A Clerk of Oxford, and His Adventures in the Barons' War

by Evelyn Everett-Green

For a moment their eyes met, and a flush arose in the cheek of both. They stood thus for several seconds, as though no words would come to either.

Alys first recovered herself, and unwinding a scarf of crimson silk which she wore about her waist, she lightly threw it over Leofric's shoulder, saying softly,—

"Wear it as thy sword-belt, and forget me not."

The moment was past. Like one awakening from a dream, Leofric followed the rest from the hall into the courtyard, where their horses were standing. He knotted the scarf across his shining breastplate, and gave one long look at Alys as he passed from the hall. But although she came out to see them all mount and ride away, he did not even seek to catch her eye or to exchange a word with her again. His heart was in a strange glow. He felt like a knight who has received a token from one almost too sacred and high above him to be dreamed of as lady-love; yet in the strength of that token he felt that he could work prodigies of valour. What could he not do for her sweet sake? And yet the idea of asking anything in return never entered his head. Was it not enough that she had shown to him, the poor student and bachelor, that she regarded him with interest, and thought of him as of a friend?

Away rode the cavalcade in the bright sunshine of the early spring, the citizens cheering them to the echo, the friars pausing to bless them and their crusade, their own hearts full of joy and the anticipation of coming triumph.

The King had marched to Northampton, as has already been said, therefore to take a northerly route would be unsafe for the little band. Amalric believed his father to be in or near London, and anyhow the metropolis was known to be favourable to the cause of the Barons. He had therefore made up his mind to proceed thither, and all through the hours of the daylight the little band of horsemen trotted briskly on their way, receiving warm greetings from the inhabitants of the towns and villages through which they passed, and becoming more and more confident as to the feeling of the nation, at least in these regions.

They avoided the road which would take them near Windsor, for there they feared the power of the King was still in the ascendant. They kept a more northerly course, and by the time the daylight waned found themselves close to Watford, where they resolved to encamp for the night. As they approached the place, they were aware of a considerable excitement going on; and when they rode into the streets with the banner of the De Montforts floating before them, the people crowded round them in great excitement, clamouring to know the news.

"They say the war has broken out! They say the people have attacked the King's brother's house at Isleworth, and devastated everything. The Temple is broken open, and the money carried off. The Jews have been pillaged, and their houses burnt. The bell of St. Paul's was ringing all yesterday. They say great things are being done in the city!"

Amalric knew nothing of this; but it sounded like the beginning of war, and he eagerly asked for news of his father.

At the moment none could tell him more than that the Earl was in London, and that this insurrection had been made in his favour. Amalric would fain have pushed on through the night to join him, but was restrained by the unfitness of their horses for a longer journey. The inhabitants of the little place received them most hospitably; and whilst they were yet at supper after their long day's travel, a messenger came bursting in full of exciting news.