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

by Evelyn Everett-Green

Alys clapped her little hands together; Edmund's eyes lighted with anticipation. To escape from his prison, to go abroad in the streets, was the great ambition of his life. But it was seldom that he had achieved this end, and the thought of sharing in the gaieties of the morrow was enchanting alike to him and to his sister.

Sir Humphrey was willing to fall in with the plan suggested. He had a great liking for Amalric, and perhaps had already formed an idea that the youth was attracted by his young daughter. Both youth and maiden were still full young, but at least there was no harm in permitting them some pleasant intercourse if they were disposed to like one another. The Earl of Leicester was at this juncture perhaps the greatest man in the kingdom, and an alliance with the noble house might prove of great advantage to the knight in his career. His wife had suggested this notion to him, and he had listened not unwillingly. In those days men regarded their daughters somewhat in the light of chattels, to be disposed of as best promoted the advancement of their own interests; and the fact that Sir Humphrey was a tender father, and that Alys was the light of his eyes, did not detract from the pleasure of the thought that she might make a grand match, when a few years had passed over her head, with the scion of a house as likely to thrive and increase in power and glory as that of Simon de Montfort.

Upon the next day, therefore, he forwarded all the arrangements suggested by Amalric, furnished a guard to his son and daughter, and putting them under the care of young De Montfort, permitted them to sally forth into the town to see the gay pageantry of a students' holiday.

The sun shone brightly to-day—the clouds had all rolled away. The town had assumed a holiday appearance, and from every door a motley multitude poured forth. Church bells rang; at every corner were to be met processions of clerks and scholars, many of whom had just achieved some scholastic success, and were in consequence crowned with wreaths of flowers; whilst their friends and supporters danced around them similarly adorned, some disguised with masks, others in grotesque garments like mummers—all alike bent on amusement, and all with their faces set towards Beaumont meadows, in which the jousts and games and tiltings were to be held.

Conspicuous amongst the gay throng in holiday attire (for the citizens with their wives and daughters were pouring out to see the fun) was a small group of what some took to be mummers—tall figures dressed all in black, with masks upon their faces and weapons in their belts. There were some six of these in all, and they glided hither and thither amongst the shifting throng, unknown and silent, people making way for them as they moved, as if half afraid of their strange appearance.

Alys and Edmund caught sight of them more than once, and eagerly asked Amalric who and what they were; but he could give them no reply, and soon they ceased to think of them in the entertainment of watching the gay shifting throng.

A good position for seeing the jousting was fixed upon by the men in charge of the Constable's children, and Edmund's litter was drawn up upon a knoll under a clump of trees, which gave a pleasant shade from the sun's rays; whilst the horse, tethered close at hand, could feed upon the grass.

"I should like to see some of the people we have been told about," said Alys, as she stood beside her brother's couch.—"Prithee, good Leofric, bring to us here thy friends Hugh and Gilbert and Jack, and those two twin sisters Lotta and Linda, and any others of whom thou hast spoken. I would be friends with all the world to-day. Go seek them and bring them hither, and at noon we will feast here together under the greenwood trees, and watch the merry joustings at our ease."

Alys was in unwontedly gay spirits that day, and Leofric hurried off to do her behests. It was easy to persuade his comrades to accept the invitation of the Constable's daughter, and she on her side had a pretty way of putting people at their ease in her company.

The twin sisters interested her greatly, but she did not think them quite so wonderfully alike as she had expected. One of them was pale and pensive, and had an anxious look in her soft eyes; whilst the other was radiant and flushed, talking and laughing gaily with all who approached, and throwing towards Hugh le Barbier glances of such witchery and fascination that Alys at first thought she must be the lady of his choice.