The House of Walderne Part 45

And the impending events had roused up the old martial spirit--the half-forgotten life of the camp came back to him, and with it the thought of the boy who would have yearned to distinguish himself on the morrow, had he been there: the light hearted, pugnacious, thoughtless, but loving Hubert.

And while he mused, the door opened, and the prior entered. It was Prior Foville--he who built the two great western towers of the church.

"Stay without," whispered the prior to someone by his side; "joy sometimes kills."

The old monk gazed upon the prior with wonder, his face had so strange an expression. It was like the face of one who has a secret to tell and can hardly keep it in.

"What is it, my father? Hast thou brought joy or sorrow with thee?"

"Joy, I trust. We have reason to think thy gallant son is not dead."

The father trembled. He could hardly stand.

"I know he is alive, but where?"

"On his way home."

"Nay!"

"And in England!"

"Father, I am here."

Hubert could restrain himself no longer.

The old man gazed wildly upon him, then threw his arms around his recovered boy, and raising his eyes to heaven, murmured:

"Father I thank Thee, for this my son was dead, and is alive again; was lost, and is found."

Chapter 25: The Battle Of Lewes.

The barons, on their side, prepared with sober earnestness for the struggle. They were not fighting for personal aggrandis.e.m.e.nt, but, as an old writer says, "they had in all things one faith and one will--love of G.o.d and their neighbour." So unanimous were they in their brotherly love, that they did not fear to die for their country.

It was the dead of night, and a horseman rode towards the village of Fletching. He was armed cap-a-pie, like one who might have to force his way against odds. His armour was dark, and he bore but one cognisance on his shield, the Cross. He was quite alone, but he knew that farther along he should find a sleeping host. The stars shone brightly above him, the country lay buried in sleep, scarcely a light twinkled throughout the expanse.

The sound of a deep bell tolling the hour of midnight reached him.

It was from the priory which he had left an hour or more previously.

"Ere that hour strike again, England's fate will have been decided," he said, as if to himself, "and perhaps my account with G.o.d and man summed up before His bar. Well, I have a good cause, and a clear conscience, and I can leave it in G.o.d's hands."

And soon from the crest of a low hill he looked down upon the camp of the barons. There were many lights, and the murmur of voices arose.

Just then came the stern challenge.

"Who goes there?"

"A crusader, who as a knight received his spurs from Earl Simon, and now comes to fight by his side to the death for the liberties of England."

"The watchword?"

"I have it not--twelve hours have not pa.s.sed since I landed in England after an absence of years."

"Stand while I summon the guard."

In a little while a small troop approached, their leader the young Lord Walter of Hereford, who had been present, as it chanced, when our hero was knighted. He recognised him with joy.

"The Earl of Leicester will be overjoyed to see you. He has long given you up for lost."

"He has not forgotten me?"

"Even yesternight he wished you were present to fight by his side."

Our poor Hubert felt his heart throb with joy and pride.

As they descended into the camp Hubert perceived the Bishop of Worcester, Walter de Cantilupe, riding through the ranks, and exhorting the soldiers to confess their sins, and to receive absolution and the Holy Communion; a.s.suring them that such as fell would fall in G.o.d's cause, and suffer on behalf of the truth.

Behind him his followers distributed white crosses to the soldiers, as if they were crusaders, which they attached to their b.r.e.a.s.t.s and backs. In this war of Englishmen against Englishmen there was need of some such mark to distinguish the rival parties.

All through the camp religious exercises were proceeding, and when at last Walter of Hereford brought our hero to the tent of Earl Simon, they found him prostrate in fervent prayer.

"Father and leader," said the young earl with deep reverence, "I have brought thee a long-lost son."

The earl rose.

"My son! Hubert! Can it be thou, risen from the dead?"

"Come to share thy fate for weal or woe, my beloved lord. From thy hands I received knighthood: at thy side will I conquer or die."

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The dawn was at hand. The birds began their matin songs, when the stern blast of the trumpet drowned their tiny warblings.

The army arose as one man. At first all was confusion, as when bees swarm, which was rapidly reduced into order, as the leaders went up and down with the standard bearers, and the men fell into their ranks. When all was still the earl, the great earl, came forth, armed cap-a-pie, mounted on his charger. The herald proclaimed silence. The deep, manly voice was heard:

"Beloved brethren! We are about to fight this day for the liberty of this realm, in honour of G.o.d, His blessed Mother, and all the Saints, for the defence of our Mother Church of England, and for the faith of Christ.

"Let us therefore pray to our Lord G.o.d, that since we are His, He would grant us victory in the battle, and commend ourselves to Him, body, soul, and spirit."

Then the Bishop of Worcester gave the Benediction, after which the vast mult.i.tude arose as a man, took their places, and began their onward march. Scouts of the royal army, out foraging, saw them, and bore the tidings to King Henry and Prince Edward at the priory and the castle, and the opposing forces arose in their turn.

Before the hour of prime, the earl, by whose side throughout that day rode our Hubert, descried the towers of the priory from the summit of a swelling ridge, and beheld soon after the army of the prince issuing forth from the west gate, and that of the king from the priory below. Earl Simon divided his forces into three parts: the centre he placed under the young Earl of Gloucester, whom he had that morning knighted; the right wing under his two sons, Simon and Guy; the left wing was composed of the Londoners. He himself remained at the head of the reserve behind the centre, where he could see all the field and direct operations. There was no smoke, as in a modern battlefield, to obstruct the view.

Prince Edward commanded on the right of the royal troops, and was thus opposed to the Londoners, whom he hated because of their insults to his mother {34}; and Richard commanded the left wing, and was thus opposed to Simon and Guy, the sons of the great earl. The centre was commanded by Henry himself, not by virtue of his ability in the field, but of his exalted rank. The royal standard of the Dragon was raised; a token, said folk, that no quarter was to be given.

This was a sign for the attack, and it was begun by that thunderbolt of war, Prince Edward, who charged full upon the Londoners. The poor light-armed cits were ill prepared for the shock of so heavy a brigade of cavalry; and they broke and yielded like a dam before a resistless flood. No mercy was shown them. Many were driven into the Ouse on the right, and so miserably drowned; others fled in a body before the prince, who pursued them for four miles, hacking, hewing, quartering, slaughtering. Just like the Rupert of the later Civil Wars, he sacrificed the victory to the headlong impetuosity of his nature.