In the Wars of the Roses: A Story for the Young

by Evelyn Everett-Green

Edward and Paul spent the morning hours in the selection of a horse fit to carry the prince on his journey to London, and the farmer's son brought all the spare colts and lighter steeds into the straw yard for their guest to try and select for himself. There was no horse quite so handsome or well bred as Sultan, and Paul was eager for Edward to accept his steed in place of another. But the prince only laughed and shook his head, in the end selecting a fine chestnut colt only just broken to the wearing of the halter; and the kinsmen spent the best part of the next days in teaching the mettlesome though tractable creature how to answer to the rein and submit to saddle and rider. It was shod at Ives's forge, and christened by the name of Crusader, and soon learned to love the lads, who, whilst showing themselves masters of its wildest moods, were yet kindly and gentle in their handling.

The young prince was in great spirits during these days. He had been all his life somewhat too much under the close restraint of an affectionate but dictatorial mother, and had been master of none of his own actions. Such restraint was galling to a high-spirited youth; and although the sweetness of disposition inherited from his father had carried the prince through life without rebellion or repining, yet this foretaste of liberty was very delightful, and the romance of being thus unknown and obscure, free to go where he would unquestioned and unmarked, exercised a great fascination over him, and made him almost forget the shadow which sometimes seemed to hang over his path.

Paul was as light hearted as his companion in the main, though there were moments when his joy at having his adored prince under his care was dashed by the feeling of responsibility in such a charge, and by the fear of peril to the hope of the House of Lancaster. He wondered if it were his fancy that the farm was watched; that there were often stealthy steps heard without in the night--steps that set the dogs barking furiously, but which never could be accounted for next day; that if he rode or walked down the cart road to the village alone or with his comrade, their movements were followed by watchful eyes-- eyes that seemed now and again to glare at him, as in the dusk that first evening, but which always melted away into the shadows of the forest if looked at closely or followed and tracked.

He was disposed to think it all the trick of an excited imagination, but he began to be not sorry that the day for departure was drawing near. If he had provoked the enmity of the robber chief, or if by a remoter chance the identity of his companion had been suspected, it would be better to be off without much more delay so soon as the wedding should be over.

Joan herself was nervous and fearful, and seldom set foot outside the door of her home. She sometimes said with a shiver that she was certain there were fierce men hiding about the house ready to carry her off if she did; and though her father and brother laughed at her fear, they humoured her, and were willing enough to let her keep safe at home: for Simon Dowsett was not a man to be trifled with, and he might very likely have heard before now that the woman he had vowed to make his wife was to be given in marriage to his rival.

The days, however, fled by without any event to arouse real disquiet, and on the morrow Joan would pass to the sturdy keeping of the young smith, whose new house stood well flanked between his father's dwelling and the forge in the heart of the village where law-abiding persons dwelt in fair security.

The eve of the marriage day had come and gone. The household had retired to rest. Paul and Edward were in their raftered room, which was better lighted by the fire of logs than by the feeble rush light glimmering on the table. Fuel was so plentiful in that wooded country that all the hearths blazed in cold weather with the sputtering pine logs, which gave out an aromatic scent pleasant to the nostril.

As they closed the door behind them, Edward laid a hand upon his companion's arm and said:

"Good Paul, shall we two hold a vigil this night? I misdoubt me that some mischief is meditated toward Mistress Joan this night. I would that we might keep watch and ward."

"With all my heart," answered Paul readily, instinctively laying his hand upon his poniard. "But what makes you think that evil is intended?"