"Nay, father, say not so!" cried Amalric, with sudden pain in his voice, for it was not like the Earl thus to speak of impending disaster; his was rather a nature that looked forward to triumph and success.
"God grant it may not be so!" he answered; "but my heart is heavy within me this evening. I have a premonition that ere the sun set once more some great event will have befallen this land, but whether for weal or woe who can say?"
When Amalric that night joined Leofric in their quarters—a clean, bare cell, which they were to share together—he related to him all that his father had said.
"Dost think, good comrade, that a man, upon the eve of some great crisis in his life, can foresee what lies before him?"
Leofric shook his head doubtfully.
"Nay, I know not how that may be. Yet didst not thou thyself, Amalric, in bidding farewell to sweet Mistress Alys, speak as though thou didst portend misfortune to thy cause?"
"I trow I did," answered the youth, thoughtfully. "I know not how or why, but there came upon me the feeling that I was looking my last upon that sweet face, and I could have wept aloud had not my manhood cried shame upon such weakness. Yet methinks she saw somewhat of the trouble in my face, for ere we parted she did give me the ring from her hand, and never before had she given me token of her own to wear—nothing beyond that silken banner, which, if I fall to-morrow, Leofric, must be my shroud. Let it not fall into the hands of the foe. I would go down to my grave wrapped in its martial folds."
Leofric made no response, his heart was too full for words; and long after Amalric was sleeping quietly he lay broad awake, turning many things over in his mind, and wondering if this presage of evil, felt by both father and son, was a foreboding of some misfortune soon to fall upon them.
Leofric had had no intention a short time back of meddling more in wars. He was now a Master in Oxford, with a career before him there, and the profession of arms had no real charm for him. Yet when Amalric had suddenly appeared there, to take leave of Alys and of his old friends and comrades, and had told all he knew of the position of parties, and of the peril which threatened the cause dear to many through the action of the escaped Prince, Leofric's heart had burned within him, and it had seemed impossible to him to let his friend and once master ride forth perhaps to his death without his esquire at his side.
So Leofric had resolved once more to leave Oxford, once more to face the perils and uncertainties of war. There were others who were of like mind with him, and Amalric had gathered together a compact little body-guard, who had accompanied him upon the slightly circuitous route he had decided to take, and were with him now at Evesham Abbey, where he had joined his father.