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

by Evelyn Everett-Green

"Simon the elder may be there, but Simon the younger is at Kenilworth—feasting, drinking, idling his time away; whilst his men lie not within the strong walls of the Castle, but in the village—unprotected, careless, secure! They spend their days in drinking confusion to the Prince and his army, and laugh to scorn all thought of fear. Instead of pressing on to join his father, the foolish youth delights himself in his present pleasant quarters, and sends forth wine and all good stores from the Castle, to refresh and strengthen the men after their march, as he says, but rather that they may enjoy themselves and sing songs to his honour and glory. He is so puffed up that none may speak a word of warning to him. Fall then upon him. Cut his army in pieces. There will be none to resist, none to give battle. All are sunk in the security of the fool; the Lord will give them a prey into thine hand."

Edward's face lighted up with a strange expression. If this news were indeed true, it was a great thing for him to know. He had been aware of his own peril should father and son effect a junction, and he had marched thus far to seek to avert it. If he could fall upon young Simon's army in this state of demoralization, and effectually rout it or cut it to pieces, why then he could give battle fearlessly to the Earl, with at least equal chances of success.

But if this should be a trap?

He looked earnestly into the woman's face. The eyes were wild, but there was no shiftiness in them. Rather it seemed as though a fire of fury burned within her—as though she were inspired with a prophetic fire. Suddenly she raised her arms and called aloud in tragic tones,—

"Fall upon them! fall upon them! do unto them as they have done! The Lord has given them an easy prey into thine hand. Let not one of them escape thee! Slay them without mercy, even as Elijah slew the prophets of Baal at the brook Kishon. Let the river which washes the walls of Kenilworth be dyed red by the blood of those that serve the bloodthirsty Earl, who slew my brother!"

The Prince turned to Hugh and said in a low voice,—

"Methinks she speaks truth. These may be the words of madness, but not of falsehood. I will forthwith summon the men, and to-night we will make a rapid march and seek to surprise this sluggard captain. But what shall we do for this poor creature? She is not fit to be left to wander in the woods as she speaks of doing. She should be cared for somewhere, and brought if possible to her right mind."

"I will take care of her," answered Hugh quickly; "I will take her home to my wife, her sister. If any one can do her good, it will be my gentle Linda. Methinks that the old fire of malice and jealousy is burnt out. She seems not to know my face or voice. Let me have the charge of her, and I will join your highness's forces at Kenilworth as soon as may be."

"Yes, that will be best," answered the Prince. "Take her to thy home and thy wife, and leave her not till thou dost see all well betwixt them. Then follow me if thou canst; for methinks the tide of battle is about to turn, and that soon I may have the power as well as the will to reward those faithful and loyal servants who have followed me in the days of adversity."

Hugh approached Lotta, who with trembling hands was drawing the veil over her face once again, and he noted that she seemed to sway like a broken reed.