed on entering. He seemed in full vigor of life, but gray-headed, as became a statesman upon whom the king might lean.
Questions and answers followed fast, and all the while the Wartmont retainers were busily providing for the hundred horsemen who had ridden in the train of the earl. Of them were knights and nobles also, and some of these now stood near the lady and the earl. Strong was their speech, as was his, concerning the rashness which the prince had shown in riding across England with so small a company.
"Knoweth he not," said one, "that there is treason in the land?"
"Silence on that head, Geoffrey of Harcourt," responded the earl. "But we may trust he is safe in Warwick. Had we taken another highway we might have met him. But, madame, this is fine news of my young kinsman. Well for him that he hath won the favor of the prince and of that rare good lance, De Maunay. More than well is it also that he hath sallied forth promptly to gather his archery. It will please the king. Better bowmenare not than he will bring from Arden. Now, Lady Maud, hie thee to thy rest, and so will we all, for we are weary."
The remaining words were few, and once more the castle grew still, save for the stamping of restless horses in the courtyard and the busy chatter of the warders of Wartmont with the guard set by the earl.
Now there was another place in which all was quiet, only that on a heap of rushes and a spread garment lay a youth who slept not, but turned at times uneasily.
"I fear no treachery," he muttered, but not in Saxon. "I think these be true men. Yet I will leave my sword bare and my axe by it lest peril come. Who would have looked for a hold like this among these woods?"
Then his thoughts went back to that which he had seen on coming in. He had passed the moat and the portal with Guy the Bow, and through a short passage. Then he had entered a vast hall, in the middle of which blazed a fire, the smoke whereof escaped at a hole in the peak of the roof. At one end of this hall was a broad dais, two steps higher than the floor of beaten earth, and here had been spread a table for his refection. Kindly, indeed, and full of reverence for his rank and name, had been the words and manners of all who served, for none presumed to eat with him. No other manwas there of gentle blood, and even Guy the Bow would have been angered had any trespassed upon his young captain. That was Richard, now, by the command of the prince himself, and the forestmen all honored the king, Saxons though they were. None were permitted to question, overmuch, although Guy himself went out to dispense whatever news was in his own keeping.
Refreshed, even with a tankard of ale that was brought him, Richard arose at last, and followed Ben of Coventry to the sleeping place allotted him. None better was in the grange. If at any past day there had been more costly furniture, some hand had taken it away, and naught was left now but safe quarters for such men as Richard had seen.
It was but day dawning when a hunter's horn sounded a clear note at the door of the rude chamber.
"Hail, my Lord of Wartmont!" spoke Guy the Bow. "I pray thee hasten. Thy men will be ready for thee within the hour. They all have come, and they are eager to hear thee."
"On the moment!" shouted Richard. "I am ready. Tell them I come."
"God speed thee this day," said Guy. "Full many a good fellow is ready to free himself from peril of the sheriff of Warwickshire. Aye, and to draw the king's good pay and have chance for pillaging French towns. They like it well."
Great indeed was the astonishment of Richard when, after hurriedly breaking his fast in the great hall, he walked out with Guy and others like him to view the gathering in the open space beyond the palisades.
Women and children, score on score, kept at a little distance, but not beyond hearing. In the middle, however, were clustered fully a hundred brawny men, eager to hear the king's proclamation of free pardon and enlistment for the war in France. They all knew what it was to be from other tongues, but to them the young lord of Wartmont was the king's messenger, and there was no certainty in their minds until he had spoken.
Without too many words, but plainly and well, did he announce his message, and they answered him with loud shouting. To some of them it was as a promise of life from certain death, for the law was in search of them, and the judges of that day were pitiless concerning forestry and the protection of the king's deer and the earl's.
Short ceremony was needed, for man after man came forward to kneel and put his hands between those of Richard, in the old Saxon custom of swearing to be his men in camp and field, in fight and foray, in the inland and the outland, until the king's will should give them grace to come home again.
Born warriors were they all, and they laughedwith glee in the hope of fighting the French under so good a leader as was Edward of England. Good captain, good success, they knew; and as for Richard, had they not known the knight, his father, and had not he himself slain the Club of Devon in single-handed combat? They were proud to serve under a Neville, and a man of their Saxon blood, who could order them in their own tongue.
"One hundred and one!" shouted Guy at last. "May I not bid them to horse, Lord Richard? Every man can have his own galloway, or another, that the road to the camp at Warwick may be shortened."
"Mount!" shouted Richard. His own gallant steed had been led to his side and in a moment more he was in the saddle.
John, Earl of Warwick, was also early upon his feet, for he was a man whose life had been spent much in camps, and he was wont to be out and using his eyes as a captain before breaking his fast. From the men of Wartmont he speedily learned all relating to the raid of the Club of Devon and the brave fight made in front of the castle. Of this also he noted the defects, and he roundly declared that he would soon give command and provide means for its repair.
"We may need it again some day," he said to himself. "There may be stormy times to come. May God prevent strife at home, but there beoverproud hearts and over-cunning heads in this good land of ours. I will see to it that Wartmont shall be made stronger than ever. Glad am I that Sir Edward Neville hath left so brave a son to stand for our house."
Many and bitter were the jealousies of the high-hearted barons of England, and none could tell the days to come. Who should prophesy how long the reigning house might keep the throne, or between what claimants of the crown might be the next struggle, if, for example, King Edward or his son, or both of them, and their next of kin, should go down in battle or should die suddenly in their beds, as others of royal blood had died? The head of a great baronial house might well bethink himself of every advantage or possible peril.
"But for the poverty the war bringeth," he said, "I would have builders here within the week. As it is, I will have a garrison, and the good dame herself must bide at Warwick while her son is with the army in France. 'Twere shame to leave her here alone."
So said he to Lady Maud when they met in the castle, and she told him then how well prepared she was for a departure. Already was she aware of his reason for coming so far to meet the prince; but his anxiety was at an end, and he was willing to linger and make full his soldierly inspection of the castle.
"Good fort," he said, "and well was it held against Earl Mortimer. Glad am I that thy son hath so good control of the forest men. They are as clannish as are the Scotch, and they will come to their own chief when they will bide no other."
He understood them, but he was yet taken by surprise before the noon.
"Horsemen!" he exclaimed, standing in the gateway. "Rightly did I say there was imprudence in the small company of the prince. Yonder is a troop—yea, twain of them."
No lances were visible, but at the head of the foremost troop rode one who carried on a high staff a blue banneret, and the earl knew not as yet what its blazonry might be.
Truth to tell, it was nothing but an old flag of Sir Edward Neville's which had been stowed away in the crypts of the grange. Not all of these had been inspected by Richard, but he had seen a good smithy wherein galloways were shod, and spearheads and arrowheads and knife blades were hammered and tempered. Not only arrowsmiths were there among the forest men, but good bowyers, that they might not depend for their weapons upon any but themselves. Weaving, too, was done among the women and by skilled websters of the men; but shoemakers or cordwainers they had none, and but rough potters and smelters. So dwelt they as best they might, with cattle and sheep and swine,and the black cattle of the woods and the king's deer for their maintenance. They were not at any time in peril of starvation, for excellent also were the fishes in the pools and streams, and there was no end of skilled brewing of ale.
Four and four abreast rode on the mounted archers who had sworn to come to the king with Richard of Wartmont, and they came on right orderly. Well looked he also, in full armor, at their head.
"'Tis Richard, my lord the earl!" called out to him Lady Maud as they rode nearer. "'Tis my brave son and his men! Believest thou now that he can call the men of the woods? My boy! God bless him!"
"That say I!" loudly responded the earl, striding across the moat-bridge. "Ho, all! Get ready for the way. My lady, I pray thee to go in and lade thy pack beasts. We will even march for Warwick ere the day is an hour older."
Loud and hearty was his cousinly greeting to his young kinsman. Strong was his approval of the force he had enlisted, but he added:
"What shall we do with all these beasts? The king will have his archers on their own feet."
"That is provided for," replied Richard. "I pray thee trust me that the whole drove can go back to Arden, under good driving, as soon as there is no more need for them. I deemed itwell to come quickly. Such was the word given me by Sir Walter de Maunay."
"Thou didst well to heed him," said the earl; but then he talked little more with Richard.
He bade the men dismount and get their noonday meal in the village and in the castle; but he had speech with many of them, for he was well pleased that such a company should come to the royal standard from among his own retaining.
Lady Maud had waited, but not all patiently, for her own greeting to her son. It was a joy to both of them that they were to go on to Warwick together, but most of all that a better day seemed to be dawning for them, and that the ruin wrought by the bad Earl Mortimer might be amended.
Not many men had been left behind in the hidden hold amid the forest, and such as had not marched with Richard had long since dispersed. Some had ridden gayly away on their stout ponies; others had gone to the fields. Some were in the smithy, the tannery, and the other workshops, and a few had restlessly snatched bows and arrows to hurry out into the woods as hunters.
No guards were set, except that a pair of bowmen lingered on the farther side of the causeway over the morass. There was little peril of intrusion now that the Lancashire Welsh thieves had been sorely smitten. Whatever might remain of them would not return to be shot down.
As for the secret character of the grange itself, there was small wonder that a few hundred acres, if so much there might be, of patches of farm land should be sheltered among those woods from any but such men as had been Sir Edward Neville. It might all be within the somewhat doubtful borders of his own manorial grant, given to his ancestors by the earlier kings and confirmed by Edward the First, to be lost under his son, the second Edward, and Earl Mortimer, and to be regained under Edward the Third and the house of Beauchamp.
It was said, indeed, that there were regions tenfold as wide, in some of the remoter baronies, whereof men knew but little, especially among the Scottish border counties and among the hills. Besides these were the unsearched fen districts on the coasts, the wild mountain parts of Wales, and worst of all were the highlands of Scotland and the seagirt isles of the Scottish coasts. As for Ireland, even the greater part of it was almost an unknown land to Englishmen, for nothing less than an army might venture inland too far with any hope of ever coming back again.
In the several parts of the grange itself, as in the cottages scattered beyond it, the women plied their tasks. Some of them spun with distaffs, and two or three looms were busy; more might have been but for the lack of wool. There was much raising of sheep in the more thickly settled partsof England in those days, but there was small room for them in Arden. Moreover, they, more than cattle or horses or swine, were sorely thinned by the wolves. It was a hundred and fifty years later that these fierce beasts disappeared from England, and the last of them in Scotland was slain yet a century later. So was it that so little cloth, even of homespun, was worn by the bowmen who rode behind Richard of Wartmont, in the gloom of that evening when he followed the Earl and his men-at-arms through the gate of Warwick town.
Long had been the journey, hard pushed and weary were beasts and men. There was small ceremony of arrival or reception for the greater part of the cavalcade, but the Lady Maud was conducted at once to the care of the Countess Eleanor of Warwick, her younger sister, the wife of the earl.
As for Richard, his men were cared for well, under direction of Sir Geoffrey de Harcourt, while their young captain was bidden to hasten with his great kinsman to meet once more the Prince of Wales and Sir Walter de Maunay.
This greeting, too, was brief, for the hour was late; but the prince said graciously:
"O thou of Wartmont, I will make thee my comrade in arms! In the morn I would fain see thy men. My father himself bade me gather as many deer stealers as I might, for, quoth he, thehand that can send a gray goose shaft to strike a stag at a hundred yards may fairly bring down a Frenchman at half that distance. Give me bowmen enough of the right sort, and I will train them to face anything that Philip of France can muster."
"O my Lord the Prince," replied Richard, "I have a hundred with me, of whom any man can send an arrow through a coat of mail at fifty yards. I like the king's notion right well."
"Go, now," said the prince; "go with thy kinsman, the earl. On the morrow I will tell thee what to do withthymen."
But these, for their part, were all of a merry heart that night. Not often had any of them visited Warwick, at least in later years, for therein was a jail, and they liked not so much as to look thereon, being in danger of being put within it. They had good quarters and good fare, with much ale, and they knew they were to see brave sights next day, and to have a word from even the Black Prince himself. Was not that enough of cheer for men of the woods who had seldom been out beyond the shadows of the oaks of Arden?
The stout earl and his nephew walked together from the presence of the prince toward the chamber allotted to Richard.
"Thou shalt be to me as a son!" exclaimed the earl, in the dim corridor through which they werepacing. "Thou hast won the prince. Now, if thou wilt go and win thy spurs with him, thy fortune is made. Thou wilt have broader lands than Wartmont, but wert thou even to win much gold, I bid thee bide by thine own keep and hold to thee thy Saxon men. If thou wilt do so, I can foresee the day when thou canst bring five hundred bowmen to the standard of thy house."
"I can bring but four more men-at-arms now," said Richard ruefully.
"And thy archers?" laughed the earl. "Didst thou not hear Geoffrey Harcourt say to Northampton, that if all the great barons of England would do as well as thou hast done, the array of the king would be gathered right speedily? Too many are afraid to leave their own domains lightly guarded, and, truth to tell, not a few are carrying slender purses. The drainings of these long wars have made us poor. I am myself in the hands of the Jews and the London Lombards for more debts than I can see how to pay. So is the king, and he is troubled in mind as to how he shall feed and pay his armies. Go to thy couch and arise right early. Beware that thou never keep the prince waiting. He is like his royal father, and he who would fail of meeting the king hath gone near to making him a sworn enemy. His temper is dangerous. See that thou arouse him not at any time. His hand is hard upon men, and so will any troopsof his be disciplined as were never English troops since William won the island."
If that were to prove true, it might be one of the reasons why the king so firmly believed that he could bring the men so disciplined face to face with greater numbers of the disorderly levies of his rival, the King of France.
The stern counsel of the wise earl was hardly needed, so far as Richard's early rising was concerned, but he was up not any too soon in the morn. Nor was he any too mindful of his duty as a soldier of the king. He arose and put on his armor and walked out of his chamber, and before him stood an archer.
"The commands of the earl," he said bluntly. "Eat not, but hasten to thy men. They break their fast even now. Have thou them in line right speedily. I will be thy guide to their quarters."
"I obey the earl," said Richard, following.
It was not far to go, beyond the castle gate, and Richard turned for a moment to gaze back upon towers and battlemented walls which had resisted so many a stout assailing.
"They are held for the king now," he thought, "but they once were held against him, and oft against other kings. In yonder dungeon keep hath more than one proud earl been brought to the block, and men say that in it, even now, are prisoners of note that may never again see the day."
Dark and high and threatening was the aspect of the great keep of Warwick Castle, and there might be terrible secrets of state in its underground chambers.
He turned again to follow the archer, but when he came to the quarters of his troop, he found that the commands of the earl were there before him. The forest men were used to be up with the dawn, and it had been no surprise to them to find their tables ready spread. Also, they liked the fare, and they were in good heart when they came out to greet their young captain. They cheered him loudly; but a new thought flashed into his mind.
"Soldiers? Drilled?" he said to himself. "I see what the earl means. They all can shoot well, but they can neither form line nor move together, nor do they know the words of command. The prince—is he here thus early?"
Here he came, the heir of the crown of England and of the English claim to the crown of France. He was in his plain black armor, with his visor raised, but on his face was no smile of youthful familiarity—rather, something of the hard look that distinguished his father and that made men fear him; and the hardness was in his voice as well, when he shouted swift orders to Richard.
Low had been his obeisance, but he had abitter feeling in his heart, for he knew not how to form his men. All he could do was to turn to them and shout:
"Follow!"
"By fours! Spears in line!" added Guy the Bow, and more words in Saxon bade them hold their shields in front and step together.
Less shame felt Richard when he saw how well they came on, and the lips of the prince relaxed somewhat.
"Not a rabble," he muttered. "They will train well. I never saw new men move thus. The Neville doeth better than I thought. I will speak to the earl."
Other knights were with him, gallantly mounted all, and behind him they rode out to the broad common of Warwick, for there was to be a morning review of the earl's retainers and of levies which had arrived.
Never before had Richard seen together three thousand armed men, horse and foot, and greatly delighted by so rare a show were his woodsmen. In large part these forces had already been well trained by the officers of Earl Warwick, and the prince himself ordered them through many movements, such as might be needed upon a field of battle.
A rare man was Guy the Bow, for he and Ben of Coventry had been trained in their time, and they had instructed their comrades at the grangein days gone by, and the rest on the way as they came. So was it that when Richard of Wartmont led his two fifties hither and thither, he and they were a further surprise to the prince and to his captains and noble knights. They fell not into any confusion at any point, and again it was said of them, "No rabble," and "The Wartmont doeth well for a beginner."
After that, archery butts were set up and squads from several companies were picked, by lot only, and ordered to show their skill.
Right good was the shooting, as might have been expected, for there were prizes as well as praises to be won; but at the noon, when all was over, it was found that every best shot, save one, on all the butts had been made by the slayers of the king's deer in Arden.
"O thou of Wartmont," laughed Sir Walter de Maunay, "I think thou wert wise in asking so many pardons! Thy merry men are in good practice."
So laughed the prince, but there had been counseling that day and he now summoned Richard to himself. With him were the Earl of Warwick and four other earls, and Richard felt sorely abashed before he was spoken to.
"What sayest thou, John Beauchamp of Warwick?" he heard the prince demand. "What wouldst thou with the levies?"
"My Lord the Prince," responded the earl, "even as seems to me to have been said by the king. We must hear from Scotland. The king crosseth not the channel before winter. Neither will he keep too many thousands, at great cost and loss, in the Portsmouth camp."
"What then?" asked the prince.
"As for my nephew's men," said the earl, "they are too few—gathered in a day. Instead of one hundred, he will bring twain or more. Keep these for a week, and send them to recruit their fellows. Thou knowest the power of the Neville name among them. Send Richard to York."
"Good counsel!" exclaimed the prince. "Richard of Wartmont, select thee a dozen of thy trustiest men on thy best galloways. Be thou with them two hours hence, at the castle gate. Thou shalt be the king's post bearer to his Grace the Archbishop of York, and to the barons of the north counties."
Richard bowed low, flushing with pride and joy, for the spirit of travel and of adventure swelled high within him.
"Thanks to thee, O my Prince!" was all that he could say, and he went back among his men.
The prince was but a youth, although of good stature and strongly made. From his cradle up he had been trained under the care of the stout king, his father, and of knights who were chosen from the best swords and bravest hearts in England. Assured was he that only a hardy soldier and a good general might safely keep the crown. The barons of the realm—half kings in their own domains—had proved the ruin of the second Edward, and only by deep cunning and ruthless force had the third of the name broken loose from a like thraldom. Much blood had been shed before the scepter was firmly in his grasp; and a fiercely royal self-will had been instilled into the Prince of Wales as one of the safeguards of his kingship. Therefore, when sent to Warwick to confer concerning the mustering of the forces, he had come there to command as well as to take counsel.
"My Lord of Harcourt," he said with much dignity to that noble warrior, "I have listenedwell to all that hath been said. Plain is it that the earl is right. There will be no crossing to France with King David of Scotland threatening the border counties. We must hear from the Archbishop of York. I will send the Wartmont. He will go and come right speedily."
There was he now in front of the castle gate, with Guy the Bow and ten more of the archers of Arden. To Richard himself had been given a fresh horse and good, with two pack beasts well laden, for the king's especial post might make a good show at any castle or town he should come to on his way. So was it with his merry men all, for their buff coats were new and they covered each a doublet of green cloth. All their galloways were saddled and bridled, with fair housings, and one of them carried a lance and a pennon, whereon were blazoned a white star and cross, and over them a gilded crown, in token of their errand. Woe to any who should dare to hinder a messenger of the king, or fail to speed him on the king's errand!
Not that Richard himself knew the meaning of the letters that were in his pouch, nor that matters of state were in his head. But a proud band and merry were the bowmen who rode behind him out of the town gate and up the highway to the northward.
"O my Lord of Wartmont!" said Guy the Bow. "This is better than I had hoped. I hadnot so much cared to see the outland folk, but I had hungered for a look at more of England."
"Thou art out of the woods now," replied Richard, "and so am I, but there is little more for us than riding from sleep to sleep, and caring well for our beasts. We may not pause under any roof longer than to break our fast and let the galloways rest."
"We can see as we go," said Ben of Coventry. "A man learneth much by what he seeth. But half the archers of Arden would come at the king's call, if they knew how well they would be taken in hand."
That truly was the wisdom of the prudent Earl of Warwick, and it suited the humor of the prince, for from all the land the levies had been slow in gathering. As for himself, his stay in Warwick was to be of the briefest, for he had learned many things to carry to the ears of his royal sire at London.
Well went it with the Lady Maud after she had spoken a short farewell to her son that day, for she was now housed with kindred and with many noble ladies, and was hearing tidings of the world that could not have reached her at Wartmont. Moreover, there were new fashions of dress and equipage that all women love to learn, and the stately dame herself had brought with her goodly fabrics ready for shaping by the skilledneedlewomen of her sister, the countess. It was better than being cooped almost alone in the gloomy old keep at Wartmont.
A day and a night, and a day and then another night, lingered the prince. His main business seemed to be with the levies, and he said to himself:
"I will know them man by man, and so will the king, my father. I will measure with care the force wherewith we are to meet Philip of France. The king is most of all wary concerning his bowmen. I like well the Wartmont's tall deer stealers. They are worth a pardon. We must have more of them. I, too, must be seen in Wales. Would that I could drain out of it the most unruly spirits and the fiercest outlaws. So is the king's command concerning Ireland. If any rogue there is worse than another, let him be brought in and put in training."
Deep was the craft of the king, therefore, and of the prince, for if any wild man came at their call, and they liked not the promise of his thews and sinews, him they took not, after testing him, for he might be no better than one of the peasants of the King of France, fitter to dig than to carry sword and buckler.
The summer days went by, even as Richard had told his men. Steadily, even hastily, they pressed their northward way, and tower and towngave them hearty welcome. There were those who unduly asked what their errand might be, but to noble or simple there was but one reply:
"Ask thou the king, if thou wilt meddle with his business."
There were earls and barons, of course, to whom was due great courtesy of speech, and, indeed, to all ears there was much free news to tell. Ever, as they went farther on, they heard more rumors of the doubtful state of things upon the Scottish border.
"There was never peace there," said the Earl of Arundel, at the gate of a castle where Richard met with him and other noble lords. "King David will be in England within a week from the sailing of the English fleet. Young sir, tell thou this from me to the good archbishop. Bid him send few levies to the king from the north counties, but hold a force in waiting that shall be as good as any the king may convey to France. Else we shall see the thistles of Scotland halfway to London town before he can meet the lilies of France in any field beyond the sea."
Richard bowed low, for he was abashed before so grand a company; but he had not ridden far before he heard Ben of Coventry assuring Guy the Bow, with his usual freedom:
"Right wise was yonder earl, thou fat-head. But doth he deem that the king hath forgottenScotland? Trust thou him for that. Ah me, that we must go and come and never kill a Scot!"
"Or be killed by them," said Guy. "Keep thy head for the French to hack at. Thou wilt get knocks enough."
"Mayhap," said Ben; "but I say one thing: Never did twelve men from Arden fare so well for no harder work than riding. It payeth me to serve the king. We have been feasted all the way."
"Wert thou in Scotland," laughed Guy, "it were otherwise. They eat but oatmeal cakes, and they know not of ale. I wonder much if they have deer in such a land where all is fog and mist, and where the days are short at both ends. But the Scotch fight hard, and sorely would they harry England were a chance given them."
They seemed to be at peace at that time, but King Edward and his advisers had rightly read the state of affairs in the kingdom over which David the Bruce was but half a king. No check had as yet been given to the power of the great Scottish baronial houses. They were beyond the control of any man, and David had inherited his father's valor without either the generalship or the prudence of the great Robert the Bruce.
It was at last in the morning of a fair, warm day that Richard and his archers rode out fromunder a dense wood to shout together as one man for what they saw.
"Aye, here we are!" said Richard, "and yonder is the spire of York Cathedral. One hour more and we are at our journey's end."
Never before had any man among them journeyed so far, but they showed small signs of wear or weariness. Nevertheless, at Richard's command they gave goodly attention to their apparel and their weapons, and to the coats of their beasts, before presenting themselves at the gate of the ancient cathedral city.
"I have heard tell," said Richard to Guy, "that here was a town in the old days of the Romans. There hath been many a battle and leaguer before these walls."
"The Romans?" replied Guy. "I was told of them by a Cornish man. There were giants in Cornwall in those days. God grant they are all gone their way; but the Cornish men say they at times find the long bones and the big, hollow skulls."
"The gates are well guarded," was the next thought of Richard. "Can there be bad news from the north?"
Guards there were, and none went out or in without notice to discern well whom they might be, as if, perchance, there were spies in the land.
"In the king's name!" shouted Richard, at thegate, "Richard of Wartmont. From Earl Warwick and the king's duty to his Grace the Archbishop."
"In the king's name, enter!" as loudly responded a crested knight who had advanced before the sentries. "Follow thou me to the archbishop. The warders will care for thy men. I am Robert Johnstone of the Hill. Art thou not a Neville, and my kinsman?"
"That am I," said Richard. "My father was Sir Edward Neville."
"Good knight and true," responded Sir Robert. "I have fought at his side. There must needs be a rare message when thy uncle the earl chose thee for his postboy."
"Words must be few," said Richard, "but now I know who thou art, I will tell——"
"Tell not!" interrupted the knight. "Do I not discern thy pennon? Name not any who were with the earl until thou hast emptied thy postbag. Thou art but young, and these be treacherous times. A brave band are thy men——"
"Archers of my own company," said Richard, a little proudly. "Every man from the forests of Arden."
"And every man a born retainer of Sir Edward Neville's house," laughed Johnstone. "Do I not know thee and thine? We will have speech together soon, where there may be no other ears.The Johnstones are as thou art, the chiefs of old clans that the new men can do naught with."
Great then was the surprise of the young messenger when his sudden acquaintance talked to him in Saxon, bidding him also not to use that speech except among his own, and telling him that the north counties contained more than did the midlands of such men as had preserved jealously the memories of the days of Harold the Saxon.
"'Tis a tough race," said the knight. "It is a good foundation for thy house to rest upon. Aye, or for the king's throne. Now, if thou wilt dismount, yonder esquire will care for thy horse."
Sir Robert appeared to be acting as captain of warders, and none questioned or hindered him as he and Richard walked on, side by side, toward the castlelike palace which served as the residence of the archbishop. The town was the largest, and its buildings were the best that Richard yet had seen. He knew, moreover, that the learned prince of the Church before whom he was about to stand was also accounted second to none among the statesmen of England, with rare capacity for affairs of war as well as of peace. He was a man, therefore, to whom might be intrusted the safety of a realm in the absence of its king, and in him had Edward the Third unshaken confidence as being loyal and true.
Word of their coming had gone on before themswift-footed, and they were ushered with all haste into the great hall where his Grace was already present, for the reception of they knew not what or whom.
At the upper end of the hall, upon a raised dais of three steps, was a throne chair, carved richly with emblems of the Church, and surmounted by a high cross that seemed of silver. In front of this, clad gorgeously in flowing robes, stood the archbishop, and before him knelt a knight in splendid armor, but bareheaded, just on the point of rising. The quick eyes of the prelate flashed keenly, and he turned to an attendant monk.
"Anselmus," he said in Latin, "bring hither yonder messenger. I must read his letters before I have further speech with Douglas."
"He hath summoned thee," whispered Sir Robert to Richard. "Speak not at all to him, lest thou err greatly. Yon is the knight of Liddesdale, the prowest spear of Scotland. His presence bodeth no good to England, I fear."
The monk came and touched Richard's arm and led him forward. Glad was he of his injunction not to speak, for he was greatly awed to be in that presence. He walked onward with bowed head, and on the dais he knelt before the archbishop.
"Thy letters, my son," said the prelate.
Not a word spoke Richard, but he silently presented three sealed missives. One he knew wasfrom the prince, one from the Earl of Warwick, and the third was to him a secret. Nevertheless he heard the archbishop mutter:
"The king's own hand?"
Then he said aloud:
"Wait thou here, my son. Rise; I will return presently. My Lord Douglas, come thou with me into my cabinet."
Richard arose and stood in his place, but it seemed not long before the archbishop strode back again, and with him came the knight of Liddesdale.
"Your Grace," said the latter, "I ride within the hour."
"Peace go with thee," responded the archbishop. "Peace be with thee and thine; with thy king and my king; with Scotland and with England! Amen!"
Then from all who were present came a responsive Amen, as the knight knelt for a parting blessing and rose to depart.
"Come thou, my son Richard," said the archbishop. "I would hear thee."
It was strange fortune for a youth so inexperienced to find himself mingling in affairs so tremendous, and Richard hardly breathed until he was alone with the great man in a kind of oratory wherein was an altar.
"Speak!" said the archbishop. "Tell all."
First, then, Richard told of the prince and De Maunay at Wartmont, and the archbishop answered not save to mutter:
"So! thou hast slain that wolf, the Club of Devon. Thou art like thy father."
Then told Richard not of the grange in the woods, but of his going to Warwick with his archers, and again he heard the prelate mutter, but in Saxon:
"Saxons, all! How we of the old blood do cling together! He doeth well."
All the words of the prince and of those with him were repeated, but no comment was made. After that told Richard the saying of the Earl of Arundel, and he had finished.
"Well for thee, my son," said the archbishop. "Thou hast seen Lord Douglas. He is for peace. Mark me, I will write letters. Thou wilt bear them. Wait in York till they are given thee. Come not to me unless I summon thee. I note that thou rememberest clearly, and canst carry that which may not be written. This, then, say to the king or to the prince, but not to another save John Beauchamp the earl, lest thou die. Bid the king from me that Douglas and his friends will fail in their counsels for peace. David of Scotland is for war, and waiteth but opportunity. He must now have one. Edward the King will not but seem to drain of force these northern counties, that theScottish lords may deem them unguarded. He will gather an army for his war in France. Such another will we prepare to meet the Scottish invasion. Let the king be sure that when he saileth for France the Scottish host will march for the English border. Edward will prove too much for so rash a man, with all his cunning, as is Philip of France. In like manner we will prove too much for David of Scotland, who despiseth the warnings of men like Douglas of Liddesdale. We will crush the Scottish invasion, taking the unwise in a snare. Go!"
Deep was the reverence with which Richard turned to depart. More words were given him, however, and much was his wonder at a man who seemed to know the thoughts of the hearts of other men, and to read the forces of the kingdoms as if he were counting pennies.
A good monk led the young messenger out of the hall and gave him into the care of Sir Robert Johnstone.
"Say not too much to me," said the knight. "I talked with Liddesdale, and heavy of heart is he. A wise man as well as a good captain; but the Scots must learn a lesson. How long tarriest thou in York?"
"For letters only," said Richard.
"Then bide with me, and let thy men rest and their beasts. I will show thee the town and thecastle and the cathedral. 'Tis a grand old town. I like it well."
"I shall like well to see," said Richard. "But how great is the archbishop! Never before have I looked into the face of such a man."
"Wait, then, until thou hast seen the king," replied Sir Robert. "Try if thou canst read him. Thou wilt be with the prince."
Out they went, and Richard's eyes were so busy that he found small use for his tongue. Nor was there great need, save for a question here and there, for the knight had taken a liking to him and was willing to instruct him.
"Some day," he said, "thou mayest lead thy archery hitherward. Spare not to learn aught that might serve thee if thou wert a captain, in whatever land thou shalt at any time visit."
At the close of the day, when the vespers were ringing sweetly in the cathedral tower, Richard was with his men, and they gathered around him gladly, telling how well they had fared.
"Guy the Bow," laughed Richard, "tell me truly, now, of those who have been with thee. Hast thou broken thy jaws with French or north English, or hast thou chattered in Saxon?"
The laugh was echoed from man to man, and Guy the Bow responded:
"Now, my lord, knowest thou this already? There be more of the old sort here than inWarwickshire. They tell that there be many Nevilles hereaway, and it seemed right to them that one of thy house should be our captain. But I hear that the bowmen of these parts are to be kept at home."
"Say not too much of that to any man," said Richard, for at once he remembered the words of the archbishop.
"The king," he thought, "will deal with the Scots as with the French. They must get their teaching from the longbow and the cloth-yard arrow."
Rest came well that night after so long a journey. The next day, and the next, were but spent in seeing sights and in waiting for orders. On the third day, however, before the sun was a half hour high, came Sir Robert Johnstone to greet his young friend.
"Up, Richard of Wartmont!" he gayly shouted. "Take thou this pouch and keep it with thy life until thou shalt deliver it to the king's hand. Thine uncle the earl, or the prince, shall be to thee as the king, but on thy life and on thy head give it to no other."
The parcel was small and it was tightly bound in dressed deerskin. It could be hidden under a coat of mail, and there did Richard at once conceal it.
"I will but break my fast," he said. "Then we will mount and ride."
"Beware of overhaste," said the knight. "Safety is more than speed in such a case as this. A day more or less will not matter. Thou wilt know enough not to talk loosely by the way, but it is from his Grace himself that thou shalt speak only of peace with Scotland. Baron or earl or common, all must rest assured that the Scots are weary of war. Well they might be, were there wisdom in them. I would their king were older. We shall beat them the more easily because he putteth aside such captains as the Knight of Liddesdale, and listeneth to hot-headed young chiefs that never yet saw a thousand spears in line."
"Thou wilt be here?" said Richard.
"That will I," replied the Johnstone. "The king will hear a good report of his north country bowmen. If thou speakest of it to the prince, say this from me, that in his own camp there shall be no better discipline nor closer archery."
Rapid was their talking, but when they summoned Richard's men there was a shout. They had seen enough of York already, and they were eager for the road. To them all it was more like a long junketing than aught else.
"All Arden would list," said Ben of Coventry, "for this sort of war service. But I had hoped somewhat for a brush with the Scots. Not an arrow hath sped since we set forth from Warwick."
"Thou wilt have archery enough before thou art done with the king's war," replied Richard.
"Mind thou thy galloway, Ben," interrupted Guy the Bow. "What knowest thou of the Scots? They are many a league away."
"Aye, man," said Ben, "and all the Yorkshire men know that Douglas of Liddesdale was here. All Scotland may march behind him some day."
"Then I may say to thee," said Richard, "and to every man of this company, speak not upon the way one word of the Knight of Liddesdale. Closed lips, safe head. We are on the king's errand."
"Even so!" exclaimed Ben. "I was right. I deemed the Scottish captain a bird of ill omen. Thou mayest trust thy men, Lord Richard of Wartmont. We of the greenwood are well used to keeping a silent tongue. Else were our necks worth but little."
Richard said no more; but it was well that he had with him none but trusty companions, for all their journey homeward would be beset by shrewd questioners eager to get the latest tidings from the north.
"I will take another road," he thought, "than that by which I came. There are roads plenty. The Earl of Arundel will be at Warwick when I get there, or at London."
Hearty was the farewell of Sir RobertJohnstone at the city gate, and gay was the setting forth of Richard and his men. But it was even according to the saying of wise Ben of Coventry, that an esquire and eleven archers were riding a holiday with nothing to do but to ride and to be hailed at every gateside to tell what news.
Even the second day passed in like manner, and it was far on in the third when the first happening came.
Not in any town or by any castle, but in the broad highway, there rode to meet them a glittering array of men-at-arms.
"Halt!" shouted Richard. "Form line at the roadside, till we know what this may mean. Yonder is a banner with the arms of Surrey. Why should such a flag be here? I know not the earl, nor is he a friend of the Warwick, Beauchamp or Neville."
So many, in those troubled days, were the feuds and heartburnings among the stout barons of England!
On came the lances, fully a score, with mounted esquires and serving men as many, and Richard sat alone upon his horse in the roadway, with Guy the Bow at his side bearing the prince's pennon.
Sharply the men-at-arms drew rein, and only one knight spurred forward.
"Richard of Wartmont!" he exclaimed. "Glad am I thou camest this way. They who wait theeon the other road must not know thy errand. Surrey is not here, but the Earl of Northampton."
"My Lord of Harcourt," responded Richard firmly, "I may not answer even thee, nor give my errand save to our liege the king, or to the prince."
"Thou wouldst deserve to lose thy head if thou didst," replied Sir Geoffrey of Harcourt. "Do thou, however, as if the prince bade thee. Go not to Warwick, but send thy archery there. Turn thou with me and ride for thy life until thou art out of reach of the king's enemies."
"Guy the Bow," said Richard, turning to him, "hast thou heard?"
"If it be also thy command," said Guy, "fear not for us. Little do we need of highways or of any man's permission. Let me have speech with the men."
"Bid them to reach Warwick town as best they may," said Richard.
To the roadside and to his company went Guy, and in a few moments more he raised a hand, and the few words he spoke were in Saxon.
Up again went the hand of Richard, with a loud "Ha! Ride!"
Now at that place was a great forest, with a deep ditch along the roadside.
As Richard lowered his hand, over the ditch went the line of galloways, and it was but a twinkling before all had vanished among the trees.
"Wartmont," exclaimed the knight, "thou hast thy men well in hand! I will tell the prince of this. Thou canst call them and thou canst send them."
"How is this?" loudly demanded a not unkindly voice, as another rider in splendid armor rode near them.
"My Lord of Northampton," said Sir Geoffrey, smiling, "Richard hath sent home his galloways, and they took their riders with them. He must not pause——"
"A few words only," said the earl; "I shall not hinder the king's service. Arundel gave thee a message. Was it delivered?"
"It was, my lord the earl," said Richard. "I may say to thee it was timely."
"Knowing from him what it was," said the earl, "I need ask no more on that head"; but he went on with what seemed to be only general inquiries as to the health of the archbishop and the gatherings of levies at York and elsewhere.
"Haste!" muttered Harcourt.
"On, then!" almost shouted the earl. "Ride well, thou of Wartmont, lest the foes of the Neville as well as the traitors to the king shall bar thy way. But I am glad that they lied who said that the good archbishop is failing. On!"
Silent and motionless upon their horses sat the men-at-arms as Harcourt and Richard galloped by.
Miles away, upon another road, a somewhat like band of warlike men were halted as if waiting, and to him who seemed their leader it was said, by a small, gray-headed man at his side:
"Could we but know the mind of the archbishop we might be able to tell the king why we pay not his contributions, and why thy retainers are not on the march for Portsmouth."
"We shall have his Grace's letters before the sun is down," hoarsely responded the knight addressed. "I would there might be somewhat in Wartmont's doublet to imperil the proud head of his uncle Warwick."
"Aye, my Lord of Surrey," said the gray-headed man, "it were overcunning of John Beauchamp to have the young Neville so near the prince. That house towereth too high. We will tumble it somewhat."
Small was the knowledge of Richard concerning the plots and perils through which he and his had ridden, but in a small, elegantly furnished room, at many a long mile's distance, there sat at that hour twain who spoke of him.
"My son," remarked one of them, "I will not say that thou and Warwick were overconfident to send a boy. The time for his return draweth near."
"'Tis far to ride," replied the younger of the pair, and he was very much the younger. "I sentSir Geoffrey Harcourt to watch for him, else he might not come. My royal sire, Richard Neville and his archers might come and go where a knight and a score of men-at-arms would fail."
"Or turn traitor, as some have done," slowly responded the king. "The land reeks with treason, but half of it would have us go to France and be beaten, while the other half would have us stay at home and lose all to Philip of Valois."
So communed King Edward and the Black Prince, telling of the dangers which may beset a crown. Much had they to say concerning the power of the barons, but more of the building up of their strength among the people.
"Mark thou this, my son," said the king at last, "make thou the commons to be strong, and the crown is safe against the barons. When I can show thee bowmen defeating knights and men-at-arms, thou wilt see a new day for England. After that it shall not be long until a successful merchant shall be greater than an earl. Am not I also a merchant? Learn thou the art of the trader, for it is part of the wisdom of kings in the time that is coming."
All through his reign had commerce grown, and manufactures been encouraged by the king, while more and more with a strong hand he strove to restrain the barons. Not till a later day, however, were they to be broken; but, even as he now said,they were to go down partly by their own jealousies and feuds, but more by the power of the commons.
It was therefore a lesson in kingcraft that the prince was receiving from his father, but at the end of it the youth walked out along a corridor, murmuring:
"The king is sore disturbed. He hath great need to hear from York and of Scotland. Well for Richard Neville if he arrive speedily, for my royal father is not always safe in his mood. But he was pleased concerning the Neville and his archers."
It was sunset when Richard and Sir Geoffrey drew rein before a hostelry in a large hamlet.
"Dismount!" said the knight sharply. "I will give thee here a fresh horse, and thine shall follow. Ten leagues farther on, as I will give thee instruction, thou wilt get thee another. Ride till thou drop from thy saddle, but I trust thy toughness will bear thee through. If thou must sleep one night, camp thee in a wood, not in a house, lest thou awake and find thy pouch missing, or lest thou wake not at all."
The fresh horse was a good one, but now Richard, with full directions for the way, rode on alone, bearing still the banneret of the prince.
'Twas a fair night, and the full moon gave light as of the day. Mile after mile went by and allwas well, but he came to an open level of broad highway whereon much could be seen afar.
"A man-at-arms?" said Richard. "He faceth this way. I may not let him stop me. I will close my visor and be ready for what may come."
He shut his helmet tightly and lowered his lance, loosening also the battle-axe at his saddle bow. He had need, for the strange man-at-arms uttered no warning, but dashed suddenly forward with lance in rest. 'Twas but the fortune of tourney, for the foeman rode well and he was large. His lance point glanced from the helmet of the young messenger, while Richard smote him full upon the breast.
Splintered to the hand was the lance, but the stranger reeled in the saddle, and before he could recover himself Richard had wheeled, axe in hand.
"In the king's name!" he shouted, "what doest thou with the king's messenger?"
Down came the battle-axe, striking the bridle arm of the stranger, so that while he drew his sword with his right hand he could not manage his horse.
"For the king!" shouted Richard.
"Down with thee, thou cub of Wartmont!" roared the stranger angrily. "I will take thy messages. Ha!"
'Twas a good blow, but it stopped upon the shield of the Neville, while once more the axe fellheavily with the curvet of Richard's horse. Sore wounded upon one thigh was now the man-at-arms, and his steed plunged viciously to one side.
"I will have thee!" he shouted, but his sword swept vainly through the air, while Richard charged again.
"Thy helm this time!" he muttered as his axe came down.
Cloven through was the steel headpiece, and the man-at-arms let fall his sword.
"Neville, I yield me!" he cried out. "Smite not again."
"Who art thou?" demanded Richard.
"That ask thou not, if thou art wise," responded the stranger. "For thee to know my name were thy death-warrant. Thou hast perils enough. Ride on, and tell the king that an old man-at-arms who could grind thee to powder hath been beaten by a lad. I have fought in twenty pitched fields, and now I must even ride home to save my broken head."
"I will harm thee not," said Richard, "but I fear thee not. Thy head were worth but little——"
"Trust me, it is safe," said the stranger. "The king will leave it where it is. I shall see thee again some day. Thou wilt be a good lance, but carry thou not too many king's errands. Fare thee well!"
He had regained control of his horse, and nowhe suddenly spurred away in the very direction by which Richard had come. Down sprang the latter to pick up the fallen lance and to fasten upon it the pennon his own had carried before it was broken. Then, as he mounted once more, he exclaimed aloud:
"Ride I now for my life! I shall be followed fast and far. I know not friend from foe, save that the nearer I get to the king the safer I shall be."
His good horse neighed cheerily, as if he knew that his rider had conquered, and a proud youth was Richard Neville.
"I have won my first passage at arms," he said. "I shall have somewhat whereof to tell the prince."