When Jack and Leofric reached the tent where Prince Edward had preferred to establish himself—leaving the quarters in the Abbey for his father and the older nobles—they found awaiting them, just without, several of the Oxford students who had joined Amalric at the last, and had been present at the fatal fight of Evesham. Together they all entered the presence of the Prince, conducted by Hugh le Barbier and Gilbert Barbeck, who seemed to have the oversight of this matter. Gilbert had joined the Prince shortly before the march on Kenilworth, bringing him supplies of money which had been entrusted to him by his father. It was reassuring to the students to see these comrades of theirs at such a moment, and to feel that there was no ill meant them.
Within the tent stood Prince Edward, his face grave and thoughtful, but wearing a look of friendliness also. He returned with courtesy the salutations made to him, and then began to address the youths who stood silently before him.
"My friends," he said, "I have desired to see you and to speak with you face to face, and therefore have I had you brought thus privately to my quarters here. England has just been through a time of terrible trial, and I hope and believe that the benefits of this great struggle will not quickly pass away. War is a fearful thing at all times, but tenfold worse when waged betwixt brethren. I trust that the sword sheathed to-day will not be again drawn in such a fashion. Brethren should live together in unity and peace. Is it not so?"
He looked around him as he spoke, and only Leofric dared to make reply.
"Yes truly, sire, if peace can walk hand in hand with honour and freedom."
Edward gave him a piercing glance.
"I know what thou wouldst say Leofric Wyvill, and in part thou art right.—I stand before you here this day to testify to the love and reverence I bear to a great man who has passed away from this world, who has died the death of a hero. Though I be the King's son, and though I myself bore arms against the great Earl mine uncle, yet here I stand before you, and boldly avow that the cause in which he laid down his life was a noble one, and that I bear no enmity towards those who fought at his side, even though they fought against me. Can you understand this, my friends?"
A murmur of assent went up from the wondering group. They had little expected such an avowal from Prince Edward; and yet, to those who knew him and his history, there was nothing incompatible in his words and actions. Duty to his father and to his own position had forced him to rise against the usurper of the royal prerogative and the custodians of his own and his father's person; nevertheless he fully and candidly recognized the justice of the cause in which his foes had embarked, and even gave it in no small measure his sympathy.
"You will ask why I say all this to you," he said; "but I will soon explain myself. You come from a city which has been forward in the cause of the Barons, a seat of learning, whose voice must ever weigh with the people. For the moment the cause you have at heart is, or seems to be, lost. Its leader is dead, its army cut to pieces, its fugitives straggling back to their own homes. Yet the feelings which gave rise to the movement are not dead. They live immortal in the hearts of a free people; and if the teachers and leaders of that people's thought preach once more a national crusade, doubtless leaders could be found to bring an army again into the field."
The youths looked at one another with a covert surprise. It was strange to hear their Prince speaking to them thus.