"And now," cried the deformed leader, "back to your posts, and when I
summon you next, be readier to attend."

"My lord duke," said one man, "beseech you, tarry not here alone.  Keep
but a handful of lances at your hand."

"Fellow," said the duke, "I have forborne to chide you for your slowness.
Cross me not, therefore.  I trust my hand and arm, for all that I be
crooked.  Ye were backward when the trumpet sounded; and ye are now too
forward with your counsels.  But it is ever so; last with the lance and
first with tongue.  Let it be reversed."

And with a gesture that was not without a sort of dangerous nobility, he
waved them off.

The footmen climbed again to their seats behind the men-at-arms, and the
whole party moved slowly away and disappeared in twenty different
directions, under the cover of the forest.

The day was by this time beginning to break, and the stars to fade.  The
first grey glimmer of dawn shone upon the countenances of the two young
men, who now turned once more to face each other.

"Here," said the duke, "ye have seen my vengeance, which is, like my
blade, both sharp and ready.  But I would not have you, for all
Christendom, suppose me thankless.  You that came to my aid with a good
sword and a better courage--unless that ye recoil from my
misshapenness--come to my heart."

And so saying, the young leader held out his arms for an embrace.

In the bottom of his heart Dick already entertained a great terror and
some hatred for the man whom he had rescued; but the invitation was so
worded that it would not have been merely discourteous, but cruel, to
refuse or hesitate; and he hastened to comply.

"And now, my lord duke," he said, when he had regained his freedom, "do I
suppose aright?  Are ye my Lord Duke of Gloucester?"

"I am Richard of Gloucester," returned the other.  "And you--how call
they you?"

Dick told him his name, and presented Lord Foxham's signet, which the
duke immediately recognised.

"Ye come too soon," he said; "but why should I complain?  Ye are like me,
that was here at watch two hours before the day.  But this is the first
sally of mine arms; upon this adventure, Master Shelton, shall I make or
mar the quality of my renown.  There lie mine enemies, under two old,
skilled captains--Risingham and Brackley--well posted for strength, I do
believe, but yet upon two sides without retreat, enclosed betwixt the
sea, the harbour, and the river.  Methinks, Shelton, here were a great
blow to be stricken, an we could strike it silently and suddenly."

"I do think so, indeed," cried Dick, warming.

"Have ye my Lord Foxham's notes?" inquired the duke.

And then, Dick, having explained how he was without them for the moment,
made himself bold to offer information every jot as good, of his own
knowledge.  "And for mine own part, my lord duke," he added, "an ye had
men enough, I would fall on even at this present.  For, look ye, at the
peep of day the watches of the night are over; but by day they keep
neither watch nor ward--only scour the outskirts with horsemen.  Now,
then, when the night watch is already unarmed, and the rest are at their
morning cup--now were the time to break them."

"How many do ye count?" asked Gloucester.

"They number not two thousand," Dick replied.

"I have seven hundred in the woods behind us," said the duke; "seven
hundred follow from Kettley, and will be here anon; behind these, and
further, are four hundred more; and my Lord Foxham hath five hundred half
a day from here, at Holywood.  Shall we attend their coming, or fall on?"

"My lord," said Dick, "when ye hanged these five poor rogues ye did
decide the question.  Churls although they were, in these uneasy, times
they will be lacked and looked for, and the alarm be given.  Therefore,
my lord, if ye do count upon the advantage of a surprise, ye have not, in
my poor opinion, one whole hour in front of you."

"I do think so indeed," returned Crookback.  "Well, before an hour, ye
shall be in the thick on't, winning spurs.  A swift man to Holywood,
carrying Lord Foxham's signet; another along the road to speed my
laggards!  Nay, Shelton, by the rood, it may be done!"

Therewith he once more set his trumpet to his lips and blew.

This time he was not long kept waiting.  In a moment the open space about
the cross was filled with horse and foot.  Richard of Gloucester took his
place upon the steps, and despatched messenger after messenger to hasten
the concentration of the seven hundred men that lay hidden in the
immediate neighbourhood among the woods; and before a quarter of an hour
had passed, all his dispositions being taken, he put himself at their
head, and began to move down the hill towards Shoreby.

His plan was simple.  He was to seize a quarter of the town of Shoreby
lying on the right hand of the high road, and make his position good
there in the narrow lanes until his reinforcements followed.

If Lord Risingham chose to retreat, Richard would follow upon his rear,
and take him between two fires; or, if he preferred to hold the town, he
would be shut in a trap, there to be gradually overwhelmed by force of
numbers.

There was but one danger, but that was imminent and great--Gloucester's
seven hundred might be rolled up and cut to pieces in the first
encounter, and, to avoid this, it was needful to make the surprise of
their arrival as complete as possible.

The footmen, therefore, were all once more taken up behind the riders,
and Dick had the signal honour meted out to him of mounting behind
Gloucester himself.  For as far as there was any cover the troops moved
slowly, and when they came near the end of the trees that lined the
highway, stopped to breathe and reconnoitre.

The sun was now well up, shining with a frosty brightness out of a yellow
halo, and right over against the luminary, Shoreby, a field of snowy
roofs and ruddy gables, was rolling up its columns of morning smoke.
Gloucester turned round to Dick.

"In that poor place," he said, "where people are cooking breakfast,
either you shall gain your spurs and I begin a life of mighty honour and
glory in the world's eye, or both of us, as I conceive it, shall fall
dead and be unheard of.  Two Richards are we.  Well, then, Richard
Shelton, they shall be heard about, these two!  Their swords shall not
ring more loudly on men's helmets than their names shall ring in people's
ears."

Dick was astonished at so great a hunger after fame, expressed with so
great vehemence of voice and language, and he answered very sensibly and
quietly, that, for his part, he promised he would do his duty, and
doubted not of victory if everyone did the like.

By this time the horses were well breathed, and the leader holding up his
sword and giving rein, the whole troop of chargers broke into the gallop
and thundered, with their double load of fighting men, down the remainder
of the hill and across the snow-covered plain that still divided them
from Shoreby.



CHAPTER II--THE BATTLE OF SHOREBY


The whole distance to be crossed was not above a quarter of a mile.  But
they had no sooner debauched beyond the cover of the trees than they were
aware of people fleeing and screaming in the snowy meadows upon either
hand.  Almost at the same moment a great rumour began to arise, and
spread and grow continually louder in the town; and they were not yet
halfway to the nearest house before the bells began to ring backward from
the steeple.

The young duke ground his teeth together.  By these so early signals of
alarm he feared to find his enemies prepared; and if he failed to gain a
footing in the town, he knew that his small party would soon be broken
and exterminated in the open.

In the town, however, the Lancastrians were far from being in so good a
posture.  It was as Dick had said.  The night-guard had already doffed
their harness; the rest were still hanging--unlatched, unbraced, all
unprepared for battle--about their quarters; and in the whole of Shoreby
there were not, perhaps, fifty men full armed, or fifty chargers ready to
be mounted.

The beating of the bells, the terrifying summons of men who ran about the
streets crying and beating upon the doors, aroused in an incredibly short
space at least two score out of that half hundred.  These got speedily to
horse, and, the alarm still flying wild and contrary, galloped in
different directions.

Thus it befell that, when Richard of Gloucester reached the first house
of Shoreby, he was met in the mouth of the street by a mere handful of
lances, whom he swept before his onset as the storm chases the bark.

A hundred paces into the town, Dick Shelton touched the duke's arm; the
duke, in answer, gathered his reins, put the shrill trumpet to his mouth,
and blowing a concerted point, turned to the right hand out of the direct
advance.  Swerving like a single rider, his whole command turned after
him, and, still at the full gallop of the chargers, swept up the narrow
bye-street.  Only the last score of riders drew rein and faced about in
the entrance; the footmen, whom they carried behind them, leapt at the
same instant to the earth, and began, some to bend their bows, and others
to break into and secure the houses upon either hand.

Surprised at this sudden change of direction, and daunted by the firm
front of the rear-guard, the few Lancastrians, after a momentary
consultation, turned and rode farther into town to seek for
reinforcements.

The quarter of the town upon which, by the advice of Dick, Richard of
Gloucester had now seized, consisted of five small streets of poor and
ill-inhabited houses, occupying a very gentle eminence, and lying open
towards the back.

The five streets being each secured by a good guard, the reserve would
thus occupy the centre, out of shot, and yet ready to carry aid wherever
it was needed.

Such was the poorness of the neighbourhood that none of the Lancastrian
lords, and but few of their retainers, had been lodged therein; and the
inhabitants, with one accord, deserted their houses and fled, squalling,
along the streets or over garden walls.

In the centre, where the five ways all met, a somewhat ill-favoured
alehouse displayed the sign of the Chequers; and here the Duke of
Gloucester chose his headquarters for the day.

To Dick he assigned the guard of one of the five streets.

"Go," he said, "win your spurs.  Win glory for me: one Richard for
another.  I tell you, if I rise, ye shall rise by the same ladder.  Go,"
he added, shaking him by the hand.

But, as soon as Dick was gone, he turned to a little shabby archer at his
elbow.

"Go, Dutton, and that right speedily," he added.  "Follow that lad.  If
ye find him faithful, ye answer for his safety, a head for a head.  Woe
unto you, if ye return without him!  But if he be faithless--or, for one
instant, ye misdoubt him--stab him from behind."

In the meanwhile Dick hastened to secure his post.  The street he had to
guard was very narrow, and closely lined with houses, which projected and
overhung the roadway; but narrow and dark as it was, since it opened upon
the market-place of the town, the main issue of the battle would probably
fall to be decided on that spot.

The market-place was full of townspeople fleeing in disorder; but there
was as yet no sign of any foeman ready to attack, and Dick judged he had
some time before him to make ready his defence.

The two houses at the end stood deserted, with open doors, as the
inhabitants had left them in their flight, and from these he had the
furniture hastily tossed forth and piled into a barrier in the entry of
the lane.  A hundred men were placed at his disposal, and of these he
threw the more part into the houses, where they might lie in shelter and
deliver their arrows from the windows.  With the rest, under his own
immediate eye, he lined the barricade.

Meanwhile the utmost uproar and confusion had continued to prevail
throughout the town; and what with the hurried clashing of bells, the
sounding of trumpets, the swift movement of bodies of horse, the cries of
the commanders, and the shrieks of women, the noise was almost deafening
to the ear.  Presently, little by little, the tumult began to subside;
and soon after, files of men in armour and bodies of archers began to
assemble and form in line of battle in the market-place.

A large portion of this body were in murrey and blue, and in the mounted
knight who ordered their array Dick recognised Sir Daniel Brackley.

Then there befell a long pause, which was followed by the almost
simultaneous sounding of four trumpets from four different quarters of
the town.  A fifth rang in answer from the market-place, and at the same
moment the files began to move, and a shower of arrows rattled about the
barricade, and sounded like blows upon the walls of the two flanking
houses.

The attack had begun, by a common signal, on all the five issues of the
quarter.  Gloucester was beleaguered upon every side; and Dick judged, if
he would make good his post, he must rely entirely on the hundred men of
his command.

Seven volleys of arrows followed one upon the other, and in the very
thick of the discharges Dick was touched from behind upon the arm, and
found a page holding out to him a leathern jack, strengthened with bright
plates of mail.

"It is from my Lord of Gloucester," said the page.  "He hath observed,
Sir Richard, that ye went unarmed."

Dick, with a glow at his heart at being so addressed, got to his feet
and, with the assistance of the page, donned the defensive coat.  Even as
he did so, two arrows rattled harmlessly upon the plates, and a third
struck down the page, mortally wounded, at his feet.

Meantime the whole body of the enemy had been steadily drawing nearer
across the market-place; and by this time were so close at hand that Dick
gave the order to return their shot.  Immediately, from behind the
barrier and from the windows of the houses, a counterblast of arrows
sped, carrying death.  But the Lancastrians, as if they had but waited
for a signal, shouted loudly in answer; and began to close at a run upon
the barrier, the horsemen still hanging back, with visors lowered.

Then followed an obstinate and deadly struggle, hand to hand.  The
assailants, wielding their falchions with one hand, strove with the other
to drag down the structure of the barricade.  On the other side, the
parts were reversed; and the defenders exposed themselves like madmen to
protect their rampart.  So for some minutes the contest raged almost in
silence, friend and foe falling one upon another.  But it is always the
easier to destroy; and when a single note upon the tucket recalled the
attacking party from this desperate service, much of the barricade had
been removed piecemeal, and the whole fabric had sunk to half its height,
and tottered to a general fall.

And now the footmen in the market-place fell back, at a run, on every
side.  The horsemen, who had been standing in a line two deep, wheeled
suddenly, and made their flank into their front; and as swift as a
striking adder, the long, steel-clad column was launched upon the ruinous
barricade.

Of the first two horsemen, one fell, rider and steed, and was ridden down
by his companions.  The second leaped clean upon the summit of the
rampart, transpiercing an archer with his lance.  Almost in the same
instant he was dragged from the saddle and his horse despatched.

And then the full weight and impetus of the charge burst upon and
scattered the defenders.  The men-at-arms, surmounting their fallen
comrades, and carried onward by the fury of their onslaught, dashed
through Dick's broken line and poured thundering up the lane beyond, as a
stream bestrides and pours across a broken dam.

Yet was the fight not over.  Still, in the narrow jaws of the entrance,
Dick and a few survivors plied their bills like woodmen; and already,
across the width of the passage, there had been formed a second, a
higher, and a more effectual rampart of fallen men and disembowelled
horses, lashing in the agonies of death.

Baffled by this fresh obstacle, the remainder of the cavalry fell back;
and as, at the sight of this movement, the flight of arrows redoubled
from the casements of the houses, their retreat had, for a moment, almost
degenerated into flight.

Almost at the same time, those who had crossed the barricade and charged
farther up the street, being met before the door of the Chequers by the
formidable hunchback and the whole reserve of the Yorkists, began to come
scattering backward, in the excess of disarray and terror.

Dick and his fellows faced about, fresh men poured out of the houses; a
cruel blast of arrows met the fugitives full in the face, while
Gloucester was already riding down their rear; in the inside of a minute
and a half there was no living Lancastrian in the street.

Then, and not till then, did Dick hold up his reeking blade and give the
word to cheer.

Meanwhile Gloucester dismounted from his horse and came forward to
inspect the post.  His face was as pale as linen; but his eyes shone in
his head like some strange jewel, and his voice, when he spoke, was
hoarse and broken with the exultation of battle and success.  He looked
at the rampart, which neither friend nor foe could now approach without
precaution, so fiercely did the horses struggle in the throes of death,
and at the sight of that great carnage he smiled upon one side.

"Despatch these horses," he said; "they keep you from your vantage.
Richard Shelton," he added, "ye have pleased me.  Kneel."

The Lancastrians had already resumed their archery, and the shafts fell
thick in the mouth of the street; but the duke, minding them not at all,
deliberately drew his sword and dubbed Richard a knight upon the spot.

"And now, Sir Richard," he continued, "if that ye see Lord Risingham,
send me an express upon the instant.  Were it your last man, let me hear
of it incontinently.  I had rather venture the post than lose my stroke
at him.  For mark me, all of ye," he added, raising his voice, "if Earl
Risingham fall by another hand than mine, I shall count this victory a
defeat."

"My lord duke," said one of his attendants, "is your grace not weary of
exposing his dear life unneedfully?  Why tarry we here?"

"Catesby," returned the duke, "here is the battle, not elsewhere.  The
rest are but feigned onslaughts.  Here must we vanquish.  And for the
exposure--if ye were an ugly hunchback, and the children gecked at you
upon the street, ye would count your body cheaper, and an hour of glory
worth a life.  Howbeit, if ye will, let us ride on and visit the other
posts.  Sir Richard here, my namesake, he shall still hold this entry,
where he wadeth to the ankles in hot blood.  Him can we trust.  But mark
it, Sir Richard, ye are not yet done.  The worst is yet to ward.  Sleep
not."

He came right up to young Shelton, looking him hard in the eyes, and
taking his hand in both of his, gave it so extreme a squeeze that the
blood had nearly spurted.  Dick quailed before his eyes.  The insane
excitement, the courage, and the cruelty that he read therein filled him
with dismay about the future.  This young duke's was indeed a gallant
spirit, to ride foremost in the ranks of war; but after the battle, in
the days of peace and in the circle of his trusted friends, that mind, it
was to be dreaded, would continue to bring forth the fruits of death.



CHAPTER III--THE BATTLE OF SHOREBY (Concluded)


Dick, once more left to his own counsels, began to look about him.  The
arrow-shot had somewhat slackened.  On all sides the enemy were falling
back; and the greater part of the market-place was now left empty, the
snow here trampled into orange mud, there splashed with gore, scattered
all over with dead men and horses, and bristling thick with feathered
arrows.

On his own side the loss had been cruel.  The jaws of the little street
and the ruins of the barricade were heaped with the dead and dying; and
out of the hundred men with whom he had begun the battle, there were not
seventy left who could still stand to arms.

At the same time, the day was passing.  The first reinforcements might be
looked for to arrive at any moment; and the Lancastrians, already shaken
by the result of their desperate but unsuccessful onslaught, were in an
ill temper to support a fresh invader.

There was a dial in the wall of one of the two flanking houses; and this,
in the frosty winter sunshine, indicated ten of the forenoon.

Dick turned to the man who was at his elbow, a little insignificant
archer, binding a cut in his arm.

"It was well fought," he said, "and, by my sooth, they will not charge us
twice."

"Sir," said the little archer, "ye have fought right well for York, and
better for yourself.  Never hath man in so brief space prevailed so
greatly on the duke's affections.  That he should have entrusted such a
post to one he knew not is a marvel.  But look to your head, Sir Richard!
If ye be vanquished--ay, if ye give way one foot's breadth--axe or cord
shall punish it; and I am set if ye do aught doubtful, I will tell you
honestly, here to stab you from behind."

Dick looked at the little man in amaze.

"You!" he cried.  "And from behind!"

"It is right so," returned the archer; "and because I like not the affair
I tell it you.  Ye must make the post good, Sir Richard, at your peril.
O, our Crookback is a bold blade and a good warrior; but, whether in cold
blood or in hot, he will have all things done exact to his commandment.
If any fail or hinder, they shall die the death."

"Now, by the saints!" cried Richard, "is this so?  And will men follow
such a leader?"

"Nay, they follow him gleefully," replied the other; "for if he be exact
to punish, he is most open-handed to reward.  And if he spare not the
blood and sweat of others, he is ever liberal of his own, still in the
first front of battle, still the last to sleep.  He will go far, will
Crookback Dick o' Gloucester!"

The young knight, if he had before been brave and vigilant, was now all
the more inclined to watchfulness and courage.  His sudden favour, he
began to perceive, had brought perils in its train.  And he turned from
the archer, and once more scanned anxiously the market-place.  It lay
empty as before.

"I like not this quietude," he said.  "Doubtless they prepare us some
surprise."

And, as if in answer to his remark, the archers began once more to
advance against the barricade, and the arrows to fall thick.  But there
was something hesitating in the attack.  They came not on roundly, but
seemed rather to await a further signal.

Dick looked uneasily about him, spying for a hidden danger.  And sure
enough, about half way up the little street, a door was suddenly opened
from within, and the house continued, for some seconds, and both by door
and window, to disgorge a torrent of Lancastrian archers.  These, as they
leaped down, hurriedly stood to their ranks, bent their bows, and
proceeded to pour upon Dick's rear a flight of arrows.

At the same time, the assailants in the market-place redoubled their
shot, and began to close in stoutly upon the barricade.

Dick called down his whole command out of the houses, and facing them
both ways, and encouraging their valour both by word and gesture,
returned as best he could the double shower of shafts that fell about his
post.

Meanwhile house after house was opened in the street, and the
Lancastrians continued to pour out of the doors and leap down from the
windows, shouting victory, until the number of enemies upon Dick's rear
was almost equal to the number in his face.  It was plain that he could
hold the post no longer; what was worse, even if he could have held it,
it had now become useless; and the whole Yorkist army lay in a posture of
helplessness upon the brink of a complete disaster.

The men behind him formed the vital flaw in the general defence; and it
was upon these that Dick turned, charging at the head of his men.  So
vigorous was the attack, that the Lancastrian archers gave ground and
staggered, and, at last, breaking their ranks, began to crowd back into
the houses from which they had so recently and so vaingloriously sallied.

Meanwhile the men from the market-place had swarmed across the undefended
barricade, and fell on hotly upon the other side; and Dick must once
again face about, and proceed to drive them back.  Once again the spirit
of his men prevailed; they cleared the street in a triumphant style, but
even as they did so the others issued again out of the houses, and took
them, a third time, upon the rear.

The Yorkists began to be scattered; several times Dick found himself
alone among his foes and plying his bright sword for life; several times
he was conscious of a hurt.  And meanwhile the fight swayed to and fro in
the street without determinate result.

Suddenly Dick was aware of a great trumpeting about the outskirts of the
town.  The war-cry of York began to be rolled up to heaven, as by many
and triumphant voices.  And at the same time the men in front of him
began to give ground rapidly, streaming out of the street and back upon
the market-place.  Some one gave the word to fly.  Trumpets were blown
distractedly, some for a rally, some to charge.  It was plain that a
great blow had been struck, and the Lancastrians were thrown, at least
for the moment, into full disorder, and some degree of panic.

And then, like a theatre trick, there followed the last act of Shoreby
Battle.  The men in front of Richard turned tail, like a dog that has
been whistled home, and fled like the wind.  At the same moment there
came through the market-place a storm of horsemen, fleeing and pursuing,
the Lancastrians turning back to strike with the sword, the Yorkists
riding them down at the point of the lance.

Conspicuous in the mellay, Dick beheld the Crookback.  He was already
giving a foretaste of that furious valour and skill to cut his way across
the ranks of war, which, years afterwards upon the field of Bosworth, and
when he was stained with crimes, almost sufficed to change the fortunes
of the day and the destiny of the English throne.  Evading, striking,
riding down, he so forced and so manoeuvred his strong horse, so aptly
defended himself, and so liberally scattered death to his opponents, that
he was now far ahead of the foremost of his knights, hewing his way, with
the truncheon of a bloody sword, to where Lord Risingham was rallying the
bravest.  A moment more and they had met; the tall, splendid, and famous
warrior against the deformed and sickly boy.

Yet Shelton had never a doubt of the result; and when the fight next
opened for a moment, the figure of the earl had disappeared; but still,
in the first of the danger, Crookback Dick was launching his big horse
and plying the truncheon of his sword.

Thus, by Shelton's courage in holding the mouth of the street against the
first attack, and by the opportune arrival of his seven hundred
reinforcements, the lad, who was afterwards to be handed down to the
execration of posterity under the name of Richard III., had won his first
considerable fight.



CHAPTER IV--THE SACK OF SHOREBY


There was not a foe left within striking distance; and Dick, as he looked
ruefully about him on the remainder of his gallant force, began to count
the cost of victory.  He was himself, now that the danger was ended, so
stiff and sore, so bruised and cut and broken, and, above all, so utterly
exhausted by his desperate and unremitting labours in the fight, that he
seemed incapable of any fresh exertion.

But this was not yet the hour for repose.  Shoreby had been taken by
assault; and though an open town, and not in any manner to be charged
with the resistance, it was plain that these rough fighters would be not
less rough now that the fight was over, and that the more horrid part of
war would fall to be enacted.  Richard of Gloucester was not the captain
to protect the citizens from his infuriated soldiery; and even if he had
the will, it might be questioned if he had the power.

It was, therefore, Dick's business to find and to protect Joanna; and
with that end he looked about him at the faces of his men.  The three or
four who seemed likeliest to be obedient and to keep sober he drew aside;
and promising them a rich reward and a special recommendation to the
duke, led them across the market-place, now empty of horsemen, and into
the streets upon the further side.

Every here and there small combats of from two to a dozen still raged
upon the open street; here and there a house was being besieged, the
defenders throwing out stools and tables on the heads of the assailants.
The snow was strewn with arms and corpses; but except for these partial
combats the streets were deserted, and the houses, some standing open,
and some shuttered and barricaded, had for the most part ceased to give
out smoke.

Dick, threading the skirts of these skirmishers, led his followers
briskly in the direction of the abbey church; but when he came the length
of the main street, a cry of horror broke from his lips.  Sir Daniel's
great house had been carried by assault.  The gates hung in splinters
from the hinges, and a double throng kept pouring in and out through the
entrance, seeking and carrying booty.  Meanwhile, in the upper storeys,
some resistance was still being offered to the pillagers; for just as
Dick came within eyeshot of the building, a casement was burst open from
within, and a poor wretch in murrey and blue, screaming and resisting,
was forced through the embrasure and tossed into the street below.

The most sickening apprehension fell upon Dick.  He ran forward like one
possessed, forced his way into the house among the foremost, and mounted
without pause to the chamber on the third floor where he had last parted
from Joanna.  It was a mere wreck; the furniture had been overthrown, the
cupboards broken open, and in one place a trailing corner of the arras
lay smouldering on the embers of the fire.

Dick, almost without thinking, trod out the incipient conflagration, and
then stood bewildered.  Sir Daniel, Sir Oliver, Joanna, all were gone;
but whether butchered in the rout or safe escaped from Shoreby, who
should say?

He caught a passing archer by the tabard.

"Fellow," he asked, "were ye here when this house was taken?"

"Let be," said the archer.  "A murrain! let be, or I strike."

"Hark ye," returned Richard, "two can play at that.  Stand and be plain."

But the man, flushed with drink and battle, struck Dick upon the shoulder
with one hand, while with the other he twitched away his garment.
Thereupon the full wrath of the young leader burst from his control.  He
seized the fellow in his strong embrace, and crushed him on the plates of
his mailed bosom like a child; then, holding him at arm's length, he bid
him speak as he valued life.

"I pray you mercy!" gasped the archer.  "An I had thought ye were so
angry I would 'a' been charier of crossing you.  I was here indeed."

"Know ye Sir Daniel?" pursued Dick.

"Well do I know him," returned the man.

"Was he in the mansion?"

"Ay, sir, he was," answered the archer; "but even as we entered by the
yard gate he rode forth by the garden."

"Alone?" cried Dick.

"He may 'a' had a score of lances with him," said the man.

"Lances!  No women, then?" asked Shelton.

"Troth, I saw not," said the archer.  "But there were none in the house,
if that be your quest."

"I thank you," said Dick.  "Here is a piece for your pains."  But groping
in his wallet, Dick found nothing.  "Inquire for me to-morrow," he
added--"Richard Shelt--Sir Richard Shelton," he corrected, "and I will
see you handsomely rewarded."

And then an idea struck Dick.  He hastily descended to the courtyard, ran
with all his might across the garden, and came to the great door of the
church.  It stood wide open; within, every corner of the pavement was
crowded with fugitive burghers, surrounded by their families and laden
with the most precious of their possessions, while, at the high altar,
priests in full canonicals were imploring the mercy of God.  Even as Dick
entered, the loud chorus began to thunder in the vaulted roofs.

He hurried through the groups of refugees, and came to the door of the
stair that led into the steeple.  And here a tall churchman stepped
before him and arrested his advance.

"Whither, my son?" he asked, severely.

"My father," answered Dick, "I am here upon an errand of expedition.
Stay me not.  I command here for my Lord of Gloucester."

"For my Lord of Gloucester?" repeated the priest.  "Hath, then, the
battle gone so sore?"

"The battle, father, is at an end, Lancaster clean sped, my Lord of
Risingham--Heaven rest him!--left upon the field.  And now, with your
good leave, I follow mine affairs."  And thrusting on one side the
priest, who seemed stupefied at the news, Dick pushed open the door and
rattled up the stairs four at a bound, and without pause or stumble, till
he stepped upon the open platform at the top.

Shoreby Church tower not only commanded the town, as in a map, but looked
far, on both sides, over sea and land.  It was now near upon noon; the
day exceeding bright, the snow dazzling.  And as Dick looked around him,
he could measure the consequences of the battle.

A confused, growling uproar reached him from the streets, and now and
then, but very rarely, the clash of steel.  Not a ship, not so much as a
skiff remained in harbour; but the sea was dotted with sails and
row-boats laden with fugitives.  On shore, too, the surface of the snowy
meadows was broken up with bands of horsemen, some cutting their way
towards the borders of the forest, others, who were doubtless of the
Yorkist side, stoutly interposing and beating them back upon the town.
Over all the open ground there lay a prodigious quantity of fallen men
and horses, clearly defined upon the snow.

To complete the picture, those of the foot soldiers as had not found
place upon a ship still kept up an archery combat on the borders of the
port, and from the cover of the shoreside taverns.  In that quarter,
also, one or two houses had been fired, and the smoke towered high in the
frosty sunlight, and blew off to sea in voluminous folds.

Already close upon the margin of the woods, and somewhat in the line of
Holywood, one particular clump of fleeing horsemen riveted the attention
of the young watcher on the tower.  It was fairly numerous; in no other
quarter of the field did so many Lancastrians still hold together; thus
they had left a wide, discoloured wake upon the snow, and Dick was able
to trace them step by step from where they had left the town.

While Dick stood watching them, they had gained, unopposed, the first
fringe of the leafless forest, and, turning a little from their
direction, the sun fell for a moment full on their array, as it was
relieved against the dusky wood.

"Murrey and blue!" cried Dick.  "I swear it--murrey and blue!"

The next moment he was descending the stairway.

It was now his business to seek out the Duke of Gloucester, who alone, in
the disorder of the forces, might be able to supply him with a
sufficiency of men.  The fighting in the main town was now practically at
an end; and as Dick ran hither and thither, seeking the commander, the
streets were thick with wandering soldiers, some laden with more booty
than they could well stagger under, others shouting drunk.  None of them,
when questioned, had the least notion of the duke's whereabouts; and, at
last, it was by sheer good fortune that Dick found him, where he sat in
the saddle directing operations to dislodge the archers from the harbour
side.

"Sir Richard Shelton, ye are well found," he said.  "I owe you one thing
that I value little, my life; and one that I can never pay you for, this
victory.  Catesby, if I had ten such captains as Sir Richard, I would
march forthright on London.  But now, sir, claim your reward."

"Freely, my lord," said Dick, "freely and loudly.  One hath escaped to
whom I owe some grudges, and taken with him one whom I owe love and
service.  Give me, then, fifty lances, that I may pursue; and for any
obligation that your graciousness is pleased to allow, it shall be clean
discharged."

"How call ye him?" inquired the duke.

"Sir Daniel Brackley," answered Richard.

"Out upon him, double-face!" cried Gloucester.  "Here is no reward, Sir
Richard; here is fresh service offered, and, if that ye bring his head to
me, a fresh debt upon my conscience.  Catesby, get him these lances; and
you, sir, bethink ye, in the meanwhile, what pleasure, honour, or profit
it shall be mine to give you."

Just then the Yorkist skirmishers carried one of the shoreside taverns,
swarming in upon it on three sides, and driving out or taking its
defenders.  Crookback Dick was pleased to cheer the exploit, and pushing
his horse a little nearer, called to see the prisoners.

There were four or five of them--two men of my Lord Shoreby's and one of
Lord Risingham's among the number, and last, but in Dick's eyes not
least, a tall, shambling, grizzled old shipman, between drunk and sober,
and with a dog whimpering and jumping at his heels.

The young duke passed them for a moment under a severe review.

"Good," he said.  "Hang them."

And he turned the other way to watch the progress of the fight.

"My lord," said Dick, "so please you, I have found my reward.  Grant me
the life and liberty of yon old shipman."

Gloucester turned and looked the speaker in the face.

"Sir Richard," he said, "I make not war with peacock's feathers, but
steel shafts.  Those that are mine enemies I slay, and that without
excuse or favour.  For, bethink ye, in this realm of England, that is so
torn in pieces, there is not a man of mine but hath a brother or a friend
upon the other party.  If, then, I did begin to grant these pardons, I
might sheathe my sword."

"It may be so, my lord; and yet I will be overbold, and at the risk of
your disfavour, recall your lordship's promise," replied Dick.

Richard of Gloucester flushed.

"Mark it right well," he said, harshly.  "I love not mercy, nor yet
mercymongers.  Ye have this day laid the foundations of high fortune.  If
ye oppose to me my word, which I have plighted, I will yield.  But, by
the glory of heaven, there your favour dies!

"Mine is the loss," said Dick.

"Give him his sailor," said the duke; and wheeling his horse, he turned
his back upon young Shelton.

Dick was nor glad nor sorry.  He had seen too much of the young duke to
set great store on his affection; and the origin and growth of his own
favour had been too flimsy and too rapid to inspire much confidence.  One
thing alone he feared--that the vindictive leader might revoke the offer
of the lances.  But here he did justice neither to Gloucester's honour
(such as it was) nor, above all, to his decision.  If he had once judged
Dick to be the right man to pursue Sir Daniel, he was not one to change;
and he soon proved it by shouting after Catesby to be speedy, for the
paladin was waiting.

In the meanwhile, Dick turned to the old shipman, who had seemed equally
indifferent to his condemnation and to his subsequent release.

"Arblaster," said Dick, "I have done you ill; but now, by the rood, I
think I have cleared the score."

But the old skipper only looked upon him dully and held his peace.

"Come," continued Dick, "a life is a life, old shrew, and it is more than
ships or liquor.  Say ye forgive me; for if your life be worth nothing to
you, it hath cost me the beginnings of my fortune.  Come, I have paid for
it dearly; be not so churlish."

"An I had had my ship," said Arblaster, "I would 'a' been forth and safe
on the high seas--I and my man Tom.  But ye took my ship, gossip, and I'm
a beggar; and for my man Tom, a knave fellow in russet shot him down.
'Murrain!' quoth he, and spake never again.  'Murrain' was the last of
his words, and the poor spirit of him passed.  'A will never sail no
more, will my Tom.'"

Dick was seized with unavailing penitence and pity; he sought to take the
skipper's hand, but Arblaster avoided his touch.

"Nay," said he, "let be.  Y' have played the devil with me, and let that
content you."

The words died in Richard's throat.  He saw, through tears, the poor old
man, bemused with liquor and sorrow, go shambling away, with bowed head,
across the snow, and the unnoticed dog whimpering at his heels, and for
the first time began to understand the desperate game that we play in
life; and how a thing once done is not to be changed or remedied, by any
penitence.

But there was no time left to him for vain regret.

Catesby had now collected the horsemen, and riding up to Dick he
dismounted, and offered him his own horse.

"This morning," he said, "I was somewhat jealous of your favour; it hath
not been of a long growth; and now, Sir Richard, it is with a very good
heart that I offer you this horse--to ride away with."

"Suffer me yet a moment," replied Dick.  "This favour of mine--whereupon
was it founded?"

"Upon your name," answered Catesby.  "It is my lord's chief superstition.
Were my name Richard, I should be an earl to-morrow."

"Well, sir, I thank you," returned Dick; "and since I am little likely to
follow these great fortunes, I will even say farewell.  I will not
pretend I was displeased to think myself upon the road to fortune; but I
will not pretend, neither, that I am over-sorry to be done with it.
Command and riches, they are brave things, to be sure; but a word in your
ear--yon duke of yours, he is a fearsome lad."

Catesby laughed.

"Nay," said he, "of a verity he that rides with Crooked Dick will ride
deep.  Well, God keep us all from evil!  Speed ye well."

Thereupon Dick put himself at the head of his men, and giving the word of
command, rode off.

He made straight across the town, following what he supposed to be the
route of Sir Daniel, and spying around for any signs that might decide if
he were right.

The streets were strewn with the dead and the wounded, whose fate, in the
bitter frost, was far the more pitiable.  Gangs of the victors went from
house to house, pillaging and stabbing, and sometimes singing together as
they went.

From different quarters, as he rode on, the sounds of violence and
outrage came to young Shelton's ears; now the blows of the sledge-hammer
on some barricaded door, and now the miserable shrieks of women.

Dick's heart had just been awakened.  He had just seen the cruel
consequences of his own behaviour; and the thought of the sum of misery
that was now acting in the whole of Shoreby filled him with despair.

At length he reached the outskirts, and there, sure enough, he saw
straight before him the same broad, beaten track across the snow that he
had marked from the summit of the church.  Here, then, he went the faster
on; but still, as he rode, he kept a bright eye upon the fallen men and
horses that lay beside the track.  Many of these, he was relieved to see,
wore Sir Daniel's colours, and the faces of some, who lay upon their
back, he even recognised.

About half-way between the town and the forest, those whom he was
following had plainly been assailed by archers; for the corpses lay
pretty closely scattered, each pierced by an arrow.  And here Dick spied
among the rest the body of a very young lad, whose face was somehow
hauntingly familiar to him.

He halted his troop, dismounted, and raised the lad's head.  As he did
so, the hood fell back, and a profusion of long brown hair unrolled
itself.  At the same time the eyes opened.

"Ah! lion driver!" said a feeble voice.  "She is farther on.  Ride--ride
fast!"

And then the poor young lady fainted once again.

One of Dick's men carried a flask of some strong cordial, and with this
Dick succeeded in reviving consciousness.  Then he took Joanna's friend
upon his saddlebow, and once more pushed toward the forest.

"Why do ye take me?" said the girl.  "Ye but delay your speed."

"Nay, Mistress Risingham," replied Dick.  "Shoreby is full of blood and
drunkenness and riot.  Here ye are safe; content ye."

"I will not be beholden to any of your faction," she cried; "set me
down."

"Madam, ye know not what ye say," returned Dick.  "Y' are hurt"--

"I am not," she said.  "It was my horse was slain."

"It matters not one jot," replied Richard.  "Ye are here in the midst of
open snow, and compassed about with enemies.  Whether ye will or not, I
carry you with me.  Glad am I to have the occasion; for thus shall I
repay some portion of our debt."

For a little while she was silent.  Then, very suddenly, she asked:

"My uncle?"

"My Lord Risingham?" returned Dick.  "I would I had good news to give
you, madam; but I have none.  I saw him once in the battle, and once
only.  Let us hope the best."



CHAPTER V--NIGHT IN THE WOODS: ALICIA RISINGHAM


It was almost certain that Sir Daniel had made for the Moat House; but,
considering the heavy snow, the lateness of the hour, and the necessity
under which he would lie of avoiding the few roads and striking across
the wood, it was equally certain that he could not hope to reach it ere
the morrow.

There were two courses open to Dick; either to continue to follow in the
knight's trail, and, if he were able, to fall upon him that very night in
camp, or to strike out a path of his own, and seek to place himself
between Sir Daniel and his destination.

Either scheme was open to serious objection, and Dick, who feared to
expose Joanna to the hazards of a fight, had not yet decided between them
when he reached the borders of the wood.

At this point Sir Daniel had turned a little to his left, and then
plunged straight under a grove of very lofty timber.  His party had then
formed to a narrower front, in order to pass between the trees, and the
track was trod proportionally deeper in the snow.  The eye followed it
under the leafless tracery of the oaks, running direct and narrow; the
trees stood over it, with knotty joints and the great, uplifted forest of
their boughs; there was no sound, whether of man or beast--not so much as
the stirring of a robin; and over the field of snow the winter sun lay
golden among netted shadows.

"How say ye," asked Dick of one of the men, "to follow straight on, or
strike across for Tunstall?"

"Sir Richard," replied the man-at-arms, "I would follow the line until
they scatter."

"Ye are, doubtless, right," returned Dick; "but we came right hastily
upon the errand, even as the time commanded.  Here are no houses, neither
for food nor shelter, and by the morrow's dawn we shall know both cold
fingers and an empty belly.  How say ye, lads?  Will ye stand a pinch for
expedition's sake, or shall we turn by Holywood and sup with Mother
Church?  The case being somewhat doubtful, I will drive no man; yet if ye
would suffer me to lead you, ye would choose the first."

The men answered, almost with one voice, that they would follow Sir
Richard where he would.

And Dick, setting spur to his horse, began once more to go forward.

The snow in the trail had been trodden very hard, and the pursuers had
thus a great advantage over the pursued.  They pushed on, indeed, at a
round trot, two hundred hoofs beating alternately on the dull pavement of
the snow, and the jingle of weapons and the snorting of horses raising a
warlike noise along the arches of the silent wood.

Presently, the wide slot of the pursued came out upon the high road from
Holywood; it was there, for a moment, indistinguishable; and, where it
once more plunged into the unbeaten snow upon the farther side, Dick was
surprised to see it narrower and lighter trod.  Plainly, profiting by the
road, Sir Daniel had begun already to scatter his command.

At all hazards, one chance being equal to another, Dick continued to
pursue the straight trail; and that, after an hour's riding, in which it
led into the very depths of the forest, suddenly split, like a bursting
shell, into two dozen others, leading to every point of the compass.

Dick drew bridle in despair.  The short winter's day was near an end; the
sun, a dull red orange, shorn of rays, swam low among the leafless
thickets; the shadows were a mile long upon the snow; the frost bit
cruelly at the finger-nails; and the breath and steam of the horses
mounted in a cloud.

"Well, we are outwitted," Dick confessed.  "Strike we for Holywood, after
all.  It is still nearer us than Tunstall--or should be by the station of
the sun."

So they wheeled to their left, turning their backs on the red shield of
sun, and made across country for the abbey.  But now times were changed
with them; they could no longer spank forth briskly on a path beaten firm
by the passage of their foes, and for a goal to which that path itself
conducted them.  Now they must plough at a dull pace through the
encumbering snow, continually pausing to decide their course, continually
floundering in drifts.  The sun soon left them; the glow of the west
decayed; and presently they were wandering in a shadow of blackness,
under frosty stars.

Presently, indeed, the moon would clear the hilltops, and they might
resume their march.  But till then, every random step might carry them
wider of their march.  There was nothing for it but to camp and wait.

Sentries were posted; a spot of ground was cleared of snow, and, after
some failures, a good fire blazed in the midst.  The men-at-arms sat
close about this forest hearth, sharing such provisions as they had, and
passing about the flask; and Dick, having collected the most delicate of
the rough and scanty fare, brought it to Lord Risingham's niece, where
she sat apart from the soldiery against a tree.

She sat upon one horse-cloth, wrapped in another, and stared straight
before her at the firelit scene.  At the offer of food she started, like
one wakened from a dream, and then silently refused.

"Madam," said Dick, "let me beseech you, punish me not so cruelly.
Wherein I have offended you, I know not; I have, indeed, carried you
away, but with a friendly violence; I have, indeed, exposed you to the
inclemency of night, but the hurry that lies upon me hath for its end the
preservation of another, who is no less frail and no less unfriended than
yourself.  At least, madam, punish not yourself; and eat, if not for
hunger, then for strength."