With the Black Prince

by William O. Stoddard

"I trust they may," said Richard. "I will have speech with them."

"But seest thou not," said Guy, "what the earl's masons are doing for thy castle? I wonder at it, for the time hath been but brief. They work fast, and the walls are nobly mended."

"I will see to that," said Richard eagerly, and they pushed on into the keep, but not till he had spoken many good words to the villagers. Truly the workmen had plied their tools with industry, but they had done more than mend. Some well-skilled engineer of the earl had planned enlargements and outer walls on the farther side. There were to be bastions and stronger battlements and better storage within for the provenders that might withstand a siege. It was a good fort, had said the engineer, and in some dark day it might be worth the holding.

That evening was a feast of welcome and of news-telling, but with the dawn both Guy and Richard rode away. Nor did any at the castle know whither they had gone nor what they did while they were away. All the while the masons and their helpers toiled on, and the stonework grew apace. It was four days before the young lord of Wartmont returned to see what they had done. A score of men on galloways came with him to the edge of the forest, but there they drew rein, and it was Ben of Coventry who spoke for them.

"Fare thee well, Lord Richard of Wartmont!" he said merrily. "We will come at the king's summons, hear it when we may. Only this, that thou do not get thyself slain too soon, for many of us will follow the Neville, and not another."

If he had won them, so had they won him, and well did he love his bowmen, as one loveth kith and kin.

Not long might be his further lingering at the castle nor on the road to Warwick. There, indeed, he found not only his mother, but a message from the earl, bidding him to London speedily. It was a grief, and yet she was willing to have him go, for in it was his future good fortune, and she kissed him farewell after a long talk about Wartmont, and the grange in the forest, and the troop he was to command, although so young.

Two mounted spearmen went with him on the road to London, but none who met him questioned him for harm. It was as if the roads were as safe and peaceful as was their seeming; but Richard knew better than that. Even at the London gate he found himself turning quickly in his saddle to gaze after one who passed him.

"'Twas a scowling face," he thought. "Where have I met that knight? He carrieth his bridle arm in a sling, as if he were wounded there. Did I not smite a left arm with mine axe on the road? I will watch for that man."