CHAPTER XXII.
IN ARMS.
"Fair Mistress Alys, we have come to say farewell." The Constable's daughter, with her banner in her hands, was waiting for this farewell visit from Amalric de Montfort. All knew now that the red flame of war was about to leap forth and devour the land. The King, having scornfully refused all overtures, was already marching upon Northampton, whither so many Oxford students had fled. The Earl of Leicester was in the neighbourhood of London, where Amalric was about to join him; and with him was to march an eager, gallant little band, which included a number of his comrades in this city, and in particular Leofric Wyvill, who for the nonce was acting as his esquire and personal attendant.
The thought of regular study had become impossible even to a studious mind like Leofric's. Confusion reigned at Oxford, and for the time being the students had dispersed in all directions. Masters and pupils had alike caught the infection of excitement. Doubtless the city would return to its normal conditions in time, and the scholars would flock back in great numbers during the course of the ensuing months; but for the immediate present nothing was talked of but the approaching appeal to arms, and books were laid aside for the sword, which was the weapon that must decide this next crisis of the country's history.
Since the King's scornful rejection of the Barons' moderate request, all thoughts of peace had been abandoned. Amalric had got together his eager little band, and now he had come, with a few picked comrades beside him, to say farewell to Mistress Alys, and to receive at her fair hands the silken banner that she and Linda had spent so many long hours in working for him, with his father's coat of arms.
By this time the friends and followers of Amalric had come to regard Alys as his plighted lady-love, albeit in reality no troth-plight had passed between them. It was scarce the right time for proffering love-suits, but yet the Constable and his wife could not be ignorant of the fact that young Lord Amalric had set his affections upon their daughter.
She stood now beside her parents, with the silken banner in her hands, her fair face flushed, her heart beating rather fast, for she had never before taken so public a part as she was to-day called upon to do in the presentation of the banner; and remembering some words spoken to her by Linda not many days before, she wondered whether indeed this act in any way committed her to a step which she had never seriously contemplated, and did not desire to contemplate.
But maidens in those days had little choice of action. She had been bidden by her parents to appear in the great hall and give the Lord Amalric the banner. Now she was holding it out towards him, a blush on her cheek, a bright light in her eyes; and perhaps it was only Linda, out of all those standing by, who noted how the timid glance of the girl's eyes went past the gay and gallant figure of Amalric and rested upon the graceful form of Leofric, who in his shining armour, and with his bared head from which the golden locks floated in a soft cloud, looked the very image of some pious knight going forth upon a sacred quest, not in search of gain to himself, but for love of the good cause.
And this was indeed the feeling which actuated Leofric. He had small expectation of any personal advantage from this war. Probably he would have gained more of that by remaining in Oxford and continuing his studies there, for he was more of the student than the soldier by nature. But he was convinced of the righteousness of the cause on which the Barons were embarked. He had imbibed the teachings of the Franciscans, and believed that duty and love of his country demanded this sacrifice and effort. True, he was sufficiently imbued with martial ardour at this moment to go forth proudly and eagerly; but the guiding motive was love for his fellows and for his country, as distinguished from personal ambition.