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

by Evelyn Everett-Green

Edward showed no resentment against his kinsfolk for his captivity amongst them. He went about the Castle and its precincts with a brave face and a light heart. He played with the Demoiselle in the long corridors, helped Alys with the intricacies of her embroidery silks, when in the long evenings the party gathered together in some of the family apartments. He tilted in the yards with his cousins, and joined in all the revels which made the walls of the Castle-fortress ring again. No word of complaint ever crossed his lips. He never betrayed even a consciousness that he was followed and watched, and that he might not walk or ride abroad without a goodly retinue.

There was about him, as the girls oftentimes agreed, a nobility and magnanimity which was something remarkable in one so young. He even talked of public matters with his uncle without rancour, and with a certain sympathy in the difficulties of the situation.

Personally, the Prince was greatly beloved by all at Kenilworth, and perhaps this made the position all the more difficult. None knew better than De Montfort that it would be impossible to keep the King and the Prince in permanent captivity, however easy and honourable that captivity might be. Yet, let young Edward once be at large, and so great a following would muster round him that he would have it in his power before long to reverse the success of the Barons, and once more set upon the throne his inglorious father, whose incapacity and powers of mischief-working had been so abundantly tested before.

"And my brothers do nothing to help my father!" once lamented the Demoiselle, with tears of anger in her eyes, coming to Alys to discuss some of the anxieties which from time to time she learned from her mother. "Guy and Amalric are too young to be entrusted with much power, else they might perhaps help. But Henry and Simon do naught but stir up strife and ill-will. As if it were not bad enough to have the Earl Gilbert desert our cause, they must go and challenge him in a tourney they desire to hold at Dunstable—openly showing that they hold him to be a foe. My mother says that my father will forbid the tourney, but that the rash and haughty spirit of Henry and Simon give him much pain and trouble. They are so puffed up they will not heed a word that is said to them. They are not worthy to be called my father's sons!"

It was no wonder that the brow of the Earl was often lined with care, and that the glance of the eagle eye was often dimmed by clouds of anxiety and presage of coming woe. The old trouble with Richard of Gloucester was being repeated now with Gilbert, the son. Young as he was, he would not brook the control of Leicester's guiding hand. He resented his assumption of power, and was almost openly breaking away. None knew better than De Montfort that if once Prince Edward were at large, the whole Gloucester faction, and doubtless many more with them, would go over to him in a body. Already the nation was forgetting its grievances, and was pitying the royal captives. A spark would suffice in many quarters to cause an explosion of anger against him and his "usurpation" of practical monarchy; and yet, as matters now stood, there seemed nothing for it but for him, in the name of King and Council, to sway the sceptre of the kingdom.

On New-Year's Eve a great banquet was to be held in the vast hall of Kenilworth. Despite the carking care that was gnawing at the heart of the Earl and Countess, the revelries of the season were kept up in full measure. Nothing was omitted which had ever had place before, and the close of the old year had always been celebrated by a great feast, which was kept up until the new year had been ushered in with shouts and songs and the draining of bumpers.

Alys and the Demoiselle had asked to witness the feast from the gallery above, as upon another occasion now several years distant. And as the Countess had no desire to be present herself, ready permission was given them, and they established themselves there, with Amalric as their companion, he having excused himself from sitting at the feast below.

Prince Edward was, however, there, seated upon the right hand of his uncle. His handsome face wore a rather set expression, and although he smiled and jested as the wine circulated and the huge dishes were brought in one after the other by staggering servants, he continued to wear the look of a man in whose head some great purpose lies.

What that purpose was, was presently revealed when the time came for healths to be drunk and speeches made. It was from time to time needful that De Montfort should remind his followers and retainers of their position, of the things which had been achieved, and of those which still remained to be done. It seemed a fitting time, at the close of this memorable year, to speak of the events which had marked its course, and the successes which it had witnessed. To discourse thus, with the Prince sitting by, was not perhaps the easiest of tasks; but De Montfort had a gift for moderation and tact in speaking when his temper was not ruffled. He played his part well, and elicited bursts of applause; and the Prince himself applauded when he spoke of the rights of the nation and the need for wise government by means of a council of Englishmen rather than a crew of foreign favourites. In the end the Earl looked directly at the Prince, drank to his good health and speedy release, when the arbitrators appealed to should have given their decision, and the coming Parliament have ratified the terms of the Mise of Lewes.

Thus openly brought into notice, the Prince rose to his feet, thanked his uncle and host for many kind marks of good-will, and expressed his recognition of the courtesy and friendliness with which he had been treated. But after having said this much he did not sit down; he stood looking around at the company with a strange intent gaze. Deep silence reigned in the hall, for all felt that there was more to come, and waited breathlessly to hear. De Montfort looked up with a keen, quick glance into the face of the Prince, and then a slight cloud as of anxious thought passed across his thin face.