"There are clouds in the sky, certainly," replied the Earl,
"They overshadow the sun," rejoined the outlaw, abruptly. "The news I had to tell you, but an hour ago, was merely that the King had contrived to lead my lord of Leicester away from his resources, and that Gloucester is fortifying himself in the marches of Wales--that he has refused to be present at the tournament of Northampton, and that people flock to him who are known to be favourers of the foreigners."
"I have heard something of this," said the Earl, "but knew not that it had gone so far."
"Farther--farther, my lord," replied the other--"farther a great deal! I have more tidings for you now. Gloucester is proclaimed a traitor, Leicester has fallen back upon the Severn, and I fear me that means have been taken to amuse the good Earl's son in that business of Pevensey. Look at that letter, my lord."
"Ay this bears the likeness of war, indeed," replied the Earl, after reading a paper which his companion, gave to him--"this bears the likeness of war, indeed; and I am glad it has come to this. Gloucester is a loss to the good cause, it is true, though he is cold and cautious----"
"And selfish, and treacherous, and cunning," added the outlaw.
"But still there is little to fear," continued the Earl, "he is no more competent to cope with Simon de Montfort, than an usher's white rod with a soldier's battle-axe."
"He wants the energy of a strong will," said the outlaw, "and therefore can never be a great man; but still his influence makes him dangerous, my lord, and you must look to it."
"We will not despise him," replied the Earl; "but still I fear him not. So long as the Prince is in the hands of De Montfort, the freedom of England is secure. He is the power of the royal party, but we have taken care that he shall have no means of acting--nominally free, but watched, day and night--his servants, his keepers--his companions, his gaolers. I could grieve for the noble Prince, I must confess, were it not that the safety of the whole realm, the freedom of every man within it, and the happiness of every English hearth, demand that he should be prevented by any means from giving strength to his father's weakness by his own powerful mind."
"I grieve for him, too," replied the outlaw. "I once, at York, saw an eagle in a cage, my lord; and though it looked at me fiercely, as if it would have torn me for my pains, I broke the bars, and let the noble bird go free."