"We will give them a cheer when they come up," continued De Montfort; and he rode on to the Earl of Monthermer, saying--"It is my son, Monthermer; I see his banner, and Oxford's likewise. But here comes your nephew. Who is this he is driving down before him, at the point of the lance? A crossbowman, it seems."
"My lord--my lord!" cried Hugh de Monthermer, as he came up--"prepare for instant battle. Prince Edward's army is within a mile, and Mortimer is coming up on the right-hand road!"
"What! to the right?" exclaimed De Montfort. "How came he there?--Well, let them come! they will meet more than they expected. My son is on the left. Advance our wing, my good Lord of Monthermer, that we may join with him more easily."
"My lord, you are deceived," said Hugh, eagerly; "the banners you have seen are not your son's."
"But----" cried De Montfort.
"Speak, sirrah!" exclaimed Hugh, turning sternly to the crossbowman, whom he had driven down before him; "speak, and let the Earl hear the truth. Such bitter tidings should only come from the lips of an enemy. Speak, I say. My lord, this is one of Gloucester's archers; he will tell you more."
"Let him, then," said the Earl. "Who are these, marching against me, sirrah?"
"Prince Edward, Roger Mortimer, and Gilbert de Clare," replied the man. "Your son, my lord--kill me if you will, but it is the truth--your son was surprised in his bed, at Kenilworth, his army routed and dispersed, thirteen barons displaying their own banners were taken, and as many more were slain. The banners you have seen were captured by the Prince, and are hung out but to deceive you."
"And my son?" asked De Montfort, gazing earnestly in the man's face. "What of my son?"
"He escaped, my lord," replied the archer, "he escaped, and threw himself into the castle."