

E-text prepared by Martin Robb



IN THE WARS OF THE ROSES

A Story for the Young

by

Everett Evelyn-Green.

1901







CONTENTS

Prologue.
Chapter 1:  A Brush with the Robbers.
Chapter 2:  A Hospitable Shelter.
Chapter 3:  A Strange Encounter.
Chapter 4:  Paul's Kinsman.
Chapter 5:  In Peril.
Chapter 6:  In The Hands of the Robbers.
Chapter 7:  The Protection of the Protected.
Chapter 8:  The Rally of the Red Rose.
Chapter 9:  The Tragedy of Tewkesbury.
Chapter 10: The Prince Avenged.
Notes.




Prologue.


"Mother, will the little prince be there?"

"Yes, my son. He never leaves his mother's side. You will see them
all today, if fortune favours us--the good King Henry, his noble
queen, to whom he owes so much, and the little prince likewise. We
will to horse anon, that we may gain a good view of the procession
as it passes. The royal party lodges this night at our good
bishop's palace. Perchance they will linger over the Sunday, and
hear mass in our fair cathedral, Our loyal folks of Lichfield are
burning to show their love by a goodly show of welcome; and it is
said that his majesty takes pleasure in silvan sports and such-like
simple pleasures, many preparations for the which have been
prepared for him to witness."

"O mother, I know. Ralph and Godfrey have been practising
themselves this many a day in tilting and wrestling, and in the use
of the longbow and quarterstaff, that they may hold their own in
the sports on the green before the palace, which they say the king
will deign to watch.

"O mother; why am I not as old and as strong as they? I asked Ralph
to let me shoot with his bow; but he only laughed at me, and bade
me wait till I was as tall and as strong as he. It is very hard to
be the youngest--and so much the youngest, too."

The mother smiled as she passed her hand over the floating curls of
the gallant boy beside her; He was indeed a child of whom any
mother might be proud: beautiful, straight-limbed, active, and
fearless, his blue eyes glowing and shining, his cheek flushed with
excitement, every look and gesture seeming to speak of the bold
soldier spirit that burned within.

And these were times when it appeared indeed as if England's sons
had need of all the warlike instincts of their race. Party faction
had well-nigh overthrown ere this the throne--and the authority of
the meek King Henry, albeit the haughty Duke of York had set forth
no claim for the crown, which his son but two short years later
both claimed and won. But strife and jealousy and evil purposes
were at work in men's minds. The lust of power and of supremacy had
begun to pave the way for the civil war which was soon to devastate
the land. The sword had already been drawn at St. Albans, and the
hearts of many men were full of foreboding as they thought upon the
perilous times in which they lived; though others were ready to
welcome the strife which promised plunder and glory and fame to
those who should distinguish themselves by prowess in field or
counsel in the closet.

The gentle Lady Stukely, however, was not one of these. Her heart
sank sometimes when she heard the talk of her bold husband and
warlike sons. They had all three of them fought for the king at the
first battle, or rather skirmish, at St. Albans four years before,
and were ardent followers and adherents of the Red Rose of
Lancaster. Her husband had received knighthood at the monarch's
hands on the eve of the battle, and was prepared to lay down his
life in the cause if it should become necessary to do so.

But if rumours of strife to come, and terrible pictures of
bloodshed, sometimes made her gentle spirit quail, she had always
one consolation in the thought that her youngest child, her little
Paul, would not be torn from her side to follow the bloody trail of
war. Her two first-born sons, the younger of whom was twenty-two,
had long been very finished young gallants, trained to every
military enterprise, and eager to unsheathe their swords whenever
rumour told of slight to King Henry or his haughty queen from the
proud Protector, who for a time had held the reins of government,
though exercising his powers in the name of the afflicted king.

But Paul was still a child, not yet quite eight years old; and of
the five fair children born to her between him and his brothers,
not one had lived to complete his or her third year, so that the
mother's heart twined itself the more firmly about this last brave
boy, and in the frequent absences of husband and sons upon matters
of business or pleasure, the companionship between the pair was
almost unbroken, and they loved each other with a devotion that may
easily be understood. Paul felt no awe of his gentle mother, but
rather looked upon himself as her champion and defender in his
father's absence. It was no new thing for him to long for manhood
and its privileges; for would not these make him all the stouter
protector to his mother?

But she was wont when he spoke such words to check him by gentle
counsel and motherly sympathy, and now she took his hand in hers
and patted it smilingly as she replied:

"Ah, my little Paul, time flies fast, and you will be a man before
very long now; but be content for these next days to be yet a
child. Perchance the little prince will pay more heed to such as
are of his age.

"You may chance to win a smile from him, even if the nobles and
gentlemen regard not children."

Paul's face brightened instantly.

"O mother, yes; I had not thought of that. But I do so long to see
the little prince. Oh, if he were to notice me--to speak to me--how
happy I should be! We were born on the same day, were we not, dear
mother--on the thirteenth of October? But I am older, am I not?"

"Yes, my child; by two years. You will be eight upon your next
birthday, and he six. But I hear he is such a forward, kingly,
noble child, that both in appearance and discretion he is far in
advance of his actual age. Those who are brought up with royalty
early learn the lessons which to others come but with advancing
years."

"I love the little prince, our good king's son," cried Paul with
kindling eyes; "I would that I had been called Edward, too. Mother,
why was I not given his name, as I was born on his day, and that of
the good St. Edward too?"

The mother fondly caressed the golden curls of the beautiful child
as she answered:

"Ah, my son, we knew not till long afterward that our gracious
queen had borne a little son on thy natal day. Paul is a name which
many of our race have borne before, and so we called our child by
it. It is the man that makes the name, not the name the man."

"I know that, mother; yet I would fain have borne the name of the
little prince. But hark! I hear the sounds of the horses' feet.
They are bringing them round to the door. Sweet mother, lose no
time. Let us mount and depart. I would fain have been in the
gallant band of gentlemen who rode out this morning at dawn to
welcome and escort the king and queen; as my father and brothers
were. But let us not delay. I should be sorely grieved were we to
miss seeing the entry into the city."

Lady Stukely smiled at the impatience of the child, knowing well
that many hours must elapse before the royal party would reach the
city walls; but she was willing to gratify the ardent desires of
her little son, and as she was already dressed for the saddle, she
rose and took him by the hand and led him out to the courtyard,
where some half dozen of the good knight's retainers were awaiting
their lady and her son.

Stukely Hall was no very large or pretentious place, but it was
built in that quadrangular form so common to that age, and
accommodated within its walls the dependents and retainers that
every man of rank had about him under the old feudal system, which
obliged him to bring to his lord's service on demand a certain
following of armed and trained soldiers.

In those days, when every article of common consumption was made at
home, the household of even a knight or gentleman of no great
wealth or note was no inconsiderable matter, and even the field
labourers almost always dwelt within the walls of their lord's
house, eating his bread, and growing old in his service as a matter
of course, without thinking of such a thing as change.

So that although the greater part of the retainers had ridden off
at dawn with the knight and his sons, there were still a good
half-dozen stout fellows ready to escort their lady to the town;
and besides these were many menials of lower grade standing about
to see the start. Little Paul, who had grown up amongst them, ran
from one to the other, telling them excitedly how he was going to
see the prince that day, and eagerly accepting from the hands of
his old nurse a beautiful bunch of red roses which she had gathered
that morning, in the hope that her darling might have the chance to
offer them to queen or prince.

Mother and son each wore the red rose broidered upon their state
robes, and the boy had stuck the crimson blossom in his velvet cap.
He was a perfect little picture in his white velvet tunic sloshed
with rose colour, his white cloth hosen laced with gold from ankle
to thigh, a short cloak flowing jauntily from his shoulders, and
his bright golden curls flowing from beneath the crimson and white
cap.

No wonder that his stately mother regarded him with looks of fond
pride, or that his old nurse breathed a benediction on his pretty
head, and invoked the saints and the blessed Virgin on his behalf.
They little knew that the gallant child was riding forth to an
encounter which would be fraught for him with strange results; and
that the long-hoped-for meeting with the little prince would be the
first step in one of those passionate attachments which almost
always cost the owner of them dear.

The sun shone hot and bright as the little cavalcade set forth from
the courtyard. The month was that of July, and merry England was
looking its best. The fair landscape lying before the eyes of the
riders seemed to breathe nothing but peace and plenty; and it was
hard to think that the desolating hand of war might, before many
years had passed, be working havoc and ruin over a land so smiling
and happy now.

The rich valley in which the ancient city of Lichfield stands
looked peculiarly beautiful and fertile that day. Lady Stukely,
whilst replying to the eager talk of her excited little boy, could
not but gaze around her with admiration, familiar as the scene was
to her; and even the boy seemed struck, for he looked up and said:

"I hope the little prince will be pleased with our town. He will
have seen many fine places on this progress, but I do think we
shall give him the best welcome of all. We all love him so."

It seemed indeed as if the whole country had turned out to welcome
the royal guests; for as the riders drew near to the city walls,
they found themselves in the midst of a crowd of holiday folks, all
bent upon the same object--namely, to take up a good position for
witnessing the royal procession as it passed; and every few minutes
some joyous roisterer would raise a shout, "Long live the king!"
"Health to the queen!" "Down with the false friends--the House of
York!" which cries would be taken up by the multitude, and echoed
lustily along the road.

And as the party from Stukely Hall rode up, way being made by the
crowd for persons of quality well known and beloved in those parts,
little Paul vented his excitement in a new cry of his own; for,
standing up in his stirrups and waving his cap in his hand, he
cried in his clear boyish tones:

"Three cheers, good people, for the little prince! Three cheers for
Edward, Prince of Wales, our future king!"

And this cheer was taken up with hearty goodwill by all the crowd;
partly for the sake of the cause ear to the hearts of these loyal
people, partly from admiration for the gallant child who had
started it; and Paul rode on with a flushed and happy face, looking
up to his mother and saying:

"They all love the little prince. Oh how I wish he would come!"

The captain of the little band of soldiers who guarded the gate by
which the royal procession was to enter, came forward doffing his
mailed head piece to greet the wife of the gallant Sir James, who
was a notable gentleman in those parts. By his courtesy the lady
and her child were allowed to take up a position so close to the
gate as would insure for them a most excellent view of the royal
party; whilst the humbler crowd was kept at a more discreet
distance by the good-humoured soldiers, who exercised their office
amid plenty of jesting and laughing, which showed that an excellent
understanding existed between them and their brethren of the soil.
The captain, as the hour for the entrance drew near, took up his
position beside the lady, and conversed with her in low tones. Paul
listened with all his ears the moment he discovered that the
soldier was talking about his beloved little prince.

"I do not credit every idle tale I hear, or certes life would be
but a sorry thing for a soldier. But there is a queer rumour flying
about that some of the bold marauding fellows who follow the banner
of York, Salisbury, and Warwick have been following and hanging on
the trail of the royal party with a view to the capture--so it is
said--of the Prince of Wales, who, once in the hands of the rival
faction, would prove a hostage of no mean value. I can scarce
credit such a tale myself. Sure am I that it cannot have originated
in the mind of any of those noble earls, but must be the device of
some meaner churl, who hopes to gain a reward for his treachery.
Belike there is no truth whatever in it. Rumour is never idle, and
must have some food to satisfy its cravings. I credit not so wild a
tale, albeit I must be on the watch against all chances.

"But hark! hear you not that sound in the distance? and methinks I
see on yonder height the glitter of the spearmen and the sheen of
an armed multitude. Ay, it is truly so. They come, they come! Why,
it is a goodly following our gallant knights and gentlemen have
furnished. Their gracious majesties will have no cause to grumble
at the loyalty of their trusty county of Lichfield {1}."

Paul's breath went and came. The words of the captain had stirred
his heart, and now the actual approach of the royal family set
every pulse throbbing. Eagerly his eyes were fixed upon the
advancing column of gallant riders, the self-appointed bodyguard of
the king and queen--a bodyguard which, changing and shifting as the
royal party progressed through the kingdom, yet never deserted them
throughout the triumphal march, and did not a little to raise
within the breast of the queen that martial ardour which was to be
so severely tested in days to come.

Nearer and yet more near came the gay procession; banners flying,
trumpets sounding, the joy bells from the town giving back gay
response. And now the mounted gentlemen--amongst whom Paul's quick
eyes have already discovered his father and brothers--wheel rapidly
aside to right and left, forming a sort of avenue to the gateway
through which the royal riders are to pass, to receive the loyal
welcome of the venerable prelate and the city dignitaries.

Paul's breath comes and goes as the cheering in the crowd grows
vociferous. He grasps his bunch of roses firmly in his hands, his
cheeks glowing till they almost rival the damask bloom of the
flowers, his eyes fixed in all their eager brightness upon the
advancing band, which consists of the king and queen and prince and
their own immediate attendants. It is a moment never forgotten by
the boy in after life--the moment when first his glance fell upon
the royal child around whose history romance has woven so many a
tale; and it was with a start of peculiar surprises and a thrill of
emotion he could not have analyzed, that the boy beheld the little
prince of his dreams. For in those beautiful princely features, in
the alert graceful figure and the floating curls of gold, Paul
seemed to see his own lineaments reproduced, and gave one
bewildered glance toward his mother to see if perchance the same
thought struck her.

And indeed it did; for the chance resemblance between the young
heir of the House of Lancaster and the son of an obscure
Staffordshire knight was so remarkable that none who saw the two
children could fail to be struck by it. Paul for a moment was
almost awed, feeling as if he had no right thus to have aped the
outward aspect of the little prince; but the next moment all else
was forgotten in the excitement of the moment and in the vigorous
cheering which greeted the close approach of royalty.

The party moved slowly forward, returning the loyal salutations of
the crowd right graciously. The little prince was charming in his
friendly gestures, and Paul observed that to one and another of the
knights and gentlemen drawn up to do them honour he held out some
little token, which was received with every demonstration of
respect and gratification.

His intense excitement caused the little Paul to push out somewhat
further than the line observed by the soldiers, and no one recalled
him to his place; and thus it was that when, as the cortege moved
forward, the Prince of Wales dropped the plumed hat with the white
ostrich feather, which he was raising in