The King's Revenge

Part I. Chapter Page

I. The Hermit of Warkworth ... i II. Father Anselm's Promise ... 18 III. What chanced upon the Road ... 35 IV. The News at Pontefract ... 52 V. What befell me in the Keep ... 69 VI. How the Earls came to York ... 85 VII. The Pursuit and Surrender of Piers Gaveston ... ... ... 102 VIII. The Black Dog's Bite ... ... 119 IX. How Gaveston died ... ... 136 X. I COME TO THE KlNG ... ... I52

Part II. XI

The Dark Days of England ... 170 XII. Why 1 fled from Court ... VI CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE XIII. The Stranger on the Road ... 199 XIV. Of Dunstanborough Head ... 216 XV. How a Wilful Man had his Way ... 238 • XVI. A Dark Day in Pontefract ... 253 XVII. The Fight at Boroughbridge ... 268 XVIII. How Earl Thomas died ... 282 XIX. I escape to Dunstanborough again ... 296 XX. News of the Scots ... ... 310 XXI. I go near Hanging ... ... 324 XXII. How King Edward bested me ... 341 XXIII. The Ending of it all ... ...

PART I. CHAPTER

I. THE HERMIT OF WARKWORTH. jEg'HT is no light matter to be born, as I was l__i born, in the debatable land between two powerful nations. And of all such borders our Scottish border is perhaps the most turbulent, the most often swept by war and famine, decimated by murder, and ruined by rapine. It was in the very midst of such doings that the three first years of my life were passed, and that I ever escaped from them I owe to John Chester alone, who, when the lonely tower which sheltered my father, my mother, and myself, and a score or so of men at-arms and archers, was burnt about our ears, bore me away. i My father was a poor knight, with nothing by way of patrimony, and only such slender means of living as a brave man may carve for himself with his sword. The story that I was told when I came to ask for myself the meaning of things generally and of being what I was, was that our family was good enough so far as blood goes, and had once owned a considerable estate, — where, my informants could not or would not tell, — which had been lost in De Montfort's wars.

Certain it is that my father was glad to take his young bride to the poor place which he occupied in virtue of his appoint ment by the Warden of the Eastern Marches (then Lord Percy, I believe), and there to live the life of a hermit, save only that no hermit takes such risks at the hands of wicked men, watching the peace of the border on behalf of King Edward the First of that name. Alas ! they were dreadful times for those who lived in the borderland, for Sir William Wallace, who afterwards paid the forfeit of a treason which many honest Englishmen deemed no treason at all, was carrying on fierce warfare with his nominal lord, our English kino-. The whole countryside was in a turmoil, the armed bands of soldiery, followers of Edward, or Scottish rebels (as he would have them termed), WARK WORTH 3 carried fire and the sword into Scotland and England in turn.

One night a band of Scots set on our tower, and when dawn broke I was an orphan, father and mother both dead within the hours of darkness, my poor mother killed by a falling beam as she rushed with me in her arms from the burning house, and my father stricken to death defending the gate. His last action, so they tell me, was to fight his way into the open, and there, pressing his lips, already cold with death, on mine, he handed me to a young esquire, the John Chester aforesaid, and bade him ride into safety with me while he could. And for my sake John Chester, who was loath enough to leave him in such a plight, rode off into the darkness, and two days later at sunset rode through the Bailiff-gate of Alnwick to the castle, where at the time Lord Percy was the guest of Antony Bek, Bishop of Durham, and where, by good fortune, I found a protector even greater than either of the two great lords I have named.

For as it chanced, just at this time, Earl Thomas of Lancaster and other places, lately come by his father's death, Edmund Crouch back, brother of our king and himself a king (of Sicily) by favour of our father the pope, into possession of wide lands in the country of Northumberland, was there, and hearing of my father's death and my own evil plight, forthwith roundly swore that the son of so gallant a man, whom he had seen bear himself bravely in more than one stubborn fight, should lack for nothing he could give him, and he forthwith sent me to his own manor of Embleton, with orders that I should be served as if I were his kinsman, nay, his son. That those to whom I was thus sent in terpreted the charge somewhat more lightly than I since have thought proper was no fault of the earl's. I had to learn the lesson that the orphan is no man's child, and if I came by more cuffs than caresses in my childhood, I dare say it was only natural, and has done me no harm in the end.

But it was a lonely life, with only men too old to bear arms, and a priest or two, and the tillers of the soil (poor husbandmen these last ; content to wring from their mother earth but sufficient to keep them in corn for the winter), and Hugh the miller's son of Lesbury, a lad some four years older than myself, who was my constant companion and my aider and abettor in many a boyish escapade. No meet comrade this perhaps for a gently born knight's son, but better than the old men among whom my lines were cast, and WARKWORTH. 5 always to this day my staunch true friend in good or evil fortune. The years of childhood rolled away as they will, leaving in that quiet spot no landmarks to distinguish one summer from another, or to single out one winter from its fellows. As I grew old enough I learned such things as they could teach me, the chaplain, Father Peter, a fat lazy old man who mumbled a mass for us once a week, undertaking to teach me letters first of all.

A useful learning too it proved in after days, for though I was no clerk (as he would fain have made me) I could always read writing in a good light, and what is more, if no man hurried me, could put on paper what I listed with the best of them. But I was small credit to my teacher then, I fear, though when it was a case of learning how to use the bow, the rightful weapon of an Englishman, or swordplay with a tiny broadsword which the village armourer made for me out of an old Scottish broadsword that had somehow found its way to the manor, I was a scholar apt enough. And so I come to the time when I was twelve years old, a well-grown lad, straight as an arrow, and brimming with rude health, and to a hot autumn day in September of the year of our Lord 131 1, when Hugh was tending the flock of sheep which they were fattening for the winter's salting on the green down which crests the ereat rock beside the Rumbel Kern.

A famous spot this Rumbel Kern is, well-known all along the Northumbrian coast, a great funnel may-be a yard or more in width, hollowed right up through fifty feet of solid rock to the cliff's top. Here, when the east wind sends the sea beating furiously on our coasts, the water is driven with a mighty rush right up this strange outlet, and sends the foam spreading heavenwards across the downs with a deafening roar. But on that day it was quiet enough, and the sea scarce lapped the broad stretch of sand along the bay to the north, and even on the iron-bound rocks below the Rumbel Kern there was not enough swell to crest the oily waves with foam. The summer stayed late that year, and the days were long and hot in the old manor house, so after our breakfast, while the sun was scarce as yet a couple of spears' breadths high in the heaven, I gave Father Peter the slip, and taking with me my bow and sufficient arrows lest I should see wild game, and not forgetting a cake or two (for boys are ever hungry folk), I slipped away towards the sea, to where I knew I should find WARE WORTH. 7 Hugh with his sheep.

And so I found him, and while the flock fed hither and thither as they listed, nibbling their fill of the sweet short grass, Hugh and I lay full length on the cliff's top beside the Rumbel Kern, and spoke as we had often enough before spoken, of what we meant to do when we should be free to turn our backs on this corner of the land, and mix in the great world on which all our thoughts were set. " Well a-day," sighed Hugh, looking savagely at his charges as they roamed across the down before his eyes. " It cannot now be long before I shall be able to join the earl's train. And if my father is still bent on making a miller of me, why " "Well, Hugh?" I asked. " I shall take leave and go of my own accord, as that German told me he had done in his youth. I am sure I shall soon be able to pass muster with the best of them."

I knew the man he meant — one of the foreign mercenaries who had been brought to England for the Scottish wars. I, too, had listened, and longed to do as Hugh said. But I passed that by, thinking only of the other part of his speech — that in which he spoke of his great bulk, for he was tall and stout for his age, looking far older than he really was. Secretly in my own heart, though I would have sooner died than confess it, I was jealous of Hugh's greater age and bulk, and it grieved me to think how easy it would be for him to do as he wished, while I " Hugh," I said presently, " I wish I could peep into the future, and see what lies in store for me, and you." I added this last from politeness, for Hugh's concerns were, after all, more his than mine. But he took me to mean what I said. "Whatever the future brings," he said carelessly, " it cannot be worse than the present, and, knowing this, I have never sought to learn.

But if I did so wish — — " He broke off short and plucked a long blade of grass, and began to chew it thoughtfully. And I, knowing how much he understood — for Hugh was no ordinary country hind, but had had dealings with many strange folk — I, I say, was quick to put a question to him. " What would you do, Hugh ? " I asked. " Well," he said, lowering his voice and looking round as carefully as if we had not been a mile out of earshot of any living soul, " I should go to the hermit of Warkworth and ask him. They say he is skilled to read the future in the stars." WARKWORTH. 9 Now this hermit was a man shunned of his fellows, for some reason that I had never been able to learn. More than once I had heard it muttered that the secular law would not touch him, richly as he merited it, for fear of the Church, nor the Church for fear of the people, who accounted him a friend.

So I asked what Hugh meant. " Well," he replied, " there lies some mile or so above the castle at Warkworth, hard by the river's edge, an ancient hermitage hewed out of the solid rock. In this the hermit dwells, as they tell that his predecessors have dwelled there before him ever since the first. That was the knight who slew those he loved in error, and so retired to that lonely spot to expiate his sin." " I never heard of him," said I. " 'Tis a sad enough tale," he said. " The story goes that some two hundred years ago a certain English knight was wounded in the wars, and while he lay helpless from his wounds the thieving Scots came roving down, just as they do to-day, and carried off the maiden whom he dearly loved and hoped to make his bride. Now the sick knight had a brother, and he, on hearing of the misfortunes which had befallen his kinsman, without saying what he was going to do, set out to recover the lady from the Scots.

Long did he travel, and far, but was successful in the end, and was hastening homeward with his prize when, as ill fate would have it, just as he drew near their home, he encountered his brother, who, being now recovered of his sickness and full of wrath at his loss, was setting out on the same errand, all unwitting what his dear brother had done. In the darkness he recog nized only the lady's voice, and thereupon mistaking her rescuer for her abductor, he set on him so fiercely that he dealt him a mortal wound before he had time to defend himself. But, alas ! his misfortunes did not end here ; for before his fury was spent the lady, who saw the mistake, threw herself between the brothers, receiving her own lover's sword-point in her gentle heart. And so this unhappy knight at one and the same time deprived of life the two beings whom he loved best in the world.

They say that, unable to stifle his remorse, he returned to that lonely spot where with his own hands he hollowed out the chapel in which to say masses for their souls, and in the window you will find the poor lady's effigy, carved by his hands, and so placed that the light of sun or moon must fall upon the face." WARK WORTH. 11 " But the hermit, Hugh ? " I asked. " Is he so skilled in foretelling fortunes, as you say ? " Hugh laughed. " Nay, I know nothing," he answered ; "but if I wanted to find out I should try." I sprang to my feet, glancing at the sun as I did so. " And so will I," I cried. " How far is it ? " " Ten miles, at least, and the road a bad one." " How does one go ? " He told me, and forthwith, having divided the cakes in my wallet, I tightened my belt, and, catching up my bow and arrows, prepared to depart ; indeed, so eager was I to be gone, that I could scarce wait to hear the end of Hugh's directions.

I sped away down the hillside towards the south, only pausing once to wave my hand to Hugh, who, rising in his turn, watched me till the hollow hid us from each other's gaze. Then on I sped, passing first of all the tiny fishing village of Craster, inhabited by folk rude in speech and manner, whom at the time I rather feared, if I must confess it, but whom I came to understand better in after days. And then on I went across the downs, close beside the sea, and so into the wood which runs along the brook from Howick to the sea. Hugh's directions had told me to follow this till I came to the fallen trunk of a tree, by which I might cross the water to the further bank. A loathsome spot it was, dark from the trees overhead, and damp from the slimy grass underfoot, while in the pools the frogs croaked loudly, and ever and again a snake glided from the track on which it had been vainly courting the sun.

But still my journeying even here was not without profit, for a fine fat hare jumped up before me, and in a trice an arrow made her mine. For I knew better than to approach the hermit empty handed. The Church, like most maidens, is ever better wooed with a gift in the hand. And so presently I found my tree-trunk, and, crossing, climbed the hillside into the light of day again, and on through Long Hoton to Lesbury, where was Hugh's father's mill, with the stream of the Alne merrily driving the great stones for him. This I knew of old, but I sped past for fear that any of those from the manor might be there — as, indeed, they often were — to stop me ; and so gaining the track which led from Alnwick to Warkworth, I dropped behind a hedge and made my dinner, somewhat far into the day, for the way had been long and the THE HERMIT OF WARKWORTH. 13 road rough, and I late of starting, so that the declining sun warned me that the days in September are not dragged out as they are in June, and I were wise to get to the road again.

It took me nigh two hours, as I judge, before I crossed the bridge over the Coquet and entered Warkworth town. The warder on the gate which guards the bridge looked curiously at me, but said nothing — somewhat to my undoing, as it chanced, for I was on the wrong side of the stream. But this I only learned by asking of a man-at-arms whom I met under the castle walls beyond the town. " The cell is near," he answered, when I spoke to him, " but the road is far. The river lies between you and it, my boy ; and even if it did not, it is hard to find the path in the darkness." " How far up the stream is it ? " I asked. " And could I miss it ? " " As for distance, it is some half-mile from here, in the woods out yonder ; and as for missing it, the good hermit ever keeps a light, if it be only a few sticks for a fire.

There is no other dwelling there." I thanked him, and went on. And soon I saw in the darkness the tiny glimmer of the light which he had told me to watch for across the water. But to get there, that was the puzzle ; and I did not know if the stream were fordable or not. But water never frightened me yet ; from a child I was as much at home in it as any duck, and, stripping off my clothes, I made them into a bundle with the hare, which had been plaguey heavy that last mile or two, and plung ing into the water, which was colder than I cared for, waded or swam towards the light. And as I scrambled up the bank, dripping like any terrier after my swim, the hermit himself, who had heard the noise I made and marvelled what it might be, came down towards me bearing a flaming cresset of turf shoulder high.

What he saw you know already, but by the red light which he threw across the water from where he stood, I saw a short stout man with a jolly red face, as little like what I had pictured a hermit as well might be. " By'r Ladye," he cried, " it is a boy ! And then he began to laugh. " What brings you here ? " he asked next. " That I will tell you, holy father," I answered boldly, " when I am clothed again." And shaking off the wet as well as I could, I was about to don my garments when he THE HERMIT OF WARKWORTH. 15 threw me a cloth with which to dry myself. This done, I undid my bundle, and, of course, out fell the hare. "Ho, ho!" he said, frowning, "a poacher, I suppose, and red-handed. So it is sanctuary that you lack. If any of Lord Percy's men should catch you, you will be like to swing, for he is a mighty hunter."

I knew that Lord Percy held both this castle and that of Alnwick, in virtue of a grant from the bishop, but I served a greater than he. And I hastened to say so. " I fear no Percy," I cried. " I have a more powerful lord to look to than him, one to whom he need not blush to bend the knee ; and as for this hare, I shot it on my own land — that is, Lord Thomas's, where I am free to do as I please." " Then what is it doing here ? " he asked. " It is for your reverence," I answered, bowing low. He laughed, but took it, and then he put another question. " When man or woman comes with full hands there is generally a something sought in return. What is it ? " " I fain would question your reverence re garding the future," I said. This time he frowned. " Out upon these silly folks who spread such tales," he cried.

" And out on you for believing them. The future is in the hands of God, young sir, and it ill becomes His servant to pretend to tear aside the veil which He has woven for our comfort. If this is what brought you, you have come in vain." " And you will tell me nothing ? " I asked, fearing my hare was but a paltry gift. " No ; because I cannot." " Then I need not stay," I said, my heart bursting with disappointment as I turned to go. " Nay, nay," he said, plucking my sleeve, "you must stay here to-night or sleep in the woods. Come, I can give you supper and a corner to rest in, and in the daylight you can find your way home." And I was fain to consent, and had little cause to regret my doing so. For if the fare was simple it was ample, which was all in all to a hungry boy. And as we eat, for the hermit was no laggard in this matter, he talked most kindly, giving me much advice on the folly of wishing to face the world, from which he had retired in disgust, before I were forced to.

And when he said that, I was minded to hint that he might be worse off, but forbore. THE HERMIT OF WARKWORTH. 17 An hour after sunset he bade me go to my couch, for he must to the chapel to pray for the souls of those of whom I had heard. And picking up the cresset again, he led me to some steps, at the head of which there was what looked like a dark hole in the rock. Through this, the entry to his cell, first he and then I passed.

Chapter II. Father

ANSELM's PROMISE. WM H E story goes that the strange place into IILM which I was ushered by the hermit was fashioned by the hands of the original recluse ; but this I have ever found it difficult to believe. For though the inner cells (of which there are two) were rough enough, the carving in the outer chamber of the hermitage — that which they call the chapel — is too good to have been the work of any man who was not a skilled mason by trade. Two things in particular struck me — the roof and the figure of the poor lady of the legend, either of which needed a good workman to fashion as they were when I saw them first, and at my second coming to the hermitage, older and more versed in the beautiful buildings which are the glory of our England, my first impressions were only more fully confirmed.

This hermitage of Warkworth is, as Huo-h had told me, cut in the solid rock where it FATHER ANS ELM'S PROMISE. 19 overhangs the stream. I am told the new Lord Percy has built a dwelling for the hermit beside the steps which lead to the entrance, but it was not so in my day. The outer chamber was the chapel, with its altar at the eastern end, and on one side of the altar the effigy of the lady, lying full length as it were on the window-sill. Opposite to this again there was a window cut in the wall which divided off the living or sleeping chamber, and by this, on the inner side, a seat fashioned, so they would have us believe, by the first hermit, so that he might sit and watch the face of the woman he had loved. Through this chapel we passed forthwith into the inner chamber, and as we did so the hermit showed me yet another piece of sculpture above the inner door, a sort of shield on which were set forth, as on a knight's escutcheon, the emblems of the Passion of our Blessed Lord ; in the first quarter the crown of thorns, in the second the nails, in the third the sponge, and though the fourth quarter was blank, the face of the shield bore a cross, and from this was fashioned also the spear-head.

Inside there was enough of comfort to satisfy most men. The hermit pointed out to me the rough recess in which the first founder of the cell had been wont to sleep, but he himself preferred a good bed of rushes on the floor, spread with skins, and in winter, doubtless, warm and snug enough. Evidently, too, he was accustomed to company, for such another bed lay ready, and on this he bade me rest ; and I, nothing loath, threw myself down, and, having muttered a prayer or two, was soon fast asleep. How long I slept I know not ; but, tired as I was, I presently awoke, to find a flood of moonlight sweeping over the outer cell. Nor was this all, for in the doorway there was a hum of voices, the clear, shrill tones of an old man, the mellow voice of my friend the hermit, and the rough rasping of the hated Scottish tongue.

I raised myself on my elbow to listen, but the voices were too low for me to hear ; and so, wondering who those were that came at this hour of the night, I presently fell back, and tried to sleep again. But I was not to be "undisturbed for long, for before my eyes were well closed the trio entered the cell, and came and stood beside my couch. I had not been far wrong in my sur mises, for there were besides the hermit two others ; the one a venerable monk, whose cowl was thrown back on his shoulders so as to display his snow-white hair and beard, and his FATHER ANSELM'S PROMISE. 21 pale, kind face and mild blue eyes, which age had so far hardly dimmed, and the other a short, squarely built fellow, clad from head to foot in armour as plain as any man-at-arms might wear, yet bearing himself with the easy assurance of one gently born, and wont to mix with court or camp.

I thought at first that their coming into the cell was accidental, but I was speedily undeceived ; for the Scot, speaking in the hard rasping tones I hated as only a lad can hate who had been orphaned by the man's fellows, nay, perhaps his very kinsmen, addressed himself to the monk in words which could not but refer to me. " A handsome, well-grown lad, father," he said. " And doubtless you are right. Well, if you have the power yrou say, use it for my sake as well as for his own. I should be glad to think that time would make amends, and glad, too, to lend my help, if it were only a prayer to you to do what you might to aid in so good a work." The old monk did not answer his question or request or whatever it was, for I could not very well understand it then, though its meaning became clear enough in after years, but pointed towards the door.

" You were best on your road," he said ; " and I see my brother here is ready to guide you. There is not so much of darkness left that you dare tarry. The first streak of dawn ought to find you out at sea." " You are right," replied the other, dropping on his knee. "Your blessing, father, and I am ready to go." The old monk laid his withered hands on the curly reddish brown hair, and, raising his eyes to heaven, asked a blessing on the kneeling man. Then the latter sprang to his feet, and without another glance at me was gone. A minute later I heard the splash of oars on the water below, and knew they were crossing the stream. The old man stood listening, as I did, for a minute or two, and then he turned to me. " Boy, are you awake ? " he asked. I answered that I was. " What brought you here ?" he inquired.